#this was hard and i no longer have a functional hand

[cachiko]

yeehaw

[redheadedbrunette]

Any headcannons on the hale sisters? Or any of the spy school characters?

they're both incredibly jealous each other for the upbringing they got. trixie is jealous that erica got to be a part of the family legacy and be a hale in a way that, even if she were allowed to start training as a spy, she would never get to be. erica is jealous of trixie because she gets to forge her own identity outside of the spy business. because even though she's good at espionage and doesn't want that sense of identity taken away, she wishes that it could have been a choice, and more and more she's realizing the toll that it takes on her personal relationships and is wondering if it's really worth it.

erica was homeschooled for the entirety of her time leading up to her entrance at the academy, aside from the two weeks she attended second grade when trixie started kindergarten. it was around the time catherine and alexander's marriage was starting to fray at the edges, and they were hoping that if both girls were going to school, then catherine could spend more time working around the world because she felt obliged to stay at home with them when they were young. it went kind of horribly, and while erica herself didn't get into any fights (because she had been warned explicitly not to hurt any of her classmates), it was going pretty bad for her socially speaking and trixie had received no such warnings and was completely willing to release all of her feral energy and bite seven year olds who were being mean to her big sister. erica was pulled out almost right away and went back to homeschooling, and after her suspension was over, trixie went back and finished the year and started going to boarding school the next year. meanwhile, erica was just taken around with catherine most of the time and dropped back with alexander when catherine went on more involved missions and just did her schoolwork there.

[ecoamerica]

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[ryukatters]

don’t go - k. bakugo

a/n: I’m so horny for this man I can’t even think straight. This was supposed to be short and fluffy but now it’s turned into this. I would say sorry but I’m not. (Yes I am alive)

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k

content/warnings: smut, unprotected morning s*x, begging, overstimulation, bkg is obsessed with you, also completely not proofread

Your boyfriend Katsuki is clingy. Very clingy— in all senses of the word, and you’re convinced that if you open a dictionary right now his name would show up as the very definition of it. Bakugo would live under your skin if he could, or at the very least come up with a way to keep you in his pocket. 

As lovely as your boyfriend is, his innate urge to smother you in affection poses a problem in times like these— early mornings where you have to get up and get ready for work. 

“Katsuki, I need to go to work. Go back to your side of the bed.”

“Just quit,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

“As appealing as that sounds, no. I need to get up and do my part as a functioning member of society.” Any attempt to leave your shared bed is shut down by Bakugo, his strength easily overpowering yours as he wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you. 

“But you’re my pillow,” he says with a bit of a sigh, pressing his into the crook of your neck, melting further into you. His hot breath tickles your skin, and it’s enough to have your heart pounding along with a familiar warmth in between your legs. Katsuki is observant to a fault, he knows you better than the back of his own hand, and knows just what to do to turn you into putty. 

His hands snake up under your (read: his) shirt, kneading your breasts. You let out a sharp gasp as he tweaks your nipples and sucks a love bite at the junction of your neck. He hums in appreciation as he slowly leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just as he reaches your underwear. 

He traces your slit, eyes darkening as the fabric begins to dampen with your slick. “So wet for me already, baby.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact that he already knew. Katsuki wastes no time sliding the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to run his hands up and down both your thighs before prying your legs further apart, exposing yourself to him completely. He can feel his mouth water at the sight of you. 

Katsuki can’t help but moan the minute his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking fervently. “Always taste so good, princess.” 

You take a moment to glance down, which proves to be a mistake. Katsuki’s practically making out with your pussy, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re nothing short of lovesick. His vermillion orbs draw you in, and they’re absolutely magnetizing. You have to close your eyes to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. 

Katsuki can’t help but grind against the edge of the bed to feel some sort of release. He’s so fucking hard. He thinks he’s growing delirious. Katsuki swears he can cum from the taste of your pussy and the sound of your angelic voice filling the room with a sweet symphony. When you let out a particularly breathy call of his name, he has to will himself not to finish in his boxers, which is already usually a difficult enough task on its own, but now it's almost impossible from how impossibly hard he is with morning wood.

You grind against his mouth, hands carding through his hair as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Katsuki is more than eager to be used as a means of getting there. Even as you cum, he continues to fuck your hole with his tongue and lapping up your pussy. It’s only when you begin to push him away does he feel the need to lean back, a loud pop reverberating as he does. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of ya?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes, ‘ki.”

“Good girl,” he coos, his lips pressing against yours with fervor. You allow him to deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue. He moans appreciatively, hips stuttering as he continues to grind against you. The head of his cock bumps against your clit over and over, smearing precum all over your pussy. His tip just barely presses against your fluttering hole, and you can feel your insides ache with anticipation and utter need.

He’s teasing you. You’re overstimulated yet somehow unsatisfied. Your pussy is craving to be stretched out, and Katsuki is making sure he’s doing everything but that. He likes getting you like this— needy, clingy, nearly delirious as you beg for him. He likes to think of it as reparations for how insane you make him feel on the daily. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

“Katsuki, please,” you whine, lifting your hips to grind against his dick, hoping to get what you want, what you need. You look up at Katsuki and for a moment, you think you’ve got him— think that you’d be able to look at him with those doe eyes and get what you want easily, like always. He never could refuse you.

But he merely smirks, and uses one hand to press you back down into the mattress. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. You know I’ll make it good for you.” 

“Want you to fuck me, ‘ki.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whine sweetly. 

“I’ll give you what you want baby,” he affirms, the timbres of his voice reaching the depths of your soul. He uses both hands to press both of your legs by your shoulders, cock lined at your entrance. I always do, don’t I?

You can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your lips as he fills you up. Katsuki presses a kiss against your forehead, relishing in the way you tighten around his dick. 

The familiar coil that’s been forming in your tummy is threatening to unravel, if your stuttered moans and breaths are any indication. Katsuki seems to know this too, as he pulls out right before you hit your climax. You whine at the sudden lack of overwhelming pressure, and Katsuki’s quick to silence you with a hard stare. 

His breath ghosts against your lips, vermillion eyes burning into yours with intense, unspoken passion. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Wanna cum, Katsuki. Please.” 

He starts thrusting again, slowly and with purpose. His eyes never leave yours. It doesn’t take long for you to be on the brink of an orgasm again. “You want to cum, right baby?” He smiles when he sees you nod. “You can cum,” he says carefully, “but only if you do one thing for me.” 

“I’ll do anything Kats,” you manage to choke out. Katsuki continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You really would do anything, Katsuki’s own desire and utter want for you is so persuasive that you feel compelled to follow. 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips pressing a chaste kiss against yours. “Stay with me, today.” There’s an urgency behind his words despite them being said so softly. 

Fuck it. 

You barely manage to let out a stuttered “yes, ‘ki,” before you reach your peak. The pleasure rolls over you in waves, tears threatening to spill as Katsuki continues to drill into you, chasing his own high. A few particularly rough thrusts punctuated by staggered moans let you know that he’s cumming. 

Katsuki manages to plop right next to you, bed shifting under his weight. You lock eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. He gives you a quick smile before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, one arm wrapping around you to pull you against him.

“So…” he starts, his eyes brimming with satisfaction, lips upturned into a smirk. He knows he’s won. “Ready for round 2?”

[pia-nor481]

She…what? Chapter One

Lando norris x reader (hints at Daniel ricciardo x reader

1.7k words | Series Masterlist

"Pardon?" Lando exasperated, looking towards his friend. They were sat in his hotel room, even now, no longer teammates, they made a point to go out together, or at least see each other every week. "I'm serious." Daniel replied, unsure as to why his friend reacted in such a way. "I'm not doubting you, I'm having issue comprehending what you've said." Lando spoke quietly, taking a sip of his drink. "She gives the best blow jobs." Daniel stated simply, looking at Lando's raised eyebrow. "Good for you man, but why are you telling me this?" He stood up quickly, to retrieve another drink, and hide his slightly red face. "Come on, I know you've not been laid for a while, plus I think you'd quite like her." Lando was at a loss for words, he walked back towards the bed as slow as possible, it wasn't strange for them to talk about their most recent hook up, but it was never like this. "I'm sorry, you're asking me to fuck some girl you're seeing?" Daniel's immediate response was to roll his eyes, not understanding Lando's struggle. "No, well I'm not seeing her per say. It's a little agreement of sorts."

"So she's a hooker?" Lando said, sounding slightly disappointed, not that he wouldn't be up for it, he was just expecting something different. "No, god no. She's a girl I've been sleeping with? yes. Do I pay for it? No. But it's not a relationship either. It's kind of hard to explain." Lando was sipping his drink throughout Daniel's small speech, he gained a small amount of clarity.

So here Lando was, currently hungover, after a night in a club post race, it was four in the afternoon and he was panicking slightly. Daniel had given him a room number and said that he'd understand everything when he was through the door, but it took a while for him to knock. Realistically, what was he supposed to say? His whole body was filled with a mix of emotions that made it hard to function, he was nervous, shy, and slightly embarrassed. He'd never spoken to anyone with in this context before, so to say he was struggling would be an understatement. The shuffling behind the door got louder and louder until he was met with a beautiful woman. "Hello?" Lando was stunned, she was truly enticing, especially when she spoke. "And who are you?" She said with a warm and sweet tone, a light smile adorning her face. "Lando." He struggled to get his words out, he could see why Daniel would not stop speaking about her. "You're Daniel's friend?" She turned away from him, walking further into the hotel room. It was only now Lando was able to see her fully; She adorned a silk robe, one that framed her so well. She poured him a glass of wine that he took, but chose not to drink. "Yes, I am."

"So, Lando, What did he tell you?" She emphasised his name, making eye contact with him, sipping her drink slowly. "To be honest not much." He looked almost bashful as the words left his mouth. "What would you like to know?" she practically whispered, moving closer, then placing her hand on his knee. She pursed her lips slightly as she began to run her hand further up his leg, making it harder for Lando to think. "What this really is, or what it will be." In all honesty, he didn't know how to act, or what to say. "Whatever you want, well, with in reason....Just not tonight." She jumped up rather quickly, swaying her hips as she walked to the other side of the room, pouring another drink. "Why?" Desperation laced his voice, eyes wide. "There is a lot of things we must sort first, and that will take quite some time." While her back was turned, Lando took this as an opportunity to look around the room. Claiming it was vast would be an understatement. Filled with the hotel's finest furniture with the lights set to a dim, sensual level would be the best way to describe it. But, this coupled with just the sight on her, was slowly turning Lando on. "What do we need to sort out?" His patience was wearing thin, but he was yearning for her already. She paused for a moment, but Lando was too focused on the mirror on the ceiling. "I have to learn about what you like, and you about my limits... You will also have to sign an NDA, no matter your decision." He was surprised with her proposition. 

"NDA?" Lando needed her to elucidate, why would she need him to sign such a thing, and not just the other way around. "You are not the only one with things to lose." She stopped speaking again, and walked into another room, leaving Lando to his thoughts; He had no right to ask about her personal life at this moment in time, however, that didn't stop his curiosity. What did she have to lose? How did she get into this situation? All those questions would go unanswered for a long while. He began to hear her footsteps once again, this time there was a paper in her grasp. "I'll give you a while to read through it." Lando had never read something so fast in all of his life, and so, was quick to reach for a pen. He was feeling warm, but not as dizzy as before, he was certain in is sobriety.  "So....Where do we start?" the driver had never asked so many questions in one day, but he just couldn't help it. He tried not to asked closed questions as he wanted o hear her seraphic voice. "Tell me about what you like, Lando, I promise I wont judge." She winked as she sat beside him again, keeping her body closer than before. He knew what she was asking but he just could not form a coherent response. His brain became foggy, but she waited for a while, trying to coerce him into relaxing slightly. "Let's start simple, do you have any kinks that you have? Or would like to try? It can only be a few for now." She tried not to overwhelm him, knowing this can be quite the stressful situation. With how personal this is, she knew that no matter how confident or extroverted the person was, it would still be very hard. His nerves were overt, so she began to run her hand over his arm and shoulder, waiting for a response. "Um...I like blindfolds...and...mirrors." He was hesitant, but as soon as he saw the smile on her face, his shoulders lowered slightly. "Well, isn't that convenient." 

Lando pulled her closer, practically forcing her into his lap, not that she wasn't pleased with the gesture; happy with his confidence back, she let him speak. "Anything I need to know about you?" His hands slowly danced up her back, trailing along her vertebrae. "A few things, I don't have many hard NOs. But you'll get to find out about that at a later date. I will say, I use the traffic light system. I'm guessing you're familiar with it?" His hands travel back down, groping her ass. "Yeah...Woah, you are responsive." He could feel her shifting in his lap more frequently now. "So, hows this supposed to work?" Lando began to move his hips slightly meeting hers. "I call you, or you call me, and if I'm not busy, you will have my room number, and we go from there." Lando smiled ear to ear, squeezing her thighs slightly rough, testing the waters. "If you're not busy?" He said in jest. "Yes Lando, I'm in very high demand." She laughed lightly, grinding harder. "Oh, so I'm one of the lucky few?" Lando's lips met her neck rather quickly, he began kissing and sucking lightly. "Exactly....Knew I'd like you." He laughed into her skin, waiting for another statement, but it never came. 

She pulled away from him, and he was once again dumbfounded. Lando licked his lips as his eyes raked over her body, he was so excited. But doesn't like to be teased. "Oh come on Sweetheart. Don't do this to me." He stood up, walking towards her, but she just backed away, walking towards the actual bedroom. "Oh Lando, I can't give you everything now, then nothing will be bring you back." She giggled, eyeing him up, she was excited to play with him. But it would be better if she made him wait. "Such a tease, I'll be punishing you for that." He threatened her with an opposing tone. Lando reached for his phone resting on the table as she spoke. "I look forward to it." She said in a sultry tone, backing away from his view. Lando walked towards the hotel door, feeling his phone buzz in his hand. 

"Considering how long you've been, I'd say you liked her" -Daniel 

Lando chuckled, choosing to leave his friend on read, the walk to his hotel room was short, it was only now that he noticed how close her and Daniel's rooms were. Lando continued to ponder until he was met with the number 303. He knocked lightly, knowing his friend was waiting. "So... What happened?" Daniel said, ushering him into the hotel room. Lando was hesitant to say, he was unaware of what happened with them, and didn't want to either say something he's not supposed to, or upset Daniel in anyway. It was a sensitive topic, and although he signed the non-disclosure agreement stating that he could discuss this with Daniel, it all felt a little strange. "We discussed a few things, and she had me sign an NDA. But other than that, not much." Daniel smirked, looking back towards Lando, offering him another drink. "That's good, you were gone for quite some time, so I'm guessing you liked her." Lando nodded, looking away for a brief moment, "Yeah, we uh...made out a little bit." He didn't know how to feel, so many emotions were running through his body, it was making it hard to focus, his hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes unfocused. Lando felt almost intoxicated with her. "Just wait until you're in her mouth." 

Chapter Two

[onelittlespiral]

FML:Relax

From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.

“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”

“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”

“You looking to top or bottom?”

I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”

A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.

“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”

Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,

“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”

Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.

He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.

I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.

“So, what have you got?”

“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.

“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.

I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”

Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.

“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”

What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.

My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.

“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”

I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”

He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.

“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”

He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.

The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.

“First time here, bro?”

“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Ye…yeah…yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[cleoluvrr]

notice me (rafe cameron x reader)

scribble x's and o's in my notebook, checking how my hair and my nails look.

warnings: obsessive reader(she's delusional </3), explicit sexual content, unhealthy behavior, slight age gap

masterlist

your panties were soaking, the arousal leaking from your clothed slit creating a mess of the fabric. it clung to your skin uncomfortably, folds visible through the ruined undergarments. you wanted to rip them off, but rafe held them flush to your pussy as he licked a wet stripe over the drenched cotton.

he stared up at you from his position, blue eyes glowing with mischief as took in your impatient whines. his actions did nothing to solve your frustration. the barrier between his wet mouth and your throbbing cunt was only making you more desperate as the minutes ticked by. his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit made your hips grind into his touch, the friction of the panties against the bud doing little to satisfy you.

“r-rafe, please…” a broken plea for him to end his incessant teasing left your throat involuntarily. your pussy had taken over your brain function, whatever clear thoughts you had now replaced with a primal need you’d never felt before.

"calm down," he murmurs, his tone tender and soothing. your knees were forced far apart, kept completely at his mercy each time he leaned in to attach himself to your pussy. “just enjoy it…”

you were tempted to push him away, but the hand you placed on the top of his head only pulled him in closer as you bucked your hips into his face. the texture of his tongue and the rough fabric in combination against your swollen lips was far too intense for you to handle, and yet, you still wanted more–needed more.

“y/n…” his voice was muffled below you, barely audible over your heavy breathing and the blood rushing through your ears. “y/n…” your mind was still in a distant place, thighs squeezing tightly around the sides of the blond’s head as he lapped up the arousal leaking through your panties.

“y/n!”

rafe’s voice was clear as day, the fogginess of your brain dissipated as your friend’s older brother stared at you in annoyance. your eyes widened in realization before blinking away the lusty haze that coated them. heat traveled up your chest rapidly to reach the soft flesh of your cheeks. swallowing dryly, you hummed in response, not trusting yourself to use your real voice.

“jesus, kid, what’s your problem? you can’t hear?” 

“sorry, i was…” you blinked at the man on the other side of the kitchen island, his cold eyes leaving a trail of goosebumps over your arms. “sorry..w-what’d you say?”

the years-long crush you had on your best friend’s older brother only increased tenfold the longer you two were in proximity to each other. you thought that it would go away after freshman year of high school, but you were far from correct. your first year at college had just ended, months filled with new parties, new faces, and new boys to become attached to. 

you were certain that you’d get over rafe this time, and yet, here you were. home for the summer and daydreaming about…things you’d never say aloud.

it was hard not to. no matter how many times you told yourself it was wrong, you just couldn't help but let your mind drift when he was around. the smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and the way he carried himself made your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

he was just so...rafe.

rubbing his eyes frustratedly, he sighs. rafe was never one to have patience for anyone and it was clear to you that he was running low from interacting with a barely-there you. while the oldest cameron always had a bit of a soft spot for you, it still didn’t take much to push his buttons. 

“i said get out, my friends are coming. i don’t want you around them.” rafe says firmly. he leans against the kitchen counter, eyes no longer boring into you as they were a few seconds ago. his fingers tap rhythmically against his phone screen, presumably texting the friends that were supposed to appear sooner or later. when you don’t move from your spot by the kitchen’s island, his head pulls up to meet your puzzled gaze once again. “you didn’t hear me? leave.”

your brows knit together lightly in confusion. rafe had never taken issue with you being around his friends before. granted, you’d never been around them alone. sarah had always been there, and it was never on purpose. any time you were around when his friends came over, rafe would never really give time for them to speak to you before pulling them away. kelce and topper were nice enough from what you’d experienced with the two of them, so you couldn’t understand what the issue would be.

sarah stepped out with ward for something a while ago, leaving you all by yourself in the house with rafe until the two of them returned. you stood from your seat on the barstool to make your exit but stopped before you could get too far. facing him again, you opened your mouth to speak.

“why?” you asked the older blonde curiously. his eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but that didn’t deter you from questioning the order. “do they not like me?” ‘do you not like me?’ is what you really wanted to say, but you bit your tongue to refrain from it. you were too scared of what the answer might be.

rafe chuckled dryly as he shook his head at you, hand reaching up to comb through his golden locks. pushing off the counter, he walked around to meet you where you stood. the way he stared down at you left you feeling a bit startled, the pair of heavy blue eyes drinking in every inch of your frame indiscriminately. it was difficult for you to remain calm with him looming over you like that. 

you nearly jump out of your skin when he places a hand on your shoulder and spins you around roughly. it caught you off guard but you didn’t stumble, instead you made a sound of protest at the sudden contact. you could feel the heat of his gaze against your back and if your face could get any hotter, it would. the puff of his warm breath against your ear is what made you jump, but rafe’s chest against your back made you freeze in place.

the feeling of his hand traveling down your shoulder blades, the dip of your back, and the curve where your waist meets your ass left your skin covered in goosebumps and the palms of your hands uncomfortably clammy.

you’d been hanging out with sarah for the three weeks that you’d been home, and each day you meticulously planned your outfits just in case rafe happened to be around. the oversized sweatshirts had been packed up in the back of your family’s garage and the breasts you’d been hiding since you got them were finally free of the skin tight sports bras you used to strapped them down all those years. the shortest skirts you owned were being put to work the entire summer until something came to fruition. 

“do they not like me?” he repeats in a mocking tone. “kid–y/n…that’s not the problem.”

“rafe!” you exclaimed. the feel of his strong hand reaching under the hem of your skirt left you shocked, jaw slack with disbelief. you were worried about what he would find under there if he reached too far, the dampness of your panties enough to leave them sticking to your skin and able to expose you if he were to accidentally brush against them. “what are you doing?” your imagination had left you feeling indecent and hot, and you wished you would have left the room when you had the chance to spare yourself the embarrassment.

relief washed over you at the feeling of him tugging the fabric of your skirt down to cover as much of the exposed skin as the material would allow. you could hear him kiss his teeth as it barely covered the tops of your thighs, the fold of your ass almost visible anytime you weren’t standing completely still.

the sound of the front door opening filled your ears, topper and kelce’s loud voices traveling through the empty house as they called out for their friend.

“go upstairs. now.” rafe pushes you away roughly and you waste no time shuffling out of the room.

his eyes were glued to you until the moment you left, the feeling of his ocean blue orbs burned into your skin as your nike-clad feet padded against the old floorboards. your heart was beating firmly against the bones in your chest and you could still feel the way his warm hands were so close to somewhere they shouldn’t ever be, but where you wish they could stay forever. 

when you reached sarah’s room on the upper floor of the mansion, you finally released the silent scream that you’d been holding in since rafe first walked into the kitchen.

you’d felt him watching you the entire time, his eyes raking over your frame as you stared down at your phone pretending that you couldn’t tell. you knew sarah had plans with her dad today but you insisted on coming over anyway, claiming that you didn’t want to miss a single day with her this summer. you knew rafe would be here too, because that was the first thing sarah warned you of before she left you alone with her brother. 

you spent months–years–doing whatever it took to get his attention without completely throwing yourself at him like you so badly wanted to. the last thing you wanted was to come off as the desperate, embarrassing best friend, but you had to do something to stand out amongst all the other rich, pretty, older girls that flocked to him everywhere he went.

he was the kook prince, and you were just his little sister’s friend. it was hard for you to get him to see you any other way.

when you came home for summer break, you had a plan. your days were meticulously planned around him, which definitely sounded insane, but after years of pining you couldn’t find it in you to care.

the local goodwill took in all your old clothes during the winter to make room for your new wardrobe. you learned how to do your makeup, lost the contacts, and opted for consistent manicures rather than the brittle nubs for nails you had your entire childhood. months worth of confidence lessons on youtube, manifesting, and subtle flirting practice with the boys at your university were going to pay off this summer.

it had to. 

the kid he was used to was gone. the nail biter with chunky black glasses, a stutter, and old band shirts had been banished and in her place was the improved version of you. the one that planned her outfits a day in advance, always had french tips, and could hold eye contact without stumbling over every word like it was her first. you walked with a sway in your hips and showed off parts of your body that nobody except sarah and yourself knew you had. 

you refused to be the awkward, nerdy kid anymore. things had to be different this time–and they were. 

when presented with the opportunity to be alone with rafe cameron, you took every measure possible to get his attention without begging on your hands and knees. for nearly a month you tried to be as lowkey as possible; pretending to not care if he was there or not, ignoring him completely when you two were in the same room, flirting with other guys when rafe was in hearing distance–whatever it took. it was tiring, but you couldn’t give up–not after all these years.

staring at yourself in the full body mirror propped against the sarah’s wall, you smiled and took a step closer to examine yourself. rafe finally saw you. he called you ‘kid,’ but he finally saw you as something more than that. you were finally one step closer to your silly little daydreams becoming reality.

“he noticed me…” you whispered to yourself. 

he finally fucking noticed.

[foreingersgod]

omg I saw you wrote for pb and I was wondering your take on her comforting a reader who struggles with mental health or anxiety? Tysmia && I love your work !! ❤️🤗

for any of you struggling out there, i’m here with you! if you ever need, my inbox is always open :)

Anxious . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you’ve struggled with anxiety your entire life, but you never told anyone, including paige. during one of your bad anxiety attacks, she finally finds out.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

since you were young, about starting middle school, anxiety controlled the entirety of your life. every decision, every breathe, every moment, anxiety was driving you. it was so suffocating that you fell behind the other kids. you didn’t play sports or join clubs, nor did you hang out with friends because you feared the worst. those voices in your head, that twisted feeling in your gut made life almost unlivable.

when you graduated high school and moved away for college, the anxiety lessened. you think in some ways college helped you find yourself and for a little bit, you were living freely.

in that time, you met your girlfriend paige. you had met her through one of your mutual friends at her birthday party. paige had spotted you from across the room, completely captivated by you. you were beautiful, had the most adorable laugh, and had the most unique style she had seen. she couldn’t help but ask for your number.

the rest was history. you and paige hit it off immediately and became inseparable. when you were with paige, you felt amazing. anxiety was the last thing on your mind. talking to people became easier, leaving your house was no longer scary, life was good. your days of anxiety and panic attacks were well behind you.

but about a year into your relationship, things started to fall apart again. that particular year, you were facing a lot of hardships and it was hard to manage it all. your mother was rushed to the hospital for a minor respiratory problem, she was recovering well, but the financial burden fell to you. school was beginning to pile up as well, it felt like you were drowning in school work. things at your job had been getting worse too, you were understaffed (and underpaid) and practically running the whole place. and on top of that, it was paige’s last year at uconn and she was so stressed about the upcoming season, and you were finding it hard to balance being her support system and the rest of your life.

it was hard.

when things started to go down hill, you felt that familiar feeling creep its way back into your mind. you found that your heart was pounding more and more when you left your cozy apartment, that your thoughts weren’t your own, and that you were always worried about the future. you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function properly at all. but you stayed optimistic, thinking that this would run its course. because you were getting better, right?

you kept all of this from paige. you were worried that she would worry and you didn’t want to make things worse. after all, you had never even told paige about your struggles with anxiety and mental health in the past and you wanted to keep it that way.

on one saturday night in june, one of paige’s teammates hosted a small get together at a quaint little restaurant with the team and their partners. everyone was stoked to see one another and catch up. normally, you would have loved this sort of thing. you used to love those types of settings, but now you were struggling to act excited about it. when paige had told you about the invite, you immediately became apprehensive.

“you excited?” she asked, telling you the details of the event “it’ll be fun”

“stoked” you managed to croak out.

when 6:00 pm rolled around, you were dressed and ready to go. paige was downstairs, keys in hand, awaiting your arrival, but you remained in the bathroom. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to talk yourself down from a panic attack.

you can do this, YN, it’s gonna be ok you told yourself.

“YN!” you heard paige holler from the bottom of the stairs “we’re gonna be late, babe! are you ready?”

touching up your hair and fanning the tears out of your eyes, you rushed out of the bathroom. paige greeted you by the front door with a kiss, hands finding the small of your back and leading you out to her car.

the drive was dreadful. all you could think about was going home, thinking that something was going to go wrong and ruin your night. it had you discretely biting your nails as you looked out the car window. paige, oblivious to your agitated state, was telling you about the restaurant the get together was held at and how she was exited for you to try it. you nodded along, trying to keep yourself distracted.

after a painfully long drive to your destination, you were being escorted to the table where your party sat. you were met with toothy smiles and cheerful greetings from paige’s teammates as you arrived. paige pulled out your chair for you and sat down next to you while conversing with a few of the girls.

you were doing fine at first, only sparking up conversation with a few girls to keep your anxiety at bay. you were managing. even when the waiters began taking orders, you got through it no problem. laughter filled your small corner of the restaurant as everyone joked and talked with each other, there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.

20 minutes passed, discussion was still alive and you were getting through the night like a champ.

until the food was brought out.

the second that plate was sat in front of you, you felt the pace of your heart pick up. you didn’t know what was going on, but for some reason, the thought of eating your food in front of all of these people set you off. you hadn’t had a history of this, normally you didn’t mind eating in public. you assumed it must of been the stress of keeping food down. you stared at the steaming meal in front of you like it was some sort of extraneous creature. just the thought of lifting up the fork had you spiraling about every possible thing that could go wrong.

what if you threw up?

what if the food was raw?

what if everyone saw the way that you were eating? they’ll probably think you look funny.

your eyes welled up at the thought of it all, your head hung low to hide your dampened mood. your legs were bouncing uncontrollably to try and balance your nerves, body practically shaking from fear.

as you attempted to reserve yourself, praying no one would notice. you felt paige’s hand rest itself onto your knee, gripping it gently to halt your bouncing. she tapped the inside of your thigh, leaning in and whispering into your ear.

“hey, what’s the matter baby?” she muttered just enough for you to hear “you’re shaking”

you bit your lip harshly. fuck

you shook your head. it was all you could muster, couldn’t find the ability in your throat to produce any words. the urge to cry out for help gnawed at your chest.

before paige could question any further, you abruptly stood out of you chair. the wooden legs scraping against the black and white tile of the floor. as your back turned, rushing to the bathroom for any sort of isolation, you felt eyes burning in the back of your head. you heard paige call out for you faintly, but it was no use, you couldn’t sit at that table a moment longer.

the bathroom felt miles away as scurried past other tables. tears were streaming down your cheeks, most definitely taking your mascara with it. finally reaching the single occupant bathroom, you shut the door and locked it behind you. you were careless of the germs as you sunk to the bathroom floor in despair. knees hugged close to your chest and head buried into your arms. sobs racked your body and trepidation coursed through your veins. you were losing control of yourself.

out of the blue a knock sounded at the bathroom door. assuming it was another diner of the restaurant, you ignored it hoping they would move along. then you heard her.

“YN, are you in there? are you ok, what the hell is going on?” paige’s voice rang through the door.

“i’m fine” you hiccuped “i’ll be out in a second, i just need to pee is all”

“don’t lie to me” she said “you were shaking and sobbing when you left the table, the hell you just have to pee”

you continued to cry, loud enough for paige to hear.

“baby, please, what can i do? what’s going on, i want to help” she pleaded.

past all the pain your mind was putting you through, you yearned for paige. she made you feel so safe, the whole reason you were able to battle your anxiety in the first place. you didn’t want to rope her into this, but it was far past keeping it a secret now.

with hands still trembling, you unlocked the door and let her in. without wasting a second, she was at your side, locking the door behind her. her arms wrapped around you protectively, rubbing your back to comfort you as you fell to the floor again. she sat with you as you crawled into her. your head tucked into her chest as you cried, tears soaking into her shirt, fingers clinging to the fabric. paige tried to move the hair out of your face to get a better look at you.

“you’re scaring me, YN” a worried expression washed across her face “what can i do? who do i have to fight, huh?”

she tried to cheer you up, accepting defeat once you cried harder.

“i-i don’t-” you were struggling to speak still “i don’t even know where to start paige!”

she pulled you closer to her chest “just try baby, take your time. i’m right here with you, we’ve got all the time in the world ok. just get it all out, you’re safe”

and that was all it took for you to completely break down if front of your girlfriend. every detail from the last few days, from your past, everything about your anxiety came spilling out.

“before i met you, i had chronic anxiety. like so bad i could barely leave the house. then i moved away for school and it got better, and when i met you it pretty much went away. but you know with my mom? and school and work and now you’re in your last season with your team? it’s just been getting to me and the anxiety has started to get worse again. i can’t eat or sleep right and i feel like i’ve been losing my fucking mind, paige”

she was such an amazing listener, sitting there on the dirty bathroom floor as her girlfriend bawled into her shoulder. the whole time her eyes were glued to you, gentle fingers carefully wiping your tears away.

“why didn’t you tell me all of this? tell me about the eating and the sleeping? YN, it makes me sick imagining you going through all this alone”

“because i didn’t want you to worry and i was too embarrassed to say anything”

“well i’m worried now” she said “and embarrassed? baby…”

“i know, it’s silly, but i was just scared you’d think of me less if you knew what a mess i am when i get anxiety like this”

“i could never think less of you. ever. please know that”

“but i-”

“no, listen” she interrupted “just because you struggle with your mental health or have a hard time dealing with your anxiety doesn’t mean i’ll think anything less of you. you’re my whole world. this life and in the next, you’re my entire soul. i want nothing more than to be here for you and to help you overcome things like this. if anything, it only proves to me how strong you are and how i’m so lucky to have a girl who’s able to get through all this”

you sniffled, tears stopping as she continued “i love you, more than you know. and i’m sorry you felt like you needed to do this on your own”

you really had the best girlfriend out there. someone who loves you even through your own insecurities.

“i love you so much” you kissed her with your lips salty from the tears “thank you for being here, i don’t know what i’d do without you”

“get through all this just the same because that’s how strong you are. i’m just here to help in anyway you need” paige leaned in for another kiss, this time deeper, strong hands cradling your jaw “how about i go tell the team you’re not feeling well and we’ll go back home, eat some ice cream and watch anything you want?”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm “even new girl?”

“yea baby, even new girl”

moments later, you were back in the comfort of your home. snuggled in bed next to paige, bowls of ice cream on your lap, the tv buzzing in the background.

you could finally breathe again, you just needed your girl.

[jiminrings]

pink sapphire

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. your relationship's perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn't think sometimes — and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]

notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here — i'm grateful for all ur love n support!! i'll see u in the next one <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s a vocal person.

Your husband does not leave a single thought unspoken, sometimes his thinkpieces too impulsive that when he says them in public, you try to play it off by either distancing yourself with him or from him.

“I think the world would be just fine even if all the bees disappear,” Jungkook once said to you with conviction, midway into chewing his cheeseburger. “There’s articles about it proving otherwise but they’re too long for my attention span, but yeah, I don’t think it would be that bad, y’know?” he giggles, looking up at the ceiling in serious thought. “If anything, the Bee Movie taught us that-…” 

Jungkook yelps automatically when you pinch his thigh, your hand sternly gripping his knee like both your reputations depended on it (they really did). “Jungkook, we’re literally in a climate change gala right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s ever that serious. Seriously, world barista championships? New techniques in supposedly making the best cup of coffee when you’re all just gonna shit it ten minutes later? It’s not that deep,” Jungkook once whispered to you in urgency, his annoyance through the roof. He’s glued to your side, intent on whispering all about his irritation.

“Jungkook, I’m begging you,” you wince, screwing your eyes shut and slowly moving the two of you to the far end of the room. “We were literally right next to your uncle whose new wife is the organizer for that very championship you’re shitting on.”

“We need to talk about the tote bag epidemic,” Jungkook once whisper-yelled to you in a rush, holding you by the arm because he just can’t contain his inner thoughts any longer. You’re thankful, sure, that you’re your husband’s go-to person for all of his random thoughts; it’s just that he picks the worst settings to tell them to you.“They look kinda tacky, everybody deludes themselves that they’re functional even if they have zero pockets, and-…”

“And you just offended atleast three different age groups and all of them are in this café. We need to leave.”

Jungkook’s endearing this way, raw and a tad bit annoying. He’s expressive as much as he’s vocal, his hand slotted on your waist like second nature to him. Being married to him isn’t bad. Sure, the circumstances of your union in the first place were for business anyway, but the both of you understood and agreed at the end of the day. By all means, he’s ideal — ideal until he opens his mouth when he’s sleeping.

If there’s anything that your two years of marriage (and counting) to Jungkook makes you realize, it’s that you should value your peace and sanity more than anything.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook groggily asks you with one eye open, conveniently seeing you in the act of hovering around him with an ominous object in your hand. Maybe it’s the sleep in his eyes or the fog in his brain, but when you look at him like this– bothered and passionately frustrated, it makes him love you even more.

“No,” you mutter, the snoring mouth strip in your hands just begging to be put on already. “I’m trying to make you quiet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Perhaps it’s the sleep in your eyes or the fog in your brain, but you swear you just saw your husband crack a smirk despite keeping you up multiple nights a week, especially for the past month. He’s not endearing tonight, not at all.

“Isn’t marriage all about accepting each other’s flaws?” Jungkook frowns, about to turn on his side when you put your knee to block him.

“We’re arranged,” you deadpan. “I can’t accept you snoring with bass and reverb every night, Jungkook. I can barely sleep.”

“But didn’t you tell me you like it when I make noises?” Jungkook glares playfully. Bringing up your sex life with him out of the blue almost always does the trick, but it probably won’t work tonight now that you’re only awake and breathing heavily from sheer annoyance. “That you adore me whenever I tell you how much I love it?”

“Jungkook,” you hiss, tempted to flick him on the forehead in his sleep repeatedly so he’ll wake up with a mark. “Will you let me put the snoring strip on you or do we divorce?”

“Divorce,” he sighs out, a pinch instantly placed on his thigh that makes him jolt and squeak anyway. Jungkook whines, correcting himself when your hand hovers his chest this time. “Divorcing is bad!”

“Mhmm. Good night, Kook.”

You vibrate just by the prospect of sleeping peacefully tonight without the walls in the house being shaken up by your husband’s snores, tucking yourself in with an exhale that could last for minutes.

“Mmh-hmm!”

Jungkook could only pathetically whine through the mouth strip, resigning to his fate as he just spoons you from behind and huffs.

“What’s that? You want to wear snoring strips every night?” you chuckle, going to sleep with a smile. “What a nice husband.”

( ♡ )

Every now and then, you and Jungkook have to take a refresher course on each other’s businesses. The both of you know a lot already, constant conversations about which meetings happened where and reminders for events that the other will clear up their schedule for.

There’s already the concern and the general knowledge — it’s just all in the technicalities (even the simplest ones) that the two of you are lacking on.

“Is this a mock neck or a crewneck?” Jungkook holds up a shirt that’s yet to be released, eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to mess up. Come to think of it, you have to know now because his family’s holding company had acquired yet another brand and there’ll be a televised event for it — and some reporters ask the stupidest questions to date. You can’t be the weakest link.

“I wanna say neither,” you clear your throat, biting your bottom lip in confusion. It’s a shirt with a collar and that’s the only thing that matters. You know there’s a name for it and there’s a possibility that the choices Jungkook gave you were all bluffs.

Your answer definitely seems to pique both Jungkook’s interest and amusement, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s neither of the two. It’s uhm, in the middle?” you tilt your head, only praying that you could bullshit your explanation to your husband, the very person that created the garment. “It’s an all-new neckline created by Jeon Jungkook because that’s what his label is all about.”

Flattering, but really wrong.

“Cool,” he snickers, nodding to himself before he tosses it for you to catch. “It’s a crewneck though.”

“What? Then why did you make me elaborate?” you complain, scoffing to yourself because you know you should’ve went with that answer. Crewnecks should be easy enough to answer but for some reason (read: you stayed up last night watching new-money elitist reality shows instead of studying), you couldn’t answer.

“To see how good you can run away with your answer, duh.”

“And did I run away with it?”

“You ran away with it for like, four meters,” Jungkook commends you, the distance not all that bad in hindsight, atleast until he opens his mouth again. “There’s a hundred meters in total.”

Trivial things like quiz night on each other’s professions remind you that Jungkook’s nice to be with. Banter flows easily and he’s just so charming that so far, you haven’t deeply regretted a single day out of the two years you’ve been married.

You may not be able to name all the different fabrics, silhouettes, and techniques behind Jungkook’s very own streetwear brand, but you know that he likes being held when he’s asleep; that when he taps your thigh groggily after waking up in the middle of the night, it’s him very kindly asking you to rub circles on his back until he falls asleep.

“Okay, my turn!”

Your glass table almost shakes in excitement when you retrieve your sketches, making your husband all the more nervous because you look genuinely excited and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t have the room for error — your family’s jewelry brand turns 100 years old since the opening of its first shop and the event will be widely attended by everyone from all industries. Who’s to say that your eccentric grandfather won’t suddenly host a quizbee all about their craft?

You flash the paper quickly and your husband sighs in relief, grinning in confidence.

“Emerald cut, easy!” 

The confidence is quickly washed out from Jungkook because you snort, putting the paper down.

“It’s an octagon cut.”

“No it’s not,” he immediately retorts in disbelief, squinting at the sketch you’ve set down already.

“I sketched these,” you narrow your eyes. You forgot just how quick Jungkook can keep himself in denial. “Emerald cuts have more depth to them.

He succumbs just as quickly as he turned stubborn though, rolling his eyes with the internal reminder to touch up on his jewelry knowledge because your event comes before his.

“Fine, sue me for thinking your drawings have depth and dynamic to them.”

“You’re buttering me up.”

“Is it working?” Jungkook blinks owlishly, proud of himself when he sees the corner of your lips twitching. He holds his arm out to sling across your waist out of instinct, pleased in pink when you lean into him.

“Barely.”

Jungkook frowns, nosing into your hair with a huff. “Look who’s talking. You made up an all-new neckline by yourself.”

“Shh,” you hum. “Let me get away with it.”

These moments of domesticity are what remind you that Jungkook’s never been less than ideal for you. That despite being in the same social circle as kids and only starting off as friends, you weren’t hesitant when both your grandparents suggested the idea of getting the two of you married.

In trivial and domestic moments like these, you think that you would’ve wanted to marry Jungkook even if you weren’t arranged.

“I let you get away with a lot of things,” he playfully huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder intentionally heavy to get you to cave deeper into his embrace.

“Because I barely wrong you!” you reason, rolling your eyes because you know for a fact that although you’re not a perfect wife, you’re beyond ideal.

“I know,” Jungkook rolls his eyes this time, the truth undeniable. You’re right; you’re so perfect for him that sometimes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you.  “How about me? Will you let me get away with a lot of things?”

“I already have,” you sing-song, narrowing your eyes playfully as if in deep warning. “But I won’t always do.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook first realized that you loved him when he missed a single step on the staircase and tumbled a whole flight.

It was 3 AM then, the reason behind his sudden trip downstairs being the fever you developed overnight when you had just gotten home from a ski trip. He had put a wet towel in the freezer in the afternoon and he was supposed to put it on you before you went to sleep. Jungkook must’ve beat himself up for forgetting because he wakes up with a cold sweat, determined to put that frozen towel on you like his life depended on it.

Jungkook thought he was doing well by the way he could navigate clearly even with the sleep in his system, eyes still half-lidded and brain still half-working that he decides to rip out the largest yawn to man mid-step on the staircase — before he knows it, he’s woken up immediately to the bottom of it.

“Jungkook!” you yelled to him then in a panic, eyes wide and frantic to see him at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile. Jungkook knew then that seeing you with a head-splitting migraine visible on your pale lips and fatigued eyes, scooping him up on your arms with nothing but scolding and fussing on rotation — he knew that you loved him more than you let on.

You know Jungkook loves you. So when the bed dips and your arms grow cold despite swearing up and down that the both of you have a free day today, you doubt for a second.

“What are you doing up so early?” you mutter, stifling a yawn to see Jungkook up without a complaint.

“Breakfast with my parents. My crazy aunt suddenly came over and they need backup,” Jungkook answers with a pained laugh, cussing himself for being such a filial son. “Don’t worry, I know you hate her plus you were up all night yesterday so I just told them you can’t come because you’re under the weather.”

You’re put at ease to hear him, sighing a breath of relief — good, Jungkook still loves you and doesn’t plan to leave you. It’s just an inkling you’ve had the last few weeks, the daunting realization that in a couple months’ time, it’ll be three years of marriage with him.

It’s the impulsive, less rational part of your brain that thinks Jungkook’s growing bored of you, confused of how he’s been perfectly content being your husband for almost three whole years. 

You go with Jungkook all the way through downstairs, your playful teasing towards him about never yawning again on the steps giving him more amusement (and embarrassment) than necessary.

“Kook?” you question with a furrow in your brow, pointing at the dish that’s occupied still. “You forgot the car keys.”

“Oh. I’m not taking the car,” he smiles, shrugging to emphasize the jacket that he intentionally wore. You missed the detail somehow, the surprise in your voice more evident.

“You’re taking your motorbike?”

“Mhmm!” Jungkook hums pleasantly, the background music in his brain going from calm elevator music to rising bass rift. He’s just about to bid you goodbye with a kiss after he wears his gloves but he’s stopped even before he could come near. You’ve already read his mind.

Your husband knows it when you put your arms across your chest, nodding towards the cabinet with a tone that leaves no room for counterarguments.

“Go wear your full gear.”

“But the breakfast place isn’t even that far,” Jungkook whines, head tilting back. His gear was literally hot, protecting him from sunlight yet physically making him boil inside. 

“I want you in one piece.”

“You want me?” Jungkook cheekily grins, eyebrows wagging incessantly with his arms outstretched. That’s it! If he could just act cuter and be a little more-

“Go wear your gear.”

“I look goofy,” he mutters, eyes downcast. The longer he goes without blinking, the faster he knows that he’s going to stick to your words.

“You look safe,” you smile in success when you put his helmet on, securing it extra tightly that draws a whine from him.

Jungkook frowns but he knows that you’re right as always, a relieved sigh coursing throughout his whole body because who knew where he’d end up without you.

“Ride safe, Jungkook. I mean it. Don’t pull any tricks,” you glare pointedly at him, recounting all of the near misses he had from wanting to be adventurous, be it a trip downstairs to the refrigerator or in the middle of a main thoroughfare.

“I promise not to pull a wheelie on the highway, yes,” Jungkook mockingly salutes you, drawing out a faux disappointed sigh from you.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Was he really? Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, smacking his lips when he seems to get the gist of it. He walks towards you, puckering his lips to the max because he doesn’t want to headbutt you with a solid helmet for just a smooch, landing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

You appreciate it, but Jungkook’s not quite right.

“No, not that.”

“What?” he seems taken aback, suddenly realizing. “Oh!” he giggles, raising up his right hand in a pledge. “I promise to text you when I get there.”

“Good.”

You have to put more strength to drag Jungkook by the helmet, angling your head to the side to kiss so he doesn’t knock you in the forehead with the extremely safe (and extremely bulky) helmet you got him.

Jungkook smiles in contentment, clearing his throat as he revs his engine. It’s all good then. He had become worried in silence because your three years of marriage were approaching and got scared because what if you grew bored of him already?

Jungkook worries that he’ll mess things up with you one day, but with the way he can see you waving at him frantically on his side mirror when he just left, it’s okay. 

He knows you still love him.

( ♡ )

Hoseok’s your most talented and trusted metalsmith.

His work ethic’s unparalleled, your vision only coming into fruition through his support and skill. He’s indispensable to you, your place in the direction of your family’s business cemented by Hoseok’s aid.

Hoseok as both an artist and your employee is different from Hoseok as your friend. Both are cunning but the latter is more ruthless, the lines being blurred every now and then. He loves his job, don’t get him twisted at all — in fact, he trusts you as a boss and the company beyond comprehension that he doesn’t bear any tact for anyone who threatens either.

Not even for Jungkook.

“A collab, huh?” Hoseok squints, looking through the portfolio you’ve handed him. There’s already projected numbers that your analysts have predicted for you but he pays the papers no mind. He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. “A streetwear brand wants a limited-edition collection with us?”

Jungkook clears his throat, timidly raising his hand. He’s always known that Hoseok’s standoffish to literally everyone except you, but what he can’t take is being talked about like he isn’t in the same room.

“Uhm, I’m Y/N’s husband.”

“Well you’re the owner of that streetwear brand, aren’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow at him, tilting his head. He looks drastically bored, his tongue poking his cheek.

Jungkook blinks, not exactly knowing where this was going but he doesn’t like it one bit. “Yes, but I’m also her husband.”

“Okay?” Hoseok tilts his head, eyes already exhausted from the conversation. You know that look on him, the one that tells you he’s bored to death and is itching to shut up the nearest person to him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jungkook rarely gets flustered by anyone else besides you and this time, it’s the bad kind. The embarrassment he gets from just conversing with Hoseok makes him feel like he’s an inconvenience, unease settling into his stomach. Jungkook wishes he couldn’t be so perceptive to know that despite Hoseok’s eyes normally being unreadable, his gaze now on his sketches can be read as underwhelmed.

“Well I-I mean, I’m hearing a lot of us and it sounds like you and Y/N, not me and Y/N,” he licks his lips, recognizing the insecurity that sticks to his tone like honey. Not only does he feel insulted as an artist, he also feels insufficient as a husband.

“That is what I’m saying though,” Hoseok trails off, hand vaguely gesturing for Jungkook to fill in the rest of the blanks. When he doesn’t, Hoseok does it for him. “It’s me and Y/N seeing this brand through. Not you and her.”

Jungkook blinks once, twice.

Hoseok isn’t wrong. No matter how much pain it brings Jungkook to admit it, Hoseok isn’t wrong. Your marriage may be for you and him alone, but your company– your artistry is only yours as much as it’s Hoseok’s. He has no place here and he feels it, his initial confidence that the collaboration he proposed was going to pass already dwindling by the millisecond.

“Hoseok’s right,” you cough, breaking their conversation. The tension was already too thick and you’ve barely made it halfway to looking at the entirety of the portfolio. “Reel it in, Jungkook.”

He’s jealous. He’s jealous and he forgot just how pathetic and insufficient one could feel when the green monster of heartburn decides to make an appearance. Jungkook just about doubts everything, from thinking of how your admiration for Hoseok is probably much higher than the admiration you have for him, to thinking if you even benefit from being arranged to him.

Hoseok looks over the designs, noting all the details silently.

“Huh. I see,” he hums, clearing his throat to try and keep all the crass words he has in mind to himself because you’re looking at him intently. “Skulls. Haven’t seen this one before.”

“You sketched this?” Hoseok nods every now and then, holding up the paper that had deep indents of the pencil on the paper to the point that it defeats the concept of a sketch. Your husband nods, and he wishes he hadn’t because Hoseok comments not a second later. “Figures.”

He hums, silently approving here and there of some concepts he could totally get behind. It’s not all rubbish content, but he can’t say that salvageable automatically equates to commendable.

“So? What do you think, Hobi?” you ask when the silence has gone long enough, having noticed that Jungkook already grew too quiet in your corner.

Hoseok calculates in his brain, looking from the portfolio and back to you. He tries not to clench his jaw for the sake of you silently pleading him to mince his words and actions, clasping his hands together.

“Yeah, it’s doable,” he nods, making Jungkook smile despite his ego being a little wounded. He’s bounced back miraculously, profusely thanking Hoseok with an unexplained eagerness to him. Before Jungkook could launch himself to further possibilities though, Hoseok calls for you.

“Y/N? A word, please?”

Jungkook looks back from the door, hesitant doe eyes flitting between the two of you. You don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind but you know better than to project, bidding him goodbye for the timebeing. “It’ll be quick.”

The most commendable trait you can attribute to Hoseok besides being your friend is his passion for your craft. He’s vision-oriented in the sense that he cuts straight to the chase before he could even lose the trail that the sudden burst of fervor leaves him.

“Meridian’s your baby. It’s your grandmother’s grandmother’s baby. It’s coveted. It has meaning,” Hoseok rambles, the sigh leaving him more concerned than it was relieved at being let out. He can’t mince his words now — he can’t put it in any other way besides the truth. “Collaborating with Jungkook cheapens it.”

“Hoseok.”

Your tone edges on a bite, clenching your jaw as you try to take everything in. Hoseok’s been your voice of reason for so long but you don’t know how to accept that voice now, the tinge of guilt slowly staining you because the back of your mind tells you that he isn’t wrong.

Jungkook’s streetwear brand is huge; whether or not you chalk it up to his name being linked to his family’s holding company that’s responsible for other designer brands, your husband’s brand specifically remains larger than life. It’s not a flawless brand, that much you’re sure of, but it’s still of great value.

Just perhaps not of the same degree that Hoseok holds your company to.

“It’s not all bad, but most of his work is dispassionate. It’s typical. Meridian would look cheap if you commit to this fever dream collaboration.”

There’s a rash on your neck, one that’s warm and speaks to your ear of how shitty it must feel to even agree partially to what Hoseok’s saying. Your duties as an artist in the business rarely clash with your courtesies as Jungkook’s wife — today just happens to be one of those days.

“It’s Jungkook’s idea, okay?” you relent, voice low as if in defeat of admission. You don’t mean to belittle him, you just happen to know and listen to reason. “It’s not the best, I know, but it’s honest work. Let’s give him a chance.”

“You’re giving him a chance because he’s your husband, not because you see any potential.”

Hoseok says it without uttering nor a single sense of doubt. He sounds so definite that you don’t even know if he’s still insulting Jungkook or if he’s insulting you at this point, swallowing your words.

There’s truth to your craft but you know there’s an even bigger truth to the unspoken protectiveness you have over Jungkook, the answer sounding seemingly shallow but that’s what it really is — love makes you shallow as much as it makes you deep.

“You’ll know when you’re married.”

“Arranged would be the term for you and Jungkook. Not married,” Hoseok quips. “You’re only holding back your critique. We both know it’s a dead end when it comes to creative direction.”

The both of you leave it at that, the decision being unanimous to collaborate with Jungkook despite your metalsmith’s hesitance. What you say goes, that’s just how hierarchy works. 

Unbeknownst to you and Hoseok though, Jungkook’s been listening the whole time — that’s just how love operates sometimes; hidden and relinquished.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s hurt.

How crude of Hoseok to think of him that way. How worse of you to agree even.

Jungkook’s irrational when he’s hurt, refusing to see reason. He knows at the back of his head that he’s hit a rut and pitching in a collaboration with your brand is his last-ditch attempt in sparking something. Cheap was a word for tackiness and to have your friend use it on him brings him to a new low.

It’s just jewelry. What you make is just jewelry. Just pieces of metal bended and soldered together with shiny gems that don’t possess any real meaning to them besides superficial.

It’s not that deep.

Not that deep to the point that when Hyejoo, his childhood friend turned actress turned fleeting appearance in his life every now and then (whom you hate for some reason), asks him for a favor — Jungkook barely hesitates.

Hyejoo stands before him in a shirt from his brand’s limited collection, one out of the only hundred ever made. If Jungkook recalls correctly, he didn’t even send any items from the limited collection to any of his friends; he left everyone besides you to go fend for themselves.

Perhaps his childhood friend’s truly a fan of his craft, knowing her for her utmost support towards all his releases. To be honest, the two of them aren’t even that close anymore to the point that they’re each other’s first friend to think of in dire circumstances, except now — now when she needs him for a favor.

“But I need a pink ring for the event, Jungkook!” Hyejoo whines, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. Truth be told, she knew no brand that had pink jewelry that was elegant enough for her taste except yours. She’s turned down sponsorships all for a ring you probably keep in your sock drawer. “Yes I can buy from other brands but you’re there, Kook. You’re available and I can borrow from you because your wife has a shit ton.”

Jungkook knows what Hyejoo’s talking about. It’s the one pink ring that you wore on your engagement party with him and it’s become the talk of everyone from how ethereal you looked, the one tiny piece of jewelry tying it all together.

He knows it’s pink and he knows it’s just hidden away in its jewelry box, one that you keep right next to his collection of watches. There was no fancy vault for it either, just tucked next to his timepieces as if they were of the same value.

“Come on, she won’t even notice,” Hyejoo urges him, making him inwardly cringe. She turned up on his front door unannounced asking for a favor and he feels indebted her for the last time she granted him one, the apartment complex that Hyejoo owned becoming the perfect backdrop to his collection that’s still renowned to this day.

Jungkook’s loyal, he knows he is. His loyalties lie with you and he still honors his debt — whether or not you’re caught in the middle. It’s true that you won’t even notice, you don’t even peek at it anyway! For someone who’s a part of a family of jewelers, you rarely accessorize yourself gaudily.

“Fine. I’ll let you borrow,” Jungkook mutters, finally relenting to Hyejoo’s requests. He opens the door wider, on the way to your shared bedroom but looks back hastily at Hyejoo to point a stern finger. “But give it back, okay?”

It takes a great amount of strength for Jungkook to even hand the ring to Hyejoo, not even including the box with her because a) you would know that it was missing, and b) he wants her to wear it at all times until she gives it back the next day. Jungkook takes it personally to flick her wrist to serve as a reminder that he had given it to her already, even going so far to take a picture of the two of them and make her sign on his notes app.

He’s not necessarily betraying you — or so he thinks. It was just jewelry that you wouldn’t miss, same as the shirts that he gives away to his friends. Their retail prices may be lightyears away but you would understand; you always do.

Jungkook gaslights himself into thinking that he did no wrong but the guilt is what slowly gnaws on him, the tips of his fingers going numb every time he looks at you. 

Come to think of it, his decision to lend your ring to Hyejoo was out of sheer pettiness even without the assurance that you’ll take notice of it. His hurt over Hoseok’s comment disappeared the moment he handed her your ring, but to his surprise, it’s anxiousness that replaces his irritation.

He kisses you good night still as if today didn’t happen; how his irrationality had gotten the best of him when he got hurt by Hoseok’s remarks over his passion and creativity, and just a few hours later, it’s his impulsiveness and misplaced urge for vindication that lent your unsuspecting ring to his childhood friend.

“Jungkook!” you yell out in panic, urging him awake instantly that his heart beats incessantly despite being pulled out of sleep. You look frantic, the rawness in your eyes not from your lack of sleep, but instead from tears. “Call 911. The Interpol! The CIA! The fucking Blue House!”

“What?! What happened?!”

He’s panicked just as you are, hands shakily clutching his phone. He looks you up and down and inspects you for injuries to which there are none, nothing but overwhelm making your body shake.

Jungkook can’t bear to see you so glum and helpless, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him feeling nothing but pathetic.

“My ring,” you whisper brokenly, the phantom feeling of wearing it making you sob even more. “My ring is gone.”

Jungkook’s mouth dries, the panic in his own body turning against himself, his remorse growing into something larger than life. He could physically see the confusion on your face on the way he paled, his phone dropping out of his hold.

Your husband’s hands reach for you but you don’t take them, recoiling even before he could open his mouth. Jungkook was readable — too readable to the point that you wish he had lied to your face instead.

“I-I can explain.”

Jungkook weakens by the knees when the words drape from the tip of his tongue, your chest sucking in an inhale so sharp that he gets weakened by the force of it. “I lent it to Hyejoo.”

You’re quiet, the type of rage in you simmering ever so slowly that it builds to an immense heat. You don’t know if you can ever muster to look at Jungkook in the eye, your middle finger that knows the grooves of your ring twitching in muscle memory.

“You what?” you croak, tilting your head. You know what you’ve heard but you just wish you’re mistaken this time, cursing your own accuracy. “Who told you that you could do that?” 

Jungkook’s cornered in his mind and he spews the first thing in his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Yours is mine and mine is-…”

“That doesn’t apply here! You’re so fucking-…” you just about burst in the seams, clenching your jaw so hard to the point that you give yourself a headache. You’re resolute this way, the pitiful look on your husband’s face not getting a single drop of remorse from you. “Get it back.”

You wouldn’t have lent it to anyone regardless if Jungkook asked you, but you would have considered at the very least. For him to take something so special to you and loan it to someone you’re not even fond of ticks a wire in your brain, your anger coming before the sadness fully hits.

“Y/N!” he hisses, angry at both the situation and himself but he now thinks of the courtesy that he didn’t possess when Hyejoo borrowed your ring. “I can’t turn back on my word.”

“What? Your word that favors Hyejoo and shits on mine?” you scoff in disbelief, laughing at the mockery Jungkook makes of you. It’s insulting and saddening and you can’t even begin to think of the extensive cleaning and safekeeping you’ll have to do once you get your ring back. “I said, get it back. You’re my husband and you’re just her friend, you have all the means to take my ring back.”

Jungkook turns somber, a stark contrast to your anger. He pleads with you, finally closing the gap between you to which you roll your eyes.

“The event is tonight. She’ll return it tomorrow. Please, it’ll be embarrassing.”

“For you or for her?” you ask but the rage in your voice is already simmering, the daunting thoughts of how Jungkook thinks of his friend’s sake and himself first than his wife making you clench your fists around nothing.

“Y/N, please.”

His incessant begging does little to influence your decision because you’ve already changed your mind, the rage that dipped in you and the fact that your heart’s already aching despite having just woken up converting you instead.

“Tomorrow morning. I want it back in the case before I wake up.”

The two of you sleep apart for the night and Jungkook can’t even bring himself to contest it knowing that he doesn’t deserve to hold you. He simmers in self-loathing, unable to sleep the night when his phone dings from the notifications it has of your name.

Hyejoo’s look on the carpet trends the whole night, the main focus of everyone being the pink ring that adorns her ring finger. There’s threads of speculations how you and her are either best friends or how she must’ve bought it from you. If only he could, Jungkook would reply to each comment saying that Hyejoo doesn’t hold a candle to your elegance and how the ring has always been yours — that it’s his fault that his friend’s even wearing the same piece.

He’s restless and he can’t even begin to think how much more tired you feel. Of your name being brought up and of him royally fucking up. 

When Jungkook thinks it couldn’t be worse, karma one-ups him from the very mistake he committed when he entertained Hyejoo’s favor in his mind.

“You’re stupid,” you spit to Hyejoo who stands on your porch, head downturned in shame. She had half the decency to face you personally but lacks the rest to honor her end of the bargain; she lacks the intellect to respect you.

She lost the ring. She lost the pink ring you’ve treasured and cared for since you were a teenager, losing it after a careless and drunk decision of skinny dipping. You feel like you’ve been made a fool not only by your husband, but also by his friend that you don’t care for at all.

The tears fall out of your eyes in anger, each one being in a rush to exit because you’re full of resentment at this point.

“You’re a brainless, stupid, careless fucking idiot. I don’t want to see you in my household again,” you point at her, making her step back.

“This is Jungkook’s-…” she squeaks, just about to correct you when you point at her even more menacingly. You’re not even joking around as it seems like, eyes angry to the point that they lack of love, even for Jungkook who tries to hold you back.

“I’ll get a restraining order on you.”

Hyejoo scurries out all with the promise to reimburse you (as if she has the money to do so) that falls on deaf ears, your hand slamming the door too hard that your husband swears the walls shook with your force.

You look unrecognizable with the sheer disappointment you have for him, your anger dripping off of you thickly that he’s rendered speechless.

“You,” you seethe. “I fucking hate you.”

You never told him that before.

You’ve gotten mad at him on several occasions but never to this degree where you tell him that you loathe him. This is the furthest that you’ve took it, the honesty behind your words making his bottom lip tremble.

Jungkook’s eyes have been perpetually moist since last night but it’s only now that his eyes sting with white hot sadness. You’re only reacting out of your state of overwhelm; you must be, right?

“I hate you so, so much, Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I really mean that,” you scoff to his face, shaking your head in absoluteness. “What would you do if I sold your car, huh?”

Jungkook wants to apologize to you so bad but he doesn’t have the right words to give you the proper one that you deserve. He gives you an answer off the top of his head, the disappointment for himself growing if he does otherwise.

“It’s just a car.”

“Well this is just not a fucking ring to me! It’s not simple like that!” you burst, your movements jerky.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he whispers, wanting to tug at his hair for being so stupid. He should’ve considered the possibility that Hyejoo has a knack for being careless; he failed to account that he went behind your back to lend your ring to someone else in the first place.

“I can buy my own rings!” you exclaim. “What you don’t get is that this means the world to me! If your uncle gave you a car, and I gave it to someone else and now it’s on the bottom of the ocean, what would you feel?”

“It’s just a car from my uncle. I can replace it. I can buy a better one.”

Jungkook knows he’s just making excuses. He’s just being defensive now that he’s cornered and has no excuse for behaving so poorly. He can’t escape the anger and the disappoint he’s flooded with, not when you cry out of sheer distress.

“Not if my aunt isn’t here! Not if this ring is one of the only things I have of her!”

Sure, your aunt was dodgy. She’s the black sheep of your family and had done more than a lot of questionable things, but she cared for you. She had given you her own ring when you were twelve and whilst it was too big for you to wear, she gave you a chain for you to wear it around your neck.

The ring is something you can easily replicate but the thought behind it is what you can’t take back. It’s not the only piece of her that you have but it’s one of the earliest things you obtained; one of the most notable pieces out of the bunch.

“You don’t think. You don’t care. You don’t love.” 

For Jungkook to carelessly seize it from you and loan it to someone else grips your heart like a vice. You’re gonna dwell on it for more than a couple of days and realize that you have more sentimental and elegant things you have of your aunt eventually — but what matters to you is how you feel now. How Jungkook had disappointed you so bad, you feel like throwing up.

“I want to divorce you,” you seethe, meaning your words at the heat of the moment. Jungkook stands frozen, hearing his own heartbeat thrum in his ears. “I can find a new husband. What I can’t find — what neither you nor Hyejoo can’t find is my ring.”

( ♡ )

You do it while he’s sleeping.

You take advantage of Jungkook’s fatigue and disorientation from crying his eyes out, passed out in the couch while he hugs himself with his arms to try and replicate your embrace. It’s already morning and it only looks like he slept just minutes ago, positively dozed off.

You take much care in slipping of the platinum wedding ring from his finger, joining your discarded one in your palm. There’s only carelessness when you scoop them into a tiny drawstring bag, taking it to Hoseok and doing a regular work day as if your head hadn’t pounded with hurt just last night.

It’s only convenient for the both of you; Jungkook’s decision slingshots back to him, and your client would be happy. Hoseok texted you last night asking if he should grant the request of a high-profile client with a titanium pendant, and it just so happens that you have two chunks of it that you no longer need. It could be melted and repurposed — after all, it’s just jewelry according to Jungkook.

The guilt of your impulsiveness doesn’t hit you instantly, it only comes with confusion when you see your husband in shambles.

When you come home, the whole house is upturned. Jungkook’s frantic, waking up to a hand that bears no wedding ring; no proof of you. His eyes glaze with relief briefly when he sees you, urging you to take in the situation fully.

“The police. The CIA! Interpol! MI6 — or is it MI7? Fuck, Mr. Bean’s movie was too good! Get the Blue House on the line!” he blubbers, looking back and forth the cushions of the couch and his hand. “My wedding ring!”

It’s perhaps a ballsy move made on your part, but you can’t guilt yourself into bearing the blame. You made your wedding rings and it only makes sense for you to get rid of them. The bands are symbolic, made and upheld with love for the last two years but in your haste of upset, you’ve given them away.

You perhaps regret it slightly, the fog in your brain lifting but only faintly. You’re still mad and disappointed at Jungkook, and perhaps you don’t mean the bit of divorcing him, but you do mean wholeheartedly the sentimentality you have behind all your jewelry.

The platinum in your ring finger just felt too heavy last night that you grew weary of it, not thinking twice when you removed yours and Jungkook’s. Even if the two of you make up and you don’t end up divorcing Jungkook, you wouldn’t want to wear the same ring that brought you the same pain during its stint.

“I sold them,” you answer, turning your back on him before you could see the anguish in his face. “We have no need for them.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s making you a rice bowl as an apology.

Buttered fried rice, egg, bacon, and all with a generous amount of cheese. It’s his hangover food when he needs something greasy and filling but the only difference from his past hangovers and your anger at him is the latter barely feels like it could be rectified.

He says his apologies again through the door and he’ll happily repeat it to your face if you stand longer in front of him for more than a minute, his panic even larger than the oil splashes he’s gotten from making your bacon eagerly.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was stupid of me to lend your ring to Hyejoo behind your back and I swear I won’t do it again. I know that ring meant a lot to you and I-I was so pathetic by invalidating that,” he mutters through the door, looking at the frying pan every now and then to make sure he wasn’t burning anything. “I have every intention of finding your ring and making it up to you, cross my heart!”

It feels insulting, even. For him to think that he could change the ache of your heart with a simple hot meal. Jungkook realizes that he really is dense when you don’t answer the door for the twenty minutes that he knocks. When you do open up, he feels even more dumb.

Just twenty minutes ago, he wired you twice the amount of the worth you estimated your aunt’s ring to be. Combined with the pitiful amount Hyejoo wires you, it’s then do you realize that you’re not fazed by money. The initiative is there, sure, but the ache in your heart hasn’t subsided completely.

You do miss Jungkook. It does tug at your heartstrings to see and hear him beat himself up over and over again the more you realize that you’re attached to your aunt’s memories rather than the ring itself, but just two nights away from each other won’t absolve everything he’s done and failed to do.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your husband who tries far too hard for his own good. Melancholy isn’t a good look on him because he looks the most unkempt he’s ever appeared in two days than the two years you’ve been living with him under the same roof.

Jungkook waits for you to register his attempt, holding up a hot bowl with his bare hands that you resist the urge to take it from him for a second. His ring finger’s occupied by a cheap mood ring, rapidly turning red at the moment from the heat of the bowl.

You look down fully expecting to be swayed even just a little bit, but when you do, you feel the kick to just slam the door right back.

“I hate runny eggs,” you scowl. “Two years married and you don’t even know how I like my eggs cooked.”

Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole. 

He wishes that if it was true that chickens are the last true descendants of dinosaurs, there’d be a chicken the same size as them that pecks him into oblivion.

He hurriedly turns on the stove and scoops up the egg back into it, careful not to have any of the runny folk get on your meal. He itches in frustration, his ring finger that’s temporarily adorned with a cheap and clunky mood ring being accurate by turning blue in sadness.

Jungkook’s so out of it, so disappointed in himself that he doesn’t notice he cooks the egg until it’s burnt, the char of it reflecting how poorly he thinks of himself now.

It’s like when you were disappointed in him that time when his outlandish aunt made a rude comment about you and you were speechless the whole night that he stayed silent. He remedied it by later groveling at your feet and marching to his aunt and laying out all of his intentions for her to grow up and apologize to you, the same aunt that’s now blacklisted from all the gatherings.

It’s like when you were upset at him when he left abruptly in the morning and didn’t tell you where he was going because he didn’t know if you would care, partying it up in a different country for his friend’s bachelor’s party and coming home a day later with you hot on his heels. Jungkook made it up to you by once again apologizing profusely and updating you on his whereabouts since then (sometimes he gives too much information), always making it a point to bring two powerbanks with him so he can text you when he’s left and arrived.

This time though, he doesn’t know how exactly to make it up to you. He’s been in contact with professional divers to try and look for the ring for you, but he can’t be of much help until he comes along to know for sure. He’s thinking of all these different ways and approaches but he’s unsure if any of them are sufficient enough to rectify his mistake.

Jungkook feels pathetic because he swears he loves you and knows everything about you, but here he is — crying about how he doesn’t even know how you like your eggs cooked.

You’re upset at him, and he can’t do anything right for you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook tries again at dinner.

It’s the day of Meridian’s 100th anniversary and the two of you play it up for the cameras, your husband’s attention on you so keen and affectionate that you almost forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

He takes advantage of the cameras during the carpet session, tugging you close with his hand on your waist as he seizes the chance to hug you tightly at the end when you enter the hall with no cameras in place. He breathes you in as he always does, hesitant to let you go and exhale because you’re the very scent and existence of love.

Jungkook studied, of course he did. He’s touched up on his jewelry knowledge because he’s more than desperate now to seek your validation, nervously smiling all around as he waits for people to stop approaching you in your table.

His attention’s fixed on your necklace, the stone on it similar to the very ring he lent and lost. He’s brought it up about five times already, animatedly reciting trivia about it as if you’re not the literal face of the jewelry industry. He clears his throat, leaning in for you to whisper intimately, but just loud enough for the other people to hear a tad. 

“Ah, that pink sapphire looks so good on you, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter sharply, making Jungkook’s heart skip a beat. You melted against him when he was hugging you, that much he was sure of. He doesn’t know why you’ve become harsh again all of a sudden, forgetting that his lapse this time was opening his mouth. “Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” his brows furrow, swallowing the lump on his throat. “Pink?” he guesses, eyes wavering as he tests the waters. “Pink sapphire?”

It takes a lot in you not to make an outburst. Truth be told, you’ve started easing up on Jungkook but his attempts at trying hard is just too much and in the wrong direction, hearing pink sapphire over and over again reminding you of the ring you lost.

“Yes, that! Stop talking.”

“But I did my homework! Of course I’m not gonna stop talking,” he defends himself, the nervousness rising to his throat like bile. God, what if he did the wrong homework? What if he’s missed the assignment all along?

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough because you’re wrong, Jungkook. This isn’t a pink sapphire — this is a pink diamond.”

Jungkook’s brain stops functioning for a solid five seconds, his mouth drying. The only proof that he was still breathing is his big eyes threatening to water.

“And so is my ring that you gave to your friend without asking me,” you add.

“What?!” he sputters in disbelief, recounting to all the other times he named the gem in multiple occasions even before today. “B-but I said it so many times before! You didn’t even correct me!”

“I didn’t correct you because you looked so proud of yourself!” you exclaim, surrendering with a sigh. Pink sapphire was the first gem that Jungkook had managed to name in your trivia night on the first month of your marriage, his avidness on getting it “right” so contagious that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Pink sapphire is dirt cheap compared to pink diamonds, Jungkook! You just keep saying sapphire over and over again because it’s your birthstone,” you mumble, looking around to see if there were any people growing nosy at your conversation. “I let you say it over and over again to the point that I wore them instead of diamonds because you just can’t shut up about them,” you grit. 

This is the only time you reference your sentiment with the jewelry itself in words, your last profession of your disappointment in him being the removal of your wedding bands.

 “That’s the thing with you — you can’t tell. This isn’t just about emerald o-or octagon cuts, Jungkook. This is our marriage and you gave a girl that I don’t like my ring that meant so much to me! Now you can’t get it back.”

Jungkook’s speechless, holding back tears. You fear you’ll cry yourself when you look at his round, pleading eyes so you don’t, squeezing in the last word even if he always lets you have it.

“And now I’m correcting you because you’re embarrassing me. Now please, lay off with the gem terms.”

( ♡ )

Things have been tame between you and Jungkook.

You’ve aired out your grievances and Jungkook’s still trying hard as always, perplexing you because he hasn’t gone restless. It’s progressively warmer between the two of you but it’s nowhere near to what the two of you used to be, the air between the two of you going static that you’ve utilized it for your own.

It’s just a quick getaway for the day, hopping aboard a yacht with the intention of giving yourself a break. You’ve reflected enough but not alone with yourself, the period of space with Jungkook being much-needed.

Until you’re mistaken of course.

You think your mind’s playing tricks on you when the boat rocks more than it would with waves, but the all too familiar figure coming into your vision turns out to be real. It’s Jungkook in the flesh, wearing his scuba suit and gear.

It’s a pure coincidence that is. All Jungkook knew was that you were going on a yacht today and you didn’t specify where; meanwhile, all you knew was that he was going to be scuba diving, but he didn’t specify where either.

It’s purely kismet but your bodyguard Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so, legitimately thinking it was a pirate instead of your husband so he repeatedly smacks him with an oar until you stop him.

“Jungkook!” you call out, getting your bodyguard to stop. Atleast he has the decency to look sheepish, but he was genuinely concerned! He thought you were being hijacked by someone dressed in the most unassuming scuba suit, holding a plastic bag in his hands.

Your husband barely winces from the pain because he’s high from all the adrenaline, chest rising rapidly in succession. “Y/N, baby, I — hold on, I’m gonna, wait-…”

He looks tired still but there’s a light to him, either his radiance has come back or it was just the sun behind him but either way, it was nice to look at Jungkook who isn’t groveling at your feet for once.

He finally catches his breath, standing up to his full height as he tries not to ramble his words.

“I bought all the fish.”

“You did what?” your eyes widen, pathetically looking at the vast ocean around you. Perhaps you’re so startled (and amused) by Jungkook’s sudden and silly appearance that you forgot to apply common sense, just as breathless as he is.

“Okay maybe not all, but I did buy a lot of fish,” he concedes, nodding incessantly. He’s too excited that he can’t contain himself, even more-so when you finally look at him without disdain staining your features.

“For what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jungkook smiles, never having been more proud retelling you his previous failure.

“Your favorite seafood restaurant? I bought them their stock, provided that they’ll open up every last fish in there to see if they had your ring,” he shrugs as if it’s a common thought process to abide by, later shaking his head. “They don’t.”

If there’s just one trait that Jungkook had to be known with by everyone, it would be his persistence.

Jeon Jungkook is endearingly, cloyingly, and annoyingly persistent with the things he desires and the things he’s passionate about. You’re his wife — you’re his every last desire and passion. He had wronged you fresh from a week and some days ago but that timeframe has already given him ample time to fully redeem himself.

He can’t undo what he did. He can’t reverse the time he lent his wife’s ring to his friend who loses it not a full day later. Jungkook can’t take back any of the things he did but what he can do is be dedicatedly persistent in correcting himself.

He’s tanner, his muscles are bulged and straining, and his skin’s itchy with all the salt but he takes all of these things in stride — he’s become a better person through persistence.

“I also tried snorkeling for a week and I still couldn’t find it,” he trails, biting his bottom lip while he clasps his hands behind his back. “But I tried again today.”

It’s either relief or endearment that fills your face full, but nonetheless, the light that Jungkook sees from you lulls him to the comfort and warmth he’s been yearning from you for the past week. His eyes are strained and his body feels itself moving in waves as if he was still underwater, but he just closes his eyes to savor the moment.

You bound to him to put him in an embrace, your husband instantly melting in your hold. It’s either all the salt in his eyes or it’s just the realization that you’ve finally forgiven him and it’s all the love he feels for you, but either way, you hold Jungkook tighter.

“I found your ring.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know when Jungkook first loved you.

You can’t pinpoint an exact moment when Jungkook started acting differently towards you because he’s always been the same way from day one, the same qualities that make him both annoying and endearing having been there from the start.

You could always ask but you can’t bring yourself to. It shouldn’t bother you at the end of the day because the important thing is that Jungkook loves you. He loves without reservations, the pinnacle of his love language being his patheticness in trying hard.

Jeon Jungkook may try hard for everyone, but he tries the most for you.

He wakes up early and you only realize his absence when you turn to pat the warm space he’s supposedly left behind, making you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

You wonder for a second that if Jungkook left the bed early and is quiet at the moment, he’s probably at the bottom of the staircase again because he yawned while going down. There’s no schedule today for either of you and you aren’t sick for him to make any sudden trips downstairs, his absence making you wonder this time.

There’s clanging coming from the garage, piquing your interest largely. There sits Jungkook wearing less safety gear that you’d like, blocks and blocks of wood surrounding him.

Your husband looks up, unassuming as usual while he breaks out into a grin.

“I’m making furniture for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” you snort, recounting all of the pieces you’ve acquired from your friend who’s an expert on woodcarving. Jungkook seems to know this too but he’s insistent, shaking his head eagerly.

His eyeglasses (his prescription ones instead of the actual safety ones) fog up from both his sweat and the few tears he’s shed out of frustration, taking them out so you could see the passion in his eyes. The passion’s definitely there, dampening his eyelashes and even tinting his eyelids pink.

“No, I’ll paint it up real good and it’ll blend it to your aesthetic.”

“Besides that, Jungkook,” you warn, coming down to squat on the space beside him. “You’re not good with tools.”

“Not good at them like Hoseok?” he questions, raising his brow. He’s frustrated and cranky and he just compared his (eager yet improper) use of large power tools compared to Hoseok’s expertise in using much, much smaller tools. Jungkook’s sweaty from all the effort, vaguely gesturing to the item in front of him. “Please, can Hoseok do it like me?” 

Your husband points to the lopsided bench (?) slash coffee table (?) slash abstract piece (?)  in front of you whose message is that they’re tired, only the scoopers for faux blood missing. It’s quite the spectacle. Not necessarily a statement piece because it raises more questions than any resolute takeaways at all.

“No, not really,” you joke around, winking to get the joke across your husband’s skull who sometimes reads between the lines too literally. “He can do it much, much better than you.”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Jungkook whines with no real harm. “Go ahead, why don’t you divorce me and marry him because he’s so good with using a hammer?” 

The two of you were back; the same playfulness and warmth rekindling, if not stronger. Some things were just too strong to grow out of, such as Jungkook’s double takes when it comes to another name being linked to you.

He’s just making sure, still as desperate to gain your validation even before the ring incident took place.

“That was… a joke if you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook laughs robotically, eyes narrowing and widening at you every two seconds. “I’m just kidding. You knew that. You wouldn’t do that… right?”

You wouldn’t.

He knows that you love him. He had known it during his state of vulnerability and he knows it now even in a state of security. He knows it even without a wedding ring, your promise of making new ones for the both of you remaining in his mind.

The downfall of Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t be his persistence that also bears the ability to be his uprising, it was never that. Jungkook’s downfall would only be the loss of you and it’s the only absence that he can’t risk.

Your husband tries so hard that it brings you secondhand embarrassment at times, his mishap with the pink sapphire cementing in your mind just how much of himself he dedicates to you, even with lapses along the way.

Jungkook tries so hard that he ends the day with splinters on his hand and his sinuses clogged with far too much dust. His effort doesn’t always equate to the best but he gives what he always has when you’re in the equation.

It’s a wooden box for your rings, a shallow heart with your initials carved on the inside. It’s smooth even without the varnish, a stark contrast to his hands that are all rough from doing all the labor.

“I can’t give you jewelry that you already have.”

Jungkook admits to you whole-heartedly, sitting at the end of the bed while he watches you admire the box in your vanity.

“But I can make shirts for you. Stitch up your name real nicely on my chest pocket,” he offers, the smile on his lips growing. “I can make furniture for you,” he shrugs, chuckling at himself. “I can’t guarantee that it’s usable but I can make furniture a little.”

You smile so warmly that Jungkook forgets all of the little pains, melting away his fatigue. If you could put all the love you have for Jungkook in a single space, even the mansion the two of you reside in won’t be enough.

“Cooking too. I can also cook a-and make perfect rice and I promise to remember how you like your eggs in the morning.”

Jungkook knows it to heart by now, even without the reminder he’s written himself pasted on the counter. Your eyes were just so glossy and moist that Jungkook can’t help but to spring to your side, patting them dry with his shirt.

Your husband wipes away your tears even before they could form and it pushes them out further, the voice in your throat dwindling. It’s the cheap and rusting mood ring on his ring finger that gets you to sob, seeing the faint green outline that it leaves.

He takes notice of your observation, understanding that jewelry means much  more to you that he could comprehend which is why he’s quick to remedy your thoughts.

“I can always get tattoos of you if that’s what you want,” he continues, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, that’s what I want.”

Jungkook takes off his ring and it forces you to blink away your tears, lips parting open when it clicks.

It’s your initials on Jungkook’s ring finger, recognizing it as your own handwriting. 

You’re filled with a great amount of gratitude that runs even deeper than the ink on Jungkook’s skin, making you sniffle and it gets him to bury your face against his chest while he shushes you.

“Why would you get that?”

It belatedly hits you that since you took your wedding bands, your husband’s left ring finger had not been vacant since. 

“Because you sold our rings,” Jungkook shrugs, the look of ease on his face evident. “You sold them but we’re still married to each other,” he gently kisses your temple, letting you hold his hand to look at the tattoo closer. “We’re married. I still want people to know that I’m married to you.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, distraught with your emotions. “Your mood ring says you’re sad.”

“Passionate would be the term,” he sniffles, transferring the cheap ring to your finger. He giggles when it changes colors immediately, the timing of the situation being impeccable. “Okay now my ring says you’re happy.”

“Are you?” he asks whilst laughing but the both of you know it bears a weight.

“I am,” you answer just as seriously. “We’re okay, Jungkook. I forgive you.”

If you ask Jungkook what would his greatest joy and his greatest pain be, both answers would be you.

“Is your tattoo artist still around?” you ask while he puts you close to his chest, snapping him out of his trance.

“What for?”

“I think I want to match your permanent ring.”

“Are you real?” he mutters to himself, questioning your existence that he still isn’t sure if he deserves to have and love for the rest of his life. ��Are you really real? You exist?”

“Yeah, he’s still around but I’d rather do it on you myself,” Jungkook answers eventually, returning the question. “Is that okay? Let me learn for a few months and I’ll tattoo my initials on you myself?”

You furrow your brows, not a single doubt placed on you if your husband was the one to tattoo you. “Yeah, but is that okay with you? You’re the only one who’s gonna have me on you for a couple more months. I can’t reciprocate because you want to ink me yourself.”

Jungkook only smiles, the warmth enough to outshine the sun.

“That’s not new to me,” he reassures you. “I loved you even before I married you.”

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel is forced to take Ellie while dealing with his seven month pregnant wife.]

“I’m not taking you out there, you’re pregnant it’s too much of a risk” he whispered leaning close to you.

Joel was pissed making his way back to you, he should’ve known Marlene would have something up her sleeve. Now here he was responsible for a young girl he knew nothing of other than the fact that she had a real sarcastic attitude. How the hell did this fall on him? How the hell did this become his responsibility? Joel had enough on his plate with you eight months pregnant, the thought of stressing you out only angered him more.

“So uh, do you stay by yourself?” The young girl began to ask questions curiously.

“No” he responded blandly as he continued to walk.

“Who do you live with?” It was hard to hide how he felt and in that moment he was irritated.

“Keep walking kid” he mumbled under his breath.

“My name is Ellie” she snapped back at him but he barely acknowledged her response. Concerned of what your reaction would be once he arrived and you learned of what he had to do, he couldn’t think straight.

“Why do you look so worried?” Ellie’s voice interrupting his thoughts making him look up.

“I’m not”

“Okay…whatever you say” she raised her brows looking away.

For the rest of the walk she didn’t say much which relieved Joel. Once arriving to where he stayed he stopped before the door and turned to her.

“Listen, you do not say a word. You do not question, you do not argue, you simply do as your told and that’s it. Understood?” She nodded pressing her lips together.

The sound of Joel opening the door making you practically run towards him as you held your belly.

“Joel?” You yelled out as the door opened and to your relief, there he was. He hated whenever he had to leave your side, he knew how anxious it always left you, afraid he wouldn’t make it back. Noticing blood on the side of his face you gasped grabbing him gently.

“What happened?”

“I’m fine” he assured you knowing you hadn’t noticed Ellie behind him.

“There’s something we need to talk about” just as he began to explain, the sound of a sneeze made you furrow your brows. Slowly looking behind him you saw a young girl looking down at the ground anxiously.

“Who’s this?”

Joel took a deep breath before turning to her and motioning towards the other side of the room.

“Go stand over there” she did as he asked as Joel took your hand leading you to the kitchen.

“Joel, what happened out there?” You asked as you leaned back on the counter.

“When I got to Marlene, they had just been attacked, Marlene was shot and they no longer had a functioning car for us to use.” You sighed brushing your hair back.

“She asked me to take her with me, her name is Ellie.” You looked over at her across the room before looking back at him confused.

“She needs to be taken somewhere and there, Marlene promised a car would be ready for us.”

“So what does this mean?”

You asked still struggling to understand.

“You’re gonna wait here for me while I go take her where she needs to go and I get the car-“ before he could even finish you already began shaking your head.

“No, no, I’m not waiting here again for God knows how long” Joel took a deep breath rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll come right back here and we’ll finally be able to get you to that doctor-“

“No. No,” you continued shaking your head stubbornly.

“I’m not taking you out there, you’re pregnant it’s too much of a risk” he whispered leaning close to you.

“Oh yeah? And what if something happens while you’re gone? Then what?” Joel knew you were right but the thought of you being out there didn’t sit well with him either.

“You’re staying here” he insisted.

“No, Joel neither of us have any idea how long you will be gone. I could have the baby within the next few weeks” you began to cry out of frustration which only made him guilty.

“Ok, ok c’mere” he pulled you to him leaning his chin over your head. He couldn’t stand seeing you stress out especially at this point in your pregnancy.

“I can do it, Joel. Just please don’t leave me alone here, plus where you’re going is in route to where we are suppose to go. There’s no point coming back and fourth” he didn’t say a word. He didn’t like the idea of leaving you alone this far long nor taking you out into the danger. Looking over at Ellie he caught her looking at the both of you before she quickly looked away.

“Fine,” he looked back at you.

“But the second anything goes wrong or you feel anything, we’re coming back.”

You sighed in relief knowing you wouldn’t be left alone.

Joel packed whatever he could in his bag that he thought you might need for the journey. He hated that he somehow was put into this mess responsible for Ellie’s delivery, but if it meant a car to get you a doctor, he was willing to do so.

As the three of you began to walk he wouldn’t stop looking your way, concerned with each step you took while also aware of his surroundings. Ellie noticed he seemed paranoid looking behind every couple of minutes but she didn’t say a word of it.

“So uh, are you having a boy or girl?” Ellie couldn’t help but ask after what felt like an hour of silence.

“Ellie-“

“We don’t know” you responded in a friendly tone cutting off Joel. She noticed you seemed more open to speak than Joel did and immediately took a liking to you.

“So do you want a boy or girl?” She asked making Joel look back at her with a warning glare.

“Hm, I don’t know, I always imagined I’d have a girl” your response distracting Joel, making him look back at you intrigued.

“Either way, as long as the baby is ok I’ll be happy, but I have a feeling it’s a girl.” Joel didn’t say a word but Ellie noticed his expression soften. One thing she was quick to notice was that if you said green, then green it was for Joel. He listened to you, his concern for you overlapped any grumpiness he seemed to have at times.

Stopping in front of what seemed like broken giant scraps of metal, Joel looked around to see if there was another way through that road.

“Let’s go” you looked over at him as Ellie quickly skipped past you and hopped on a metal box.

“It’s not so bad” she shrugged as Joel looked over at your belly before your eyes.

“Alright well, you’re gonna hold on to me” Joel went onto grab your hand as you sighed.

“Joel, it’s not that messy here” ignoring you he proceeded to walk leading you over the scraps of

metal and glass. Taking step by step he didn’t let go of your hand, trying his best to push aside anything in the way to make a trail for you. Ellie watched how careful Joel was with you as you walked close behind him. She ran ahead the both of you as Joel called out for her to slow down.

“Almost there” he whispered to himself finally reaching the end. Breathing in relief he quickly turned to you helping you down the last step when your foot slid on a pipe. Before you could fall he quickly caught you with panic in his eyes.

“I’m ok” you assured him seeing the concerned look he had. In silence he nodded before looking up at Ellie.

“Let’s keep moving” your voice making him turn back down to you. He still hadn’t let go of you but he did as you asked and calmly continued the walk.

Walking down a quiet block you happened to pass an abanonded ice cream shop. You sighed rubbing your belly, one of your biggest craving through out your entire pregnancy.

“Oh what I’d do for some chocolate ice cream” Ellie looked at the store you stared at remembering she had some snacks in her backpack. Rushing looking through it she found a chocolate bar she had been saving for later.

“Heads up” you both looked over at her as she threw something small your way. Once you caught it you had realized it was a chocolate bar.

“Where’d you get this?!”

“Marlene” Ellie shrugged.

“Are you sure, Ellie?” You felt guilty taking candy from a kid.

“Go ahead, I’ve had enough of those anyways” she lied with a smile.

“Thank you” excitedly you rushed to open it and take a bite as Joel watched in silence. He knew how much you loved chocolate. A smirk appearing on his lips as he watched you sigh savoring the taste of it.

“This is so good” you whispered taking another bite. Joel looked over at Ellie who watched you excitedly eat, feeling a little guilty about being so hard on her in the beginning.

“Thank you” his voice making her look up at him. She didn’t say much but he could tell she felt good about herself in that moment.

After another half hour of walking you began to feel tired. Joel could tell you were beginning to look exhausted and began looking around for a place to rest.

“Alright, we gotta find shelter” he began looking at the surroundings for a place.

“I’m fine, Joel”

“You’re exhausted-“

“I’m fine. I can keep going” you assured him but he knew you were lying.

“How much longer is it?” Ellie asked.

“Another hour or so” Joel responded not taking his eyes off you. He leaned in closer noticing you lean on the wall beside you for support.

Something didn’t feel right but it only made you want to rush faster to where you had to go to get the car. Yet, you refused to tell Joel knowing he would stop anything right there.

“Maybe she needs water” Ellie suggested.

“She needs rest”

“No. Let’s go” you pushed yourself forward and continued to walk taking deep breaths as you did. Joel stayed close behind you, keeping a close eye on you while also continuing to make sure the surroundings were clear.

“Alright we’re stopping right here” Joel insisted after another half hour went by.

“Stopping where?” You asked as he proceeded to open a door of an abandoned shop. Quickly checking around the small store he motioned for you both to follow him in as you sighed.

“What are we doing?” You raised a brow as Joel double checked the place.

“We’re taking a break. Im gonna see what I can find around here while you get some rest and Ellie stays with you-“ just as you were about to ask question Joel cut you off knowing what it would be.

“Im not going far” he assured you.

“You need me you just call out for me, I’ll hear you.” He knew you didn’t like this but he also knew how stubborn of a woman you could be.

“We are delaying time”

Joel ignored your words as he pulled a massive box to the door to help block any entry.

“So I’m suppose to watch her?” Ellie asked a bit confused making Joel stop what he was doing to turn directly to her.

“You don’t take your eyes off her even for a second” he pointed his index finger at her as he spoke.

“I’m perfectly fine” you insisted.

“I’ll be right back” Joel made sure the door was blocked behind him as he made his way out while Ellie looked at you awkwardly.

“Is he always this friendly?” She asked sarcastically making you sigh.

“He’s not too bad, he’s just…worried” you looked down at your belly before slowly taking a seat on a chair against the wall.

“I might as well get my rest” you shrugged as Ellie looked around quickly noticing a hall that led to a comic book section. Looking back at you she watched as you closed your eyes leaning your head against the wall. Wait for a bit she slowly made her way to the back without waking you.

Before you could realize twenty minutes had passed and you opened your eyes with Ellie nowhere in sight.

“Ellie?” You called out for her wondering where she had gone.

“Ellie?!” You called for her again as she walked further into the back, distracted with her excitement reading the books she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Dammit” you whispered pushing yourself to stand up when a sudden sharp pain struck your belly making you gasp and lean forward. Holding your belly you winced feeling another stronger pain.

“Woah” you whispered.

Attempting to sit back in the seat you lost your balance from the pain and fell to the side.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly you felt a rush from your lower back into your lower abdomen like you had never felt before. Fear setting in, you called Ellie again to no avail when you heard the main door open. Joel pushed the box out of the way instantly seeing you on the floor.

“What happened? What’s hurting you?” He rushed falling to his knees before you trying to sit you up.

“I don’t know I just felt a pain, I went to get up and-“

“Where the hell is Ellie?” He looked behind him as the sound of you in discomfort made him quickly turn back to you.

“Ellie!” He called out not taking his eyes off you.

“Joel I think I’m getting contractions” you spoke in between breaths.

“It’s too early, it’s not time yet” you shook your head seeing the concern in his deep brown eyes.

“Calm down, I’m gonna get you out of here-“

“That was pretty fast, Joel” Ellie appeared quickly noticing you on the floor.

“Is she okay?” She ran up beside you as Joel narrowed his eyes on her.

“I told you to stay with her.”

“Joel, she was sleeping, is that I saw-“

“I don’t care what you saw, I asked you to stay with her didn’t I? ” he spoke coldly.

“Joel stop, she’s a child. Don’t blame her” you placed your hand on the side of his face turning him to you. He could still see the pain you felt, panic settling in he took a deep breath.

“There’s a place close by I saw while I was out there. There’s guards, I think it’s Marlene’s people, we’ll get you there and get help”

Joel wasn’t one to trust anyone but you could see the desperation in his eyes for you.

“You think that’s a good-“ before you could even finish you cried out as another rush of pain took over. Joel hated seeing you in pain, he felt helpless. Without saying a word he stood up and lifted you up in his arms.

“Let’s go” he looked over at Ellie as she quickly grabbed your bag and followed.

Joel walked as fast as he could as Ellie ran ahead hoping to find someone to help them in.

“Joel I think it’s over here!” Ellie yelled out to him noticing something from afar. He ran side by side with her, you hid your face in Joel’s neck with your arms wrapped around him.

Arriving at the place Joel noticed large doors with guards out front making you all stop in your tracks.

“Stop right there!” A man yelled out holding a gun.

“We’re not sick!” Joel quickly yelled out as a dark flashback in his mind of him in this exact position with his daughter.

“She’s pregnant” he tried to explain in desperation as the doors suddenly opened and Joel came face to face with someone he never thought he’d see again.

“Tommy” he whispered in disbelief at the sight of his brother before him. Dealing with so much pain you could barely make out what was being said, your eyes closing as Tommy ran towards you.

Tommy looked at his brother before looking down at you in Joel’s arms.

“P-please help her..” he could barely make out his words, all kinds of thoughts and feelings running through him at once. Tommy could see the deep fear and exhaustion his brother had and quickly called for help, taking you from his arms he ran inside and had him follow.

Ellie quickly followed behind Joel as he entered the room you were taken to. In the short time she had spent with him she had never seen him like this. He watched as a man came rushing in quickly with equipment as you continued to moan in pain. He watched the man connect an IV to you before pulling out a needle.

“What are you giving her?” He quickly ran beside you as Tommy tried to push him back.

“It’s ok, Joel he’s a doctor” Tommy explained noticing the dark bags under Joel’s eyes.

“You should sit down, brother”

He didn’t say a word, simply shaking his head not taking his eyes off you. A belt being placed around your belly, Joel couldn’t believe all the equipment they had for you.

“Is the baby ok?” You winced trying not to cry. The doctor didn’t respond as he tried to move as fast as possible.

“Hey, she’s asking you a question” Joel spoke up defensively making the doctor look at him.

“Joel, maybe we should wait outside” Tommy suggested.

“I’m not leaving her” he responded as Ellie watched on.

“There it is” the doctor placed a wand against your stomach and the clear sound of a heartbeat could be heard. You breathed in relief looking at the screen.

“Your water hasn’t broken so I can give you something to stop the contractions. They should be easing up soon, if they haven’t already” you nodded in agreement calmly laying back on the bed. Joel looked down at you brushing your hair back as you looked up at him.

“I’ll be right outside if I’m needed” the doctor made his way out as Joel thanked him before looking over at Tommy.

Exhaustion taking over you, you sighed before realizing what Joel had said earlier.

“Did you say Tommy?” You asked in a sleepy voice as the medicine began to settle in. Never had you met his brother but you always heard about him.

“Yes” Joel cracked a smiled as he looked over at him. Ellie had no idea what was going on but slowly walked up to the other side of you.

“You ok?” Ellie asked softly making Joel look up, he could see the guilt in her eyes.

“It’s not your fault, kid.” Joel quickly responded as you eyes began to close, too tired to speak.

A couple hours went by and you woke up to the doctor checking you again. Joel anxiously beside you holding your hand as the doctor placed the wand against your belly again.

“Everything ok?” You whispered as Ellie stood by your feet.

“Everything is working great. Contractions stopped and baby’s kicking just fine” you smiled taking a deep breath.

“Would you like to know the sex?” The doctor suddenly asked making you look at Joel. He nodded with a wink as you quickly turned to the doctor with a look of approval.

“You’re having a baby girl” you looked at Joel in shock but your smile quickly disappeared as he seemed to have lost color in his face.

“Joel?” You whispered.

“Oh that’s awesome just what you wanted!” Ellie cheered excitedly before realizing how concerned you looked at Joel. His mind going to a distant place remembering the day Sarah was born…still something he was unable to share with you.

“Joel?” You whispered again snapping him out of it.

“Did you want a boy?” You asked a bit confused.

“No” he responded quickly letting out a breath, realizing he was in fact secretly hoping for a girl.

“We’re having a baby girl” a smile appeared with tears in his eyes as you sighed in relief. Tommy stood by the door silently hearing the news, he could tell his brother hadn’t told anyone about Sarah, but he knew he would when he was ready. Still, Tommy smiled seeing a bit of Joel heal in that very moment..

[jaegerbby]

➳ tomura shigaraki x female! reader

╰┈➤ word count; 1423

╰┈➤ drabble; dubious consent, season one shigaraki (not buff lol), cervix fucking, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie, unprotected sex, manhandling, yn has an immune quirk.

shigaraki has your hands pressed to the small of your back.

where your skin is warm, his is so cold.

his quirk does not turn you to dust. no! you are different from all the others. you are special.

maybe too special for your own good because that is the reason you wound up here.

he is panting, sweat lined along his hairline. you are crying so much but he cannot help that it only makes him fuck you harder.

he does not have one bit of restraint.

he does not like that you seem so miserable, he swears he is doing this out of love. he wants to make you feel good. really! he just gets a little rough.

he just gets so caught up in how tight your cunt is, how wet you are, how your gooey walls clamp down on him.

he pounds into your leaking slit until he is bruising you. he does not prep you despite the agonising stretch he subjects your pussy to.

shigaraki is sorry, truly he is!

he hunches over you, his bony chest meeting your back. his balls are squished between your bodies as he presses on the small of your back and ruts into you. it is borderline painful.

he puffs heated breaths, "don't cry s'much." he slurs. he leans down to cover your swollen lips in a messy kiss. he licks into your drool filled mouth, silencing your sobs and a few kisses are all it takes to have you fawning for him again.

you take any and every thing that he is willing to give you.

"don't like it like this." you whine when he pulls away, the strand of saliva sticking to your chin as you mush your face to the sheets.

you say that yet you are pushing your ass back on him. you say that but your cunt is tightly gripping his cock like you need it to survive.

he sneers, nails digging into your flesh, the jagged edges nicking the skin. his cock slips out halfway, covered in slick, so much that it drips between your thighs.

everything is sticky and your eyes squeeze at the feeling. he shoves back in roughly making you jolt.

"but your pussy likes it. your little cunt likes being filled with cock, she's soaking for it." your fingers flex under his hold, you can feel his eyes burning into you, can feel his body against your skin, you wish you could hide.

you cannot at all, not when he is pressing down on your back and has you at his whim. has you in a position where he can fuck you as hard and fast as he wants.

"i want to see your face." you brokenly speak, his spit slick tongue comes out to lave over your cheek, licking up your tears as he pounds his cock into you.

"you are so fucking spoilt." shigaraki's gravelly voice fills you ear, his free hand slips under you, rolling your stilted bundle of nerves.

the pert of his nipples grazes on your back with every sharp movement that has his cock prodding at your cervix. has it dipping deep in your slurping cunt and stretching your hole until it fits perfectly around him.

"fuckkk." he drawls, your body is so soft, so comfortable. you whine, your ass pushing more into him, your body moving with his thrusts. he is putting all his weight onto you, forcing you into the bed completely.

his hand squeezing your neck so tightly you gasp. his jaw hangs, spit trailing down the side of his mouth as his eyes roll back. he is not focused on you, he is focused on how good your slick cunt feels.

how your insides seem to suck him in and grip his cock. it feels like you are milking him dry, like you are squeezing his release out of him and into your pussy.

shigaraki's movements grow sloppy, his strokes are no longer full. his body shakes, humping you shallowly but somehow it hits every spot inside of you.

he is fucking into you with desperation, loud paps and squelches fill the room as your cunt tugs him in.

the swollen walls of your warm insides make it difficult for him to function. he feels like he is short circuiting.

"shouldn't feel this good!" he whimpers. you turn him into a mindless freak who only cares about sticking his cock in your warm, soaking hole.

he hates that you have that power over him.

your ass feels bruised at this point, his pelvic bones colliding with your skin so often you wince.

he is forceful and uncaring, vigorously fucking you with everything in him and his hips stutter before he is releasing heavy drops of his load into you.

you grit your teeth, not able to move with how he forces you down onto the sheets. his hips rock, head leaning back and his lips parted.

it is so hot and thick, it feels like your stomach is bulging from the amount. he is still humping you whilst his cock spurts streams of his load along your walls.

the milky cream coating your cunt and leaking its way into your puckered cervix. he collapses onto your back, your clit rubbed raw although you have not came once.

shigaraki pants, still grinding into the swell of your ass to fuck his seed back into you. the excess spews past the perimeter of his length, making your cunt messier.

he covers you, using all of his weight to keep you pinned to the mattress and only focused on him.

despite your squirming, he is unmoved.

"stop your fucking whining." he pinches your nipple. "your pussy feels good." he says it like it is the most renowned compliment in the world. like it does not reduce you to one thing alone. he nuzzles your cheek like he was not awful just a moment before.

you eyes are still teary, "nothing else?" you mumble. he shakes his head but it is only to get you angry. to see your lips tremble and tears fill your eyes. to see how hard you try not to cry but fail.

he knows you want to move but you cannot in this position.

not when he has you trapped beneath him, your cunt filled to the brim with his cock and his cum.

"get off!" shigaraki does not like when you talk to him like that. his teeth nip at your throat.

"be nice to me." he rasps. you want to but when has he ever been nice to you?

you can still feel his cum dripping inside you while his heavy body is flushed to you. you can barely breathe when he has you secured under him by lean muscle.

you are not sure how long he keeps you in the puddle of his semen before he pulls out.

his cock bobs between your legs as he sits up, you are wincing at the feeling. the slick mess of his cum leaks out of you.

you feel dirty.

he does not bother asking, his rough fingers tug you to face him but you slump further into the sheets.

you hear him huff at your resistance and then he is forcing you unto your back.

he hovers over you, thick strands of hair hanging down and framing his features.

"i thought you wanted to see my face." you did. you wanted to more than anything else. in a way you like to pretend that he is yours as much as he says you are his.

your eyes trail over his pretty red eyes and his blushed skin. his swollen lips and his sunken cheeks. you want him closer.

he should be the last person you find comforting but you cannot help that you do.

your hand strokes his aching cock, thumb massaging the prominent vein on the underside.

he lurches forward his stiffening erection meeting your slit. you mutely cry as he shoves it inside all at once.

he groans lowly, rocking his hips before his lips meet yours. he sloppily kisses you as he fucks his cum back inside of your cunt.

your hands greedily find purchase in his skin, trying to convince yourself that you mean something to him.

he takes and takes with no consideration. perhaps this is your purpose. to give without a care.

to give shigaraki every bit of you.

it only made sense for someone with a quirk like yours.

i rly rly want to write a daddy kink drabble/fic 😣

[certainlynotasimp]

oh just a little tip, i think it would be wise if you added the spanish translations somewhere inside the fics, this could be at the end or next to the spanish sentence, since you can’t copy text from posts it’s hard to translate since you have to type everything in google translate by hand <33 anyways i loved your fic, you’re very talented and i can’t wait to see more of miguel and his beloved sunshine.

you know what might be funny? if they were on a mission and got hit with a gas that switches their personalities🤣 now that would be something i would pay to see 😂

From Your Point of View

((Miguel O’ Hara x Female! Reader))

A/N: Hello~✨ Thank you so much for the request and the critique. I have now added some translations at the bottom of the fanfics because I forgot how weird tumblr can be about copy and pasting stuff😅. Also I hope that I didn’t disappoint with this as I was kinda struggling on what to write for this one.

-Still haven’t seen the movie so be warned I may get some stuff wrong-

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female Reader/Female Pronouns, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is their nickname not their name)), bioweapons, kinda graphic injuries, Outta Character and Outta pocket behavior, and Google Translated Spanish. ((Thank you @22carolina08 for reviewing it before I posted it))

~~~~~~~~~~~

The cackle of women enjoying the fruits of their labors filled the corridor of the abandoned warehouse as they surrounded the machine they were working on. It was a tall glass sphere with some kind of purple dust floating around inside while two titanium computers stood on either side of the device.

The three women standing around it were a set of Green Goblins who jumped from different dimensions to find a universe where there wasn’t an arachnid hero to stop them from using a bomb to take control of the city.

However they didn’t expect there to be four spidermen to be observing them around the property with one little spider hiding along the walls of their lair.

“Lyla,” Miguel whispers as he observes the meeting from the top of another warehouse. “Analyze the contents of that bomb and tell me how bad it is.”

The yellow AI materializes in front of him as Miguel tries to swat her away like a fly, not wanting her to compromise his location. Lyla rolls her eyes and explains, “The dust in that little bomb they have is made from spores of this rare mushroom. It’s been reported that inhaling the spores can cause drastic changes in behavior, mood swings, and mild hallucinations. Most cases detail paitents becoming aggressive and violent.”

Jessica’s voice buzzes through the intercom as she quips, “So they are planning on driving the city into a state of panic?”

“Sounds like it.” Ben Riley gruffs in annoyance. Miguel couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he knows the Scarlet Spider was still pissed that he couldn’t go ahead and stop the goblins.

“Sounds like a party to me, mate.” Hobie cracks as he watches from the ground. “Oi, Sunny, Dear? Wanna crash their party?”

“Yes, a party of people violently hurting each other and causing mass chaos does sound like fun.” Miguel grumbles saracastially before scolding Hobie. “She can’t reply to you, Brown. Not when she’s undercover.”

Miguel can barely make out her outline with the infared of his mask lens, but he can see his little jumping spider wander among the goblins unseen.

A big advantage to have someone with his beloved’s powers. She had almost every trait of the typical spider men, but she had a unique camouflaged ability. Without the suit Miguel made her, she can lower her heart rate and rapidly chill her body temperature so she can remain undetected by infared. She can also go invisible for a few moments without the suit, but both abilities are limited due to how strenuous it was on her being.

The suit allows her to remain undetected for a much longer time and prevents her from putting too much strain on her body. The slight heat the suit emits to keep her body functioning is the only thing that Miguel can use to track her. A major drawback of her gift is that physically she’s not as strong as the others, but she can handle herself in a fight.

Of course, he’s always there to help her. Her protective predator and his gentle prey. A match made in heaven as Jess always jokes.

“(L/N).” Miguel whispers into the com as he watches his love sneak around the device. “Attach the bug I gave you to the main computer so Lyla can deactivate the bomb.”

He makes a signal to the others to tell them to be ready for the ambush. The plan was suppose to be a simple get in and out. The invisible web shooter would get the bomb deactivated while Miguel, Hobie, and Ben rush in and take out the goblins. Jess served as support in case the villains ran past them. It was suppose to be an easy mission. Until it wasn’t.

As the bomb got deactivated, a light beep from the monitor causes the Goblins to turn around and notice that someone tampered with their bomb. Before the little spider could escape, one of the Goblins throws a jack o lantern explosive at her, causing the glass vial to exploded.

Miguel’s blood ran cold as he witnesses his love engulfed in black and purple smoke, and all reason went out the window as he rushed into the contaminated warehouse to save her.

“Miguel, wait!” Jessica screams out she drives her bike in front of the other two spidermen trying to rush in.

“What gives, Drew?” Hobie snaps, concern burning in his eyes. “We gotta get in there.”

“Not without these.” She snaps back as she hands the boys four sets of gas masks. “Lyla said it’s transmitted through air. Hurry up and put these on.”

Ben grumbles and slams the mask on before running in while Hobie and Jessica share a look. “You think Sunny will be alright?” The spiked spider asks as he places the gas mask on his already covered face.

“She better be.” Jessica sighs. “I definitely don’t want to find out how Miguel will react if she wasn’t.”

With that Hobie runs in while Jessica calls for backup to help contain the spores seeping from the windows.

~~~~~~~~

“Vitals appear to be normal.” Spider-Doc mutters to the three spider people surrounding one of the hospital beds. “O’Hara and (L/N) are both looking good on blood pressure and brain activity, so I expect them to wake up anytime soon.”

Thankfully, Hobie and Ben managed to capture the green goblin trio and reinforcements came just in time to contain the spread of the bio weapon. However, both Miguel and his companion were found bloody and unconscious when they found them.

The beloved spider woman had most of the damage with several shards of glass impaled into her back and arm while gaining a severe concussion. The team figured that in the rush of the moment and his vision obscured by the cloud of dust, the goblins took Miguel by surprise and got him with three sharp projectiles while he was trying to help Sunny.

Despite the horrific scene, both of them were deemed to be alright after some surgery and the only physical damage was Sunny’s now broken arm, which should heal in about a week thanks to the signature spiderman super healing. The only worry was the psychological damage.

Both were definitively exposed to large quantities of the gas and from what Lyla had said about the mental effects of the spores, they were worried about an invisible spider and her beast of a companion tearing everything apart.

Jessica sighs as she sadly gazes at the broken and restrained bodies of her friends as Hobi places a small bear on his little friend’s bed.

“Didn’t Lyla say anything about how that antitoxin is coming along?” Peter says as he bites his nail.

Spider-Doc nods as his lens shifts to appear like he’s hopefully smiling. “Lyla has said thanks to the samples from their suits, an antitoxin will be finished in two days.”

“Two days?!” Hobie snaps up. “We are about to have two spidermen possibly going on a rampage if we piss them off. I don’t think we can wa-“

A soft groan emits from the bed beside the ranting anarchist and everyone’s attention breaks from the poor doctor and onto the small spider. Her eyes flutter open as she frowns at her surroundings.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Jessica soothes as she helps the disoriented girl sit up in her bed.

“I’m fine.” The girl said in an unusually blunt way. Her eyes now harden in an annoyed expression as she looks around at the group. “Next time, you guys should be more considerate to someone recovering from having their shit rocked.” She scolds before growling at the pain.

The sight of the sweet girl now acting so bothered towards their presence was so unsettling, but not unexpected. They were aware the sweet girl they knew was gonna be changed by the gas, but it’s still disturbing.

As they all stare at the glaring girl, a deep groan comes from the bed next to her as her attention focuses on her love. Her anger emerges as she snaps back to the spiders.

“What the fuck did y’all do to him?! Was it that asshole Ben Riley? I’m gonna kick his ass if he’s the reason my Miggy is in-“

“Cariño?” A soft mutter causes her verbal rampage to end as a pair of ruby eyes focused on her. Once she meets his eyes, an uncharacteristically soft grin comes over his face as he mumbles sweetly. “Hola, mi niña bonita, ¿cómo te sientes?””

“I’m fine.” The girl mumbles as she tries to keep her stern face while a little dusting of blush takes over. “What about you?”

Miguel chuckles at her face and gently reaches over and caresses her hand as he swoons, “Siento que puedo enfrentarme a un toro ahora que he visto tu hermoso rostro, mi amor.”

The group of spidermen looked at Miguel horrified as he looks up at them. Expecting him to snap at them or try and escape his restrains, but he doesn’t do either. He gives them a bright friendly smile as he cheers, “Oh, you guys made it out alright. I’m glad we are all still here together. Great job, everyone.”

Hobie backs up a couple of steps trying to calm his raging heart before he had a heart attack from the shock. Jessica looks at him disturbed as she silently records the duo on her phone to show her husband later. Peter calls Lyla on his gizmo as his face looses all color.

The AI emerges out of the gizmo with a cheery, “Hello~ you ringed?”

“What’s wrong with Miguel?” Peter snaps as he hears Sunny immediately yell at him about what he said about her Miggy.

“Oh I meant to warn you about that. Well the aggression is on a most case scenario kinda thing, not an every case thing. Since Miguel is more genetically altered with spider than Little Miss Sunshine, his natural aggression cancels out the one caused by the bio weapon.” The assistant explains.

Hobie laughs at this as he looks at the now confused Miguel, “So our big bad leader is as harmless as a kitten now?”

“Yep.” Lyla giggles. “And because our sunny pants there was as dangerous as a jumping spider before this, she’s now part of the majority percentaile.”

“What the fuck did you say about Migue, you twig?!” The formerly harmless girl bucks in her restraints as her protective nature causes her to want to thrash the punk star.

“Mi amor, por favor cálmate... No está tratando de ser grosero…” A now teary eyed Miguel tries to sooth his partner in a shaky calm voice.

That was when Jessica realized a mistake they made. When they restrained the pair earlier, Miguel was placed in titanium bands that crossed over his chest, arms, legs and hips. Since Sunny wasn’t considered a ‘major’ threat in comparison, she was just held down by some chains.

Because of this, the earth deafening sound of chains shattering cause all of the spiders to scream. The AI giggles as she responds,

“I forgot to mention that the chemical not only increases aggression, but also physical strength. In humans, they would just be slightly stronger than normal, but in Miss (Y/N)’s case…”

The rest couldn’t hear what else Lyla had to say as Hobie started booking it down the hall with a pissed off Sunny hot on his heels. Jessica frantically tries to undo Miguel’s restraints as he cries for his lover to come back.

Peter sighs and asks, “How much longer until the antidote is ready?”

“I can rush it for you. Should take another 3 hours hopefully.”

“Do you have any tranquilizers?” Peter asks as a now free Miguel tries to chase down his angry lover.

“No~”

~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Hola, mi niña bonita, ¿cómo te sientes? - Hello, my pretty girl, how are you feeling?

Mi amor, por favor cálmate... No está tratando de ser grosero…- My love, please calm down...He's not trying to be rude…

Siento que puedo enfrentarme a un toro ahora que he visto tu hermoso rostro, mi amor.- I feel like I can take on a bull now that I've seen your beautiful face, my love.

~~~~~~~~~~

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[honeybcj]

@jegulus-microfic april 19th | class | 764 words | nsfw (cw: undisclosed age gap [student teacher dynamic], edging, spit kink, minor daddy kink)

It’s not James’ fault. How could it have been? Ever since that first day when Regulus walked inside his lecture hall, it was a done deal. He had shown up in a godforsaken silk blouse, the top two buttons underdone to reveal the delectable curve of his collarbone. And the pants—don’t get James started on the pants. They hugged the curve of his ass; an ass that deserves to be worshiped.

There had never been anyone that made James question everything before, but then Regulus had to be in his class and all cares about professionalism and teacher and student dynamics flew out the window.

The lines blurred—fast. Regulus would stay behind or cast him these looks mid-lecture. It was enough to make James' brain short circuit. Much in the sense to how his brain was barely functioning right now, courtesy of Regulus on his knees with his lips wrapped around James’ cock.

It’s office hours, but no one ever comes. That always meant a challenge, one that Regulus definitely didn’t want to back down on. And how could James say no? Especially when Regulus looked up at him so prettily.

“Regulus, baby,” James groans, trying his best to stay quiet. He fists the hair on the back of Regulus’ head, tugging gently at the curls.

Regulus simply hums around his cock, slipping him further until the head is nudging against the back of his throat.

It’s wrong, but everything feels so right as James sits back in his office chair, knees splayed apart for Regulus to kneel between. And God—it is one of the prettiest sights James has ever seen. He’s close—has been for a minute, but every time he’s there, Regulus teases him by pulling off with a wet pop and squeezing the base of his cock. Much like he’s doing right now.

“Don’t you like it when my mouth is being put to good use, Professor Potter?” Regulus blinks innocently, lips swollen and slick with spit and precum.

James rolls his eyes, pushing Regulus’ head down in an attempt to get him to do something. “I have class soon, baby. Really soon.”

Regulus’ lips curl up into a taunting smile, head cocked to the side like a challenge is being presented to him. In the blink of an eye, Regulus is no longer kneeling before him. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of James’ desk, watching him with playful eyes.

“Since you want to play that game, daddy,” Regulus says, which only makes James groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “I’ll let you go to class just like that.”

“Reg, baby—”

Regulus tuts, shaking his head. “Go to class. I just know everyone wants to get a good look at the professor.”

James sighs, defeated, as he tries to tug up his pants. He knows better than to argue with Regulus on the matter, no matter how hard he is trapped into the confines of his trousers. Despite this, James still manages to push up from his chair, shifting himself in his pants.

His hand takes purchase on Regulus’ chin, tilting his head back, so James is looking down at him. He’s met with a grin from Regulus, who then sticks out his tongue. He knows. James might be a little predictable, but god does it do something to the already noticeable problem in his pants.

“Good boy,” James murmurs before leaning down and letting a trail of spit drop from his mouth onto Regulus’ awaiting tongue.

The moan that leaves Regulus’ mouth is like music to James’ ears. He watches carefully as Regulus swallows, paying close attention to how his throat bobs.

“Think of your grandmother. Think of your grandmother,” James mumbles under his breath, which only makes Regulus giggle, kicking the toe of his boot at James’ knee.

“Alright, old man,” Regulus teases, licking over his lips. “Get to class, and I’ll be waiting right here for when you get back.”

James huffs, cupping Regulus’ cheeks in his hands and presses a deep kiss to his mouth. It takes everything in James not to carry on the moment, but Regulus is right, students are waiting for him. Good thing though, because Regulus pushes him off with expert hands, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

“Go on, daddy,” Regulus murmurs. “I’ll be waiting.”

“You better.” James tucks a loose curl behind Regulus’ ear before picking up his bag.

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

James rolls his eyes again, willing the tightness in his pants to disappear. It was going to be a long lecture.

[rxzennia]

sex with aventurine of strategems

✎𓂃 top aven (bottom aven will eventually be served too dw except im hoping to make that emotional so it’ll take a bit hehe), i finished 2.1 yesterday and i’m not fine… angst fic/ character deep dive coming soon (idk when tbh bcs im busy); in the meantime, thirsting for foul legacy: star rail edition boss aven

aventurine in this form is so much bigger than you, it’s so easy for him to just pick you up and manhandle you like you’re nothing. and he loves doing that, picking you up effortlessly and tossing you onto the bed as you spread your legs for him.

his fingers are way, way longer and girthier

loves shoving them up your hole because you squeeze around them so sweetly

also loves hearing that squelch when he pushes three fingers deep into you

oh, you want to touch yourself? nu-uh, he’ll keep your hands above your head

it’s so easy for him restrain you, you’re so much smaller compared to him

and he will tease you to high hell with his fingers

he loves seeing the way you move your hips, trying to chase his touch

but no, darling, he decides what you get, how much you get, and when you get it

your cute whimpers won’t change his mind, even if he loves hearing them

or eating them up as he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth

loves having you moan into his kisses

he won’t stop using his fingers until you’ve wet the bed enough

like, dripping, squirting, anything, until you’ve soaked through the sheets into the mattress

he’s overstimulating you already and he hasn’t gotten to actually fucking you yet

he wants you a mess under him

he wants you to get addicted to his touch

he wants you to not be able to function without him

those are thoughts he has on a regular basis, but they’re amplified so much more when he’s in his boss form

he wants to “preserve” you, so that you’ll never be harmed, or taken away from him…

“please, please, please,” you cry, writhing and squirming desperately as you cum for the umpteenth time, “just, just fuck me already, please,” you push against his hand that has long since been drenched in your arousal, “please, your fingers aren’t enough, hngh…”

“not yet, darling,” aventurine coos in his distorted voice, “not yet. let me play with you, ‘kay?”

he’ll pull his fingers out very, very slowly and watch your expression twist into one of pure agony

you’re arching your back and trying to chase his fingers

he presses your hips back onto the bed, holding you still as he enjoys the sight of your gaping hole

and how you’re completely naked under him, while he’s still fully clothed

he loves the power trip he feels at that moment

he makes sure you can see all the slick on his fingers, and his tongue licks them clean

then he slowly traces your body with his claws, from your cheek all the way down to your inner thighs

if you’re still conscious enough to look, you’ll see the monstrous tent straining against his pants

(if whatever he’s wearing are even pants to begin with)

your hole twitch as you feel yourself getting hungrier and hungrier for him

and he sees that, of course he does

instead of giving you what you want, he’ll keep touching your body

avoiding your hole, though

if you cry, he might change his mind and give you what you want

although chances are he’ll say something like “you’re so hot when you cry” instead of finally gracing you with his cock

he will definitely taunt you and degrade you

“hmm? my darling can’t take it anymore?” he chuckles as his fingers circle your hole that has been clenching around nothing for the past few ten minutes, “look at you, so eager for me… so horny, so dirty…”

when aventurine finally frees his cock, you let out a soft, shaky breath when you realize how much bigger he is in his semi-emanator form. but you’re into that, you’re into everything that he is, anyway.

you try to touch him, obviously, seeing how hard and how much precum is already leaking

no. he won’t let you, not this time

he wants your hole, and only your hole

he grabs your hand and pushes it down

flips you around into doggy while he’s at it

he rubs his tip against you, grinding his hips into yours as he fucks your thighs

you can feel him on your entrance, but he just isn’t slipping in

no matter how much you wriggled around or tried to line him up

“agh, shit, please,” you start, the heat in your stomach slowly becoming unbearable as he teases you with his thick cock, “please, put it in, put it in?”

he does not put it in

until you actually burst out in tears of frustration and pulled your legs apart for him

“f-fuck me already…!” you whine, and he can see how ready you are for him, “please, please, i want you so bad, please, fuck me…”

he loves how pathetic you get when you’re all needy, it feels like you’re really addicted to him

he takes his time enjoying the sight

your hole is so, so, so slick, and he can see your every twitch and spasm

he can’t hold back anymore, you’re just too tempting

“just what i wanted to hear.” he finally grabs you by your hips and slowly pushes his way in

it’s a very, very tight fit even if he’s stretched you with his fingers

he stays still for a bit to let you adjust as he moans breathlessly into your ears

does not help you stay still at all

“mmh,” you sigh and try to move, but damn, it’s such a stretch that it burns a little. still, you’re not going to give up; you’ve been waiting for this for the entire night already, if you wait any more you might lose your mind. “hnngh, you’re so big!” you push against him, fucking yourself on his cock, “ah, ahh, you’re so deep…”

your whimpers are so loud, so shameless! aventurine shudders at the sight of you, on all fours, drooling and crying for him.

his claws dig into your skin as he snaps his hips into yours

you yelp at every movement he makes

you feel like you’re breaking whenever he hits your sensitive spots

which, let’s be honest, is practically wherever he touches

he’s fucking you into the mattress so good, but his hands are also roaming all over your twitching body

which means you get scratches everywhere

he changes positions so that you’re sitting on him, back to his chest

because this way he can rest his head on your shoulders as he abuse your hole

his mask is poking at your shoulder, but he’s trying his best to rest his chin on you instead of his mask

cut him some slack, he’s focused on fucking you silly

he’s looking at you the whole time he’s pounding into you

taking in how your eyes roll back, how your back arches and your toes curl

how, slowly, he’s taking away all your ability to reason and replacing it with his cock

he will lick up your drool and tears

but just his pounding is not enough – you need more stimulation!

you try to touch yourself because he just doesn’t want to touch you the way you want

he will smack your hands away

or interlock his fingers with yours so that you can’t touch yourself

“no touching,” aventurine groans loudly as he slams into you, “i want you to come only on my cock,” he hisses, “only from how good i’m fucking you, hmm?”

though, he sees your teary eyes and your half-open mouth, about to beg.

“aww, can’t take it? then, how about this…” he chuckles darkly, “let’s make a bet, shall we?”

[lionar0und]

Dada! - Leona fic

Leona has some conflicted feelings about his baby This is mostly my late night rambling

Warnings - Fem reader Kinda, mostly leona and cub centered, Small doses of traumatized Leona

Special thanks to @queen-shiba for all her help. Thanks Bestie!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Leona loves his sleep. It's a known fact that he almost loves sleep more than he loves his wife.

Almost. He certainly loves her enough for-

"Dada!"

There she is. Leona has...conflicted feelings about being a father. His wife wanted a cub, so they had a cub. He wanted to continue his legacy anyway...but Seven, he's struggling.

It was fine at first - mildly unnerving, but fine. You were struggling, and he hated it. But you wanted Melody so badly. He can't ignore the adrenaline rush he felt when he first felt his cub kicking; or the jolts of joy whenever he held you, arms around you and holding your belly.

But now that she's here?

She's beautiful. She's everything he never thought he could love that he would live for. He'd die for her to but dying is just sleep to him...and sleep is easy. It's numb and comfortable. But living? Waking from bliss to feed his tiny mewling cub as she wails, face red and tiny fists shaking is hard. Giving up some of his late nights out, facing the embarrassment of her sobbing at royal functions; all those judging eyes watching?

Yeah. That's rough.

Really rough.

Today's rough too - He only just got back from another Spelldrive practice, and now that hes a pro, his energy has to be up to play!

But duty calls.

"DADA!"

"Oi, don't shout at baba," He grumbles weakly, "It's late, nugget."

"I want hair." She huffs. For a second his heart stirs. She has your eyes.

"You have hair. See? It's right here." He tapped her head...and it started again. The instant panic because what if his nails are too sharp? What if he hurt her?

He represses the urge to throw up when remembering the feeling of his own parent's claws raking over his eye.

"No dada. Your hair. Pretty!"

"My hair? Baby, what-" He is cut off by a sharp tug on his hair.

Oh.

"You want locs?" It's more of a surprised gruff squeak than anything else. "You want your hair to look like mine?"

"Yes!" She squeals excitedly, hopping on the bed with him. "Hair like yours!"

Shit. Shit, he doesn't do his own hair! He's a prince, he has a stylist-

"Dada?"

Damn it...look at that sweet face. Funny, he didn't realize Melody had his grumpy face.

"Alright, come here grumpy cat." He quickly grabbed his phone. "Kifaji? Yeah...bring me all that hair stuff my stylist uses and my tablet stand."

===========================================

As Leona works diligently, he silently notes to raise his stylists salary.

Melody is squirmy after a while...but luckily his baby girl is just as nerdy as him. Nothing a chess tournament on TV can't fix. Besides, hes a good multitasker! He watches the how-to video on his Ipad while carefully doing his precious cub's hair and violently judging the shitty chess plays.

How many more clips does he need? This kid has a lot more hair than he thought...

"Almost done?"

"Almost baby." He grumbles, trying to pick up the clip he dropped.

Sevens, his hands are sore! Twisting Melody's hair lovingly yet firmly, he feels that familiar bubble of annoyance. Why can't the royal stylist just do this instead?

Stop it, Leona. He thinks bitterly. Be the dad you wanted. Suck up being tired! You overblotted and still played spelldrive after! This is for your cub!

But it's been over an hour. And he is so, so tired. And he has practice tomorrow.

And his baby girl wants to be just like him.

He tries to ignore the weird feeling in his throat he gets when those doubts creep in again.

Come on man. Just a bit longer.

====================================

Almost two hours later, he's done. He's oddly proud of himself. And his reward?

He gets to go deaf!

Melody is squealing in glee now, running around with her tiny mirror.

"I look just like dada!" The tired dad hears her screaming down the hall. It's making him feel oddly smug, too. He actually did it.

Finally, he can reap his rewards. Snuggled tightly into his bed and using your maternity pillow he stole , he can finally sleep.

"DADA I WANNA PLAY DOLLS!"

...but for his baby girl, maybe sleep can wait until tomorrow.

[cindylcuwho]

“ wanted to play ★ “

— ꒰ 🍒 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ꒱ matt was already having an attitude, but you were understanding of it. but as soon as he decided to test your limits you quickly reminded him of who had control.

— ꒰ 🐁 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ꒱ smut ! sub!bratty! matt, brat tamer! reader, slapping, oral (m! receiving), edging / overstimulation, dacryphilia , mommy kink, mentions of arguing and fighting, swearing, pet names (pretty/good boy, slut, etc), no use of y/n (i think?), riding, etc. 2252 words .

— ꒰ 🗯️ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ꒱ no one was writing brat! matt so yk ya girl had to .. feedback is appreciated, im getting back into writing smut so lmk if this sucked 😭

matt slammed his cup roughly against the marble counter, alarming you and nick that stood at the kitchen island of his presence.

nick glanced at him sideways, cringing at the behavior of his little brother who was ignoring their stares as he refilled the cup, “the fuck if your problem?” he muttered to nobody specific. you shrugged at him, eyebrows matching the frown your lips held as you witnessed the beginning of your boyfriends random outburst.

chris’ obnoxiously loud footsteps banged against the stairs as he made his way up, thumbs tapping away at his phone and not taking a notice to anybody in the area. matt squeezed his eyes shut, annoyance deepening at this.

he moved towards the counter at the same time matt turned away with his already re-filled cup. they both slammed into each other, making the drink splash mainly against matt.

his shirt was soaked, clinging to his body as he stood with an expression of pure rage. chris let out a nervous laugh, “sorry matt.” he had already turned to continue whatever he wanted to, but matt was still standing there, open mouth and stuck in anger.

“what the fuck, chris!” he yelled. matt didn’t continue yelling, though, only stomping his way back to your shared room, making sure to slam the door to worsen the cringe you and his brothers held at the tone.

you stared at the closed door with a saddened expression. matt was perfectly fine yesterday, functioning like he normally would and bouncing up the walls- so why was he so upset today?

nick stood straight, glancing at you before speaking, “whatever, just make sure he’s ready in 20, we need to film today.” he reminded before walking off to his own room, now leaving only you and chris standing in the kitchen.

you and chris shared a look of still confusion, before you left him alone and chose to dare walk towards the door of your shared room.

knocking on the door, you can hear matt let out an obnoxious sigh as ruffles followed, then the door swung open to reveal his dark eye bags and tired face of the man you love.

“what?” matt mumbled. he walked from the door and back to your bed, sitting on the edge as you walked in, closing the door behind you so both of you can talk. “are you okay, matt?”

when he didn’t answer, you took it upon yourself to straddle his waist, hands cupping his cheeks to force matt to look at you.

matt’s hands instinctively made their way to your hips, his hard expression softening the longer he stared at your worried face. “what happened?” you quietly asked, not wanting to further disturb him. matt only sighed, looking down at his thigh-caged lap.

“jus’ not a good day.” he mumbled. you nodded at that, “wanna talk about it?” matt shook his head, “jus’ wanna stay like this.” he buried his head in your chest, pecking small wet kisses to the top of your boobs, willingly trying to suffocate himself in your scent.

you smiled at the affection, softly pulling his hair back so you can look at him. matt whined in protest but still followed your hand, looking up at you and waiting for your words.

“wanna feel better, pretty boy?” matt eagerly nodded. you pushed his chest, his upper body falling down on your bed as you crawled upwards. “you—“

a loud, disturbing knock interrupted the moment. “cmon, we gotta go!” nick called out. neither matt or you moved, both silently praying he’d just leave.

nick continued to pound on the door, making it obvious there’d be no stop unless matt was going to walk out. he gave you a look of pity before moving you off of him, getting off the bed.

you couldn’t help the roll your eyes did as you watched matt walk to the door. “just an hour, okay?” you nodded, saying ‘i love you’ before he pulled the door open to reveal his brother.

matt was instantly put back into the back mood he originally was in. you could tell by the stomps he made, echoing through the house and down the steps and to the car.

“matt, calm the fuck down!” was the thing said when the boys came back, making you look up from your phone to see matt and chris’ red, angered faces as nick stayed quiet behind both of them.

matt didn’t respond, choosing to shove his brother into the wall. all three began yelling incoherent words at each other, matt swung a to on chris’ jaw, making the youngest respond with tackling him in the wall.

nick managed to break between them before another hit was landed, pointing for chris to go to his room and matt to the other side of the house- to the kitchen.

he was the only one to notice you, sparing a quick wave before following chris down the stairs to lecture him. you watched as matt heavily breathed at the counter, and the way he moved to angrily grab food from the cabinets to begin dinner.

you moved from the living room and towards him. matt was adding salt to the beginning-to-boil water with his back facing you- creating the perfect moment to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his neck in an attempt to comfort.

except this time, matt didn’t falter at the touch, instead he only stiffened more. “matty, you okay?” you whispered, softly rubbing your hands up and down his back.

matt only rolled his eyes, grabbing the pasta package and dumping it in the water. “matt, answer me.” you pleaded. he continued to ignore you, now beginning to cook and break apart the meat for meatballs in the pan.

“matthew.”

“the fuck you want?” matt gritted his teeth. he broke away from your touch, moving to the fridge for nothing. you were still standing at the oven, taken aback by his harsh words.

he slammed the fridge door shut, still standing there as he eyed your figure down. your body was covered by one of his enlarged plain black shirts and shorts.

“well?” he snarked, “cmon spit it out, i know damn well you know how to use words.” matt crossed his arms, the bold words leaving his smirked mouth.

your eyebrows knotted at this, “excuse me?” giving him a chance to take it back. matt still remained in the stance, giving you a look of ‘well?’ as your face hardened like his had been earlier.

“watch how the fuck you talk to me, matthew.” you warned. matt scoffed, walking back to the stove to lower the temperature of the pan and stirring the pasta before looking back at you, “or what? you won’t do shit.”

it was your turn to cross your arms, eyes squinting as matt gave you a daring look to do anything. kissing your teeth, you pulled his tattoo covered arm, not listening to the weak protests as you pulled him into your room and shoved him on your bed.

“wh-what’re you doing?” matt whimpered as you trailed your hand down his body. “why, huh? you wanted to play.” you played with his belt buckle, teasing him.

matt remained silent, watching as you slowly slid his jeans down, along with his boxers to let his cock slap up against his stomach. his hips bucked as your fingers traced along the vein running on the side, a smirk held on your face at his small noises.

a dribble of spit dangled from your lips, sliding down matt’s tip that was as red as his cheeks. he let out a moan from the feeling, pleading for you to touch him more.

you lowered your mouth on him, tongue sliding around his addictive tasting cock as you painfully slow bobbed your head up and down in rhythm.

matt couldn’t help tangling his hand in your hair, holding it in place as he tried bucking his hips head to try and face fuck you. you pulled off, wrapping your hand around the length instead and squeezed roughly, making matt let out a loud whimper from the slight pain.

you stared into his eyes, before raising you hand to land a slap against his already pink cheek. matt’s head turned with the hit, “pl-please.” he whined. “please what, baby?” you forcefully made him look at you by grabbing his chin.

matt whimpered, tears now beginning to pour out of his eyes and running down his face. while you were squeezing his jaw, your other hand was still wrapped around his member, playing with the tip that was leaking out pre-cum.

matt threw his head back, “please– i-im gonna cum!” his thighs shook furiously as the knot in his stomach tightened. you shook your head, “no, you’re gonna hold it like a good boy.” you decided.

he lout out loud moans, mentally begging his subconscious to not let loose from your touch, wanting to stay your good boy but his body desperately wanted to break the rule- to have his cum shoot out and onto your hand.

just as he began to hurriedly bucked into your fist to help the feeling, you pulled it away, instead resting it around his neck and softly squeezed.

matt dropped his head, looking at you as he shook his head with tears, “no, no, no, no–“ he cried, “please- fuck please let me cum, mommy.” his hips mindlessly bucked into the air, but he was gaining no friction besides the cool air.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” you praised. your hand moved up to twirl his brunette strands as matt let out heavy breaths to try and calm down from the almost-release.

pressing small kisses to the side of his sweaty forehead, you managed to slide your shorts down for what’s next to come too.

just as matt was regaining himself from the needy feeling, you straddled his lap. your clothed pussy grinding against his already rock hard cock.

“no—“ matt choked on a moan. you smirked, placing a kiss to his plump lips, moving your panties to the side and grabbing his bright red cock.

he was already losing himself from the feeling of sliding through your soaked folds. sliding the tip in you sighed, “fuck, matty, so- so good for me.” you clawed at his chest, sinking down fully on his cock.

matt’s eyes were closed tightly, waiting for you to begin moving up and down but it never happened. he opened them, giving you a pleading look but you already had another plan, “want you to fuck me, ‘kay?”

he eagerly nodded his head, hands resting on your hips as he began thrusting up at a fast pace, not giving you another second to readjust to his size.

“fuck- fuck- mommy you’re so fuckin’ tight- i-i can’t .” tears began to spill out again, complimenting his reddened face. your hands rested on his thighs, throwing your own hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing your own release.

you let out praises, only encouraging matt to further his thrusts into you. “fuck- baby, im cumming!” you called out, eyes shut as you clenched around his cock with a loud whine.

hips eagerly meeting his, soon your white cream was surrounding his cock. you continued to ride out the high feeling as matt was still thrusting up, chasing his own.

you leaned forward, wrapping a hand around matt’s neck, “you wanna cum?” you rhetorically asked. matt only looked at you with a pleading look. “beg, cmon i know damn well you know how to speak.” you repeated the words he said that got him in this situation.

“please, please, fuck! mommy i needa’ cum!” matt complied with the begging. his hands were squeezing tightly around your hips the same way your cunt was still squeezing around his length, being sure to leave marks.

you gave him a smile, before slapping his hands away and moving off his cock. matt was crying even harder from the loss, still begging for you to go back on him, not even stopping as your mouth was sliding down on him.

matt kept his hips grounded, hoping this time you’d grant him the pleasure of cumming. his moans were loud and raspy as you gulped down the inches of his cock, every now and then the tip would graze the back of your throat.

his eyes were at the back of his head, matt’s body had gone limp at this point. “wanna cum- please.” he blabbered. he had gone dumb on the want of cumming.

you pulled off, slurping around the sides with a nod, finally allowing him to. matt’s entire body shook, the white streams shooting out and landing on his body, and covering your hand.

once you were done cleaning it away with your tongue, you moved your body up so you can check on him. “baby, you okay?” your hand softly grabbed his tear stained cheek, thumb stroking it.

matt nodded, but didn’t open his eyes. he was tired, now craving sleep. “ ‘m sorry, sweetheart.” he mumbled. you pressed yet another kiss to his sweaty forehead, “it’s okay, don’t worry.”

he nodded at your words, snuggling into the blanket. you watched his calm state for a moment before remembering the food on the stove.

moving from the bed you walked to the door, “i’ll be back, you gonna be awake for food?” you asked. matt gave no response, probably already in a much needed sleep.

— ꒰ ☀️ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ꒱ @mrsmiagreer , @sturn3g1rl , @loliek17372 , @theweekd4y , @slut4mattsturn , @wh0resstuff , @sturnioloxlver , @matt444nixi , @tink14 , @m-c-n , @sturnlover4eva , @gxldenlush , @maggieflms , @s-s-842 , @ifearimaybeanamericanidiot @matthewsturniolosactualgf , @slut4chriss , @mattscoquette , @ellie-luvsfics , @bi-and-proud27 , @thelittlelightwhenthetvisoff , @ryleighryleigh , @chichibooma , @qrzrrae , @cherrypostsposts , @ccolleenn , @jnkvivi , @v1xyboy9 , @yomamaslays4lyfe , @75sturn , @pepsienthusiasts , @steveharrigtonslut , @imwetforyourmom , @venusjaynie , @lydi2718 , @elle4321 , @mfcherry , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @robins-scoop , @slut4mattsturn , @sturnlover4eva , @sturnioloco , @l0v3lyt1ny , @sturnioloxlver , @daddyslilchickenfingers2 , @annamcdonalds67 , @chrislapdog , @whore4matt , @nmegamett20 , @fallingforfalll2 , @earring-bastard , @luvr4miya , @euphoric-mind-07 , @lanas-doll , @luanetaluneta .