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#which background suits better?
suvarnarekha · 1 year
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gudi padwa / chaitra navratri mandala <3
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unproduciblesmackdown · 9 months
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that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine
#brought to you by: i think one of my feelings lately of A Shift is in my less than ever running this like continuous background function of#looking for Thee Answer (just like the black suits) in any & everything that could serve as the Key to like. whatever could fit into place#to like set things on a [hell yeah. life? better] path. juxtaposing this recent sense of things with the [lol. in retrospect i Do see a new#context wherein i can Recognize smthing abt myself] past going on of like. granpa greentext story be me be fifteen i'm in college b/c i hat#school i also mostly assumed i'd probably fail out freshman yr but didn't. i've never known what i'd wanna major in & as a sophomore i'm de#supposed to figure it out in time for scheduling my jr yr classes (though Ideally have known from the start / been scheduling thusly) & so#many evenings during dinner i'm furiously perusing the daily print news as i've been doing for some yrs to Keep Up W/Current Events but now#also consciously like ''boy i hope in the course of doing this i stumble across some info that sparks some eureka moment of Getting what my#major should Obviously be so i can understand the rest of my life around [do job] b/c i sure as hell don't understand it around [be married#much less [be parent] so one option remains obvi'' whereas now i realize like lol you Were figuring out a guiding light in doing so & that#perspective being honed was one of Having A Political Analysis times....which also provides another Example of [only being able to interpre#what makes your life & your world the way it is: via Your Personal Failures to have already Had Better] in that just like i often forget i#misguidedly (but also reasonably; clearly also using & seeking that autonomy & freedom) tried to have a better existence within the#situation i was in by Coming Out As Trans to parents via an email that was then not directly discussed ever; b/c any legitimate discussion#was not permissible like how so many matters of [supposed correct existence] are Unspeakable so as to be Unquestionable#languaging that succeeds & sustains itself having to be expansive / flexible / creative / evolving too. Making Up Words hell yes#anyways so i also forget i Did try to propose majoring in things that Did more approach what i was suspecting were things i'd wanna do#but even the first like expression of anything on the periphery of that was met with ''no you'd hate it b/c you'd have to deal w/Stupid Ppl#every day'' (by which was meant; with believed inherent synonymity: poor people) & then i also will oft forget i pushed for it any further#which i Know i did b/c of it next being met with angry & aggressive ''i've never heard you talk abt that interest before So''#(wonder why? withholding info to protect yourself=finding room in one's life for existing more freely; exercising the autonomy to Do That)#but it's easy to forget b/c The All Encompassing Perspective was rather [i'm sure Failing to just Know my major for the sole possibility fo#defining one's entire life: The Correct Dream Job] & then Failing to push it or just express it & be understood ''correctly'' even if i Did#have any ideas in that realm. vs seeing how i Was succeeding & was recognizing shit & pursuing it & looking out for myself & etccc#it's undeniable lol like the framing even that Blaming Oneself is an autonomy seeking response. b/c your autonomous power in your own life#sure Would be more immediate if Everything Really Was Your Fault (when ofc really this is abt obscuring & denying the responsibility of ppl#who have the power over others' lives & then have to act like this is all the fault of the Others; they themselves have never Truly Chosen)#no victim blaming no condemnation of anyone's ''passivity'' here babey#re: the undeniability it's how like. maybe you've only Just realized you're not cis but in doing so it's like ''oh That's what i already#recognizing in various ways throughout my whole life'' it's all always Been there/going on & perspex shifts + new lenses can reveal them
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myers-meadow · 1 year
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OH man, I gotta say I'm very very curious about Priest!Bo ! XD Do you have anything to say about that one? ^^
Thank you for asking about that one! It's been in progress for over a year now, since it relates so heavily to my experiences growing up and it somehow turned into something heavier than i wanted it to be? I feel bad that I haven't finished it much earlier, bc i know there were ppl interested in it ages ago, but we shall see if I can get myself around to finishing it.
But here's a snippet! Nothing nsfw yet;;
Wednesday arrived, and mom was fussing around in the kitchen, ever since lunch. Something in the oven, making the dessert that had to be in the freezer for two hours, chopping lettuce for the salad. With her, my brother Niek and me in the kitchen, it was crowded. Dad was on the couch, feet up, watching something shitty on tv.
“Pass me the-“
“Potato salad? Here,” I handed it to her, before returning to cutting and skinning apples for the pie. They fell into the bowl with satisfying thumps. “It’s just one person coming to visit, why do we always make so much food? And it’s just Father Sinclair, not the prime-minister.”
“Don’t be rude, missy. He’s a respected member of this town and his sermons helped your father a lot after grandma passed. I know you don’t care for it, but be nice. And call him Father Bo, not Sinclair, he doesn’t like it.”
Her tone made me feel 17 again. Reaching for the ground cinnamon and sprinkled it on the diced apples.
“Watch out, she’ll do it on purpose.” Niek’s voice was refreshingly playful compared to mom’s. “Not that any of you care, but I am looking forward to this dinner tremendously.”
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shay-creates · 6 months
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Some songs that fit my WIPs either in lyrics or vibe.
Mark of the Forest/Dread Secrets-
Either Guns For Hire by Woodkid or What Could Have Been by Sting and Ray Chen.
New Rules/Tinnitus-
Illusion by Ateez
Runaways/Heir of Chaos-
Frost by TXT or Crown by TXT
Corruption of Heroes-
It Seemed the Better Way by Leonard Cohen or Hunt You Down by The Hit House and Ruby Friedman
Life in the Realm/Finding Family-
Family by Mother Mother
Shadow of Doubt-
You'd Be Paranoid Too - Waterparks or Saints by Echos
Background of Love-
Fake Protagonist by Getsunova or Lose (english version) by Wonho
Misfortune-
Seraph by DPR Ian or Who Are You by Sam Kim
Haven't thought much about Love Afterlife and Demon Eye, so idk what songs fit for vibes or lyrics.
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jamminvroomvroom · 5 months
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everything.
ln x fem!reader
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in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more
hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!
songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst
6.4k words
“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.
your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.
“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.
you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.
friends. that’s what you were.
you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.
his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.
you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.
eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.
and just like that, a connection was born.
you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.
and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.
“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.
lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.
“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.
friends.
that’s what you were.
-
you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.
on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.
he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.
the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.
you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.
“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.
you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.
“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.
you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.
“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.
“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”
“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.
-
the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.
a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.
you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.
“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.
“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.
“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.
you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.
you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.
“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.
you coughed awkwardly.
“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.
“i am now, could fall asleep here.”
“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.
“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.
“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.
“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.
“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.
“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.
“then stay.”
you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.
what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.
lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.
“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.
“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.
“you’ve never…”
“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”
“like what?”
“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.
“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”
“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.
you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.
“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”
you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.
“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.
he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.
“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”
“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?
“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”
“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.
“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.
you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.
“you needed me.”
“exactly. i needed you. you.”
he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.
“lando-“
“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“
“lando!”
“what?”
“kiss me.”
and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.
you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.
he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.
“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.
you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.
lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.
he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.
“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.
“no.”
“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.
“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.
“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.
“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.
“says who?”
“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”
“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”
“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.
“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”
“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”
“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”
“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”
“i want you, lando.”
and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.
“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.
“please. yes.” you said shakily.
he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.
“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.
“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.
his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.
lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.
“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.
“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.
and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.
“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.
“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.
you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.
“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”
“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.
lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.
“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.
lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.
“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.
his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.
everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.
“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.
one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.
when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.
“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.
you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.
“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.
you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.
“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.
“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.
you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.
“are you ready for me?” he whispered.
“yes.”
the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.
“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.
“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”
“we gotta go easy.”
“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.
“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.
lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.
“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”
you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.
“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.
lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.
“can you look at me?”
your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.
“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.
“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”
he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.
“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.
his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.
“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.
“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.
‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.
-
you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.
lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.
“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.
“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”
baby.
you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.
“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.
“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.
“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.
lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.
“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”
you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.
“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.
“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.
your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.
-
the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.
you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.
you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.
the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.
your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.
see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.
-
the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.
you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.
“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.
“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”
“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.
“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.
“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.
you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.
you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.
“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.
your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.
eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.
lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.
“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?
eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.
he was looking for you.
lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.
the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.
“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.
nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.
“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.
tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.
then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.
-
hehe the end
-
taglist
had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo
@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3
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signedkoko · 2 months
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Oo could I request romantic Vees with a reader who's this famous singer/idol in Hell? (Think, way more than Fizzarolli-level famous)
Valentino | Velvette | Vox [Romantic]
In which you are one of the most popular performance artists in all of hell. Reader is female.
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Your name was more than just 'known'; it was plastered along buildings and chanted by millions
He was always scouting for personalities, following trends in people to see who he could drag down into his vicing grip
But you were untouchable, the first thing he couldn't command to their knees before him
Even so, if Val wanted to meet you, he could, and it was extremely new to the overlord to have to go out of his way to meet someone, but he felt it was worth it
He claims it was because you had possible talent, but those closest to him know he had a bit of a celebrity crush
Valentino is not one to be nervous; he would be direct when telling you that he wanted you, again and again, until you eventually granted him at least one night out, just the two of you
Once he has his chance, he'll pull out every stop just to hear you say that you'd like to see him again
He gets so distracted with you that he forgets the part about getting you into his company, eventually brushing it off by saying you 'didn't suit what he was looking for'
Avoiding being under his contract meant he could never command you, which meant he never had anything to be angry with you about
According to him, you were a role model for all the demons he owned
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Famous stars require famous stylists, and who better than Velvette?
You'd actually reached out to her personally, since a lot of her work inspired your current stylists, and you wanted an upgrade for your tour of hell
Idol's like you were the exact thing people like Velvette dreamed of having in their portfolio, and she insisted on meeting you so she could see what you were looking for
In all her years, she'd never met an idol so genuine—most were snobbish, greedy, or just told her to 'do whatever'
You came in with photos of things you liked, hell, even fabrics you preferred, and a set list of what your songs would look like in order
She was already in love
You get her personal creations, and she insists on being the one to tailor you herself
" Only the best for the best, right? "
She can feel her bitchy attitude melt, and though she gets extremely bothered when anyone interrupts your sessions together, you ground her
It's not long before you two become official, and while she can't follow you into the deeper rings of hell, she will always be sure to watch your performances in the background while she works
She constantly calls you 'doll', because she's always dressing you up
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Influences, aristocrats, idols—none of it was new to the king of social media
Everyone contacted him for their social management, or his team, at least
He didn't do much of the personal work himself; he had far too much on his plate, but he always checked on who was requesting his services
Mostly for the ego boost, knowing the image of so many self-proclaimed "stars'' relied on him
But there was also a list of people he wanted to work for, a list that brought his ego back down and told him he hadn't met his goals yet and had to try harder
You were at the very top
He'd seen a plethora of your performances recorded and reuploaded: best takes, most underrated performances, and unforgettable sets
But he'd never had the chance to see you live until he got a PR package regarding your newest album release
Him? It was certainly interesting to...no shot, you sent him hidden tickets for 'friends only'
He is not fangirling except maybe a bit; he's already cleared his schedule that evening so he can get there and making sure his outfit is cleaned up and ready
Your performance was out of this world, and he is beyond pleased when he is invited backstage to speak with you
There you were, taking off your earrings in your dressing room, smiling at him as if you were old friends
" How was the performance? I'm so glad you came. "
For a moment, hes almost worried you have the wrong person; he seems uncertain of what to say until you continue
" I heard you are hard to win over, so I figured I'd go all out before I ask if you'd consider running my new album compaigne? "
He acts cool, but when he gets home that evening, he is pumping his fist in the air and screaming
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Author's Note - I was thinking lilith-level famous, you are THAT girl... Thank you for requesting! I went for a fem! reader because it was no specified
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azulhood · 4 months
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Danny photobombs the Justice League.
So after each fight the superheroes might give a statement or something to tell people everything is fine, the threat is over, pretty normal right?
Superman had just got home from work and defeating yet another one of Lexi's robots, the TV's playing as background noise while he gets himself something to eat, then stands there with some leftover pizza as his interview/statement comes on.
He watches and goes 'could have done that better' or 'should not have said that.'
And then, seemly out of nowhere, this kid in a Hazmat suit appears in the background.
He's holding a map and squinting at his surroundings as if lost, also he's glowing.
The thing is that Superman hadn't noticed the kid, not a heartbeat or nothing.
Which Clark finds weird and makes a note to do some research the next time he's in the watchtower.
The event is put to the back of his mind.
Not forgotten but not deemed important since the kid seems like he isn't a threat.
Then the kid appears in other heroes interviews/statements.
Footage of the Flash fighting captain cold? He's there, almost in the crossfire and Barry didn't even notice.
Green Arrow celebrating a hard won battle? He's by the cop car as the villain is put in the vehicle.
The final nail in the coffin is when he appears in Gotham when batman is telling people to stay calm and inside during a huge scarecrow attack.
Danny on the other hand just wants to go home.
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gremlingottoosilly · 1 month
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König x Ballet dancer!Reader?
You passed through years of training. Being accepted into one of the famous ballet schools of Vienna was nothing to snooze about - and you were on track to become yet another nameless swan in the second row. With a shelve life of just about 10 years, your life was set to be a parade of mediocrity from the start. Without a rich sponsor to give you connections and without any of your professors looking at you twice, you exited college with a stable job in the background. Sometimes, accepting scraps being thrown at the main dancers, you knew your place - you ached for dance and beauty, and you got it. This is why a bouquet of blood-red roses sitting heavily in your hands still feels like a dream. The man in front of you is not a normal opera guest. His suit is tailored - not for the sake of showing off the price, but because this man is simply too huge for anything made in-store, no matter how expensive the store is. His suit is tailored professionally and yet, he still looks uncomfortable. A mountain of a man confined into the prison of tight fabric - you tilts your head to the side, wondering what is he doing here. He is wearing a black mask, which is normal for many patrons - especially the older ones, still afraid to die after what happened just a few years ago. You can only see his eyes and you're getting lost in the cold. It reminds you of a mountain snow. Of the white fabric of your dress - and suddenly, you almost feel like breaking your perfect posture. You don't look into the viewer's seats while you're dancing, but you can't shake the feeling that you recognize this heavy stare from somewhere. He was following your every movement while you were on the stage, not caring for the beauty of the front dancer and the elegant movements of your peers. You're painfully average in everything - but his attention never fails to get on you. He is giving you gruff, cut-out compliments. Something about your legs, your hips. Something dirty about the way you look in that tight tutu, and you almost gather the strength to slap him, but then he flashes his credit card, and it feels like a ticket out of mediocrity. Always the second last in the deep row, you never had any fans looking at you like this. With this amount of longing, of depravity. You start getting better roles after he started to show up. You're not sure why and how - he has money, that's for certain, but he definitely doesn't seem like the type to have connections in the industry. If you had to guess, you would see him as working in the military - but no one from Austrian army would have as much influence, not in your country. If you had to guess, this guy is dangerous, and you're almost terrified to see the dark red flash of flowers every time you exit backstage and see him. But, oh, he presses you against the walls and kisses you. But, oh, he can lift you up so easily and force you to grind on his knee in search for pleasure - you have stamina, all dancers have it, and he knows he can go for much longer than with a regular girl. Your affection is bought with compliments and euro bills stuck in your leotard like you're a cheap whore, but you almost feel like a French girl while he is holding you like this. He asks you about retirement. Tells you he would build you a dance studio in his house - something big, with space and perfect light. Give you all the attention you need. You almost feel yourself getting lost in his awkwardness. Little did you know he wasn't really asking.
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bleekay · 10 months
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i started this waaaaay back when i first binged miraculous ladybug. couldn't get over the dynamic of superhero duo who don't know each other's secret identities but do also know each other in their normal lives, and they're in love but they aren't but they are they just don't know it.
you know, i originally was spending so much time trying to think of sokka's alter ego, and i put grey wolf in as a filler but then i realized how Sokka it was. like this other dude in a costume introduces himself like "hey, I'm the Blue Spirit" and sokka who hasn't had time to process yet that he's a superhero and is indeed the worst at naming things, goes, "oh, Blue Spirit? Hi. I'm..... Grey.... Wolf." and then zuko would be like "You just used my name as a template! You just changed the color and the creature!!!" and sokka's like "Whaaaaat! Nooooo. No. I actually had this idea before you even said anything, which means actually you are the one copying me!" and zuko demands he change his name, think of something better, but the news is there so it's already circulating and people are saying what a nice pair they make
[id: digital fanart of Sokka and Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender, split into two sections. The top section is a 4-panel comic, from an interview-style perspective asking questions individually of Sokka and Zuko, both wearing modern clothes. Panel 1 asks Sokka, “What do you think about Zuko?” He shrugs and looks away thoughtfully, answering, “Zuko? Hm. I don’t know him too well. I guess he’s pretty cool.” Panel 2 asks Zuko, “What do you think about Sokka?” He scratches at the back of his neck and looks away, blushing with a sheepish grin, and answers, ”Ah… He’s… he’s nice.” A little heart indicates his true feelings. Panel 3 asks Sokka, “What about the Blue Spirit?” Sokka clasps his face between his hands, eyes shiny and half-lidded, cheeks red, a squiggly smile on his face and hearts all around, and answers, “… LOML.” Panel 4 asks Zuko, “What about Grey Wolf?” Zuko’s face is stern, his hand balled in a fist, and he answers, “Annoying.” There’s two small captions on the bottom that read (he’s kidding) (… maybe). The bottom section is a depiction of Sokka and Zuko together as their alter egos, Grey Wolf and the Blue Spirit respectively. Grey Wolf has a wolf mask that covers the top half of his face, a skintight blue, grey, and white suit, with leather straps to hold weapons and white fur on his shoulders and wrists, as well as a fluffy tail. The Blue Spirit is in the canon mask, plus a skintight blue and black suit, with a sword strapped to his back. Grey Wolf has one arm around Blue Spirit’s back grabbing his shoulder, and his other hand is gently poking at the Blue Spirit’s cheek. Grey Wolf is grinning and has a little heart indicating he’s enjoying this. The Blue Spirit is standing with his arms crossed and a scribble indicating he’s annoyed. The background is a vague cityscape at sunset. end id]
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incognit0slut · 3 months
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Since hearing Streets by Doja cat (silhouette remix) I always thought if I ever had the chance to striptease for someone, that would definitely need to be the song playing in the background, the rhythm is so sensual. So can I request a smut with Spencer centered around this song?
Love your blog and tiktok edits, and congrats for reaching 3k! You deserve it!
tysm lovely hope you enjoy this🫶 (wc) 3.1k!
warnings: (MINORS DNI!) Reader is a stripper, lap dance, pantyjob, a lot of grinding lol
Play our fantasies
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The FBI agent visiting your workplace wants more from you than answers to his questions.
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…we play our fantasies out in real life ways…
"THE FBI IS WAITING FOR YOU," your boss said the moment you stepped down from the stage, his voice a low murmur amidst the pulsating beats of the club. Your clients varied from politicians to well-known celebrities, but you never had the chance to entertain an authority before.
Your boss rolled his eyes as he gripped your arm, navigating you to the VIP lounge. "He's not here for that."
"Oh?"
"He's here to ask some questions," Teddy explained as he released his hold, motioning you to follow him. "Said he wanted to know about one of your regulars."
"My regulars? Who?"
He gave you a sideway glance as you both strode to the back area of the club. "Dennis."
You raised an eyebrow. "Dennis Meade?" You asked. "That lawyer? He hasn't even been here for over a month."
Your boss shrugged. "Maybe that's why the FBI is looking for him, only god knows where he is."
"It's always those quiet ones, huh?" You jested, your heels clacking on the marble floor. You stopped for a moment when you passed a wall that was covered with mirrors, fixing your hair through the reflection. When your boss noticed he was walking alone, he turned around and gave you a disapproved look.
"He's only here to ask you questions."
"I know." You smiled, delicately smearing off the subtle lipstick mark that had smudged over your lip line from the dance routine you performed on the pole earlier. Satisfied with how you looked, you made your way back to Teddy.
"Is he cute?" You asked playfully.
"Y/n."
"I thought we weren't supposed to use our real names on the clock."
He sighed, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow on his exasperated expression as you both continued to walk down the hallway, the distant thump of music reverberating through the walls.
"Angel," he pressed sarcastically, emphasizing your stage name. "Doctor Spencer Reid is keeping his identity discreet, so don't attract any attention to him."
"Doctor?" You mused. "Thought he was a cop."
"FBI agent," he corrected.
"Tomato, Tomahto." You finally stopped at the entrance of the VIP area, a line of doors covered in drapes separating each private space. "Which one is he in?"
"Corner left at the end." He gave you a pointed look. "It's better to stay with him according to your usual private session, lessen any suspicion."
You smirked. Spending half an hour in a room with an authority sounded intriguing. Teddy rolled his eyes as he saw the look you gave him. "No funny business, Angel."
"Of course not, Teddy," you assured him, giving him the most innocent smile you could muster.
He shook his head and took a step back. "You're trouble."
With a playful wink, you pushed open the door to the VIP area and stepped into the dimly lit space. The ambiance shifted from the bustling energy of the club to a more intimate setting. The smell of burning wax filled your nose in the form of vanilla-scented candles as you made your way to the corner suite.
A man stood in the middle of the room, his scrutinizing eyes scanning the small platform in the corner with a pole planted on top of it, but as he heard your footsteps, he turned around and met your gaze.
Your eyes slowly assessed him. His features were sharp, his gaze piercing, and an air of confidence surrounded him. There was something magnetic about his presence, an unexpected allure that contradicted the stereotypical image of an FBI agent. You were never this close to an FBI agent before, but were they supposed to be this attractive?
As the door closed behind you, the muffled sounds of the club outside were replaced by a peculiar intimacy. Especially when his eyes roamed your body, taking in the lingerie top barely covering your breasts and the thin silk panties you chose to wear today.
"You must be Angel," he greeted, watching you intently. The dim light accentuated the subtle nuances of his expression.
"And you must be Doctor Spencer Reid," you replied, injecting a subtle hint of playfulness into your tone. "What brings the FBI to our humble abode?"
"Spencer, please." His lips then curved into a faint smile. "I'm here on official business. There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."
"About Dennis Meade, I presume?"
His eyebrows raised slightly, acknowledging your astuteness. "You're well-informed."
"It's part of the job," you responded with a casual shrug. You took a moment to assess the situation before nodding towards the plush seating. "You should take a seat, Dr. Reid."
He did as he was told, but his eyes went wide when he noticed you stepping onto the platform instead of following him. "What are you doing?"
"I was told you didn't want your identity to be known," you said as you gripped the pole. "There are cameras everywhere; I'd say it would seem suspicious for the security to see I'm only talking when I should be working."
He watched as you started to move around the pole, your movements deliberate and gracefully controlled. The ambient lighting cast a subtle glow, creating a surreal atmosphere within the room. The pulsating music from the club outside, its tune slow and seductive, provided an unexpected rhythm in the closed space.
"This way, it seems like just another part of the show," you continued as you swayed your hips seductively. "Now, what did you want to discuss about Dennis?"
Spencer's gaze followed your every move and you watched as his tongue flickered along his bottom lips. "We believe he might be involved in something that requires our attention."
You leaned back, arching your back in a sultry pose. "Dennis hasn't been around here for a while. Why the sudden interest?"
"It's not the first time he's come under our radar," Spencer explained, his tone measured. "We're trying to locate him to gather more information."
"I can't say I know much about him," you replied. "There wasn't anything particularly noteworthy about him, at least not that I'm aware of."
Spencer absorbed the information, his expression thoughtful. But it was hard to keep his mind on the case he was supposed to be investigating when your moves became more daring as you leaned down, actuating your luscious hips that were barely covered with that thin string of fabric covering your sex. Then his mouth dried up as you turned around in front of him and fully bent over, exposing the delicious curve of your ass.
He tried to steady his breathing. "Any peculiar behavior… conversations, or associations you might recall might help."
You twirled around the pole again, a moment of contemplation before you spoke. "He kept to himself mostly. No unusual conversations that stood out. As for associations, he didn't seem to have any close ties with the regulars here. Just a quiet guy who enjoyed the performances."
"Especially yours?"
You laughed, the sultry notes mingling with the music from the club outside. "Well, who wouldn't?" you teased, your gaze locking with his. "I do put on quite a show."
You threw your head back as you moved again and god, it was criminally sensual, the way you danced, unlike anything Spencer had ever seen before. He couldn't put into words the allure you possessed. When you ran a hand over your skin, dipping into every curve, he was unable to hold back any longer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. 
"It seems that way," he murmured, his voice dangerously low as he leaned back in his seat.
His jaw then slacked open, heavy breaths being ragged out as he got a better look at you when you started to approach him. Your hair shone upon the fluorescent lights, red-painted lips ghosting upon your features as you straddled his lap. You leaned into him, placing a knee on each side of his thigh to press into the thick, leather chair. 
"Is this also part of the show?" he softly asked.
You chuckled, the sound low and sultry, matching the tempo of the music. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." The palm of your hands slid over his arms, sending warmth along his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. "Depends on what you want it to be, Dr. Reid."
You swore you could see his muscles tense when your fingers glided over his shoulder, and with a sharp inhale, his head fell against the seating. He was even more handsome up close. He had soft skin, a sharp jaw covered with a soft stubble, and brown-colored eyes that shone underneath the fluorescent lights.
His breath caught as you moved in closer, the distance between you diminishing rapidly. The proximity between you two grew more intense, and his initial intent of discussing the case became a distant memory. 
Your lips hovered close to his ear as you whispered, "Do you want me to continue?"
Spencer's mind raced as he struggled to maintain composure. The unexpected turn of events left him breathless, his professional facade gradually giving way to your seduction. it was as if his fantasies were playing out right before his eyes. Having you perched on his lap, the intimate proximity, the charged atmosphere—all of it seemed to align with a script written in his imagination.
Then a low, almost invisible, "Yes," escaped his lips.
The single word carried a weight of desire that hung in the air as if the room itself was holding its breath. It was enough of an answer as you slowly lowered your hips. Your thighs parted for him, and you pressed your center against him, letting out a low gasp when you felt how hard he already was.
It shouldn't have surprised you, after all, it was the usual reaction to every man you had to entertain. Maybe it was the unfamiliar setting that had you growing hot; to be on someone's lap who was a high authority, someone who was here for work, someone who wasn't even paying for your time. Yet you couldn't help it, especially when his hands found your hips, urging you to move.
You obeyed, beginning to press your aching center against his groin, rocking your hips softly back and forth. As you do, your silk panties slid over his pants, earning a hiss from his parted lips. You couldn't help but smirk as your palms pressed to his shoulders, offering stability as your hips rolled against his body.
You couldn’t help but feel the warmth flooding between your thighs as you grind your folds against him, earning a few twitches of his hips in return. You would normally call in security if any of your clients touched you inappropriately. The club patrons could touch, but there was a policy of grabbing, holding, or leaving marks. 
And what Spencer was doing surpassed all the rules. One, he wasn't even a client, and two, you would be in trouble if you were caught enjoying this. Your job was to entertain people, not be entertained. Yet you were far too gone to think of the consequences. The fear of getting caught still weighed on your mind, but with your throbbing clit pressing to him as you rode him, the worries diminished faster than they could build.
You couldn’t deny the bliss that filled your body. Grinding against him had you lost in the moment, legs beginning to quiver as his fingers pressed into your hips harder, head falling back, curses pouring from his lips. His nails began to press to your flesh and it should have inflicted you pain, but instead, you were even more drawn to him that you reached for his belt.
"May I?" You whispered, eyes locking with his. Spencer wasn't sure it was the wisest idea to submit to whatever plan you had in mind, but he found himself nodding, and a few moments later you were already busy undoing his pants.
Your fingers hook into the band of his briefs next, urging the fabric down with assistance from him as his hardened cock spring free. He bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating your every move a second before your fingers wrapped around his girth. Slipping your grip to his swollen, reddened tip, a hiss spilled from his parted lips, and then your palm slid back down his length as his hips pushed forward into your grasp.
"That—" He struggled to say, too focused on the way you dragged your palm up and down his length. "That feels good."
This earned you a smile. He felt thick and warm in your grip and your eyes instantly took in the sight; of his hard cock pulsing in your hand, of his brow creasing as you continued your movements. You watched as his tongue swiped over his lips again when your other hand reached for your panties, slipping the silk to the side, enough to ease his cock between your folds before adjusting the fabric back in its place.
You both let out a gasp at the feeling of his cock pressed to your flesh, trapped by the tight fabric holding him in place. You nearly lost your mind just as he did the moment you began to rock your hips once again. Juices dripping from your center made it effortless to slip back and forth over his cock, and with your arousal coating his flesh on the underside, and your silk panties caressing him on the other, he couldn't hold back any longer.
He held you in place as his hips met yours frantically. God, you were such a dream; Spencer couldn't believe this was happening. You were such a fantasy. Every moan escaping your lips seemed to cast a spell that held him captive. It was wrong of him to fully enjoy this, yet he couldn't help but be mesmerized by you.
The way you moved along his throbbing cock was such a sight to see. Or the way your head fell back as you satisfied yourself, your jaw slacking as you looked at him through hooded eyes. Your soft whimpers begin to flood his ears, and it urged him to give you more as he told you how fucking good you felt, how fucking wet you were, and how fucking beautiful you looked, even with your hair sticking onto your face from all the sweat.
Fingers brushed loose strands of hair from your eyes and it took so much of your self-control not to kiss him. Kissing your clients was another one of the policies, and it was something you shouldn't even consider of breaking, so instead you focused on the growing heat that stretched along your core.
Your hips increased their pace, rolling against him to offer the both of you relief, your clit swelling with a need for release as you felt his cock pulsing between your wet folds.
Your thighs began to shake around him, giving him the courage to pump his hips a few times, catching you off guard. Gasping, you arched your back, continuing to move your hips over his, using him to find release as his cock rested between your folds and the fabric of your silk panties. You felt yourself growing hot, needy, aroused, dripping along his length, making the sensation all the more electrifying.
“Fuck,” you whimpered, your entire body trembling. “I-I’m gonna come.” 
“Come,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Come on my cock, Angel. Let me feel you.” 
His words sent a rush of electricity through your body, out to every tingling limb and curled toe, and there was nothing you could do but lose the last shred of control you were holding onto. Your moans poured from your lips louder than before, but you had a hard time caring as the bliss swelled within you. 
You called out his name, again and again between desperate whimpers and gasps, thighs tightening around him as you rode out your orgasm, not slowing your pace until the wave washed over you.
When you relaxed against him, he took hold of your body, wrapping his arms around you as he began to thrust from below, fucking himself between your soaked folds and silk panties. After a few moments, you grew completely weak, allowing him to take control, allowing him to hold onto you, allowing him to use you to get off until the moment a sharp inhale filled your ears.
Thick ropes of white spilled from the hem of your panties, soaking through the fabric and coating your flesh. His breath stalled for a moment before he released another exhale, head falling back as his hips attempted to keep thrusting, yet he lost all momentum as the pleasure took hold of him.
You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, surprised by the way his hands brush delicately over your hips, skimming across your lower back in a soothing motion. "What time do you get off tonight?"
You met his gaze. "Late, as usual," you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "Why do you ask?"
Spencer hesitated for a moment before answering, his hands still tracing soothing patterns on your back. 
"I was thinking... maybe we could continue this later," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "In a more private setting."
You raised your eyebrows. "Is that part of the investigation, Dr. Reid?"
"It could be," A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Or maybe I'm far from done with you."
“Oh?” Thoroughly amused, you hummed. "Is that so?"
He nodded and looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "Tell me what time you get off."
It wasn't a question anymore; it was a demand, and a shiver ran down your spine. 
God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to taste him, no, you needed to taste him. You had never craved someone as much as you did now. Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you caving in, or maybe it was the thought of his cock buried deep inside your cunt that your answer slipped off your tongue without much thought. 
It was too easy for you to tell him what time your shift ended when all you wanted was for him to fuck you senselessly.
"I finish at two," you quickly responded. 
Spencer's half-lidded eyes seemed to darken, his features betraying a hunger that mirrored your own desires. "Meet me at the back exit at two, then."
A coy smile played on your lips as you met his intense gaze. Honestly, you would let him fuck you right there and then, but you had to be patient. Time couldn't move faster than you wished. 
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thvhoe · 6 months
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EGO DRIVE (m) | JJK
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SYNOPSIS:
In the glamorous world of fashion, where egos run wild and money talks, who'd have thought that one arrogant model by the name of Jeon Jungkook would shake up your life?
"No. This was Jeon Jungkook, and at the end of the day, no one cared about the damn clothes."
PAIRING: Model Jeon Jungkook x Reader
RATING: 18+
GENRE: STRANGERS TO LOVERS, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, MODEL AU, FASHION AU, FLUFF SMUT ANGST
WORD COUNT: 11K
A/N: Part 1s always appear to be the most difficult for me to write, so here goes nothing🤭. This bitch worked hard on it, so please offer some love in the comments or let me know if you enjoyed it. PSA!!!!! I know Jks is a jerk in this, but trust me, it will all make sense as you go on! As for Oc, her background will be described in greater detail next part. This ones more jk focused. Last scene is inspired by his DAZED cover hihi🤭
Big thank you to @kooktrash for helping me with the plot and @erica2283 for beta-ing for me🫶🩵
For fucks sake, Jungkook was probably the worst person you've ever had the pleasure of working with...–aside from that time that famous actress tossed her scalding hot latte at you because you didnt know the shade pink didnt suit her. It wasn't your fault! You had no idea who she was to begin with-
A good shade of pink–whether light or dark– suits everyone-
I digress
Back to the assho- Jungkook. Back to Jeon motherfucking Jungkook.
It was a sweltering summer morning, and you'd just finished your first week as a stylist and makeup artist for Calvin Klein the day before. It was all a dream. People were mostly friendly, and if they weren't, they just ignored you rather than gossiping about you behind your back. You weren't a high-level executive–you were easily replaceable. But you did the job, and for the time being, thats all that mattered
The fashion industry was and still is tough, but you snuck your way into one of the top, most trendy labels to this day. It wasnt easy–on the contrary. The rules and regulations were merciless, and your application was disregarded for a couple of months before they even emailed you–you weren't their first choice, thats for sure. But, in the end, they hired you, so you shouldn't feel horrible about yourself and sulk. At least you try not to.
Theres times you gaze out the window of your pricey, run-down downtown apartment. Watching cars and bikes pass by, as the same people who lived nearby walked in and out of the shabby 7/11. You liked making up little stories about their lives in your head while sipping your morning tea or eating your dinner after work–which generally consisted of a 99ct ramen cup from the same 7/11 mentioned earlier
You liked the idea that these people had the same mundane daily live as you–it made you feel better about yourself in some way
But again, I digress
Your morning has gone weirdly well–you didn't trip over that nearly non existent step in front of the entrance door this morning, as you usually do 97% of the time; the barista at the local café got your coffee order right–as they should anyway, in your opinion, because...you're spending $7 for your tripple shot piping hot americano every morning, for heavens sake!
Nevertheless, your mornings going great. Everything is fine-
That is, at least, until you are cleaning your cosmetics palette, humming a radio-hit melody to yourself, that everyone falls silent, at which point you hear faint whispering and chattering as a door creaks open
You don't pay much attention, you knew some hot shot model was planned to be on set today. You assumed he was the one everyone was ogling/giggling about
You do nothing more than lift your head, catching a glimpse of the scenario a few feet away–the way there are roughly 7 bodyguards around him, the way camera flashes become fewer as the door closes behind them, eventually disappearing and staying outside rather than being permitted in
You watch as the set director, who also happens to be your boss, approaches him with excitement–his far too tight shirt showed off his beer belly, and those pants; just no. If this man didn't have a buzzcut, you couldnt imagine he'd be good at even styling his hair–how did he end up as a set director for CK?
Connections, most likely... you answer your own question
Everything nowadays was about connections, not talent. If you knew someone, you were almost certainly going to be hired for a job you weren't even qualified for. Denying opportunities to ppl who were prepared to do the job–who studied hard to do the goddamn job-
Mr. Hardis was a pain to work with; "y/n go get me a coffee", "y/n clean the set up". Those weren't your responsibilities, for God's sake. Mr. Hardis was the epitome of an ass-kissing jerk.
But as long as he paid you on time...well, theres really nothing that you should be complaining about
- 15 hours before the shoot; Incheon airport Seoul South Korea -
"Thats him! Oh my god!"
"Jungkook! can i get an autograph-"
"Jk, why did you break up with Aisha?!"
"What are you wearing?!"
"One picture please-"
He shouldn't be rolling his eyes at his fans in public, especially with so many cameras around him. He never grasped the airport arrival or departure thing–when photographers and fans would camp out for hours simply to see him come into or out of the terminal for a mere 5 minutes or less
He only shakes his head, biting his lip, which is hidden by his black facemask. Actually, you can hardly see his face at all.
Jungkook liked his privacy, or at least the little bit that's left of it anyway
The purple beany obscured the majority of his hair and face. "Back off," one of his bodyguards says as a girl approaches, holding her phone in his face–Jungkook just looks forward, disregarding her
He was used to this
The good news is that he is relatively quickly inside, while most of his fans are forced to remain behind–yelling his name, begging for him to look back one last time. But he doesnt. Why would he?
It was quieter in here, although some people were still pointing their phone cameras at him without any shame. He shakes his head.
He observes as they mutter to each other, catching the faint words "jeon" and "parents" as well as comments like "what an ignorant boy" and "he should be ashamed, leaving his fans hanging like that" from old ladies who most likely read the tabloids about him in their spare time, cup of tea in one hand and piece of cake neatly placed on their terrace tables as they people watched and gossiped
He scoffs once more, glancing ahead and holding his passport up to the staff in front of him. It was a woman, maybe in her early 30s, with nice skin, a nice figure, and shining eyes. He lowers his mask for her to confirm his identification but before drawing it back up. He flashes her a smirk before passing by her
He hears the last camera flashes as he steps into his private zone at the airport, eager to relax and wait for his jet. At least he didn't have to deal with other people while travelling. Aside from his bodyguards and assistants, who were already on board the plane, preparing for his arrival and departure to LAX.
He despises it. The spotlight, the cameras, the...attention. It was ironic, really, since he was a model, and he didn't mind being recorded at work.
But when he was in private or when he didn't want to be watched? It sucked. Welcome to the world of a celebrities son.
A so-called nepo baby or whatnot, someone who apparently got everything handed to him on a silver platter. It made him scoff just thinking about it
He takes a second to grab his phone, tapping on it to look at the time. 10am. Underneath it, a message catches his eye
Mom: be careful today, me and dad tried to make sure your arrival in LA will be as calm as possible
Mom: make sure to text me when you arrive💖
He types a quick "okay" before humming to himself as he looked outside the window
It's not that he doesn't love appearing for the camera–as a creative director and part of many projects, he gets to determine what side of him ends up on the covers of magazines like Vogue, W, or Dazed. The only thing that fucking annoyed him was the gossip and the lack of privacy.
If you haven't guessed, Jungkook hated his parents' celebrity status and the fact that he didn't get to choose whether or not he wanted to be in the spotlight–he was born into it
Fuck fame, fuck money–at the age of 25, he still had no idea who he was. And that one time he tried to see a therapist? His information was leaked, letting the entire media know what he was going through at the time. He removed most of his social media accounts shortly after that, not wanting to see the stupid remarks, the hate.
He basically vanished for an entire year, staying under the radar. But that was now 7 years ago, he was 18 at that time and didn't know any better. So, after a year of trying to find out how to move on with his life, he just figured that if he didn't show his emotions, if he didn't let people close to him, they wouldn't be able to hurt him.
Jungkook mastered the art of pretening
Pretend to be friends with them
Pretend to be interested in their life
Pretend to listen when they talk
Pretend to care
Pretend pretend pretend
Jungkook could count his friends on one hand, those friends being Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi, whom he grew up with and considered as his older brothers
Everyone else you saw him partying with or leaving clubs with on the news or on Twitter were nobodies who thought they knew him while exploiting him for fame and money. 'Why pay when kooks here?' He'd heard it much too often.
He often left with girls. Jungkook wasn't a picky man. If they caught his attention and he sort of tolerated them, he would gladly accept their invites to their homes for the night
He didn't love the girls he dated–he pretended to but never meant it.
Especially after sex, the way hed swinf his arms around them while they smiled and traced his tattoos. Playing with the hem of his boxers as they kissed along his jaw
"Do you love me?" They'd ask, hopeful eyes looking up at him, wishing they'd be the ones on the cover of magazines the next day titled as Jeon Jungkooks next love. Jungkook would just chuckle, take a drag of his post sex cigarette, and look them in the eyes, lying, "of course I love you."
Love...love was something he used ti think would solve everything. A girl who liked him for him. Jungkook. Not Jeon Jungkook, son of Jeon Seona and Jeon Jungshik.
But when she left, she took a piece of him with her, breaking him.
She, who hed thought would stay with him. She who hed thought would never hurt him
She shattered him.
No
Love shattered him
Fuck love
-----
You sigh and return to your now clean palette. You used to get excited when meeting celebs like him, but after a few interactions with people like them, you realised they're all just human at the end of the day–who don't care about people like you.
What was that saying again? Never meet your heroes? Yeah...
Next to you is a sheet, the identical one that was emailed to you and everyone else on set a few days ago–it was the shoot description and theme.
"I'd rather be dead than cool."
You couldn't deny that it piqued your curiosity when you initially opened the doc that night. Hot cup of coffee in your hand, ready for an all nighter to research makeup looks that would fit the vibe
You didnt get selected for styling today. Rather for makeup duty. That's why you were cleaning the palette in the first place–grey, blue, and soft green tones neatly arranged on the table beside you
You'd studied his face a bit–just to get to know what you were going to work with, and, as much as you hated to admit it, he was attractive in every aspect
You knew it would be an easy day at work with a face like his, since his features were perfect to work with; his sharp jaw attracted your attention initially, and it would be simple to match his foundation tone with the remains of his body. Then there was his nose, round and slightly bigger, but with a sharp twist that would be easy to apply makeup on. His dark and piercing eyes were ideal for applying eyeliner and a smidge of shadow–maybe some darker grey or hints of blue. His lips were lovely, not big but not thin–the ideal in-between.
You'd worked with models before, particularly attractive ones, but never with someone of this status. If you weren't mistaken he's the kind of celebrity people on the internet loved to refer to as nepo baby
His parents were well known actors in the 1980s, so you didn't know if you'd recognise them if you saw them walking down the street or in a grocery store. You'd be sure to ask your parents when you got home–if you didn't forget, anyway.
All you knew was that the man who had just entered the studio was important, important enough not to mess up his makeup even once
Dont talk to him y/n, cause god forbid you say something cringy
Ugh, just thinking about it makes you want to slap your forehead
"I can't believe he chose our location out of all the options he had." Lia, the petite blonde girl you've grown to like, practically squeaks next to you in delight
You give her a little smile and nod, adding, "I know, right?" As you check the makeup desk to see if you have everything prepared for later
Clean brushes? Check
Cotton Swabs and Pads? Check
Clean mirror? Check
Make up remover? Check
Neat setup? Double check
You and Lia were little more than work besties, as she referred to you two. She'd been a hairstylist here for over a year now, and you were pretty sure she'd seen many bigger celebs than him, but you liked seeing her excited–you loved how you could actually sense how much she adored her job
It made you happy too
"I heard he chose LA for the weather and laid back vibes!" She continues, your gaze fixed on the time on your phone before looking at her and nodding along "He must be tired, though...heard he just arrived from the airport...didn't get any rest whatsoever," she somewhat pouts, and you laugh slightly amused–if you had to name one person who has the most empathy for people, it would have to be her
"Its his job now, isnt it?" You shrug, "just like we have pull all nighters sometimes and only get 2 hours of sleep-" you chew on your bottom lip "-he has to head to work right after a what? 15 hour flight? Thats life" fiddling with one of the cosmetics brushes, you glance around the set, photographers hustling around, preparing their cameras while other staff members setup the set
It was basic, a black old-timer parked in the middle–if your eyes didn't deceive you, it was a Lamborghini Miura 1966–you didn't know much about cars, but your father had a photo of one hanging in the garage since you were a kid
You made a mental note to snap a picture to send to him later
One thing was certain–Jungkook had taste–expensive taste, at that–but that was to be expected from a man of his wealth. What was he again? highest paid male model in 2022?
Something like that
"Mh, i guess youre right"
Lia's voice draws your attention back to her, and you notice her fiddling with her fingers, just like you were doing with the makeup brush. You could tell you were both nervous right now, her possibly more than you, which was strange given she had been working here longer
Perhaps it was the fact that he was more than just a celebrity working with the brand; he was the global ambassador. "Should we get lunch after-" Lia speaks up, only to be cut off by the director himself, "right everyone!" He claps his hands together to attract everyone's attention, "well be starting the shoot at point 10am, which is in exactly an hour-" his voice fades into the distance as lia tugs on your arm, catching your attention back to her
"Whats up?"
"Im kinda nervous now, what if i fuck up" Lia chew on her bottom lip as she turns to gather her things, making sure everything is set before she starts working on his hair soon
You smile at her, mimicking her movements as you go over your supplies one last time. The last thing you want is for a product to miss and halt the entire shoot. That would almost certainly get you fired. And bye bye to your lovely dream of making it big in the industry
"He's already got the looks, so even if you mess up, it won't be too noticeable," you joke, crossing your arms as you lean against the table, "but I'm curious if he's got anything else going for him," you snort, causing Lia's eyes widen in surprise as she looks at you–or rather behind you
"I can hear you, you know"
The sudden voice makes a chill run down your spine as you slowly turn around
As he stares at you, the man you've certainly come to know as Jeon Jungkook stands there in all his handsome glory–arms crossed, tongue poking the inside of his cheek
Fuck, did you really just insult one of the most important people at your job? What a way to leave a first impression...
One of the first things you notice about him are his numerous piercings, which dknt take away from the attractiveness of his face but rather enhance it. You first notice his double pierced lip–jeez that must have hurt–maybe you'll ask him about it later for some small talk
Next, your gaze is drawn to his ears, which are both fully pierced and adorned with small hoops. Finally, you come to a halt at his brow, the small but lovely charm that pierces through it, adding a harshness to his gentle face
He smelt of expensive perfume and cigarettes, maybe even weed-but who were you to judge?–as Lia had said; 'he must be exhausted'. So the fact that he might have hit it once or twice before arriving shouldn't surprise you
The outfit he initially arrived at the set with is simple yet fashionable, a black oversized shirt paired with some equally as oversized pants
Somehow, you could still tell the man was ripped underneath all that clothing
You smile and laugh nervously, "Well, at least you've got one thing going for you" you try to lighten the mood by cracking a joke, only to be met with a hard stare
Great y/n, this is exactly why you don't speak to clients–the global ambassador for the brand which your life depends on–at that
"Right," he scoffs, looking you up and down, blatantly judging your outfit. You weren't wearing anything special. Your job didn't require you to wear a uniform–the only condition was that everyone who worked here wore at least one piece of the brand's apparel
You got a big employee discount of 50%, so going out shopping the day you got hired wasn't too pricey. You were dressed in a simple white CK shirt and black flared CK jeans
The rest were some thrifted half-broken Converse highs you bought when you were 16, as well as a similarly thrifted Zara jacket you bought last year–you weren't wearing that one, but it hung nicely over your chair. In a way, it was reasonable to say you didnt look like a fashion major–you did know how to style properly, but putting clothing on other people was easier than putting clothes on yourself. You wouldn't be a skilled stylist if you didn't understand what you were doing
Looking down at yourself, your cheeks heat up as you stare at the same coffee stain on your shirt as he was
What were the consequences of simply running out the venue now? Because, to be frank, you'd love to sink into the ground right this moment
Thankfully, his assistant arrives a few moments later with an iced americno–you wondered how many shots someone as busy as him needed this early in the morning, was it 2? Or 3 like yourself?–in one hand and a clipboard with what you imagined was his schedule in the other. You let out a breath of relief, which Jungkook seemed to notice but dismiss, setting himself down on the black chair with his name written on the back and waiting for you to start your job. Your eyes widen "right", and you let out a nervous breath, beginning with figuring out his foundation shade
You decide not to ask him about his piercings after all
You wanted to maintain some dignity and professionalism. Sitting down in your little swivel chair you began applying concealer with a fresh beauty blender, trying not to touch his face too much and keeping the tapping to a minimum
You're relieved when Jungkook begins chatting with his assistant, and you try your best not to eavesdrop–but you can't just turn off your ears, can you?
"You have to leave the shoot at point 12," she points out, noting something on the small clipboard in her manicured hand
"Were only shooting for 2 hours?" He asks nonchalantly, sounding much nicer than he did when he talked to you
Maybe it's because of your stupid ass joke y/n, you reason. Thatd explain everything.
"Yes, two hours," she nods again, "will that be an issue? I can call Vogue and tell them you'll be late for the interview-."
"Ah no," he says pleasantly, waving his hand. "That won't be a problem, I was just wondering because my shoots usually take longer," he adds, toying with his liprings as he concentrates his gaze on you, whos mostly focused on diping a brush into the black eyeshadow and carefully tapping part of the pigment off afterwards
Ah, an interview huh?
You'll look him up again during your break. Sure, he was a model, but why would he need to be interviewed by one of the most popular magazines? What was so intriguing about Jeon Jungkook aside his parents or his connection with CK?
You bite your bottom lip, deep in thought, as you lean back and tell him to close his eyes. That he does. With a light touch, you sweep the brush over his lid, applying just a smidge of colour before diving back into the palette for a shade of blue
You weren't a curious person, but rather a bored one with nothing better to do. Sure, it wasn't the wisest move in the world, and it was a little strange to search up a client on Google while he was still on set. You felt strange even thinking about looking him up. Mh.
Well, you were just a bored girl at work–isn't it what everyone in your situation would do? Maybe instead of googling, you could ask Lia about him–she seemed to be a fan
Talking about her-
With a smile and a tool bag in hand, she approaches the 3 or 5 of you–if you include the bulky bodyguards a few feet away from you.
"Hello," she says, lightly bowing as she introduces herself as his hairstylist for the day–you're too deep in concentration and thought on his makeup and about what you'll be having for lunch later to even listen properly
However, from what you can discern, he happens to be a lot friendlier to her than he was to you. That joke was a tragedy
You frown, which Jungkook notices as he glances at you while you apply a small amount of liptint on his lips
As you apply it with a small brush, you observe the way he purses his lips a little. This was certainly not new to him. However, the fact that he knew what to do with each makeup step and that you didn't have to tell him was reassuring
Even well known models and artists who deal with makeup on a regular basis don't always know when to do what
Stop praising him for the bare minimum y/n
"Shoot starts in 15," the set director says over the loudspeaker, pacing around the set as if he owned it–which, technically, he did. You hum to yourself and casually nod. You were nearly finished with his makeup–or lack thereof; Jungkook didn't require much retouching to his already flawless face
Again, stop praising him
Lia didn't have as much work to do either, as the theme of tpday's shoot required her to leave his hair a little messy–rebellious. So, after combing it and drowning it with hairspray while running her hand over his hair, she was finished
"All right, Jungkook, follow me," Sana, one of the stylists in charge of his clothing–aside from him, of course, as he was also the creative director for today's shoot–brings him to his wardrobe.
Sana was...mh...a couple years older than you. You weren't sure by how much, but it had to be three or four years. She must have been in her mid-late twenties while you were 22. You didn't talk much to her–she showed you around on your first day at work, but that was about it
She was, as you could think, pleasant. Her hair was blonde, but not like Lias'. While her hair was a yellowish blonde, Sana's was almost white. She had a nice smile, which she had probably perfected over the years to show clients as she nodded mindlessly while they talked
Her style was unlike anything you'd ever seen before–the flared pants she wore today complemented the yellow shirt she wore flawlessly. Its like she took on a new persona everyday. One day she looked like your nice neighbour girl, the other like someone out of a 80s movie–her job definitely fit her.
You liked her jewellery; the gold bands on her wrist caught your eye as soon as you stepped into the set this morning.
You watch Jungkook get up from the seat in front of you, check himself up in the mirror, then adjust his shirt and walk away with her. You let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding, locking eyes with Lia in a knowing way. You both laugh
"You think hell hold a grudge?" You teasingly ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the makeup counter, chewing on your lip, one brow raised
"No way," Lia laughs, "don't even think he'll remember us when he comes back tomorrow."
You give a nod.
Right. The shoot was meant to last a week, so you'll probably have to deal with him again tomorrow. Oh crap
-
"Look directly into the camera." Jake, another work friend of yours, says barely above a whisper, talking to Jungkook who is basically doing whatever he wants. The photos turn out beautiful, but modelling involves working together rather than doing whatever you want
You bite your lower lip, keeping a close eye on them
Jake has been working here for quite some time now, was it 2? Or three years? You can't remember, hed just briefly mentioned it. From what you've seen in the week you've been here, he was good at his job–the photos he shot were unique and difficult to replicate. He had a distinct styls, and you could see him rise to the top in the industry over time. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll be able to say you worked with the Jake Abrahams.
Somehow, there seems to be tension between him and Jungkook though
You shake your head. Youre just seeing things y/n. The lack of sleep you got tonight made you huffy and irritated
"Hold that pose." Jake pokes his tongue out lightly in concentration while he snaps some more pictures, Jungkook's intense gaze switching between the camera and...you? Why's he looking at you? But just as quickly as he focuses on you, he's back to the camera
That was weird
As you watch the shoot, you fumble with the hem of your shirt. It had been about 20 minutes since it started, and Jungkook was doing an excellent job. Maybe not at cooperating with the photographer but he knew how to operate the camera, making the cameraman's job nearly too easy. You watch as he bites his lower lip, turns around, and runs his hand through his hair. He was born to do this.
You may not like him, but you had to give credit where credit is due
"Let's take a short break to look at the pictures and then try a different angle and the next outfit" Mr. Hardis claps his hands together making Jake place down his camera with an irritated frown before stepping over to the monitor and scrolling through the images.
Jungkook relaxes and cracks his neck before following suit, his steps long and dangerous as if he was walking a catwalk. He knew all eyes were on him, and he seemed to like the attention
Ugh, celebrities and ther egos
You take a second to look besides you at Lia, whos just oggling over the guy. You hold back a laugh
"I think we need to touch up his makeup a little," Jake says as he glances at the images, zooming closer to his face and already colour correcting some of them. He makes sure the lightings good, and everything is perfectly centered
His face turns back at you. Giving you an apologetic smile
You nod understanding and head over, taking a couple brushes and concealer with you
Jungkook looks up at you once, then back down at the monitor, frowning a little. Someones not happy
You roll your eyes, sighing under your breath. Maybe if he listened to what Jake had to say-
Jungkook doesn't move much, only stepping back from the monitor to allow you to sneak in front of him and adjust his makeup while he continues to analyse the images without even looking at you
"I think these two are the ones," Jake says as he shows the two photos he's referring to. Mr. Hardis nods, his horrible fake smile returning to Jungkook to see what he thinks
You frown as you fight the urge to roll your eyes again at the fakeness of it all
Once more Jungkook doesnt fail to notice
He only hums, clenching his jaw as he stares down at you, your eyes locking. You gulp
What did he want?
"What do you think?" he asks you.That asshole. What was he up to?
"Uhm...me?" Your eyes widen as you look between him and a equality as confused looking Mr Hardis. His brows shoot high in surprise as he clears his throat but decides not to say anything
"Yeah, youre part of the shoot." Jungkook grins and crosses his arms, muscles bulking out, tattoos begging to be admired by you. And as much as you want to- you dont. "What do you-" he tilts his head "-think?" he asks
Oh, someone please hold your hand back because you were about to lose your job by wiping that smug grin off his face.
You turn your head to the monitor, eyes scanning over the two pictures displayed. He looked flawless without any editing, and the pictures looked perfect, taking a step back and briefly looking over at Jake, who was suppressing a chuckle, his arms crossed over his platted shirt, you smile "Mh" you hum seeing Mr. Hardis' jaw clench from your peripheral view "i dont know..." you look back at Jungkook, whose eyes pierce into yours. "They look a little...emotionless," you shrug, "that's just my opinion though, you're the model," you smile. But you're both aware that it's not genuine.
"I see" Jungkook hums, pretending to take your opinion to heart as he looks next to you at Mr. Hardis "i was thinking the same"
Hah!- wait, what now?
What does he mean by "i was thinking he same"?! He wasnt supposed to agree!
Mr. Hardis looks at Jake for a split second before clearing his throat and glaring at his ugly and way too expensive watch. "Well, technically, we could shoot this part a bit longer" he starts "right Jake?" He grits through his teeth
"Sure," Jake shrugs, picking up his camera and fiddling with the settings while Mr Hardis takes a cigarette break before returning to the set as everyone else prepares
This leaves you and Jungkook alone at the monitor. Theres an awkward silence for a second before you look down at your–definetly, ready to throw away–shoes. Sighing you speak up "Listen, I'm sorry for basically calling you stupid earlier, I didn't mean it," you admit, glancing up only to see him walk away from you, as if he hadn't heard anything. Oh, but you know he had. You scowl, "actually, now that I think about it, I take everything back" you murmur under your breath, "asshole"
-
"No way"
"Way," you mutter, munching on the ramen you bought right after leaving work. The 7/11 trip you made every night after work to get dinner was a small dose of enjoyment.
You're sitting on the small seat by your window, the view allowing you a small glimpse of the entire nightlife of your normally quiet suburb. "He was-" you grunt as you take another bite, "-such an ass" you continue, your mouth still full. "Cant believe its always the assholes that get famous" you add
"Well you did call him stupid-" Hoseok, your best friend of seven years, answers on the other side of the phone while eating his own food. Hobi was your little ray of sunshine, not that you needed it–you weren't a grumpy person in general, though you could be just now. Unfortunately, he didn't live anywhere near you, his home being in your hometown back in NYC, so seeing each other was difficult–thankfully, phones existed
"I did," you nod along with him, "but not in a bad way!" you take a sip of your soda. "I was obviously joking!" You shake your head, "ugh no-" you fling your head back, "I hate him"
"And when i tried to apologise to him, you know what he did?" You roll your eyes poking the inside of your cheek "he just walked away!"
"No way!"
"Way!" You thow your hands up in defeat
"Anyway," Hobi says over the phone, pausing for a second, "but he's hot, right?" He asks just to make sure youre talking about the same Jeon Jungkook
"He's a big celeb back in Korea, more than in the US," he says, adding, "my cousin almost lost it when I told her you'll be working with him-"
"You know that was confidential information I told you, right?" you ask through your phone, laughing but trying to stay serious. "No ones supposed to know about the shoot until it is released," you remind him, but he simply brushes you off, waving his hand "yeah yeah, anyway, what am trying to say is" he wiggles his brows "you need money, and he has plenty of it-."
There is a brief moment of silence before you respond. "You want me to rob him...?-"
"What? No!" He interrupts you with a chuckle, shaking his head, "goddammit y/n, you're hot, hes hot..." He attempts to persuade you to connect the dots, but when you don't, he simply sighs and shakes his head, "you should try to get close to him!" Finally, he explains.
Your eyes grow wide, and you make a disgusted face, dropping your chopsticks "ew! No!"
- 2nd Shoot Day -
"What do you mean Sana is sick?" Mr. Hardis scowls on the phone as he steps outside the shooting location, cigarette in hand, brow furrowed, shaking his head in disbelief. The time was 9:15 am, and the shoot was set to begin in 45 minutes, with Jungkook arriving in 15. However, without the head stylist on hand to supervise the clothes and styling, things might get...complicated, delaying the entire shoot by hours, if not days
Who would alter his outfit, which might be too large or small for him? Who would mend, cut, or sew things together? You were doomed in the absence of Sana. It was as easy as that
If you were sick? No problem, they have a replacement. If Lia got sick, there was a replacement. But, no Sana meant-, oh no...
"Whats all the commotion?" Jake asks as he walks over to you, drying his hands from helping staff clean up the set from yesterday, "whys Mr. Ass-kisser look like he got fired and divorsed at the same time?" He adds laughing
You chuckle as you take the towel from him and place it in the dirty clothes basket next to you. "Apparently Sanas sick," you can't help but bite your lip and rub your hands together nervously. The fact that this was one of your first significant shoots didn't help matters–why couldn't this have happened a few months from now, when you'd learnt how to deal with stress like this? Why now?
"Oh shit," Jake says, rubbing a hand over his, you asumed freshly shaved, beard, "what now?" He asks, as if you knew any better
You look around the place, its only now that you notice everyone getting more nervous by the minute
"I really don't know," you cross your arms over your light blue oversized hoodie–a limited edition CK one that lia sneaked out for you from the back–frowning as you now both watched Mr. Hardis run circles on set. You side eye Jake and he does the same, making the two of you break out in laughter
The situation wasnt funny, but the way youd never seen Mr. Hardis this nervous was sort of amusing
"Okay," you giggle, gazing down at your phone before switching it off again. "I need to start preparing for makeup," you tell Jake, lightly touching his arm as you turn to face him. "His Majesty's about to arrive," you joke before leaving
"Dont forget to kiss his feet when he arrives!" Jake calls after you, and all you do is raise your thumb saying, "Will do!"
- 9 am, 2nd shoot day JUNGKOOK -
A knock on his hotel room door wipes Jungkook out of his daydream as he now stares at himself in the mirror. Hed just taken a shower, the mirror still lightly foggy as the reflexion revealed him
Jungkook hasnt felt like himself in years
No matter how hard he tries
No matter how hard he works on his body
He looks great, no doubt
But when he looks at his reflection, he doesnt see himself
Sure he sees his body, the way his abs ripple without him trying, the towel losely hanging around his waist threatening to fall off by any small movement. His necklace, the angelwing charm hanging from it, the memories that stick to it...its all too much.
But he doesnt see himself–just a version of him that carries him through his day
With a shake of his head he runs a hand through his dripping wet hair. "Jungkook, we leave in 15" his assistant speaks from outside the door, making him nod even if she couldnt hear. She leaves soon after, knowing well hed heard
His clothing was chosen for him the night before by a stylist his assistant took care of hiring for his stay in LA
A light blue flowy jacket and a white tank top. Looking down, he finds a pair of baggy jeans and Converse. Enough to make it to the shoot.
His gaze returns to the necklace from earlier, which is now neatly laying on his nightsand. Jungkooks eyes dart away, only to return a split second later. He nibbles on the bottom of his lip before tossing his head back and poking the inside of his cheek. "Goddammit," he exclaims before walking up and looking down at the jewellery in his hand
"Fuck," he mumbles, his hand forming a fist and clenching it tightly. "Damnit," he hisses as he throws his head back, frowning and tossing the necklace somewhere in the room
He turns away, about to leave, when he comes to a halt and glances back. Shaking his head, he walks over and picks it up again, this time placing it in his back pocket
-
"I need a coffee, let's stop somewhere," Jungkook says 5 minutes into the journey to the shooting location, his gaze never leaving his phone as he texts Namjoon and Yoongi
The black van is empty, with just his two managers sitting opposite him, arranging today's schedule before sending it to his assistant, who had arrived at the set after being told a staff member's sick.
Being Jungkook's assistant meant not just dealing with his fuck ups, but also dealing with those of others around him. He'd had five in the previous four years, and this one was holding up rather well
Yet he tried not to get too attached. Not that he had to try hard anyway
"We can do that," one of them says, before telling the driver, who makes a fast right turn
Groupchat: 🐰🐨🐱
Joon: hows LA Man
Today 9:20 am
Joon: paparazzi followed you till your hotel yet?
Today 9:20 am
Jungkook rolls his eyes at his friends sarcastic messages
Jungkook: fuck off man
Today 9:21 am
Jungkook: you know my parents pay them enough to stay off my back when im off duty
Today 9:21 am
Namjoon: yet you still think youre not spoiled
Today 9:22 am
Namjoon: money cant buy happiness kookie
Today 9:22 am
Jungkook: dont call me that
Today 9:23 am
Jungkook: yes it can
Today 9:23 am
Namjoon: well, im happy and and I've never once regretted not taking on my dads company and marrying Jini instead
Today 9:24 am
Jungkook: so you tell me every single time we talk about this
Today 9:24 am
Namjoon: cause its true! Being rich is great, i believe that, but love man?
Today 9:25 am
Jungkook: im gonna stop you right there
Today 9:25 am
Namjoon: yet youre still carrying that damn charm with you right now, arent you?
Today 9:26 am
When Jungkook doesnt answer, Namjoon types again
Namjoon: exactly
Today 9:26 am
Yoongi: cant yall text in fucking private
Today 9:27 am
Yoongi: im trying to sleep
Today 9:27 am
Jungkook: isnt it like 5pm over there?
Today 9:28 am
Joon: yeah.
Today 9:28 am
Yoongi: yeah
Today 9:30 am
For a moment, no one texts, so Jungkook turns his phone off to look outside the black tinted window. Too many thoughts running around in his pretty head
Yoongi: Also, Jungkook, get over her already, she broke your heart 7 years ago. Time to move on
Today 9:35 am
- Flashback–7 years ago–JUNGKOOK -
"I got it for you," he says, tilting his head to gaze at Mina, who only raises her brow at him
"A charm...?" She asks, a little surprised, as she fiddles with the gift in her hand
Jungkook's grin fades slightly, "I mean yeah? So you can think of me when you miss me," he says, burying his face in her neck, smile returning "you know I'll be gone for 2 months baby."
"I know," she says, rolling her eyes as she looks down at the angelwing pendant, "but this? It's not necessary. If I miss you, I can call you," she laughs
"You can," he shrugs, drawing her in closer, tugging a stray blonde hair strand out her face "or you can be a little romantic and look at it when you miss me."
- End of Flashback -
Jungkook's arrival at the venue is anything but quiet and on the low, as cameras swarm his car before he can even get out. He curses the people who continually reveal his location to the paparazzi, making his day even more difficult
"Jk, over here!"
"Who are you wearing?"
"Do you care about anything besides fame and money? What do you aspire to be?"
"What do you think about your supposed fans leaking private videos of yourself?"
"Was your 2018 public breakup a PR stunt?" Tell us!"
After his security men clear the path, he puts on his black facemask and steps out of the van. It is short. Only a 20-foot walk till he was safely inside the set location
He sighs, his gaze meeting that of the countless cameramen vying for his attention. Big cameras covering most ofbtheir faces–at least they got a good quality shot of him
He refuses to back down as he maintains eye contact, clearly annoyed by the invasion of his privacy. "Come on this way," one of his bodyguards guides him inside, and once the door closes behind them, he lets out a sigh of relief, looking back up as he removes his mask–tattooed hand on full display. Anyone who didnt recognise him before, did now.
That famous ink covered hand
He made quite a stir when he reappeared after a year of disappearance from the public eye. They used to know him as an 18 year old who had just graduated from high school. But when he returned, he looked drastically different, with tattoos and piercings all over. He was definitely not the same person they thought they knew oh so well
And maybe that was for the better
What he doesn't expect is to make eye contact with you, who happens to be looking up from the loud noise he caused, once he lifts his head
Did you do your makeup differently today? He didn't remember you looking this dolled up yestedsay
You did, in fact, apply more makeup today. Only to appear presentable, and totally not because Hobi kept you up all night convincing you that you would look more professional if you, as the makeup artist, actually wore make up. Who would have guessed?
But you can't help but think hobi had ulterior motives...like attempting to get you and Jungkook to click
That would never happen, of course, because he is a celebrity with millions upon millions of fans. And you were, well, you. That wasn't a negative thing–you enjoyed yourself the way you were and would never want to be the one in the spotlight
But you couldn't deny that there was a difference between you and Jungkook
Not that you thought about him and you together while taking a nice selfcare bath yesterday. You totally didnt!
Fine, maybe you thought about it a little, but not for more than 5 minutes anyway...
Ugh, who could blame you? The man was smoking hot! But that didnt chance the fact that he was a total dick
So as you keep staring at him, not wanting to be the first to give up, Lia suddenly taps you on the shoulder, and you're compelled to.
"Uhm," she starts, biting her lower lip, making you anxious as you shift your whole focus to her.
Somethings up
Her blonde hair was longer than yesterday, you did remember her telling you she was getting extensions. They looked good. Her smile was usually contagious, but this time it looked...nervous–terrified
"Listen, don't be mad at me because I wasn't the one who suggested this, but-" she begins rambling, making you place your hands down on both her hsoulders
"calm down," you interrupt, a chuckle escaping your mouth, "what's wrong Lia?"
"They want you to replace Sana..." Lia exhales deeply. "For the whole rest of the week"
Your eyes widen in surprise as Lia's words hang in the air.
What...?
You stammer, unable to find the appropriate words...unable to think straight "wha-" you open your lps to speak, only to let out a little laugh. "You-"
"haha! You're messing with me!" You softly hit her delicate shoulder, shaking your head, some strands of hair falling out your bun "really lia you had me there for a second i really though-" you pause to laugh again, clutching your stomach, your manicured finger nails digging into the soft fabric of your hoodie "-i really thought you were for real for a second there" you laugh, scrunching up your nose, waiting for her to laugh as well. Clear up the joke and laugh with you.
But when she doesn't, her face staying serious, maybe even more nervous, your smile fades. "Youre fucking with me...right?" You repeat more, solemnly just for the purpose of giving her a last chance "Right?!" Panic starts to creep in.
Oh no
Oh no no no
You weren't about to jump in for Sana as the head stylist for one of your company's most critical shoots of the year.
This felt like your worst nightmare, you were dreaming right? That would make sense! You were dreaming! You were-
"Y/n" Lias voice brings you back to reality
Your gaze is drawn away from hers as she rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, as if to say, 'you'll be OK,' but you aren't. And you werent going to be
"Listen, Sana is not stupid, you know how she loves to be prepared, I'm sure there's a sort of notebook in Jungkook's changing room with notes on the outfits for today," Lia tries to be as helpful as she can in order to calm you down. Qnd as you breathe and nod, she does a little
You were a confident person–you usually were! But having to be in charge of a whole shoot just might have sounded like your worst nightmare
"Oh my god," you say, your voice barely audible, filled with a mix of shock and horror. Your heart races as you try to find the words to explain the overwhelming feeling that has taken hold of you. Once again. It was like a cycle
"What?" Lia asks, her voice filled with concern, as if it weren't evident from your expression, and the current situation.
You take a deep breath, feeling your stomach turn with unease. "I think I'm going to throw up-" you manage to utter, your voice trembling. In a desperate attempt to shield Lia from whatever catastrophe may be about to come out your mouth, you quickly turn around, but in your motion, you face plant with something solid. Or, more precisely, someone.
"Are we ready for the shoot?"
Oh shit. What were the consequences of simply running out the venue now? Because, to be frank, you'd love to sink into the ground right this instant–once again
-
Opening your eyes, you're met with complete darkness. That's it. You've died. Your body couldn't handle it and gave up on you.
Dying of nervousness was not the way you imagined your life to end but-
However, as the person standing in front of you takes a step back, you finally get a chance to look up. Of course its other than Jeon Jungkook. "I asked if we're ready to start," he asks again, clearly annoyed, as he pokes the inside of his cheek–his piercings even more noticeable that way. Ah, stop it. Stop staring at him, y/n. You need to focus on the task at hand.
"W-were," you stammer, glancing at Lia, who merely nods frantically, her glasses almost falling off her face
"We- we have to wait for sana" you say looking back at lia, her brows raising as she shakes her head immediately. "I cant do this" you whisper
Sighing lia places her hand on your shoulder as she addresses Jungkook, whos already more than annoyed as he crosses his arms
"How about you get dressed first, and we do your makeup lastly?" she proposes clapping her hands together as she looks between the two of you. Jungkook merely nods "whatever" as he checks his phone. They needed to find another makeup artist right away, which wasn't difficult given that Lia had previously majored in it. Thank goodness for Lia. And thank God for Jake, who comes over and hands you a bottle of water as she leaves
You mouth a quick thank you, opening the bottle, smiling at him. Your hands are slightly trembling, which Jungkook notices. In fact, he never fails to notice any minor annoyance or perk you have. He takes note of every facial expression, every sigh, and murmur. It's as if he can tell and sense how you feel from a mile away. He doesn't know why–maybe its the fact that you called him an idiot that still bothers him, so you're all he can think about from the moment he arrives on set until he leaves. That makes perfect sense. Without a doubt. For. Sure.
Jungkook's gaze darts between you two, becoming darker by the second. You should be guiding him to the dressing room and assisting him by now. Not chatting with some wannabe photographer who couldnt get his angles righg
"I don't have all day," Jungkook says again, almost getting between you two, "let's go"
You stare at his back as he walks away, then at Jake, who sighs shaking his head "good luck" and grins sympathetically
"Thank you," you bite your bottom lip, nodding, "I'll need it."
-
You were about to give up only a few minutes ago, but now you merely shrug, swallowing those emotions–your pride and holding back those tears as you make your way behind Jungkook to his dressing room
He obviously got the big one, the one with the bright lights on the mirror and the luxury leather couch inside. Sometimes, you wish you could just fall asleep on it cause it looked quite cosy–it even had a heating option. Heaven
The room was designed for celebrities like him, not nameless models whose sole purpose was to showcase a new collection. No. This was Jeon Jungkook, and at the end of the day, no one cared about the damn clothes.
"Have you ever been in here?" He asks cynically, not really caring if you were or weren't, but his sigh at the end of the sentence told you everything you needed to know-he was irritated.
You tried not to care because at the end of the day you were only the stylist for the time being. And the remainder of the week. "I have," you simply respond after taking a deep breath and glancing around for some form of direction.
You thank the heavens when you spot Sana's all-too-familiar note book, opening it in relief. "Well," you nod, keeping two pages open and placing it on the dresser. "Shall we start?" You put on a fake smile as your gaze meets his. Yet falls when you catch him on his phone, as uninterested as ever.
You clear your throat again. "Shall we start-"
"I got it the first time, no need to catch an attitude." he adds as he throws his phone on the previously mentioned couch, where it bounces once and lands at the edge–almost falling. And while you might have been concerned that it would break, Jungkook couldn't care less.
Of course not, he could easily afford ten of them. One of the benefits of having an insane amount of money was being able to buy things without worrying about them leaving a denk in your bank account
Lucky fucker
You couldn't even imagine what it would be like to have even half of what he has. It would be nice. To be able to afford a flat in a better neighbourhood than your current one. But then again, youd would miss the nightly convenience store runs.
Your attention returns to him from the couch after you roll your eyes. What you don't expect is Jungkook to stand in front of the mirror–shirtless. "Well?"
Your gaze instinctively moves to his chest, taking in the sight of the chains covering his neck and the incredibly well defined muscles. When you move your eyes down, you can't help but notice his insanely perfect sculpted abs. You never meant to ogle, but there's no denying that this man has a very close built of a what youd imagine a greek god to look like. In fact, you find yourself easily believing he is one.
"Right," you mumble as you look behind him, your sight fixed on the heap of clothes. Your gaze is drawn to the black leather jacket that Sana had neatly sketched in her notebook. Bingo.
You stride towards it with confident steps, picking it from the pile and handing it to him without saying anything. "Now, let's see about what to wear underneath," you say, your fingers running over the large rack of clothes. "What are you thinking?" A bunch of colourful pieces attract your attention, but it makes no difference what you choose
Prioritising the client's desires was one of the first lessons you learned during fashion school. Your option is second, if not third.
You don't hesitate to hand him the leather slacks he's supposed to wear when you find them a little farther down the rack. You weren't a big fan of leather, on yourself or anyone else. So it's a good thing he wore those today. In some way, it might make you gag rather than attracted...right?
Maybe gag is a strong word
Moving on
Even if you looked unbothered or nonchalant, you were still nervous. There was a burning fire deep within the depts of your mind. If someone could look into your mind right now, it would seem like a scene from a horror movie, with people frantically racing about, yelling, and screaming
It's amusing that you look so cool on the surface, yet in realith, you were on the edge of crumbling at the smallest inconvenience. For example, the sheer thought of Jungkook dropping his pants would have been enough to drive you into a coma-
Wait
As you stare at him, your eyes widen. Stay calm. Keep cool. Maintain your professionalism.
Live, laugh, love
This is normal–how else would he be able to put on the pants youd just given him?
Jungkook chuckles. When he notices your humiliated face looking away, he fucking laughs.
However he decides not to tease you just yet. As he looks in the full length mirror, he admires his nearly finished outfit. "I'm supposed to wear boots with this," he says in a casual tone, not mocking you. Thank God.
"Right," you respond as you swallow and walk to the small cupboard where he placed his old clothes, stooping down to look for his boots before handing them to him. But before you can do any of that, your sight is drawn to the smalles flicker in the corner beneath it, and you frown. You slyly grab it–it probably belonged to Sana or someone else who left it here
The boots are chuncky and black and have some silver elements to it. Yup, definitely something hed wear–given that hed be a walking rockstar if he were to have chosen the muisc route
Jungkook adjusts his jacket in front of the mirror once he gets up–now looking a little taller than before. He nods once, sighing as he clicks his tongue and looks at you through the mirror–your gazes dont meet immediately as he catches you looking down at your hand. Your hair effortlessly falls into your face, covering most of it, but he can still catch the way your lips purse
Your gaze is drawn down to the little charm you just picked up. Small but significant–at least, that's what you'd like to believe. It was a pair of wings. They couldn't be a birds–they were too big, but they could be angels. That sounded a lot better. Angelwings.
You'd leave it in the lost and found before you left work today, whoever lost it must be looking for it.
For a little while, you consider...No. It couldn't have been his. It was completely unlike him.
Then again, you shouldn't be acting like you knew him
With a shrug of your shoulders you place it in your back pocket before looking up
You give a genuine smile this time. "I was thinking for your shirt we could-" you begin, looking around the room for the top that caught your eye earlier, but Jungkook interrupts
"I'm not wearing a shirt."
"Uhm," you turn to him, bewildered, fiddling with your fingers, "youre not?" You ask almost whispering, and this was the perfect time to slap your forehead.
What did this man do for you to suddenly be so quiet?
Blame it on the stress
You expect him to make fun of you, but all he does is shake his head. "This is good," he adds again as he adjusts his hair–black locks already looking perfect, there was simply no need to style it. But of course they would have to anyway "this is exactly what I hoped for."
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ozarkthedog · 11 days
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃
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summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.
pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.
warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k
author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.
huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
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The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 
Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.
What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 
When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 
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It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 
Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.
An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 
His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.
He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 
“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 
His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 
The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 
The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.
Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.
You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.
He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.
You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 
Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”
You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”
Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   
He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.
A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 
“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.
“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.
He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”
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You were truly and utterly fucked. 
It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.
You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.
A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.
Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 
“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 
“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 
Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.
Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.
You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   
“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.
Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”
You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 
You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.
You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.
You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”
“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.
You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 
He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.
“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."
The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.
“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”
You wanted to scream. 
“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.
“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"
It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 
“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”
You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.
“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.
You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.
“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.
Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”
“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.
“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.
You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”
“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.
His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”
“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.
Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.
“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.
Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”
You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 
“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.
You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.
“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 
Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 
Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”
The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  
 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”
The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.
Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 
His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 
Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."
In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 
“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 
“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”
Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.
You forgot about the other man in the room. 
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 
He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.
Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 
His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  
Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 
You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 
“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”
Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 
Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.
You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.
Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 
Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 
When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 
Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.
You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.
Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.
It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.
A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 
Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 
"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.
Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 
Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 
It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.
“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.
Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 
You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 
You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.
They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 
Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 
“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 
Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 
He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 
You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.
“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.
"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.
"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 
Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.
You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.
He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 
"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.
"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 
You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.
He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"
The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.
“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 
He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 
You nod quickly under his grave stare. 
He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 
He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 
He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.
You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.
Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
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feel free to scream at me -> 💌
*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*
->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-
follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!
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discociated · 1 month
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[Image description: First image is of Aster, an Afro-Indigenous nonbinary femme who has light brown skin and curly dark brown hair, looking at the camera. Text reads,
"Please help me start a new life after nearly a decade of housing instability caused by repeated attempts to stay away from my abuser while also experiencing progressive disability/chronic illness."
Second image is infographic with a purple gradient background. It reads,
"✨ Ways you can help✨
Donating to my paylinks directly helps me afford to eat, pay out-of-pocket medical expenses, buy necessities, and pay for my storage and phone bills
paypal.me/asteronauts
venmo @ asteronauts
cash app $asteronauts
- My storage payment is past due and my belongings are currently at risk of being auctioned off, so paying that is a huge priority.
- The shelter that I am at is in a rural area. Because of this, I need to switch to a phone plan that works in this area. I have gotten lost a few times here because of spotty phone service. I need help buying an unlocked phone and paying my phone bills moving forward (Verizon unlimited costs twice as much as Metro does 🥲)
- There are no buses in the county that I am in and I am unable to drive. Because of this, I have to rely on rideshares to get anywhere that isn't "walking" distance. Rideshares will often refuse to transport me with my wheelchair, despite the fact that it folds, because it is pretty bulky. My medical transport company has been very unreliable about providing wheelchair accessible transport as well. Because of this, I need assistance in raising money for a more portable, lighter weight wheelchair that is better suited to my needs. More details about why I need a new wheelchair in my GoFundMe:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-aster-replace-his-wheelchair
I can not safely leave the house or even make it to my medical appointments unless I replace my chair ASAP, as my medical transport is being very unreliable about providing wheelchair transit and rideshares often refuse to transport me with my chair because of how bulky it is.
-I am on a waiting list for housing. Unfortunately, though, my only option currently is housing in this area. This means that I will continue to struggle with transportation moving forward. My entire care team is in the county over and, due to my medical complexity, I can't switch to someone nearby. This makes replacing my chair even more of a priority.
Thank you so much for your help. Love you all 🫶🏽💜"
There is a sticker of a drawn bunny with stars coming out its head in the bottom left corner. End description.]
Thought I would share two of the images I used on the slideshow for my crowdfunding post on TikTok 💜
Permalinks here:
pypal | cshapp | vmo | wheelchair gfm
Again, any help is much appreciated! Thank you 🫶🏽
(Also, I am fine with the bottom infographic being shared wherever but please do not post the top photo anywhere else! I do not want my abuser or anyone who knows her to find it - she doesn't have TikTok or Tumblr which is why I'm a bit more comfortable discussing it there!)
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miinatozakiii · 9 days
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watch me take my time 
park jihyo x fem!reader ; fluff, smut ; read tutor perks first! this is pt. 2
synopsis: surprising the woman you're dating with tea and pastries turns into a steamy evening, and a more sentimental morning after
warnings: mommy kink ; jihyo receving, reader giving ; jihyo in control for the most part ; smut! ; smut :3 ; and smut ; cursing ; fucking on the couch!!! ; face riding ; yeaahh anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread, as always lol 
a/n: hey! i wasn't sure what to do for a part two, i never know. i didn't really expect tutor perks to get THAT much attention. anyway, I just went with whatever I felt like, i hope you guys like it. lmk what you think!
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the parking garage was quite mesmerizing, adorned with lush greenery and meticulously planned layouts. it was a stark contrast to the parking spot on campus that was a fifteen-minute walk from the main campus. compared to the $225 spot at your university, this was undeniably better.  
“is this the right place?” sarah, your roommate, asks. “because if it is... you coined a whole sugar mommy.” 
“oh shut up.” you say, blushing. sarah laughs at you, then gives you a little hug. 
“whatever, get out my car. i have to go see my girlfriend.” sarah says jokingly, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.  
“yeah yeah, see you, love you, bye.” you mutter before getting out the car and shutting the door, watching sarah wave at you teasingly. 
walking towards the actual building — littered with plants and the beauty of the exterior catching you off guard — just the sight of it was enough to make you nervous. still, you manage to open the door and step in, feeling intimidated almost immediately just from seeing everyone inside the lobby. 
the corporate image time ten was right in front of you: men in suits tailored to perfection exuded an air of confidence as they made way through the bustling lobby, their attention divided between important phone calls and firm handshakes with other mirror images of themselves. meanwhile, women clad in sleek blazers formed clusters, their conversations punctuated by polite laughter and the occasional sip of coffee.  
it was safe to assume that you didn’t really fit in, you couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water in the moment. so, while clutching a bag of pastries and a cup of iced tea from your shift at work, you made a conscious effort to blend into the background as you walked up to the lady behind the desk up front. thankfully, that wasn’t too hard given everyone had been occupied with their own things. 
the lady, a shorter looking woman with hair tied up professionally, looked at you unamusingly. she raised a brow as you looked at her, putting a finger up to pause you in place since she looked like she was preoccupied with a phone call.   
you balanced the small brown bag of pastries and iced tea in one hand, then moved over to fix the tote bag on your shoulder. the lady finished her call, then turned to you and spoke in a monotoned, uninterested tone. 
“hi, how can i help you?” 
“hi, um, is jihyo here? she’s still working, right?” 
“and who are you?” she asks, looking offended that you even asked that question.  
taken aback, you grow a little bashful and respond, “y/n l/n, i'm a...” you clear your throat, “friend of hers. she said if i wanted to stop by, now would be a good time.” 
“yeah, alright. you expect me to believe you that miss park said you could stop by?” 
“excuse me?” you say, immediately feeling belittled by her tone and look at you. “what do you mean by me? is there something wrong?” 
the lady lets out a noise thats a mix of a laugh and a scoff. she sighs, looking down at her desk and pointing down at a paper before responding.  
“miss park is a very busy woman, you know that, right? i have to make sure that this is an urgent thing, otherwise, you can see yourself out the door.” 
the condescending tone in the desk lady's voice grates on your nerves, sparking irritation within you. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead fixing her with a steely gaze as you suppress the retort bubbling up inside you. 
"i get that jihyo is busy, seriously," you reply evenly, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. "i'll call her right now if you need confirmation. i have her number and everything. she even texted me—" 
"she what?" the desk lady interrupts, her expression shifting from dismissive to incredulous. "you-- you have her personal number?" 
"of course i do, it's jihyo we're talking about," you respond matter-of-factly, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the surprise evident in the woman's reaction. 
"i didn't think—wow," the desk lady stammers, clearly caught off guard. she clears her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "miss park doesn’t give anyone here her personal number. s-sorry, i'm a bit taken aback. i'll have someone escort you. i'm sorry for the inconvenience, miss—" 
"it's y/n," you interject, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the sudden shift in demeanor from the desk lady. it's almost amusing how quickly she seems to have changed her tune, now treating you with an unexpected level of deference.  
the desk lady nods and begins making arrangements for your escort, you can't help but feel a sense of validation at the realization of just how highly regarded jihyo must be. the fact that you have her personal number suddenly feels like some sort of badge of honor, you must be lucky to just know her or interact with her casually—especially in bed, that must be better than any trophy or award. maybe even better than a grammy or something. 
a tall, frail older man is by your side in the next minute. before you leave, the lady smiles at you – maybe a little forced given the unnatrual expression – then picks up the phone again, seemingly dialing a number. 
the man leads you to an elevator and presses the second to last button, indicating the 11th floor. as the elevator ascends, you stand beside him, taking note of his impeccable posture and the condition of his suit. not a single crease in the fabric, he had to be some kind of perfectionist.  
when the elevator doors slide open on the 11th floor, the man steps aside and gestures for you to exit first. his actions are formal, almost ceremonial, and you can't help but feel a sense of significance in the gesture. despite being just a girl who's clocked off work, you find yourself appreciating the unexpected treatment. you’re not against any of this treatment, however. 
once you step out of the elevator, the man gestures for you to follow him down the corridor. as you walk, you can't help but be captivated by your surroundings. the corridor is lined with large windows that offer expansive views of the city, bathing the space in natural light and providing a breathtaking backdrop as you continue through the building.  
the floor itself is decorated with tasteful elegance, oozing an air of professionalism and refinement. everything is thoroughly arranged, from the sleek furniture to the artful accents that adorn the walls. it's a space that balances functionality and cliche professionalism with an aesthetic appeal, creating an atmosphere that feels both welcoming and authoritative. if this is just one of the floors, you can’t even imagine how wonderful the rest of the building is. maybe jihyo will get to show it to you sometime. 
passing by the employees that type away or take calls, he leads you to a room that has large windows, displaying the blinds that block whatever – or whoever – is inside. a sign is plastered on it that says park jihyo, indicating that this is right where you wanted to be. 
he knocks on the door three times – somehow sophisticated and professional – then says in his deep voice,  
“miss park, i'm sorry to interrupt. you have a visitor.” 
silence takes over for a bit before the door is opened, revealing a tired looking jihyo in her blazer and slacks. she doesn’t see you at first, sending daggers at the man covering you before saying in a stern tone, 
"chang, you know i'm busy with emails—" jihyo begins, her voice trailing off as she catches sight of you standing in the doorway. immediately, her demeanor softens, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. 
clearing her throat, she regains her composure and gestures for you to enter her office. "ah, y/n, come in," she says, her voice warm and welcoming. turning to the man, chang, she nods in appreciation. "chang, you're dismissed. thank you for escorting her." 
chang nods respectfully and takes his leave, leaving you alone with jihyo in her office. as the door closes behind him. jihyo wastes no time in closing the distance between you as soon as the coast is clear. 
her hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you close with a gentle yet firm touch. you feel a rush of warmth as her lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. her smile is evident even in the midst of the kiss, and you can't help but mirror her expression, returning the affection with the curve of your own lips. 
you pull away, lips inches apart. jihyo smiles at you sweetly. 
“what are you doing here?” 
“you said you would be relatively free, i just got off work. i got you something to eat, figured you’d be hungry and... i wanted to see you.” 
it's been almost three months since your first – very intimate – night with jihyo. the two of you continue to see each other, both intimately and regularly. dating jihyo has been pretty nice, though both of you have times where you don’t have time to see each other, so it’s nice to have moments like these. 
as the weeks turn into almost three months, your relationship with jihyo continues to evolve. jihyo asked you out on proper dates, rather than her eating you out, she wanted to eat something else and get to know you better.  
despite the demands of your respective schedules, the two of you make a concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. whether it's her inviting you over when her nephew isn’t around to evenings spent curled up together on the couch or having wine and a conversation. every moment shared with jihyo was precious 
dating jihyo has brought a sense of joy into your life, a feeling of being understood and cherished in a way that you've never experienced before, none of your high school relationships made you feel this way. and while there are times when conflicting schedules and obligations pulled you apart, those moments only serve to make the time you spend together even more precious. 
“you’re so sweet honey, come, sit.” jihyo says thankfully, guiding you to the large couch that gives you an even better view of the city. 
you sit next to her and place the goods on the table, then immediately. she rests her head against your shoulder. a smile plays across your lips, and slight worry seeps into your skin. jihyo must be tired, judging from how limp she is against you, so you grab her hands and hold them gently, rubbing her knuckles and letting her relax a bit. 
as you sit down next to jihyo and place the goods on the table, you can't help but notice the fatigue etched into her features. she leans her head against your shoulder, a smile plays across your lips as you feel her weight against you, but a slight twinge of worry creeps into your heart. jihyo must be exhausted, judging from how limp she is against you. without a word, you reach out and gently take her hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with hers. 
you begin to rub her knuckles soothingly, hoping to ease some of the tension that seems to have taken hold of her. her fingers are a little bonier, hands noticeably more mature given the slight age gap between the two of you. a ring is around the base of her middle finger, something expensive looking with a small apricot-colored gem in it. in the warmth of your touch seems to relax her, and you can feel the tension slowly melting away as she leans into your embrace.  
“you seem drained, was work exhausting?” you ask, turning to face her. 
“just some really incompetent men and everything has been getting on my nerves. lots of deadlines that need to be met and some of my employees have been slacking.” jihyo sighs, “things are getting better, though. i made some... arrangements that should have things back in order.” 
“i see.” you say, playing with her fingers. you press a kiss to the top of her head and reach for the iced tea, moving the straw to her mouth. “this should give you some energy, it’s the house tea, something peachy and sweet.” 
“aw, you’re too kind, doll.” she says, pouting her lower lip before taking a sip. she takes a few more sips before grabbing the drink from your hand and setting it down on the table, then pecks your lips. “you’re seriously a gift, darling.” 
almost three months and her little petnames still make your heart race, you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to them. 
“sweetheart, if it’s not too much, could you massage my upper back? there's a lot of tension, god, it’s killing me.” 
“of course.” 
jihyo turns away from you so that her back faces you, and you place your hands on her tense shoulders. squeezing lightly to get her accustomed, she immediately relaxes into your touch, sighing as you massage her. she moves her head down so you can reach more of the stiff areas, and once your thumbs add more pressure, she lets out a louder sigh, more of a groan that makes you giggle, and leaving some room for imagination to other ways that can make her sound like that. 
as jihyo turns away, her back facing you, you instinctively place your hands on her tense shoulders. with gentle pressure, you begin to massage her muscles, hoping to provide some relief from the tension that has accumulated there from whatever she’s been up to all day. 
at first, jihyo tenses slightly at your touch, but as you continue to knead her shoulders, she gradually relaxes into your hands. a soft sigh escapes her lips as she leans into your touch, allowing you better access to the stiff areas of her muscles. 
you adjust your position slightly, moving your hands to target the areas of greatest tension. with firm yet gentle pressure, you work your thumbs into the knots, eliciting a deeper sigh from jihyo's lips. the sound is more of a groan, and it sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a playful giggle. 
“good?” 
“ah- great.” she says through gritted teeth. she moves her hair over to once side, then asks, “can you get this side for me?” to which you respond with a hum. 
as you continue to massage her shoulders, you can't help but let your mind wander, imagining other ways to draw out this genre of sounds from her. but for now, you're content to focus on the task at hand, providing jihyo with the comfort and relaxation she so desperately needs. and as you feel her muscles begin to loosen beneath your touch, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you're able to provide her with some relief.  
however, this doesn’t necessarily mean that your mind is completely free of other intimate scenarios. 
jihyo gets a little louder, failing to suppress the groans that slip past her lips. your hands slow down, instead, you start to slide your hands down her back and around her waist, gently placing them on the sides. leaning closer, you place a chaste kiss on the skin that isn’t covered by her hair, smirking into her. 
“what are you doing honey?” she asks softly, turning her head just barely to catch you in her peripheral.  
instead of responding verbally, you press longer, lingering kisses along jihyo's neck. with each gentle caress of your lips, she begins to relax further, her body responding to the intimacy of your affection. 
sensing her movement, you feel her hand come to rest lightly on your head, her fingers tangling softly in your hair. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth spreads throughout your body as you continue to place kisses along her neck. 
slowly, almost imperceptibly, jihyo begins to turn toward you, her movements guided by the gentle coaxing of your lips against her skin. as she shifts, her hand remains on your head, the gentle pressure of her touch grounding you in the moment. with each kiss, you feel the tension melting away from jihyo's body. 
finally, when she’s turned towards you, you catch her lips with your own. jihyo hums into the kiss, her hand moving from your head to the base of your neck, then to your shoulder. 
you pull away briefly to mutter, “feeling better?” to which jihyo responds by pulling you in by the hem of your jacket, closing the distance again. 
as the kisses between you and jihyo grow soft and slow, a familiar heat begins to build between you. your tongues meet again, this wouldn’t be the first time for sure. 
feeling a surge of need coursing through you, you subtly shift your position, guiding jihyo down until she's reclining on the couch. with a smooth, fluid motion, you position yourself on top of her, your body pressing against hers, heat radiating off the two of you. 
in this moment, you find yourself taking control – in contrast to how it usually goes. as you deepen the kiss, your hands roam freely over jihyo's body, tracing the curves of her figure before sliding your hands under the edge of her shirt. she gasps at the feeling of your fingers on her skin, leaving you to kiss the corner of her mouth and trail down. 
with jihyo beneath you, her body yielding to your touch as you trail kisses down to her neck, you feel a sense of power and satisfaction wash over. you nip gently at her neck – careful not to make any noticeable marks – while she claws at your clothing. 
“baby-- darling, god,” she groans as you nip at the right spot with your teeth. she lets you indulge for a few minutes more, clearly enjoying it as much as you do before halting your actions as you slide your hands up closer to her chest under her shirt. 
you pause, pulling away and looking at her with confusion, “sorry, too much?” 
“never too much,” jihyo assures, placing a hand on your cheek while she catches her breath. “my employees are outside.” 
your eyes widen, then you get the message and mutter, “oh.” 
jihyo giggles at your response before lifting her head up to kiss you deeply again, pulling away with a noticeable sound made from your lips parting. “you’re adorable.” she says before grabbing your phone out your pocket and checking the time briefly. “my nephew isn’t home, so how about we get situated at my place? i should’ve left the office thirty minutes ago.” 
“anything you’d like.” 
with jihyo’s purse in your hand, you follow her into the house. the lights are off and it’s clear that no one’s home, leaving many possible opportunities for the two of you and even more scenarios to run through your head.  
“have you had dinner? and don’t say you’ve had those pastries, that’s not enough darling.” jihyo says lightheartedly, though stern enough to let you know she’s serious. she places her purse on the counter and takes off her blazer, which reveals the shirt hugging her figure neatly. she's looking through the purse now, back faced you and you can’t help but check her out briefly. “if not, i'll order takeout.” 
“that’s perfect.” you respond. jihyo turns towards you and grins, walking over and pecking your lips. 
“yeah, i'll grab us some wine. order anything you’d like, love.” 
“i’ve been craving bento bowls, is something japanese fine?” 
“anything is fine, i'm starving even after that scone.” jihyo giggles, “also, it’s almost six. i have a little work call to answer, but after that we have the rest of tonight and the weekend if you’re not occupied with classes.” 
“perfect, i'll just order for pick up then and then i'll be back in time for us to eat and whatnot. sound okay?”    “that’s lovely, then i'll have to find my favorite wine for us. the best for the best.” 
you giggle before pressing your lips against hers again, pulling away just barely before she closes the distance again. her arms rest on her shoulders as she pushes you closer, then she deepens the kiss. 
without thinking, you move yourselves over so that jihyo’s against the counter, your hands sliding under her shirt yet again and lips sliding down to the soft skin on her neck. she groans at the feeling, tilting her head back to give you more access to her as she tightens her hold on your shoulder. 
“later tonight,” you mutter in between kisses, rubbing circles on her skin under her shirt. “let me help you relax, yeah?” you nip at her skin lightly and she lets out a sharp breath, hand moving to the side of your neck. “let me do the work this time, you deserve to sit back for once.” 
“y/n--” jihyo begins, but is cut off by the sound of a phone ringing against the counter. she groans in frustration; this is the angriest you’ve seen her. her brows furrow and she tenses her jaw as she picks up the phone, then looks at you apologetically. 
“you should take that.” 
 jihyo sighs, then kisses your nose. “you should order dinner.” 
“mhm.” you mumble before kissing her jawline, removing your hands from under her shirt and jihyo whines just barely. her skin seems colder now that your hands aren’t on them, tracing patterns and rubbing up and down the landmarks.  
jihyo gave you the keys before you had left, so you didn’t have to ring the doorbell or anything – you assumed she’d still be on that work call. 
as you enter the room, you find jihyo standing against the counter, her posture tense and her expression drawn with frustration. she's wearing something different: a cropped t-shirt and comfy sweatpants instead of her work attire. with one hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose, while the other holds a phone to her ear. she listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she navigates the seemingly irritating conversation on the other end of the line. 
one arm crosses defensively while her gaze remains fixed on some distant point on the wood floor. to her left, on the smooth marble countertop, you notice two glasses and an unopened bottle of white wine.  
“yes, i already have my employees on it.” you hear her say, tone stern yet level. “look, according to the results and feedback we’re doing fine, so i don’t understand why this meeting is still in session. i know you want to be secure, but doubting me won’t secure what’s already set. everything is fine, so go talk to samuel if you really want to bicker with someone who can’t do their job. he's been slacking with his unit; i've seen the data. goodbye.” 
a small “ugh” is muttered under her breath before she places the phone down, then looks over to see you standing in the entrance of the hallway. a smile tugs at her lips immediately upon seeing you. 
“two teriyaki salmon bentos for the struggling college student and her beautiful, older, hardworking, hot older woman.” 
jihyo snickers, laughing at your stupid little titles. “calling me old?” 
“well maybe... i’m into that though, so stay old.” 
jihyo rolls her eyes at you, then watches you pull out the to go bowls out onto the table nearby. she walks over herself and brings the glasses and the wine bottle over. before she takes out the cork with her tool, she places a kiss on your cheek and mumbles against you a soft, “thank you.”  
you grin and kiss her back before going back to the kitchen to grab utensils, and then back to the table to sit down next to your lover. 
grabbing the boxes and handing jihyo a spoon, you ask, “how was your day? work seemed rough.” 
a sigh leaves her lips, her aura radiating exhaustion and irriation, yet she stays calm and content before your eyes.   
“just a lot of deadlines and dreadful people to deal with today, but it’s over and you made me feel better.” 
“i’m glad.” you say, putting a hand on her thigh. “let’s eat, maybe you’ll be less exhausted.” to which jihyo responds with a nod and a kiss to your knuckles.  
the sliding door in front of you two gave a great view of the setting sun, which made dinner quite romantic. jihyo shared more about her day, though it was mostly complaints mixed with frustrated grunts and groans when bringing up the men she had to face. you on the other hand, shared some small anecdotes from your shift and your roommate's own drama to jihyo, which she enjoyed listening to. before you knew it, dinner was finished – bowls clean and all, barely any remnants of the food left – which urged you two to throw away the plastic containers and head to the couch to sit and sip on wine. 
jihyo sat beside you and swirled her wine around before sniffing, then took a small sip. you did the same, eyes lighting up from how good it was, which made jihyo laugh. and then the two of you went on to talk about more small things, ranging from what annoyed each of you during the day and things you both looked forward to.  
the next thing you knew, your head was against jihyo’s shoulder, and your now empty glass was set on the table with hers.  
“at least the day is over, hyo.” 
she snickers upon hearing the name, then turns to you with a smile.  
“hyo?” 
“sorry, don’t like that name?” 
“no, i love it. it's cute.” she assures, “adorable.” 
“yeah?” you say, grinning. shifting yourself up to sit up right, you brush a strand of hair behind jihyo’s ear. “any plans tomorrow?” you ask, staring at her lips blatantly. 
“no, what are you up to darling?” 
you giggle and run your hand down to her jaw, placing your thumb on her lip and applying subtle pressure. 
“let me help you relax tonight.” you simply answer, smirking devilishly. “seems like you need it.” 
in no time, your lips make their way over to hers, you kiss her slowly and savor her. she places her hand on your shoulder, gripping slightly as you deepen the kiss.  
your hands find their way under jihyo’s shirt again in no time, though at first, your fingers simply brush against her skin before doing anything big. you're taking your time exploring her, finding out which area on her rib makes her kiss sloppier or her breath shorter. you feel her responding to your touch, her movements becoming more urgent, more fervent. 
jihyo's hands roam over your body in tandem with your own explorations, one hand in your hair and the other on the base of your wrist. you're both consumed by the heat of the moment, kisses with more tongue, breaths heavier, and jihyo’s groans getting louder. it's perfect. 
you create a gap between the two of you after pulling away, your own breath heavy. jihyo looks at you: red, puffy lips and peach colored cheeks from the intimacy.  
looking down at the edge of jihyo’s shirt, you silently ask to take it off by playing with the edge of the fabric. 
“take it off.” she says lowly, almost an order. 
nodding, you slip the shirt off, gazing at her clad chest. 
you've seen her naked before – more than you can count on one hand – yet, she still manages to leave you in awe.  
“fuck, you’re beautiful.” you sigh, immediately making your way over to her neck. “i could have you like this all day.” you groan against her skin, right before sucking near her pulse point so harshly to the point where she moans your name out, subconsciously gripping your hair and tugging so roughly it hurts your scalp.  
blindly, you start to unclasp her bra, discarding it somewhere in the room – you could care less where it landed – and tending to the new area exposed. 
a brush of your finger on her nipple already has it perked up, making her groan loudly. saying it’s music to your ears would be an understatement, it’s better than any symphony. 
“y/n, baby,” jihyo moans, feeling a wetness pooling down in between her legs. “ah-”   
your mouth lands on her chest, then down to her tits. you press a chaste kiss to her tits, making her look down at you with furrowed brows and parted lips. with full eye contact, you travel to the swell of her breast, finding your way to her nipple and swirling your tongue around. the way you suck on her sensitivity is enough to make her groan right in front of your face. the way her mouth gapes and oh, how lovely she sounds; you could get used to this for sure.  
and later you pay attention to her other breast, treating it with the same care and evoking more lewd sounds from the older woman. the way she folds under your touch, twitching and slowly losing herself while she’s weak to you; jihyo could use more rest days, especially ones that have hours dedicated to you indulging in her. 
moments later, after earning at least a song’s duration of jihyo’s indescribable pleasure seeping from her lips, you decide to look at the mess you’ve made.  
marks of pink ranging to a darker red – even a near purple – are littered all over her skin, from her neck to all over her chest area. you bite your lip at the sight, rubbing your finger along a few of the hickeys. 
“y/n, baby,” jihyo starts, looking at you intensely. “shirt off, down on the couch now. don't make me ask twice.” she orders breathlessly, narrowing her eyes and expecting immediate obedience – which she receives without question. 
despite how much you’ve riled up and left her, she still has that natural authority. there's absolutely no way you could disobey her, at the end of the day, no matter what you’ve done to her; you belong to jihyo now, no doubt. 
“yes ma’am.”   
as you slip the shirt off in one motion, jihyo uses that short duration of time to slip off her comfortable pants, discarding them and slipping her panties off. she watches you – who's watching her in return – you're propped up by your elbows as you watch her sit on your lap, feeling your pussy throb just from the feeling of her bare cunt on the denim covering your heat. 
“good girl, always. you know how to listen to me, glad you know your place.” 
“of course.” you say, looking at her with desperate eyes. 
“you know how i've told you about today, yeah? it was so difficult, so many incompetent people. you’re going to listen to me, okay? you're gonna let mommy use you just like the good girl you are, got it?” 
taken aback by the new title, you hesitate to respond, too entranced by the sight in front of you: jihyo completely naked, on your nap, with her hands resting on your abdomen to hold herself up. when she doesn’t get a response from you, she grinds harshly against your lap, earning a pathetic whine from you. 
she presses her hand down on your abdomen harder, earning a sharp breath from your lips. 
“you answer me when i talk to you, i won’t say this again.” 
“y-yes, sorry.” 
she leans closer, her face above yours and gaze sharp. “yes who?” 
with no hesitation, you correct yourself. “yes mommy, i'm sorry, i'll be a good girl from now on.” 
jihyo smiles, pleased to say the least. 
“down on the couch then honey, on your back.” she says gently, though there’s still that stern tone.  
you gulp, then nod. jihyo smiles as you set your head down, putting your arms off to the side so your hands can gently caress her thighs. she gets up on her knees, repositioning herself so that her cunt is hovering above your chin, then stroking your cheek lightly. you look at her with puppy eyes, silently begging for her to let you get a taste; she gets the message almost immediately, then sets her cunt right above your mouth. 
your hands reach for the sides of her waist, moving her down just an inch so you can get a taste of her arousal.  
she groans again, throwing her head back before looking back at you with creased brows: your cheeks are red, your eyes are closed, and you’re humming against her while you eat her out ravenously. the last time you had eaten someone out had been a while ago, and jihyo’s been the one fucking you to oblivion since the first night with her. you're following her body, sliding your tongue up her folds and sucking on her clit once you reach. she gasps and grips your hair the way you like it, rough and demanding. her nails dig into your scalp, and you let out a little moan yourself, turned on just as much as you are when she’s doing everything to you. 
attentive to the sounds she’s making, you keep doing what earns the more pleasing reactions. she's griding against the flat of your tongue, forcibly pushing your mouth into her wetness the more you indulge. she's moaning louder, her deep, mature voice growing breathy and higher pitched the more you please her.  
and then she shifts your lips over to the left side of her clit, so you suck and lick and groan until the living room is filled with the sound of squelches of her pussy and your mouth coming into contact mixed with moans that fade into nothing as they’re caught in throats. jihyo's cursing more and more, holding you in one spot with that one hand gripping onto your hair like there’s no tomorrow whilst she grinds herself on your tongue and completely uses you. 
“y/n, y/n darling, honey, fuck, ah-!” she cries out, shaking until she isn’t, propping herself up with one hand on your hip bone and the other loosening her grip on your now disheveled hair. she grinds slowly now, still stimulating the aching between her legs whilst you clean up all her climax with your tongue.  
slowly, you take your time licking up her folds, savoring her. a press to her clit later and you're pressing more on her inner thigh until she shifts herself off your face and back to your lap.  
she runs a hand through her hair – some strands sticking to her forehead.  
you catch your breath, then sit up a little bit, jihyo still in your lap.  
“feeling better?” you ask, your hand settling on her explosed ribcage before moving up to cup the bottom of her tit.  
“much better.” she grins, fixing the hair she’s ruined. strands fall over your face, she runs a few fingers through to fix it up again.  
laughing, you lean closer to press a kiss to her lips, smirking once you part away. 
“y/n,” jihyo begins, twirling a piece of hair with her fingers. “you’ll be a good girl, right?” 
you nod. 
“good, because the night isn’t over.” she says menacingly, looking at you with darkened pupils. “on the ground, on your knees. you're gonna eat mommy out until she’s satisfied, got it?” 
“yes ma’am, yes mommy.” you say, immediately switching positions.  
jihyo watches you move over to the ground, the visible patch of arousal apparent on your denim as you kneel. she traces down the grooves of your torso, indulging in the sight before sitting back and spreading her legs.  
seeing her like this, you lick your lips. you're like an obedient puppy, eager to receive her approval and eager to serve her in any way she sees fit. 
jihyo raises her brows at the sight and smiles devilishly at how pathetic you look. she gives you the green light after relishing your submission.  
“eat.” 
just like every other morning, you’re stuck in jihyo’s bed half naked. some sports bra covers the upper half of your body, and boy shorts hug the skin just below your waist. the older woman’s hands are wrapped around your waist, one hand sitting on the exposed hip bone that pops out, and she’s warm against you, her chest rising and falling against your back. 
shifting subtly in your place, you turn over to face her.  
her face is bare, no makeup on and it’s just jihyo before you. she's rubbing her hands on the exposed skin on your hip, mumbling something groggily under her breath. it's been a while since you’ve seen her like this – it's been a bit since you’ve been alone with her, really alone, just the two of you and no one else or worry of interruption. 
“mm, honey,” jihyo mumbles, and you can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep while saying this. “closer.” 
“okay.” 
you find your nose in the crook of her neck, smelling faint hints of lavender while you press closing. she rubs your shoulder with her thumb, tracing patterns and shapes you can’t really put a name on. the sun hits her eyes, you hear a little groan, and then a little yawn that gives you the hint that she’s fully awake. 
a hand finds itself tangled in your hair, then massages your scalp. “did you sleep alright?” jihyo asks, voice gentle and caring as she holds you. 
“i slept great, you?” 
“wonderfully.”  
a kiss is pressed to your forehead and fingers play with the rim of your boy shorts. a soft smile plays across your face, you close your eyes and breathe out. 
“sweetheart.” jihyo hums, tapping your shoulder.  
“hm?” 
“i realized i've never really, fully expressed how thankful i am for you.”  
upon hearing jihyo’s sentimental words, you pull away from where your face had been nestled, face to face with jihyo now. 
“what?” 
“i haven’t been that, well--” jihyo’s face flushes – to oyur surprise – she looks down at your clad chest, then back at your eyes. “relaxed. you helped me unwind, thank you.” 
you can’t help but giggle, finidng all of this so cute. jihyo had been ordering you around last night, moaning so loud the neighbors probably heard. you can still feel a little ache in your scalp from how roughly she was pulling at your hair; everything about the night before was so lewd. it's funny how vulnerable and cute jihyo’s being right now, letting her heart do the talking. 
“you’re adorable, hyo.” you sigh, looking at her with admiration. “i’m glad i was there to help, and i'm looking forward to helping out whenever you want.” 
“y/n.” jihyo begins, placing her hand on your cheek and looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “will you be my girlfriend?” 
giggling again upon hearing the seriousness in her voice and the adorable look on her face, you nod. 
“of course.” 
at the end of the weekend – a beautiful sunday evening, the sky painted hues of pink and purple – you’re in your desginated spot: the passenger’s side of jihyo’s car. 
both of you sit in silence as jihyo exits the freeway, some pop song playing on the radio. her hand is intertwined with yours, elbows sitting on the little compartment that seperates the two seats. she's humming along and it’s music to your ears, you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch her. 
sunglasses sit on the crown of her head, her side profile staying in its place while the scenery behind her flashes by as the car moves forward. she's beautiful. 
once you reach your apartment complex, jihyo parks somewhere close.  
“don’t move, just stay there.” you warn her, sounding all serious and looking at her with raised brows. 
“darling, what?” she asks, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she giggles once you leave the car hurriedly, rushing towards the other side to open her door. 
“miss park.” you say, putting your hand out. jihyo laughs, amused at your little gesture. she takes your hand and steps out, rolling her eyes at you. 
“you’re unbelieveable.” 
“well, after seeing how scared everyone was at your work place the other day, i feel like i should treat you better.” 
“you’re my girlfriend, not my employee y/n.” jihyo scoffs, then kisses the back of your hand.  
once you make it to your apartment, you knock on the door, waiting for the familiar face to open the door for you.  
sarah opens the door a few seconds later, eyes widnening upon seeing you and jihyo right in front of her – hands holding and all.  
“oh my god you really did manage to get with her.” sarah says in disbelief, making you roll oyur eyes and the little comment making jihyo snicker. “you’re jihyo? wow, oh my god, you look so young – i mean, you are, like--” 
“i get what you mean, thank you.” jihyo responds lightheartedly, smiling at the woman in front of her.  
the two of you step in and sarah is still examining jihyo, baffled by how unreal she looks – and wow, your descriptions and rambles about this woman did not prepare her for this meeting. jihyo sets herself down on the couch and sarah pulls you to the side quickly before the two of you join her. 
“oh my god when you said older woman i didn’t expect godly cheekbones, jawline sharper than a knife, and fucking luxury to show up holding your hand.” 
“she’s amazing.” 
“ugh, you’re drooling.” sarah sighs. 
you smile at your roommate like a proud little kid, pushing her lightly before joining your now girlfriend on the couch.
maybe majoring in education was worth it, you think to yourself as you watch sarah grin at the two of you from across where you’re sitting. despite your dreadful research papers, essays, and mock lectures – all of it was worth it if it meant meeting jihyo.  
sarah puts a leg over the other, leaning back against the smaller seat in your living room. 
“you know, y/n has been gushing over you since like, the first time she tutored your nephew. she's kept me up at night just talking about--” 
“sarah!” 
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luveline · 9 months
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𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚
you and miguel accidentally move in together when the girls in the spider society dorms are mean to you —a ficlet featuring a reluctantly infatuated miguel and a carefree, ditzy spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k
cw mature themes. mdni
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You're laying in Miguel's bed when he gets back to his dorm room. Or, just his room. He'll be living here for the foreseeable future. It took him some time to calibrate to seeing you among his things, in his bed, but worst of all without your suit —it's like seeing you naked. It catches him off guard every time. 
You look oddly quiet, though you aren't asleep. He knows that doesn't make any sense, that quiet isn't something you can see, but without your suit it's like stripping back a layer of chaos. In a pyjama pack from some Nueva York department store, you've little cartoon characters on your shorts, and a bigger one across your chest, the lilac purple background pretty against your skin. Your hand is tucked under your face, your phone in the other. You're swiping through a match three game with a small panda mascot that cheers, "Wā sāi!" every time you clear a line. 
You smile and click another button. Miguel bites back his own, letting the door close with a metallic shushing. 
"Hey," you say, without looking up. "Are you okay?" 
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"I thought asking that would get me a better answer than, 'how are you?'" 
"I'm fine." 
You laugh under your breath as he makes a beeline for his closet. "See," you say, like it's very funny, "what a useless question."
"How are you?" he asks.
He turns off his suit. Abruptly naked, Miguel is past caring if you see him. He wasn't shy to begin with, and it's nothing you haven't seen now. 
Finding you a room to stay in away from the mean girls in your dormitory turned to letting you stay with him until he had a chance to find one, which then turned to you sleeping in his bed because you'd already kissed, so what use was having you on a futon? Which turned to kissing in bed, which turned to other things. Peace, for once. Sweaty hours spent with his armed wrapped around your shoulders, your front, his face pressed into your neck. The hours after, your hands in his hair, your lilting murmuring against the shell of his ear. 
He didn't mean for it to happen.
He can't say he regrets it, either. Though it scares him. 
"Cariño?" he prompts, stepping into a pair of sweatpants.
"Sorry, what did you say?" you ask, setting your phone down on the bedside table. 
He can't be mad at the phone for distracting you. That's the whole reason he got it for you, purple and shiny and foldable, something he knew would draw and keep your attention when he's not around. You're having a hard time making friends, and there's not always stuff for you to do within the Society. It was a gift for himself as well as you, he wanted to know you weren't sitting alone in your room (his room) with nothing to do. 
"How are you?"
"I made you a charm for you phone," you say. 
You insisted he have a phone too so you could text him. He groaned, complained, grumbled, but it is the very best part of his day when he gets to turn on his stupid pink phone and see you've texted him a photo of the bedroom floor, one of your crafts in front of you, a socked foot and naked ankle in the corner of the picture. 
"That's not how you are," he says after he's pulled on a t-shirt. Miguel treks back into the main part of the room and sits at the bottom of the bed. He pulls your feet into his lap because nobody can tell him not to, quick to press a thumb into the arch of your foot. You're wearing fuzzy socks. "That's what you did. How are you? You didn't come and see me today, what's with that?" 
"Sorry, I made such a huge mess earlier I had to clean and it took hours and by the time I was done I thought I better shower." Your smile is magnetic. 
"It doesn't have to be spotless." 
"It's not my room. I'm not an asshole." 
Miguel's not used to this… anymore. And things are different with you than they'd been before: you know him for who he is, this version of him, the mean, short-tempered, spiky him, where Gabri and her mother had known someone else. Still him, still real, but different. His head aches whenever he remembers —and he remembers all of the time— but being with you helps that. You're not her, and you don't have to be. 
You know Miguel at his worst, and you like him anyway. It has to count for something. 
"It's not not your room," he says carefully, hand running up your leg to your knee. He strokes back down, a lazy back and forth. 
"I know I've overstayed," you say, "but that's your fault."
"That's my fault." 
Miguel pulls your legs down enough to make your head flop off of his pillow, hoping for a disgruntled grunt or a whined, "Miguel." You stay flopped on your back and don't say anything, to his displeasure. He sighs and pulls you bodily into his lap, scooping you up with little energy expelled. 
"I forget how strong you are," you say, in his lap like a princess carry, eyelashes kissing the skin under your brows as you look up at him. 
"How can you forget?" 
"I don't know, especially when you toss me around like a half full sack of flour. I think I have a bruise from your hand last night," you say, pulling your leg up across the other, knee away from him where you're in his lap to show him the underside of your thigh. Miguel tries not to blush at the memory, but the ghost of a dork at his core knows how salacious it is to have your girlfriend in your lap with her shorts pushed down, showcasing skin you bruised during a particularly rough moment. "Can you see? It feels sore." 
A mottling of wine-stain contusion in the shape of his hand indeed takes station at the base of your thigh. It's not bad. If you had better enhancements you'd have healed by now, but your particular spider wasn't anything special.
"Perdóname," he says under his breath, brushing over it lightly with his thumb. 
"It doesn't matter, don't be sorry, I was just wondering if it was really real." You let your leg drop heavily on top of his. Nothing but adoring shines in your eyes as you smile. "I don't care, Miguel."
"I didn't mean to–" 
"I know." 
He lifts his chin as you sit up in his lap. You kiss his neck, his jaw, and the skin below his ear, your smile audible as you murmur, "I liked it. I kind of like having the bruise, too. Don't feel bad." 
He'd felt the opposite of bad in the moment. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?" he asks quietly. 
He doesn't look down, can't, not until he knows. You comb your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I'm sure," you say. "As if you could." 
"Oh, is that how it is?" he asks, trying hard not to laugh. 
"That's so how it is." 
He finally faces you again, pretending like he might gear up for a fight. He holds your gaze, brows set, eyes severe. "Show me the charm you made me," he demands. 
You laugh through your nose and climb out of his lap. "You're gonna love it. It looks like a jellyfish." 
He can't imagine how having a jellyfish charm hanging from his phone will go down with the girls, but he finds he doesn't mind. Having something you made with your own two hands is too special to pass up. 
“I made one for myself, too,” you say, digging through your box of beads to find the charms you made. You turn around holding both to your chest, your pride endearing.
“Yours isn't on your phone.”
You flicker with an uncharacteristic bashfulness. “Well, I only wanted to have them if we both had them, and I don't know if you’re okay with having one. It’s sort of loud.”
“If loud bothered me, you’d know by now,” he teases. He holds out his hand, gesturing when you don’t take it. “Come on, come back. Show me how to put it on my phone case.”
All his added sweetness is worth it to feel your smile as you clamber back into the space between his thighs and duck your face into his neck, hugging him quickly, arms thrown around his neck. “You’re the best,” you say quietly. 
He really doesn’t feel like it, but hearing you say it is a load off. He relaxes under your weight, thinking your shared cohabitation might be one of the best accidents he's ever had. 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3
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mirohlayo · 4 months
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MOONSTRUCK | LN4
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moonstruck (adjective)
unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love.
( you just made lando loose all his senses )
warning : none, fluff
word count : 886
note : looks like an etablished relationship but no, just lando crushing on you lol. wrote something short for this one bc i think it suits much better. also kind of related with wonderwall post.
!! english not my first language !!
a great race.
it was such a perfect day. time seemed to stop for a while, like people had to enjoy every single minutes of this unreal moment. ends of races were often filled with happiness and a sense of pride always won over fans and racing teams. it was the amazing sport of formula one.
the drivers always celebrated their podium. with friends, race team, engineers, family and any others close people. it was an overload of joy mixed with lot of positive emotions, and these were such precious moments that must be cherished at all costs. but not everyone has this chance. this chance to say you did a great job, to say you drove well. when you feel like you're just not good enough. your being hurts you so much as if you were stabbed everywhere. no one wants to feel like that. and luckily, that wasn't the case for lando.
he did an amazing race. a fantastic job. as soon as he jumped out of his car, his race team congratulated him and praised him for his podium. p2, that's just incredible for the mclaren team. and of course, oscar was proud of his teammate. just like you. you were so proud of lando. you never stopped believing in him, you were always the one to cheer him up. that's why today he hugged you a bit longer than usual, his arms wrapped you tightly against his warm body. in that moment, everything seemed perfectly perfect. the rays of the sun dazzled only you two, in each other's arms, like a reunion of two souls who had been separated for far too long. it felt just like him and you against the whole world.
and with heavy hearts, the pilots had to separate from their favorite person to return to the one final task : post race interview. so as did lando. he gave you a soft smile filled with an amount load of love and let you out of his embrace. he took place in front of the interviewer, and kept his concentration for the race questions. the spot was that the mclaren team was still in front of him a few meters further, so he could still see the people he loved celebrate the efforts of both mclaren drivers. he saw lots of wide smiles, sparkles in all eyes. everyone was still cheering and lando's heart felt full of happiness and love.
his mouth was speaking words, answering bunch of questions about how was the race and stuff like that. a noisy background, filled with laughters and cries accompanied deep lando's voice as he was still talking to the interviewer. his eyes scanned everywhere, sort of a habit he have every times it was post race interview time. he looked from the mclaren engineers to his tired but proud teammate, from the fans of the paddock club to the others drivers. and then he saw you. your person.
his gaze immediately softened, as if he had found reassurance in you. his eyes laid on you so effortlessly because every time a weird but pleasant sensation seized him, as if he was hypnotized by a stunning thing. you were shyly laughing with his manager, charlotte. a crystal clear sound escaped from your mouth which turned into a beautiful smile. the way your eyes slowly squinted, shiny sparkles in them, your cheeks' lines came out and embellished even more your face. your perfect side profile that lando's couldn't help to look at. the sun rays colored your skin in an orange-pink shadow. now it seemed like the world stopped. he captured an unreal moment of you. wow. you just looked like a goddess. a pure gem he wanted to chase after and keep it for himself. and just with this glimpse of you, he started to loose all his senses.
now he was stuttering. he acted clumsy, saying dumb and incoherent things. he stammered on his words, let little "huhh" "hmm" out of his mouth while he was thinking about what he have to say. but he couldn't think because now all his attention was on you. nothing came into his mind but only this picture of you. he even started blushing and a shy smile took place on his lips. god why he was so fucking lost every times it comes to you ? it's just unfair how much effect you did to him. but soon the interviewer finally saw his awkward position and finished quickly the interview.
then he ran to join his team, especially you. you turned to face him, and without any hesitation you hugged him tightly. because it is never enough hugs. oh how his heart craved for your touch. your body pressed against him, your breath on his neck. he was for sure so in love with you. and whenever you would ask him why he acted so clumsy around you, he always had the same answer. "you just stress me that's all" he would shrugged. but actually, the most correct answer would be "i just don't know anymore how to act normal because of you, your person and your presence. because after all i think i'm just a bit too much in love with you".
yeah, it was the perfect answer. and that without any doubts.
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