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jointherebellion215 · 3 months

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Birdie

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"

A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)

You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!

Songs Mentioned in This Fic:

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters

G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer

The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.

Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.

Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.

You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.

It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly.

All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.

Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.

“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”

Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.

Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”

You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”

Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.

An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!” You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.

“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.

You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”

They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.

“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.

“He brings you coffee every morning.”

“I thought he does that for everyone.”

“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”

“He takes care of his appearance!”

“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”

“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”

“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”

“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”

“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”

“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”

“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”

“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”

“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”

That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.

“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.

“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.

“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?”

You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.

“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.

Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands.

“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.” You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.

Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.”

“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.

“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”

You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely.

“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”

You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.

One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her.

The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.

One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.

Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,

“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”

She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her.

“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”

“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd.

“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”

The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you.

The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.

You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.

Meanwhile….

Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.

“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”

Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.”

As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?

A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over.

Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.

DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”

“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup

When I’ve worn out my friends

When I’ve burned out both ends

Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.

His little Birdie.

“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.

When I’m pure like a dove

When I’ve learned how to love

He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.

As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love”

It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.

John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.

Then the world starts back up and carries on.

Right here in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore

Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base.

The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.

Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred.

Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.

“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.

His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.

Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.

“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”

Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.

His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.

“She kinda snuck up on me.”

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evilminji · 8 months

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( o.o) okay... so...

I am loosely basing this of how one of my OCs powers work? But... can Overgrowth make ANY plant? Past, present, future? Possible, probable, hypothetical? ANY any plant?

I ask this, because Humans? NOT born from a plant.

Buuuuuut they COULD be.

Of course they could. The plant would be a dead end. Unable to reproduce or cultivate without humanity. Just? The most costly, ungainly, unnatural plant imaginable.

Which is WHY it doesn't exsist. Why it will never exist.

But COULD it? Oh easily. Child's play. There are countless billions of billions of plants that COULD exsist. From benevolent to world ending. But why would Overgrowth give a shit? Why MAKE such pointless things?

Well... Sam wants a kid.

Full stop.

She wants a kid and is NOT about to do that whole "risk her life and irreversibly change her body with child creation" thing. So? How does one have a child with two fathers, one mother, who was not carried to term inside said mother? A surrogate perhaps?

Naaaaah.

No, no. It's time to get the machete and go Bully God(tm). Specifically THAT God, over there. The plant one. Give her the nonexistent child creating plant or Snippy Snippy, Overgrowth, you fuck!

Sam. Sam, please. Begs her beloved husband's. But until THEY can carry Child, they can shut up and help menace a Deity. Dani, her beloved S-I-L who's just here for adorable future munchkins and general Chaos, agrees. Square up, boys.

She obviously, gets her plant.

It's an abomination.

Just? THE nightmare of a tree. Oozy tar like bark, sickly appearance, bone colored needle like leaves. Single, giant, blood red "fruit". They have to feed it ectoplasm, their own blood, and basicly everything to make a body. Meaning flesh, bones, blood, nutrients and minerals.

Proper horror movie.

Sam? Fucking LOVES her Baby Tree. It's name is Mortica.

Now, OBVIOUSLY, everyone in Amity? Knows to mind their Business by now. The Fenton-Foely-Manson throuple or what ever order they've decided on today, are both terrifying and willing to throw down. Fenton is Phantom. Manson is Samantha Manson. Their husband will laugh at you instead of help. Not worth it.

But OUTSIDERS? Tourists passing through and cousins come to visit?

They see a huge, fuck off, nightmare tree straight out of Poison Ivy's fever dreams. Do the reasonable thing. Call the Justice League Help Line.

So NOW JLA Dark is sitting Very Nervously, in this terrifying throuples home. Trying to ask HOW they got the Tree. Trying to ignore that one of them is a ghost of incredible power, the other an Avatar of the Green, and this nice man is just? Cool with having a nightmare tree baby? Yeah. Of course.

Just... just please tell them if it's gonna eat people. Yes or no.

@nerdpoe @hypewinter @ailithnight @hdgnj @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #tree baby au #sam and her Concerning Nightmare Tree #named after her favorite Addams #they got a nursery all ready and everything

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fictionalstorybyme · 8 months

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Jaxson is a young hot dude and he knows a bit about how some people, boys mostly are in awe of his self-proclaimed awesomeness. He was very confident from years earlier and now at age eighteen he had a new group to torture with his cunning seductive smile and friendly manner. But he always had an agenda. He scoped out the students at the beginning of classes. He would trot in everyday in outfits that were made his admirers droll. His slender body was tailor made for the classic look of jeans and sneakers. He was able to pick out the various fetishes of each of the many who adored him as he flirted easily with boys, girls and teachers. He could map out a plan to get them to fall in love with him and used that to dominate and control them as he pleased. He possessed an arrogance and knew how to show his displeasure with a single look. An example was Ryan…

He had this way of making you feel you were the only person in the room, the party, the world that counted to him. His ability to focus on you with 100% of his soul, that attention was crazy addictive. He created inside jokes that he could pass along a crowded with just his expressive eyes. It seemed every time you looked for him, he was already looking at you. Our eyes met and he winked and did a facial gesture or stick out his tongue and made me laugh. It seemed every time that I wanted to leave, he was by my side and asked me. “You wanna get something to eat (when I was hungry) or just go for a ride in his convertible. He had this sixth sense of what was going on inside my head. “Trouble with the big brother?” “Trouble with your mom?” “You can talk to me if you want, you know I’m always here. Quiet is good, too.” The thing is that he was always right. How he could tell if the situation was my big brother or my younger brother, he just read me like a book. It was really nice when i thought it was because he really cared. I had the house swept for spy shit, but nothing. He would have been the one, and i ain’t gay. But for him, I don’t know how it’d work, IF it’d work, but one thing was for sure. JAX KNEW ME KNOWS ME STILL to this VERY day. Jaxson knows me better than anybody and everybody combined.

He keeps saying it’s in my head and that, yeah he had other friends. We were in high school, after all and our job was making and being friends. TRUE! He swears to this day, I was the real deal in his mind. THE BFF. “But Ryan,” Jax said, “You know you’re not gay. I know you’re not gay. So, understand I had to have other friends. I never wanted to say this, because: If I had said, “I L❤️ VE YOU” and your mind would be be in turmoil. I knew we made a good friendship match. Maybe at the beginning I might have thought it’d be cool to have one of the premier guys that i’ve ever known and had the distinct honor and pleasure to know and be friends with convert to the other team. Girls attempt to change guys like me to be straight. Would I actually be your friend if I attempted that with you? I KNOW I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HAPPY! Maybe for a the honeymoon period? That’s why it’s called the honeymoon period. It doesn’t last. If I had have said this earlier, Ryan, I’d never ever forgive myself. Ever! I really have always put your needs and wants ahead of mine. Always! I never wanted you to do anything just to please me and not please yourself. That’s what the people who get called that disgusting name. If loving me turned you into a fag, I’d sooner kill myself than permit that. I’m not that kind of guy who is selfish and wants to see if you’ll change teams to be with him.” “I get it, Jaxson. I really do. You are right. You never tried to convert me or suggest i experiment to be sure. But why didn’t you tell me that so i could shield myself from the eventual pain and suffering?”

“For the same reason you didn’t tell me you were certain you were straight, Ryan. I didn’t know for sure just like you didn’t know for sure.” Ryan nodded and agreed, allowing all the rage and anger to dissipate and desolve into the either. “ONE THING WE DID KNOW FOR SURE!” Jaxson said. “WE WERE THE PERFECT COMBINATION OF WHAT LIFETIME FRIENDSHIPS HAVE IN COMMON. OPPOSITES ATTRACT AND RESPECT. If I didn’t respect you Ryan, I’d try to have you in my bed every night with experimenting as the reason why. Thats why we go to college. To try new things. You admitted you had a crush on me.” “A HUGE CRUSH!” Ryan corrected. “You were infatuated with me. Is that a fair statement?” “Yes,” Ryan said. “Well, I too am a human being capable of having crushes and being infatuated with another.” Jaxson said. “I had a huger crush, so infatuated was I with you that i couldn’t eat for ten days, because my infatuation turned into love. You don’t try to change the one you love into something they are not! You are not gay! I know that because Ry, I wanted you so bad, but you never picked up a clue. Am i correct?” “One hundred percent!” Ryan answered. “So we’re just friends?”

New

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bellarkeselection · 11 months

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I had an idea for rip. It’s kinda like the scene from season 1 where jimmy got beaten up by Fred but instead of Jimmy could it be the reader is rips wife and she’s secretly pregnant with their second child and she protects her stomach and then revel to rip she’s pregnant again. You can easily change bits to the story or even add a little bit of smut that’s fine with me .

The Rule Of Fighting…Especially my Wife

Threading my fingers through his black hair Rip broke the kiss pulling himself out of me where we laid under the covers naked. Running a hand over my face I began catching my breath. Moving my other hand over my growing pregnant belly until Rip grasped my hand in his. Rolling onto my side I whispered still not awake even though we woke up in a very pleasing way. “Do you have to go to work today. Can’t we just take a day and lay around the house?”

“You’re daddy wouldn’t like that. Besides I owe him everything for letting me work at the ranch.” He responded leaning forward and kissing me on the head gently getting up from the bed. He shrugs his jeans on and grabbed his black jacket with his hat off the hook.

Holding myself up on my elbow I held the sheet up against my chest even though he had seen me naked already. “Yeah you’re probably right, baby. Hey though where do you think our little Georgie is off too?”

“I ain’t too sure. He’s probably trying to sattle a horse or running around with his grandpa John. I’ll see you later tonight Y/n.” He placed his hat on his head coming over giving me one last kiss going to work.

Getting out of the bed, I ran my hands down my grown belly, looking myself over in the standing mirror we had in the corner of the bedroom. I slide on the pair of jeans that didn't press on my stomach, pairing it with a light orange flannel shirt that was tucked into them. With some light brown boots and a tan cowgirl hat on my head. Heading towards the barn, I grabbed the saddle for my horse about to throw it over until I heard someone make a remark about me entering the room. "Woah, I guess that Wheeler really couldn't let you go, so he just keeps knocking you up."

"I'm sorry do you have a problem with me?" Throwing the saddle over my horse I turned around on my feet with my boots kicking up dust.

My gaze met the appearance of one of the ranch hands who was named Fred if I remember correctly. "I've got a problem with you getting special attention from the boss."

"Your boss is my father, so.." Crossing my arms over my chest, I snipped in a slight tone.

Fred stepped closer towards me, glaring down at me since he was slightly taller than me. "I ain't talkin about your daddy, Dutton. You're sleeping with Wheeler and get off work early and still getting the same pay as we do. That isn't right in my opinion."

"First off, I get breaks more than you because of my five year old son Georgie and are you blind cause at the moment I'm pregnant again. Two, I'm heading to work now Fred - argh!" I screamed when he stomped up grabbing me by my hair yanking me backwards until I elbow him in the face.

He stumbled backwards holding his nose while I spun around on my feet. "You bitch!"

"You don't want to fight me, Fred." I warned him, getting in a fighting stance with my hands into fists ready to go.

Yet the ranch hand refused my warning and came charging straight for me. He tackled me to the dirt before I could really blink. He was throwing punches at me but I was blocking most until he gave a harsh one to my belly and I released a cry of agony. "God damn!" I cursed curling up in a ball for a second with him getting to his feet.

"You need to remember who is stronger here, Dutton girl." He spat down to me.

Sniffing through some tears i glared at him until I swiped my feet underneath his near mine where he topped to the dust. Forcing myself to my feet I held my stomach with one hand landing a good punch on his nose with the other. Fred came back trying to kick my stomach yet I buried my face close against it so he kneed me in the face. My nose begins bleeding where he quickly grabbed my arm throwing me over his back until we heard my son's sweet voice. "Mommy, why are you wrestling?"

"You're boys gonna see how weak you are - ohhh fuck!" Fred groaned in serious pain onto his knees when I kicked him in between his legs giving me the chance to rush to my son.

Grabbing his shoulders I croaked through tears and some pain myself. "Georgie, go find daddy now. Bring him here." He ran off when Fred started getting up until I charged tackling the man even though it was harder when I was pregnant.

Swinging a few punches at Fred I got some of his blood on my knuckles. He grabbed my wrists twisting them behind my back throwing me down again. "I told you I was stronger than you, bitch!" He growled in my ear where he about kicks me in the stomach again until someone harshly shoved his body against the wooden barn stalls.

Gasping for breath and some relief I sat upright seeing my husband Rip had him by the collar where he threw him against the stall and then did it again but it was down in the dirt raising his voice. "What's the rule about fighting, Fred. You wanna fight somebody, come fight me. I'll fight you all damn day!"

"That girl done started it with her saying that she deserves the same pay as we do but cuts out half the work. I guess you'll believe anything when you married a whore." Fred coughed looking at me when Georgie came over by my side.

Rip yanked the guy by his jacket holding him against the wall where he almost couldn't breathe by the choke hold he had on the ranch hand. "What did you call her!"

"She's knows I'm right that's she had to send in the little guy to get the big guns." Fred taunts until my husband kicked him harshly in the gut and he collapsed into the dirt.

He grabbed Fred up one last time against the wall for good measure croaking his deep tone with the words he declared. "If you ever hit or speak to my wife like that again I'll kill you, Fred! Are you okay, Y/n?" He released him from his grasp coming slowly over to me with his gaze softening.

"I hurt a little bit...here especially. But otherwise I think I'll be fine." I mumbled placing my hand in his with my eyes dropping to my pregnant stomach where he tugged me up to stand where he picked me up bridal style when I almost collapsed onto the dirt not able to stand on my own.

He carried me back to our cabin with Georgie following us and opening the door to the cabin, then our bedroom and finally the bathroom. "Georgie, go grab one of my shirts and the shorts off the foot of the bed for mommy." Rip spoke towards our son who quickly came back with what he asked.

"Is mommy going to be okay, daddy?" He asked with worry in his sweet voice.

Rip sat me down on the toilet lowering himself to his knees since I didn't have gotten my balance back yet. "She will be. I want you to go play with grandpa John while I help mommy okay little man." He nodded leaving us alone in the bathroom letting silence into the room.

He slowly tugged on my shirt shrugging it over and off my body giving him perfect view of my belly. "I'm sorry he did this to you..to our baby. I'll take him to the train station tomorrow morning if that's what you want." He placed his on my bump feeling me slightly pull away when he touched the sorest part of my body from the fight.

"Rip, don't blame yourself for this. Fred has always been a jackass from the day my father hired him. I'll go to the doctor and get the baby checked out." Resting my hands on his shoulders I sent him a half smile knowing he would start blaming himself for me getting injured.

He nodded, helping me remove my pants and slide the shorts up. He ran a hand through my hair once I slipped his shirt on that was like a dress on me. "I love you so much, darling. He will never touch you again I swear it." He softly took me into his arms carrying me into the other room laying me down in the bed.

He climbed in on his side and I snuggled up into his warmth knowing he would leave to deal with the rancher when I went to sleep and rested. "I love you, Rip and so will this second child of ours." Whispering up into his brown eyes I intertwined our hands together closing my eyes letting sleep overtake me.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x wife reader #rip wheeler imagine #rip wheeler x y/n #cole hauser #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone one shot #yellowstone fans #yellowstone #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #rip wheeler x pregnant reader #rip wheeler x dutton reader #pregnant reader #cowboy fights

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jjungxkook · 2 years

Text

blackout | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: swearing, he’s just a bit of a fuckboy, bickering, swooning over/thirsting for jk (🤷‍♀️), a manually induced fake blackout? dunno those 2 are odd k, they play uno, a lot of spending time in the darkness, kook has no chill, teasing, consent, dirty talk, fingering, cmnf for a while, sexual tension, oral (both receiving), shower sex, choking, hair pulling, reader cries a bit, jk likes to praise, dry humping?, pussy and tits slapping rip (and some ass ig), making out🙄, manhandling, jk loves her tits and ass and plays with them (a lot), he’s sweet but cocky too, protected sex, dom + big dick kook

⇥ wc: 14.3k

⇥ author’s notes: this is a repost from my old blog!! i may repent for my sins. also i do not know why this is so long, i thought it would be 10k rip please i apologize. anyways, i really hope you like it!! i’m very stoked to find out what you think😶‍🌫️

⇥ summary: Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

–

pt1 || pt2 || pt3

–

The hardness of the bench is tiring out your ass.

It’s incredible to you what tribulations you’re ready to burn through just to keep your best friend happy and satisfied. The blazing noon sun is steaming your scalp, even though in the middle of fall, it really shouldn’t.

Fingers wrapped around the edge of your seat, you lean forward and squint your eyes. You make out the energized individual running across the field immediately. Nevermind that he promised you football but you got soccer instead.

You wouldn’t dare to complain, though. In the summer heat, lopsided beams and big, dark puppy eyes refresh you like the late night Tequila Sunrises you love so much.

“Are you playing or taking a walk?” You yell from where you watch. Childish howling and woahhhhs echo across the field, fists pressed against round mouths and eyebrows skyrocketing.

They strive off anyone’s praises, really, but your unfaltering coaching pushes them forward a good, humongous step. In fact, you only recognize about a handful of the players, though there aren’t that many anyway.

No one running around down there cares much about authentic formations. The game usually played with eleven screaming, pumped members on each side only consists of four per team today.

It’s entertaining: The constant curses that always evolve into dramatic compliments, the loud and ambitious handshakes when they score, and the testosterone dissolving in the air, but only after the scent has wafted straight into your nostrils.

And the verbal invitations Jungkook hands out to you every week with pouting lips might play a role, too, yeah. He doesn’t like to make you wait like he does right now, but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy distance from you much, either.

A buff man in his mid-twenties, attractive beyond Greek gods’ appearance, highly determined and ready to indulge in new hobbies – relies on you, even after years of independence.

Seeing you watch and cheer him on boosts his already steadfast ego, and he’s never failed to let you know that, “It feels different from when other girls scream my name.”

You wish you could take it as a compliment, but the consistent ambiguity in his (bitter)sweet words fatigues your heart. The beat of it is not so consistent.

The crush has been omnipresent since you learned the first steps of stupid algebra, but lately, something in your lower belly has shifted weirdly, too.

Today, the shift shows in the way you clench the edge of your seat.

You hear the boys announce the end of their groundbreaking, world changing match, though you can’t recall who won, and observe the languid steps Jungkook takes toward the bench.

Energy slowly dwindling, he puffs out a deep breath, unaware that something inside you dies when he throws back the damp hair. His white, sleeveless shirt is sticking to his broad, firm chest – the refined pecs, abs and bare arms might not have triggered your embarrassing drooling if the last weeks hadn’t changed your perception of him.

There are, for instance, the filth-riddled noises when he’s fucking one of his occasional flings to the moon. Or how those exact same groans of his repeat when he heaves something that perhaps does not even require this low ass growl.

The sounds when he’s repairing something at your place or stretching after waking up. How you wish you could add to those sounds by delivering your very own, unique version of the female moans you usually hear from his room.

You could blame it on sex deprivation, or you could blame the outrageous line of his jaw, but you think the walls of your pussy have deformed and become dick-shaped. Welcoming a certain something that's definitely better than your beloved toys, according to the sounds at least.

This yearning feels kind of weird.

Jungkook has stopped not too far from you. He lifts his inked, veiny hand to wave and then reaches for his bottle to hydrate. And hydrating he does – in a way so alluring that you think he’s doing it on purpose.

Flashing the jawline of nightmares, he cuts you from afar. Sharp, more hazardous than in his teenage years. A phenomenal bone structure, accentuated by the shine of the tiny sweat drops. Shimmering golden skin.

When he drinks, you see his Adam’s apple bop even from here. His bicep is hard, bangs falling into his eyes, and his pink lips wrap around the bottle so prettily…

Thirst.

You and he both know how it feels.

Your mouth shuts close before he can notice. Instead you cup your hands around your mouth and call out to him.

“You do know we have an appointment today, right?”

“Your dick appointments can wait,” he yells back. When you roll your eyes to the back of your head, mumbling gross, the dork chuckles. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

He wraps stuff up, running back to his friends, and claps his hands before giving everyone a last handshake-bro-five-mix. The fondness you feel watching his social side bloom is blissful torture.

Jungkook grew up as a timid caterpillar, shying away from crowds and public gatherings. Opening up took a while, so you can’t remember when he went through the process of metamorphosis to come out prettier than a Cramer’s Blue Morpho butterfly.

He's still somewhat introverted, but doesn't back away from parties anymore. Red cups fill with intoxication. Bodies sashay past him, some toward him to fall into his grip.

You don’t want to be envious – so you’re proud instead. You enjoy when he’s liked by someone, love how the others grin at him. A likable and soft person like him taking over hearts left and right either platonically or not is kind of attractive to you.

“I’ll wash up,” his voice declares when he’s standing next to you. “And then we go.”

“Aren’t you gonna take a proper shower?”

“Yeah, later tonight. College showers are gross.”

Your conversations are a constant repetition. The way you act around each other, your gazes and your actions were bound to become a routine – if not during your time growing up together, then certainly when you began searching for a place to share.

So his response doesn’t surprise you. Neither does the further waiting on the bleachers, pulling in your knees, draping your arms around them to press your cheek against them. Daydreaming and watching or listening boy after boy leave the field.

Despite the familiarity of everything, you still feel different these days.

–

“After last time, I feel like you’re asking for too much.”

The man, not exactly happy about missing a live match of tennis but not quite grumpy today either, leans against the frame of his door. White, wet tresses peek through his dark mane, an indicator he just showered to enjoy the calm day you interrupted.

Jungkook’s hair was as wet as his when you left the bleachers too, now fully dry as you stand in your old but cozy building.

How could it not be?

Considering the dozen stops between campus and your home, you could possibly dry an entire laundry in that time. Both of you are at fault, though – one of the million things you’re good at doing together is wasting money on stuff you might not necessarily need.

Convenience store, pharmacy and a flower shop to buy yet another succulent for your room. Jungkook pouted and frowned at you for the entirety of the convenience store visit when you told him the landlord thing wasn’t an appointment per se, but that he knew as well as you that you needed to sort things out.

Things being the impossible utility bills that keep you up at night. Things being both your stupidity to still halt in front of shops to acquire things like parsley and cheese.

Remembering just this idiocy and looking at the power your landlord’s eyes hold, you’d rather look at Jungkook than him.

At the shiny hair tips hanging into your friend’s eyes. The oversized gray shirt that could potentially hide the body he sports underneath, but his fingers are holding the strap of his rucksack, and the pull at his shirt is enough to make the lines of his chest visible.

But this afternoon is not about brooding over the edges of his torso. It’s about confronting a landlord who fortunately didn’t meet you in a hazardous mood despite his firm plans for tonight. He doesn’t complain about the weather today or seem elated because he found yet another new hobby, like he usually does.

He looks almost neutral, you think. You can’t read him, actually.

“Yes,” you confirm, exchanging a look with Jungkook. “It does sound like a lot, but you know you can count on us–”

“Dunno. You don’t seem to remember last time.”

The taunting tone riles you up, but the numbers on your bills haunt you enough to keep your calm. This is no time for an argument.

You take a breath and shoot another glance at Jungkook. His eyes are tremendously big and lips pressed together to an innocent, uplifting smile. He seems to sense your irritation, too.

“We do,” you confirm. “But c'mon, that's not fair. We’d just started living on our own back then. You know, no guardians to take care of us and all, so it was bound to happen.”

Not just that. The reason why you asked for postponing rent payment was because the two of you had been too eager and too stubborn to ask anyone for money. Ending up only providing half of the rent for almost three months wasn’t something you did on purpose.

But while you should’ve been more cautious, to some degree, it wasn’t entirely your fault. You had more college debt than you could afford only half a year after moving to this apartment, and Jungkook’s earnings weren’t close to what you needed.

“I really don’t know.” Yeah. The man’s doubts are kind of valid.

“C’mon… You know us, Mister Choi,” Jungkook tries this time.

“That’s why–”

“You can…” You suddenly interrupt, only noticing how things might backfire once you’ve already said them. “You could end our lease if we don’t pay you what we owe you this time.”

You think you can quite literally hear Jungkook’s heart stop next to you. At least that’s what his wide eyed, confused stare suggests when he moves his head to you. He’s voicing something in silent hesitation, but Choi most likely doesn’t notice.

Because before Jungkook can throw in his own–probably very unsure–two cents, hand coming up, the landlord sighs. He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling your last names, contemplates for a second longer and then… Agrees.

“Okay,” he says with a not-my-problem-nod. “That’s an idea I can work with. This month’s and at least half of next month’s by the end of the upcoming month, alright?”

You hate the constant repetition of the frightening word month, but on the inside you still jump and clap in joy. Both your and Jungkook’s expressions light up, your feet shifting as though you’re about to jump Choi and tackle-hug him to the ground.

Instead, you only gasp, clearing your throat and cheer, “This is! More than we expected! Thank you so much. Thank you for real for real, seriously, wearesosuperth–”

A palm stops the fast flow of your gratitude, and he only shakes his head and bids you goodbye with a thumbs up before he disappears behind his door. You think you see a fond smile, but your happiness might just be inducing pictures.

But who cares anyway?

Phase One of Saving Money turned out successful.

–

Once you enter your humble apartment, tension releases out of your mouth with your sigh. You slip your bag off your shoulder and into the corner next to the entrance, shoulders dropping. Every second with the landlord took a year from your lifespan.

Jungkook, always happy-go-lucky, isn’t as demotivated and grumpy as you. His steps carry him to your kitchen without a second thought, immediately scavenging the small space for an easy meal.

“What do we do now?” You whine, leaning against the dining table.

The sun is still up and it will remain hanging in the azure blue sky for a few more hours. But you dread the darkness that will descend after – not because it scares you, but because it means you’ll have to light up rooms for ideal navigation.

But lighting them up means raising the numbers on your electricity bill.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t pay much mind to your shattering financial situation right now. He’s humming at the pots and seasoning he’s scattered around on the counter, calm as ever, because worrying about something he can’t change right now is not something he likes to do.

“First, we eat. Am starving,” he decides.

A slight shake of your head suggests frustration, but the grumble of your stomach agrees with him as though to remind you of feeding it. He side eyes you and smirks. “I’m not doing or talking about shit until you’ve eaten something.”

Of course. Caretaker first, friend second. If you’re not on the receiving end, you’re the one giving.

You push your butt off the dining table and choose to introduce Phase Two of your mission, telling him, “I think we’ve candles somewhere.”

The conversation changes at once when you release your suggestion into the air. Although you might argue you’re still stuck on the same issue, given the intention that lies behind your idea.

“Are we– Ouija board stu– again?” You hear Jungkook call from the kitchen, every other word chopped off and eaten by the sounds of pots and dishes.

“I’m not ever doing that with you again,” you exclaim back.

“Huh? Why not?”

“You were moving the planchette!”

Granted, there was kindness in his cheating. The evening drained you out of energy and left you a nervous mess, eager to speak to your favorite late grandaunty and her deceased dog. Neither Jungkook nor you believed in the magic behind the practice, but he made sure to soothe your nerves anyway.

You were pissed when you noticed what was going on – but once the anger subsided and gave way to the realization that he really cared, you fell asleep with a smile after all.

“I swear on my favorite hoodie that I didn’t,” he defends.

“Lying son of a bitch,” you whisper, laughing to yourself as you kneel in front of a cupboard storing a few dozen candles and other shenanigans.

You choose one scented, thick one for each room, and then a few smaller, regular ones that you think must do. With a handful of them, you return to the still bright living room, placing each one where you want it later tonight.

You’re serious about your candles – the tongue poking out, eyes squinting in concentration kind of serious. Arranged in a rational way, you beam at your artwork, impressed by your own idea as if it’s not something human beings used to do all the time.

“Seriously, you’re so easy to excite,” Jungkook always reiterates.

Once you join him in the kitchen, preparing not only a meal but spontaneously baking a treat too, time passes significantly faster. In hindsight, you didn’t do that much today, but somehow it still feels like you sailed the world.

You barely realize when several topics have shifted and the sun has disappeared. The moon hangs bright in the dark sky, the brisk gust blowing in through the open windows. It was a pleasant day of the week, even though you kept freezing at his touch even while cooking, and you’re ready to finish it just as lovely.

Only, it doesn’t end at dinner and the day’s exhaustion.

“Dessert tastes better in bed,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Since tidying up, you’ve suddenly become quieter than before and his eyes squint like they’re testing you.

“Okay? Then go and take it with you.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, blowing a raspberry. “You’ll go and sleep already?”

“No, but…” You hum and think. It’s not that late just yet – and you don’t feel like tackling homework or any other taxing task tonight. “I do wanna eat dessert, too. Just thought we might chill in the living room.”

“I mean. Take it as an informal invitation to spend some time with me, but in my room. You don’t wanna?”

“Pervert,” you lightly hit his shoulder with a cloth when he winks. “Is that how you court other ladies?”

“Why, yes. What did you think?” He laughs when you shake your head dramatically, pulling your shirt back and further over your clavicles. “Nah, I was thinking of… Just chilling, really.”

It’s not the first time you’re joking in a way like this. It’d also not be the first time of you hanging out with him in his room, on his bed, giggling about stupid jokes or ridiculous cartoons. Or whatever.

But it’s one of the first times the thought renders you nervous. Like you’re perceiving him as more than your best friend just now, after all those years of harmless platonic cuddles.

When you don’t answer, he delivers another decisive argument. “My room is smaller. Less candles. More to spare for the next time!”

You’re not surprised that he sees through your little idea – rather baffled how easy it is for him to sway you. So you follow him to his minimalistically organized room, not one but two diffusers on his desk. The corner of your lips twitches.

The more you near his bed, the more your heart strikes. His mattress is soft and cozy, and Jungkook’s scent oozes from every inch of it. You feel engulfed in his presence so bad that the emotions of this noon and the last few weeks hit you like a brick.

“Wanna watch something, Pumpkin?” Jungkook asks once you’re draped in the comfort of his duvet.

He might never stop calling you that. Probably hasn’t let a day pass since elementary school when your mom and you decided to dress you as a damn pumpkin for Halloween.

“And waste precious battery life?” You scold with a cocked eyebrow. Your voice is quieter now that you’re cuddled in with him, but you try to maintain your cool.

Turning on the living room TV or light is out of the question anyway. No regular Thursday movie night this time. Blasting Disney’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice for the hundredth time can wait.

With the no-technology-rule you established today, even unplugged devices shall remain for emergencies as long as possible.

“So we’ll act like it’s a full blown blackout, yeah?” He asks before he leans over you, pulling open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet to rummage through its content.

The small action forces your body backward, pushing you against the headboard so tight that your lungs fail. He looks unsuspecting, drenched in the warm light of the candles. You breathe him in unintentionally, and he smells of soap and cologne.

Wrapped in darkness next to him is already strange as it is, but it cannot compare to the oddness of how new his proximity feels.

You barely notice what he’s fished out until he waves it right in front of your frozen expression. An old deck of Uno greets your vision, the packaging as worn out as the cards that he pulls out.

He places them on his large palm before he begins shuffling them – staring at the smoothness he operates with makes you almost miss what he asks.

“Is that good enough, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” he holds the cards to your face once more. “Are we playing with seven or ten cards?”

“Take it up a notch,” your feeble voice allows. “Make it fifteen just for funsies.”

“Why did I know you’d say that?”

You shrug your shoulders, imperceptibly shifting away from the touch of his arms and hips. “Remember one thing, Jeon.”

“Yeh, yeh,” he taunts, his voice strained. He sounds as though his body is beseeching him to lay down and drift off – but something about the moment seems to be keeping him soberly awake. “I won’t let you win this time.”

Fifteen cards down on your lap, you lift your hands from under the blanket, pulling your set close to your face in utter distrust. You cock an eyebrow at the universe’s choice: Jungkook has either already broken his promise, or the gaming Gods have decided this round’s end already.

With the victory residing in your hands, his vow pretty much slips your mind immediately; it blends out how he still remembers your middle school matches. He really still recalls when you’d fume and burn – disappointed and livid when he’d reveal his picture-perfect deck, unused to accept defeat.

The game doesn’t even properly progress when the first argument of the night pops up. More than half your cards are still in your hands, both your words overlapping.

“Once you lay down a 4+ or color card, you’re not allowed to play again. It’s my turn,” you insist, his wrist in your firm grip as if he couldn’t break out of it whenever.

“I am allowed to play, though.” When he swings his hand, yours moves with him. Both your stances are upright, eyes blown wide and comically riled up. “Especially after a 4+. You're blocked.”

“This doesn’t sound right.”

“Look.” He slaps his cards with the logo upwards into his lap, sifting through the rest of the deck to draw out a yellow stop card. “Would you be able to play on if I hit you with that?”

“No, ‘course not.”

“And 4+ cards work the same way.”

You keep staring at the bright color, lost in thoughts and traveling back to a time when the world around you hadn’t altered every rule of every game you knew. But when no productive result flashes through your mind, you suggest something else.

“Google it, then.”

“You can’t just read the rules? Hold up,” he pulls out the instructions from the package, already fiddling with the paper. “I bet the answer is hidden somewhere in there.”

“Have fun. I can’t read in this darkness for shit.”

Relying on technology for a minute shouldn’t cause a cataclysmic event, so you type in the million dollar question plaguing both your mind, soon striking it rich when a video materializes on the page.

Too lazy to skim yet another amateur post, you decide to trust WikiHow’s explanation clip, hoping for a fruitful result. Jungkook soon gives up the task he bestowed upon himself, cuddling closer to your misery to watch with you.

“Are we serious?” He breathes, laughing off the peculiarity of the moment.

“Watching a video on Uno rules?” You ask, giggling in unison with him. “I fucking know. We’re seriously weird.”

“How long’s it been since we played games together like that?”

You can’t say for sure.

“When we got this place,” you assume. “Didn’t we spend half the night going through board and card games? Because–”

“Because there was nothing else to do. We were sitting on the ground on some shit ass mattress.”

You laugh. It’s been a while – time truly does pass when you’re stuck with someone. You don’t think you’d ever trade the memories you gathered here for anything good in the world. Piggyback rides and cooking mishaps are a delight to store in the depths of memory.

Or moments when you very clearly, very softly realize that you’re falling for your roommate bit by bit; so much deeper than when you were still kids. For him and his touch. His sensuality, even when it’s unintentional.

Like now.

Jungkook grabs his water bottle from his side of the bed as the voice of the narrator chimes. The background is a bright green and the animation weirdly cute, but you blend it out when he reminds you of the plushness of his lips again. Wrapped around the bottle head…

When you reach the wild card moment, both of your ears perk up before you erupt in simultaneous chaos. Jungkook half chokes as he attempts his one-syllable-argument.

“See!” He exclaims.

“See what? He said, if the player can’t play any of their cards, blah blah... Which, in our case, is me.”

“No, but what player? The one who had the wild card? Or the other?”

“Fuck it,” you curse, clicking away without finishing the last minute. “Another video. WikiHow sucks.”

“Why do I feel like we’re both right and wrong?”

You shake your head in defense and with a furrow between your eyebrows, but the dorky grin on his face pulls out your true, playful emotions in the form of a laugh.

The next clip you settle on goes on for longer, seemingly endless – allowing you enough time to peek at the smooth curves of his silhouette.

His lips are jutted and the moving pictures reflect in his eyes. His button nose begs to be booped. A small dimple appears when the tip of his tongue pushes through the seam of his lips to hydrate them.

You don’t think you’re as subtle as you’d like to be, though. Because soon, he’s looking up, causing a sudden flinch. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

He blinks at you slowly, one eyebrow briefly twitching. “Oh. Are you bored?”

“No! Why?”

“Are you okay, then?” Your tongue flits along the inside of your cheek, muscles stiffer than before. He eyes you up and down. “You’re so tense.”

“It’s just… Just weird,” you stutter. Hesitancy breaks the flow of your usually confident speech, and you flick your inner self’s forehead for the obvious awkwardness. “Sitting in the dark.”

What?

What the fuck.

You need to get yourself together and come up with a wittier response. If he just let you – because he prods, “Are you scared?”

“Wha– Do I look scared?”

“You don’t look normal, at least.”

“That’s rude,” you scold, letting the device fall onto the blanket. Numerous wrinkles decorate your forehead, hiding your true thoughts behind frisky surface-annoyance.

His next words do not freaking help.

“Girls usually like me in the dark.”

“That’s…” Heat of an exploding star warms your already blistering cheeks. “That’s pretty lewd of you to say. And unnecessary, too.”

You’re pouting like it’s the first day of sex ed. Innocence expands your pupils harder than the lack of light in this room. Jungkook can’t help it – fondness engulfs his heart. You’ve always been endearing to an immeasurable degree.

“You’re so cute,” he drops casually. He’s amused by the side eye you give him, laughing when you exhale and rub the sweat off your hands on the blanket. “But seriously, what’s up with you today?”

He nudges your shoulder as a joke, and you hate that years of friendship couldn’t prepare you for a dark, emotion-altering night like this. Hormones and an adult’s desires are the devil’s advocate as much as Jungkook is himself.

“Nothing!”

“Have I done something weird?”

“You’re always weird.”

His shocked gasp dramatizes the moment, lifting the tension in the air enough to overshadow your inept breathing. Any attempt to keep your chill could turn out futile any moment now.

“Fair,” he laughs. “But also rude.”

His soft palm sets upon your knee and the plea you utter to your mind to calm your nerves falls on deaf ears. At his touch, you flinch just a fraction… And immediately, he pauses.

His gaze skyrockets to your seemingly sinless one. Lips part in confusion before his expression changes – like a bulb has lit up in his mind.

And then, the biggest change in topic occurs.

“Could you give me my phone charger?” Lifting his device, he lights up the screen to show the red, drained battery bar. He points to the bedside cabinet again. “First drawer.”

Right.

Jungkook doesn’t keep his charger plugged in at all times like you do. Scared it might burn off. You didn’t expect less when you decided to move in with your best friend, though: Not from the boy who declared his fear of microwaves and their potential to melt dishes ages ago.

You open and hunt through the drawer, surprised at the half emptiness of it until your fingers graze something you might not have anticipated. And then you realize…

Ah. Oh.

What if…

Perhaps that was the plan all along. Because when you look back at him, he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The calmness in his eyes is telling enough to guess his intentions – but you don’t want to assume for sure yet.

Your touch remains on the little–open–box for a second, one sealed package peeking out. An absolutely fresh condom… One of Jungkook’s no less.

What’s happening today?

“What’s up?” He asks, and you almost huff at the stupid, fabricated innocence in his stupid, soothing voice.

“I think,” you lean back, attempting a laugh. “I just found your most prized possession.”

“Ah?” He waits, and you nod. “Is that weird to you?” A nonchalant shrug of your shoulders spurs him on, the tilt of his head perilous. “It’s not the first time you’re seeing those, right?”

Ugh, yeah. You remember all casual visits to drugstores. The vivid image of Durex’ extra large Excite Me, and true to Jungkook’s dedication dotted for extra stimulation.

He usually cares as much about embarrassment between the both of you as you do when you place pads and tampons between his stuff. Why is it weird, then?

“Yeah. It’s just…” You’re stumbling for words. Fuck. It’s over for you. “Reminds me of some of your escapades lately.”

Jungkook hums. “Mhm. There weren’t that many these days, though.”

“I know. Just made me think of those that did happen, y’know?”

“Okay.” He’s still looking at you like he’s solved every piece of the riddle you are tonight. Not any less shameless, though. “Then… What exactly is it that you’re thinking about those escapades?” Huh… There are too many details you’d need to omit in your answer. But the way his stare is stabbing questions into you as if he already knows what you might say?

Yep. You’re fucked.

“Now?” You ask.

“Right now.”

“Nothing.”

God, even he must be bored of the constant repetition. What does nothing still mean in reality? Everything. That’s how your inner translator interprets it, at least.

This time, Jungkook doesn’t let your response slip. His hand, however, does. Up from your knee… Right to your thigh.

The blanket still lays in between, its fabric pivotal for the moment. If it wasn’t there, you might faint. And something in you says that the experience isn’t far.

“Is that what it is?” Jungkook whispers. His voice is deeper now, and so is your sigh. “That must be what it is.”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been tense ‘cause of that? Since soccer training you’ve been looking at me like I’m suffocating you.” Shit. Of course he’d notice. “And now you suddenly feel weird about being close and about condoms? Do you just…” He digs his index finger into your thigh, his cut nail raking your leg with too many layers in between. “Just miss being touched?”

“By… By you?”

“No, Pumpkin. In general.” You don’t have an answer to his quizzing. Or, you do, but you don’t know where it might lead… Nervousness clogs your throat. “Don’t you…”

“What?” You think you can foresee what he’s going to ask, but you put on a curious act anyway. Then, he drops the bomb.

“Don’t you touch yourself?”

Oh God. Someone tell him to shut up. The little workers in your brain are setting your internal office on fire, handling his lax conversation worse than you.

“I’m…” You pause to breathe in shakily, and then laugh to hide your bewilderment. “Of course I do. Everyone does.” You clear your throat. “That’s a really freaking weird and sudden question, though.”

“Not that weird considering how you’ve been acting today. Thought it’s PMS, but you just called in sick ‘cause of your period last week.” Damn, Sherlock. Of course he’d remember – your whining wasn’t subtle after all. And he was the one serving you every meal all day. “So I’m guessing… It’s been a while and things are just worse tonight?”

“Dunno.”

You’re blinking at him. He’s built a Chinese-Wall-strong barrier at the front of his mind, and you can’t peek through it to understand what he’s thinking. Or what he wants. What he wants you to say or want.

It’s incredibly suspicious to you… And kind of tempting.

“Not gonna lie,” Jungkook’s voice drops to a low whisper, his confession worse than you expected. “I think I heard you a few nights before.”

You rip your eyes open in surprise. Your heart runs up to your throat to start hammering against your vocal cords, and for a few syllables, you can’t do much other than stutter and gasp.

“You fucking creep!” You then blurt out, calling yourself a hypocrite internally in the same breath. It’s not like you listened away during his adventures, legs pressed together to create friction.

“I’m sorry,” he lifts his hands in defense. “But you weren’t exactly being quiet. Plus, our walls aren’t that thin.”

You know… Hell, you know.

But how is he initiating the conversation just like that? God, the absolute courage…

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse. You bring your fingers to your eyes, rubbing them rather than hiding your entire face. “That’s fucking embarrassing.”

But Jungkook softly brings your hand down again – then speaks to reassure you. Only, anything he says tonight makes matters worse.

“Would it help if I told you it wasn’t embarrassing for me?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It just sounded…”

He procrastinates, his expressions calm but his eyes dangerous. Hooded.

“Bad?” You dig.

“No. It sounded hot.”

No. No, your heart and body can’t handle this. You might die if you don’t push his admissions into the most disbelieving corner of your brain.

Jungkook finds you hot? The sounds you couldn’t hide, he likes them? He means it?

“Shut the fuck up, I’m–” You begin, but he replaces your rebukes with a deep inhale and stiff muscles when he moves closer.

Your back presses against the bedside cabinet. Now that the flickering candle is melting down, its light is getting dimmer and the room darker. Bright enough to still make out his silhouette and most alluring features.

The phone has long fallen from between your fingers, hiding in the blanket and the video long over. Somehow, you’re glad you disabled autoplay – it doesn’t disturb the moment that’s clearly progressing to something dangerous.

But at the same time, you’re surprised as hell. Asking yourself silently over and over again, whatsgoingonwhatsgoingon.

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“I’m just wondering.” His body is tilted, one hand still on your thigh. “When you do stuff to yourself… Is there something specific you think of?”

You shift a little, not answering. When he sees the surprise in your eyes and confuses it with fear, however, he backs away again and clicks his tongue. “My bad. Sorry for being like that.”

But you’re not letting him retreat now… Things have come too far. You place a hand on his arm and tug him closer subtly. His already big eyes look humongous now, positively delighted, even when you keep struggling with words.

“No, I just…” You try but fail as soon as you start.

“Why are you stuttering like that? That’s not you.”

You wish he was wrong. You’re more confident than this in any other moment. Crazy what one Jeon Jungkook’s touch can do.

You swallow hard, delivering a mental slap before pieces of your courage resurface again.

“This is new to me,” you tell him.

“What is?”

“The way we’re talking to each other. It’s not nothing…” You look down to seek the emoji on his middle finger, barely recognizable in the darkness. “And you’re… You’re good looking, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” he agrees cockily, but you know his humility enough to understand he doesn’t mean it. Those are shameless teases, nothing more. “And?”

“You’ve always been good looking. And on top of that, I can always hear how you sound when you…”

Should you really go there? What if it damages something? Then again, it’s too late now anyway.

“When I…?” He tries.

“I kinda don’t wanna say it, and I know you know what I mean.”

“Ah, right,” Jungkook casually confirms, like he’s just realized what you might be pointing at. “When I fuck someone’s brain out.”

You suck in a breath.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“How do you want me to say it?” Jungkook taps his chin with his finger. He looks like a sly anime college crush. “I kindly empty their thoughts.”

“Shut up.”

“And rearrange their guts–”

“Oh my God, I’ll–”

Do what? Your own guts are pleading for a good, nasty and disrespectful mess. Wobbly pudding on his bed, your body is already melting at the mere thought… So you can’t imagine what actual ferity could do if he unleashed it.

Unknowing what to say, you look away, moving back like a proper idiot. But suddenly, pressure wraps around your wrist, fingers pulling you into him. You look at him speechlessly, parting your lips when he looks down at them.

“Is there something you want me to do?” He asks.

There’s a myriad of things you want him to do. But there’s slight doubt knocking against the walls of your brain and – ugh…

“Is it okay for us to do such a thing?” You question back.

“I don’t know,” he confesses quietly, his breath pleasant against your lips. “Say no just once and I promise I’ll back away.”

“And… And if I don’t?”

“Answer first.” He tilts his head, big eyes too pure and sweet for the conversation going on. “Or… Well, don’t.”

You remain silent. Hot blood turns your face as warm as a grill, and you look at him and his smile. Your heart rebels in your throat, but your thoughts are sober. So once he sees the clearness in your stare, he understands.

“Alright.”

It’s the last word he whispers before his hand wanders up your pajama pants. He fiddles with the neat knot holding your pajama around your waist, playing with it for a moment until patience runs out.

Soft fingertips tug at the end of the strings until the hem of the pants loosens around you. His eyes shoot up to yours, hiding menacingly behind his bangs. You don’t know what for–perhaps for permission–but you nod.

“Can you lift a bit for me?” His voice is soothing, calm and lovely when he utters his demand as a question. If you listen closely, you hear the desire, though.

You raise your ass, letting him slip the pajama down your thighs. When your body presses back into the mattress, your hands move to his face, making him look at you. The front of his tongue darts out, trapped between his teeth and his eyes are dark and starry. Lost in you.

His teeth let his tongue go, sliding it across his lower lip… Goddammit, you want to taste it.

When he skims over your panties and now bare thighs, your eyes blink close. He watches and adores your reaction; skims your dampness below. Jungkook acts as fuel, even though you’re already incredibly flammable.

The hums that accompany your slight wiggle are gentle, contrasting the losing of your mind going on in your head.

“More?” He wants to know.

“Mhmmm.”

“Okay. Good, Pumpkin.”

You’d smile at the ridiculous childhood endearment if the moment wasn’t so sinful. If he wasn’t grazing your pelvis, causing goosebump as he goes, pulling at the thin fabric until you lift once again.

He chuckles, a sound that reaches deep within your chest. “Good girl. Learning fast.”

Is he serious?

He can’t just drop a good girl like that as if he’s announcing a brief walk through a nearby park. What the fuck.

“Stop it,” you mutter, unaware why exactly.

“Want me to stop? We’re just starting,” he chants, his pout playfully childish and cute.

But the fingers. Oh the fingers rounding the skin right over the sensitive nub. Playing with you like you’re his own personal doll, wrapping you around his skillful, strong and incredibly beautiful fingers.

His touch drops deeper when you whisper an inaudible wish; whatever it is, he thinks he knows what you want. Featherlightly, he presses down on your clit, and you cry out quietly.

You fall back against the headboard again, your hands in his hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. One blink of his eyes passes and he’s snaking an arm under you, pulling you down and flat onto your back.

“You alright, yeah?” Jungkook makes sure, elated when you nod enthusiastically. “Good. Very good.”

His face is close to yours but doesn’t remain there: As he caresses your clit, shaking up your lower belly, his mouth dives in and finds home between your tits. He breathes you in before he presses a kiss against the shirt hiding your skin.

“Jungkook…”

“Mmmh.” He looks up at your chin, your head thrown back. “Say, Pumpkin…” He blows at your left nipple, well aware that you never wear a bra at home, and watches it perk under the shirt. Then, his teeth catch the material before he lets go and speaks on. “May I see those pretty tits of yours?”

“Nnnh,” is all you can give back. “Yes.”

Happily, the unoccupied hand lifts the white tee until he touches the underside of your boobs; his touch covers something you reckon he might enjoy. With his face hovering over yours, you wonder how long it will take him to notice.

Nothing yet at least.

His hand pauses there and then lifts the shirt over your mounds. He palms one of them, relishing your mewls. The sigh lets his voice fall some more, enticing when his mind numbing talk continues, “Hello there, girls.”

Jesus fucking Christ…

Why is this so hot to you?

His hair tickles your clavicles before his tongue does the same to your hard nubs. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he pulls at it, then releases it to repeat it all. All while his fingers float down to your hole.

And then…

Palms pushing your thighs apart under the crumbled up blanket, he doesn’t wait another second before he drops to his side next to you and dips his middle finger inside. Slowly at first, easing you into the process, but it does nothing to avoid the sudden term that falls out of you.

“Fuck, baby, this is–”

You realize your mistake–mistake?–when his finger halts mid action. But once he proceeds, lifting his head to kiss your jaw, you don’t see a single trace of embarrassment or shame. No, he rather jumps onto the train with you.

“Easy, kitten.”

The new nickname forces your head to fall sideways to face him – your lips come to touch, but he doesn’t take it a step further. His eyelids fall half close, mouth not moving against yours; but you can’t really kiss anyway with the way he urges moan after moan out of you.

His finger starts pumping in and out of you, your walls contracting around him. There’s thought in his actions. He doesn’t just push in and pull out like a wildling – no, the curve of his digit, the tempo he chooses and the patch he massages inside you must be calculated.

Adding a second finger does nothing but amplify this feeling.

In his hold, you’re a little less squirmy than you might be without his touch. He keeps you grounded, controlling the wiggle of your body, allowing you to bite into your fist until he grabs your wrist and pushes it against the mattress.

“Nuh-uh,” he warns. Your eyes crack open a slit. “Stop muffling your sounds. Why would you?”

“I’m just…” You shake your head. “Self-conscious… Okay?” God, words are hard. “Y’don’t see me naked… Every day.”

“Absolutely outrageous if you ask me,” he breathes, knuckles deep inside you. There, he remains, merely moving his fingers inside without pulling out anymore. You hide half your face in the pillow. “Fuck, look at me.”

The danger and irritation in his voice sober up a piece of your mind, but the sudden emptiness when his fingers vanish shake you awake with a snap. An utterly wet touch trails along your thigh and then up your sides. He doesn’t give a fuck about the state of his blanket.

Letting go of your wrist, he pushes aside the fallen phone that his ass touches, and stops with everything altogether. Reaches behind him and then shoves the device to a far top corner of the bed.

“That’s good,” Jungkook whispers once he’s cozy with you again. Watching your breathing, dizzy form. “We don’t have to charge the phone and waste electricity that way, right?”

“Shut up…” is all your brain and tongue allow.

He clicks his tongue. “Alright, you killjoy.” A sudden slap to your overflowing pussy renders you speechless. But not him. “I’ll use my mouth elsewhere then, k?”

You’re still a mess in disbelief. Can’t comprehend that he’s actually saying those words in this exact constellation. You might think you’re dreaming if the squeezes of his hands and the dampness of his tongue didn’t prove you otherwise.

Crawling down your body, he makes sure to ruin every patch of your skin. He licks along your collarbones and gently bites at your tits. His palms love the feeling of your chest, nails digging in… And he only stops when he reaches a very particular something.

You feel his movements freeze clearly. He smacks his lips, and when you look at him, he looks surprised. Delightfully so.

“What’s that?”

There it is.

He watches your lips curl to a satisfied smile and your eyelids shut as he brushes his finger over the spot under your tits. Squinting, he removes more of the blanket, hoping the dim light of the candle might allow him a deeper look.

The black color isn’t as faded as the ink on his hand or arm, so it must be a recent sin you went for. You hum in innocence, opening your eyes again to barely catch the shake of his head as he repeats his question.

“What is that, huh?” He exhales the last word, breathing against you. Then kisses the skin underneath the tattoo. “You weren’t even gonna tell me about it?”

“Figured you might find out one day…”

He laughs quietly, hiding his fascination. But you know he’s still mesmerized, staring at the little thing, distracted even when he responds. “Is that so? You tease.”

Dipping down, an open mouthed kiss lands on top of your tattoo. His hands push your tits together, his mouth working on worshiping the tiny piece of skin that has captured him. His kiss is greedy to the touch, his breaths cold against the saliva he left once he lifts his face again.

“A crown, yeah? That what it is, isn’t it?”

The pleasant satisfaction in his voice is apparent, but you think you even hear bits of irritation – like he’s annoyed that you didn’t tell him about this. Like he’d dove into you earlier if you had.

“Hey, a lil feeling of royalty is never…” You stop when he pecks your tummy. His lips run along your stomach until they reach your pelvis. “Ohhhfff… You’re close.”

“I’ll keep going, alright?”

You let out more incoherent sounds, something between a moan and a hum. The anticipation is unbearable, but the fact that Jungkook is still fully dressed and his cock yet aching to be discovered by you might be worse.

With the blanket fully off of you, his lips explore your body, so close to where you want him. His right hand still lingers where the tattoo is eternalized in your skin, and according to his next words, his mind isn’t less hung up on it, either.

“Your tattoo matches mine, y’know?” He informs you as if you haven’t seen the crown on his index finger a few million times. The digit that’s digging into your hungry cunt again, along with another finger showcasing an emoji that must be looking like you right now. “We can both be royalty, don’t you think, princess?”

“My God, shut up,” you order. Your insides cringe, even though you’re sure you wouldn’t be opposed to him calling you that godforsaken nickname once again.

His giggle is Jungkook-ish sweet, but the hands that pry your legs open are not. Less even when he pushes them down onto the mattress as much as your joints allow, distracting you from the pull of your muscles when his nose nuzzles your pelvis.

The tip of his tongue touches your sacred part first. It’s just a slight dip, testing the waters. But your ocean is wild and its waves crash against the pit of your stomach.

“Didn’t think you’d be responsive right away,” he admits, only pausing to place a gentle kiss on your clit. “Then again, I haven’t seen a dude at our place in ages.”

“Asshole,” you curse, eliciting another deep snicker that vibrates right against your cunt.

Then, the jokes end and his stance changes. He takes a deep breath and then lowers his head once and for all. Leaving a trace of kisses riles you up enough, though things only get worse once his tongue darts out, starting a gentle dance in a captivating pattern.

He collects spit on the muscle in his mouth, pulling out the fingers out of you to spread your folds. Watching your pussy shimmer and leak, he laps up the arousal meant for just him. His cock stretches his favorite joggers, and he moves his hips against the bed for relief.

Buried deep, he moves to your clit to close his lips around it for a moment before he french kisses your pussy. Then, he repeats it all – only this time, the tip of his tongue moves in a perfect circle around your sensitive nub for a bit longer.

Slowly, softly, and then he stops.

“Wait…” you interrupt, blindly grabbing a patch of his hair. “Do that again. Please.”

The hushed desperation in your voice makes his sweatpants strain impossibly. His balls already ache.

“Like that?”

“Yeah… Yep.”

You arch your back and let your mouth fall open when his fingers return inside you, tongue imitating the motions from before. For a while, your moans and uncontrolled, quiet, peaceful sounds motivate and inflame him.

But once he begins yearning for your taste again, he swaps. His curved digits pull out of you, thumb taking his mouth’s place and vice versa. Which feels… Just as dangerous.

His tongue presses into you, a hand shoving up your right, closing leg. Your thigh stiffens when it feels his fingers deep in your flesh, and when it relaxes again, it falls over his shoulder and onto his back softly.

Zealously, you plant your heel against his shirt, trying not to think about the muscles of his back too hard. Yet, drowning in fervor, you can’t help but push his shirt up, irritated that he’s still wearing so damn much when you’ve already exposed the last of your being to him.

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge your hints yet. Because his focus is still somewhere else – understandably so.

“I knew you’d taste like that,” he confesses when he surfaces to take a breath.

He knew?

You’re panting more than him. Speaking comes to you harder than to him. “Like what?”

“Like absolute heaven,” he exhales at your waterfall-sex, hot and shiver inducing. “Pussy gifted by the angels.”

Oh, you bet he says that to everyone…

“Please don’t treat me like one, though,” you beg.

“Like an angel? Don’t worry. I fear you’re far filthier than I might expect.”

When his words collide with his repeated actions, your eyes water. You whine at the onslaught on your pussy, squirming, and shake your head when your insides somersault.

“I… I don’t think I can anymore,” you foolishly say.

Your ears seem to block out any sound, your body revolting. The pressure in your stomach is intense, to say the least. Your fingers and toys surely don’t feel that way.

“It feels like that because you can. I promise,” Jungkook, however, assures.

“This is the… I’ve never…”

It’s true. You’ve never had a build up or an orgasm like this before. Of course not: How could you if he’s drinking in every drop of the arousal dribbling out of you while rendering you wetter at the same time?

He sounds so goddamn lewd when he makes out with your cunt like that. Too filthy… You wonder how his lips will feel against yours if he’s able to do such magic down below already.

“It’s gonna be good… Okay?”

He’s wrong. Good is an absolute understatement.

The force with which your orgasm hits is worse than being run over by a truck. You internally slap everyone in your past who missed to make you feel that way.

You implode and explode, a swarm of cacophonic sounds oozing out of your mouth. You grab his sheets and his blanket so hard that the thoughts in the back of your head fear you might rip something.

Jungkook groans and moans along with you, his mouth and fingers attached to you no matter how much you move. A single tear flees between your shut eyelids, arousal not stopping to trickle out of you.

You’re still calling his name once the high comes down… Still holding the sheet, your vision still blurry. He licks and rides you through the end of the blast for a few more seconds. And when he’s done and you look at him, he’s covered in a shimmer.

Such a pretty boy.

“Hey,” he whispers joyfully once he comes up. “Hello.”

“Hey. You, jail,” you breathe.

You don’t waste a moment before you take off his shirt, eager and hungry. He laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “Why jail? Did I give you a bombastic orgasm or what?” He moves to lay half on top of you and licks his lips. “Shouldn’t I get free lap dances or something?”

“Jail for not doing this earlier.”

“Ah. Apologies. I’ll be at your service whenever from now on.”

The vow makes your tummy flutter. From now on? So he wants to do that again?

Nah. You must be dreaming. A fall night's fever dream.

“Good,” you mutter before you close the distance mutually.

He cages you in, beginning the kiss softly but urgently. His tongue doesn’t hesitate to seek out yours, and he tilts his head to deepen the gesture. Both your hands wander to the other’s face and hair, lips eating up each and every thrum.

His chest is warm against yours, hard pecs pressing against your nipples. It feels good, feeling him so close and intimate with you. No layers separating your upper bodies, melting into one… And that kiss…

As he pours all passion into it, you think you taste a bit of you on him, but said taste mingles with a lot of other things. The spices of dinner. The lingering sweetness of dessert. His thirst. The ardency that refuses to leave his motions.

“Hey,” he mumbles when he breaks the kiss. “I…”

“Hmm?”

“I really want you. So, so bad.”

The carnal desire is hidden in the moment for sure. But right now, listening to the softness in his voice, all you can and want to hear is unbridled longing.

Insatiable, you nod. “I want you, too. Please?”

“You… You don’t need to beg for it, Pumpkin.” His hips move against yours and you wrap your legs around him tighter. “Seriously, no need–”

His joggers are rough against your swollen pussy, but their harshness doesn’t compare to the thick bulge pushing into you. Moving down your wandering fingers, you push at the remaining clothing, shoving until you feel the bare, firm, muscular ass under your palms.

Hell, there’s so much you want to do. Like, slap it.

Lifting a little, he lets you free his cock, his sweatpants and underwear somewhere a little over his knees now. You’re ready to let him fuck you unconscious and into another universe before you realize you might not be all that ready just yet.

Because the throbbing, hot length falls heavy against your stomach. It’s thick and big and entirely unexpected. Not that he’s never boasted about it before or ran around without underwear beneath his pajamas. But fuck, you thought it’s the usual shit men say.

You didn’t think he was actually hiding something this… Generous.

“Wow, I–” You begin, but to no avail. Your screaming pussy distracts you.

“Huh? Yeah, what is it?” Jungkook purrs against your neck.

“Just. Can I…”

Your hand prowls from his ass to his cock, and you begin to guide it to your pussy slowly, opening up your legs more. Okay. You’re ready. You are. You are.

Only, Jungkook is not.

He shakes his head immediately, then nods towards the drawer inhabiting the condoms. You understand and roll your eyes, scoffing. “I wasn’t gonna do it anyways. But I’m… I am on the pill.”

“Yes. But you also forget to take it a lot.”

“Fair.” God, you just want him to drill you. Why’s starting so hard? “But I’m fine.”

“I am, too.” He groans when he moves over you, reaching to the drawer. “Still.”

You watch as he takes the package out, the foil carefully held between his fingertips. And in those brief seconds, you think.

His last hook up wasn’t so long ago. You wonder if he ever goes in raw with other girls… Wonder why he doesn’t with you but insists on protection. Less like he doesn’t trust you but more like he doesn’t trust himself.

You don’t ponder on your bumbling thoughts for too long before he smiles and sidetracks. “Hey, have you showered?”

“No. Why?” You answer, certain that the furrow of your eyebrows lays your confusion bare.

“You said you needed to.”

“And?”

“It’s gotten warm inside.” Aha… You think you know where this is going. But just for fun’s sake, you play dumb. “I still need my proper shower, too, by the way.”

“Okay… But we’re saving up on water, right?” You stare up at him in innocence. Godgodgodgod. He’s really doing that.

Jungkook slaps your ass, and you yelp. “Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m saying.”

“Kook–”

“What? We clean up together… Save water. I don’t have to shower again in the morning and can sleep in. It sounds like an amazing idea, if you ask me.”

You contemplate his idea. In all honesty, you know that he’s aware of your teasing and fake hesitation – but you think he likes the act. If it was up to him, he’d probably want you tapping your chin and all, cartoonesque.

“You do shower long…” You then conclude.

“Yeah. And so do you.”

“So…”

“So what do you say, Pumpkin Pie?”

“Mmmh. Okay.”

His eyes blow wide. “Really?”

You grimace at him. He’s adorable. After all he’s said and done, he’s still astonished at your response? An actual dork. But you still nod.

“Oomph,” he says. “Imagining you under the shower.” He’s talking more to himself than anything. “Might be just a bit more insane than imagining you naked in general.”

More than a decade of being friends and a couple of years of living together should’ve suggested at least once that thoughts can’t stay pure 24/7. Especially when hormones raged and you grew a pair of tits, you should’ve known his mind derailed a little on at least one occasion.

Still, you’re surprised.

“Did you imagine me naked before?” You wonder.

“Are you kidding me?”

The answer shoots out of him like a bullet, almost as fast as he lifts his body to come to a stand. You don’t bother about an answer when he grabs the condom and something else, then offers you a hand, pulling you up butt naked before guiding you to the bathroom.

“Calm down,” you joke. One hand covers your nipples, even though you’re not sure why. What’s done is done already, and you can’t and don’t want to burn the image of you exposed from his mind.

“Too late.” Once in front of the bathroom, he stops, lifting a finger. It’s funny how casual your conversation is and how naked you are. “Wait here.”

Twenty seconds pass, and he returns with two candles in his hands, planting and lighting them up on the washing machine. This idea better not backfire.

The small room is cooler than his own, and the porcelain sink he pushes you against when you enter, placing the condom and the small bottle he brought at the edge of it, is even worse.

You shiver and hiss before his fingers grip your chin. He pulls your face to his own, bringing your hand to his crotch as his kiss catches your breath.

His warm, towering cock twitches in your palm, making you moan into his mouth. You attempt to unify your bodies, shifting closer, but he keeps pushing you backwards. Your back arches over the sink, and the kiss stops, his lips opening yours, suffocating against you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know?” He maffles, stepping back but not without pulling you along.

You can’t wait to step back into his room later to investigate where your discarded clothes lay.

For now, you smile, delighted when his lopsided smirk matches yours. He kisses the tip of your nose before he draws a deep breath. Brings the both of you into the shower and then lets hot water rain down on you.

The liquid burns hot on your shoulder first, and Jungkook exclaims something incomprehensible as he regulates the temperature pouring out of the faucet. The procedure remains calm and quiet, unusual for a bickering pair like you.

But once he gets soaked under the water, shaking his hair out of his eyes just to push it back with his hands… You can’t keep your mouth shut anymore.

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

He puts a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, stepping closer carefully. For a second, you think he looks at you like nothing else in the universe matters.

Your stomach bubbles… Your heart pounds.

“Hmm… Yeah?”

“I imagined you,” you tell him. “Us… Like that before, too.”

“Really? How?” He whispers back. Your vision is blurry – you don’t know if it’s the water’s or the moment’s craze’s fault.

All you know is that you want to remember his touch on your face, the shower warming your chest, trickling into your soul.

He keeps brushing back your drenched tresses lovingly and softly. You almost forget how to act purely horny, enabling tenderness and feelings until your nipples press against his torso and his cock moves against you again.

“I feel like you’d enjoy,” you near his ear, breathing, “sucking on my tits as much as I would.”

He grins.

“I’m more of an ass guy, though.”

On cue, he grabs a handful of your rear, pulling out a weird sound out of you that you regret immediately. He doesn’t bother as much as you. He’s busy staring at your lips and getting familiar with your ass.

“Right,” you say, distracted by the (intentional?) movements of his cock. You want to… You really want to… “Can I– can I suck you, ass guy?”

The embrace around you loosens up. According to his expression, he probably didn’t predict your question; but you think a man with a dick like his should expect that everyone wants to suck him dry.

But anyways–

Perhaps his surprise is a good thing, because the way his mouth drops open when you bring your hand to his shaft is priceless.

“Wow,” he expresses under his breath. “I’d be fucking stupid to say no, right?”

“Yes. I’m pretty good at this.”

You wrap your fingers and palm around his hardness, twisting your hand and alternating the pace. Your thumb runs over his slit, tempted to taste what already leaks out. One smile is all he gets before you choose to drop to your knees instead. Sacrificing their flawless state.

He shifts to the wall until his back hits its coolness, speechless when you look up at him, trying your hardest not to ogle at the delicious cock angry in front of you, and then stretch out your tongue.

You press it to the underside of his cock, making sure he feels you breathing, and then you shove his member into your mouth before it can slap back against his stomach.

Holy fuck, he really is hard.

“I believe you…” He says, his breaths rigid. “Barely doing anything, but it’s…”

So good.

First, you focus on the head. Swirling your tongue around it, you hum, hearing him hiss above you. You do your best, but you don’t know just how much you actually affect him.

Because from above, Jungkook’s point of view is something he doesn’t think he could even dream of. The sounds of you quietly gagging and slurping, constantly moaning and vibrating around him rile him up. The fact that you’re struggling to control your breathing, because you’re too immersed, apprehensive to stop.

And your lips, God, your lips, they wrap around him perfectly. He wonders what it’d look like if you were wearing lipstick, or how your non-waterproof mascara would run down your cheeks if he fucked your mouth.

You pull him out to catch a breath, using the pause to stroke him lightly. Leaning closer, you take a moment to rub the tip against your nipple – he seems to like it, because the bite of his lip is firm.

Then, you move your gentle touch to his balls and speak. “Is that alright?”

“I… alright?” He croaks, furrowing his eyebrows. “How about you suck me dry every fucking day, huh?”

“If I’m allowed to.”

You laugh a little, inhaling through your nose before you dive in again. This time, you let him in as much as you can take. Small fireworks explode on your tongue when his precum touches it, his cock twitching more between your lips as you suck harder.

“You are… Fuck, of course you are…” He permits, throwing back his head. Tattooed digits sneak into your hair, and when he pulls your head back, you disconnect from his cock with a plop sound. “But pause for now, k? Wanna fu–”

He can’t speak, so you guess you succeeded. But you get it… You’d rather he fucked you too instead of coming in your mouth.

A hand wrapped around your neck gently pulls you up to your feet. His jaw is clenched and sharp, and his eyes are piercing. He looks so fucking hot wet like that, drawing out his tongue to run it between his lips.

His mouth lures you in automatically, your gaze frozen on it and already imagining his taste. But he’s a step ahead–though in another twisted way–when he turns you around without a warning.

He pins your tits against the wall and tugs at your hips until you’re angled just right for him. Then, he leans in to voice one single order. “Stay like that.”

His wish is your command, anytime.

Panting, you let the water pour onto you, waiting. The small bottle he brought, undoubtedly lube, is placed in the shower caddy next to you, and before you can blink twice, you hear a package ripping open.

“Hurry,” you beg, recognizing the amused chuckle you definitely expected.

“Chill,” he says. “Gimme just a moment, princess.”

“Stop.”

Another sneer, more apparent complications, but in the meantime he distracts you with words that leave you unstable. “Fuck, I wish I could go in just like that.”

You want to say he can. But you don’t want to risk another rejection like before… Your heart and ego can only take this much.

For now, you push the thoughts aside, only focusing on the fact that you’ll be railed by Jeon fucking Jungkook. That he’s turned you around to finally weaken your knees, to batter your pussy, that you’ll actually be having sex with him in no time.

Or whenever he figures out a solution to his problem.

He turns away the showerhead and curses at the condom or whatever, and you laugh, still bent in an uncomfortable position.

“Harder than you thought, huh?” You joke.

As a response, he exhales, then grabs your waist as he delivers a verbal answer. “My dick or putting this shit on? Because yeah.”

Apparently, dealing with the condom wasn’t too impossible after all. Because once it’s done, his hands are on you again, one pulling you in further by your hip while the other spreads your pussy folds.

Then, his fingers disappear, grabbing the bottle of lube to fiddle with the liquid and placing it back in no time. You can hear the sounds that smearing it onto his dick causes.

And then you hear it even worse when he brings those exact digits back to your cunt. He contributes the rest of the lube by rolling his fingertips around your entrance and then pumping into you a couple of times. You moan out, and impatience grows faster.

“Okay,” he says, his voice still steady. “You tell me to stop if it ever hurts, alright?”

You nod, and he whispers, “Perfect.”

And then, it happens.

And it takes ages.

Not really due to hesitation or anything like that, but more because the cock intruding your walls just doesn’t stop. The shaft, rich in thickness and length, penetrates you deep, already overwhelming, and you’re sure he isn’t even halfway through.

“That enough?” He asks.

You shake your head. No. You don’t think anything will ever be enough, no matter how intense and mind numbing things become. More, you want all of him.

“More,” you repeat, speaking out loud.

“Seriously…?”

Yeah. You’re as much in disbelief as him. But your body – it knows what it’s pleading for, what signals it’s sending to your brain and then to your tongue.

“Please,” you beg. “I’ll tell you if I feel uncomfortable. I promise.”

A groan. A deeper push. He fills you to the brink, engulfed by you perfectly. The ideal lock to his key… Everything inside you tingles and aches.

When he’s bottomed out, he shifts and you feel the movement inside you. Mewling, you whisper his name, his ears perking up as his already drained voice calls back to you.

“Move?” He wants to know, his entire sentence abandoned.

“Move.”

So he does.

Long, slow, languid and careful strokes. He pants behind you. The shower water is still a bit too hot, but it doesn’t compare to whatever the fuck he’s kindling inside you.

Whenever he returns back deep, you lose your mind a bit more. And whenever he notices, his pace fastens by a tiny, tiny fraction. Until restraint becomes a foreign concept.

“Fuck, I wish I could…” His sentence breaks as much as you do when his hips meet yours. “Wish I could keep the imprints of your hands on the wall forever.” He thrusts into you hard once, hands pushing up your ass. “Wish I could see you pressed against it.”

He leans forward, his wet chest touching your soaked back. Kissing your cheek and neck, you slip into the craze only he can call forth. Fucked by him in the flickering candlelight, romantic for a fly on the wall, but sickeningly filthy in reality.

You’re a fool, because the thought of romance rests in the back of your mind right now – so you add to the already established sins when his hand brushes your neck.

“Jungkook…” You purr.

His movements slow down at the call of his name. You reach out an arm and turn the stream of water off – after all, you’re here to save the environment and yourself. That you’ve barely been focusing on showering is neither your fault.

Jungkook doesn’t question whatever you do. You don’t think he cares much about his surroundings anyway, everything around him is blurred but you. His lips still roam your shoulder when he shoves himself inside you balls deep and then pauses there.

You whisper his name again, drawing out another deep hum right next to his ear, and then spit it out.

“Choke me.”

You wonder. If you hadn’t turned off the water, would it have frozen to ice, too?

Because the wall and the room suddenly cool down and you swear he’s stopped breathing. You press your underarms and your forehead to the wall, eyes closing and asking yourself whether you made a mistake.

But… But maybe not.

In the next moment, Jungkook suddenly laughs a little, quiet but enticing enough to make your scalp tingle. He pushes the hair out of your face and your neck, slowly tracing your skin downward until he touches the spot over your vocal cords.

His fingers lift your head, breaking the contact to the wall. Gently rubbing your jaw with his thumb, he starts wrapping a huge hand around your neck… Silently at first before he finally answers.

“Shit, you’re so much dirtier than the good girl I know.”

No matter how simple the sentence, something in it awakens ambiguity in you. The realization that you’ve successfully surprised him. And at the same time, the urge to remain his good girl.

You want to be all of it for him; want to be the only object of affection for him.

“Can tell you the s-same.” You gasp when he squeezes the sides of your neck, just below your jawline. “This isn’t–” Biting your lip, you pause, distracted by his palm. “Not what puppy eyed boys should be doing.”

He lifts your body wordlessly, only laughing at your words in delight. Still sunken inside you, he straightens your posture just a bit, careful to not apply any kind of pressure to your windpipe. He knows what he’s doing – sex couldn’t be safer with anyone else.

At least that’s what you know, judging the choking experiences you’ve gathered with other men or women so far.

He leans into you, kissing your temple as he hammers into you again. The squeezes around your neck differ: His motions follow a varying pattern; your veins pulsate.

You imagine his clenched jaw or his furrowed eyebrows. The furious look on his face that doesn’t really suggest anger but blissful pleasure. You imagine his teeth trapping his lower lip, dimples on his cheeks, wet dark hair restricting his vision.

All that combined with all the godless things he says.

“I can’t believe we haven’t done this before… But…”

A sharp thrust pushes you forward, and one of your hands reaches behind you to grip his hip. Good God, he’s so fucking large. Human anatomy and logic aside, he must be battering your guts along with your pussy.

“But I knew I’d fuck you one day.”

Oh.

He has no remorse. He’s either too trapped in you to notice what he’s doing to you or he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Either way, your faltering soul can barely still handle him.

“You fucking devil,” you only respond.

And the devil has the audacity to leave your neck to slap your tits. How dare.

You yelp and your sound continues when he pinches your nipples, soft at first before his nips become harder. Defenseless in his grip, your knees almost buckle, especially when he talks to you again.

“My God, you’re letting me do fucking anything I want.”

“It’s… It’s the dick,” you tell him, already embarrassed. “Too good.”

“Ah? Thanks.” Letting his hands drop from your sensitive tits, he finds your clit again – you think you might cry. “Little reward for being so good for me?”

You want him to elaborate, but you soon learn what that reward consists of anyway.

He caresses your clit slowly and gently, accompanied by occasional light slaps. No rest for the wicked seems to be his motto today, not that you can complain.

Because a minute later, his fingers combined with the reckless, now fast paced plunges throw your world into chaos once more. You scream out his name, barely able to breathe. “Kook, I’m… I–”

“I know. Let go for me, Pumpkin. You’re all good, okay?”

His promises and soft reassurances make you fall harder into the fondness you already feel for him. If there was ever a point of return, he’s annihilated it once and for all now.

Who are you to doubt him? So you let another mind blowing orgasm wash over you. It rolls in hard, showing in your broken moans and curling fingers. He holds you up on your melting legs, an arm around your tummy.

“Hold on for me,” he snarls against your cheek, and you try. You really try your best, but your body’s giving up, trembling at the peak’s intensity that’s shaking up your insides. “Gonna cum, too…”

One more. You can afford one more indecent idea.

“Cum on my ass, Kook.”

“Fucking hell, baby.”

That’s all. That’s all he needs.

No hesitation in sight, he steps back and out of you, angling your body again by pulling your ass back as much as possible. The condom falls somewhere next to you – you see it from the corner of your eyes before you hear the way Jeon Jungkook climaxes.

Which is: With extra guttural groans, a quivering breath, fingers digging deep into the flesh of your butt and–what you realize when you look back at him–with super uncontrolled pumps of his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he moans when his seed shoots hot onto your bottom.

It takes a few seconds for him to empty himself completely, and he keeps swearing, keeps saying something you barely understand.

But what you do understand, even though you’re absentmindedly focusing on his fingers spreading the cum on your back, is, “Gonna punish you for being so fucking hot one day.”

“That a promise?” You ask, still breathless.

He laughs. “Brat.”

The whole affair ends almost the way it started: Carefully and slowly, bickering thrown in here and there. But aside from the obvious fact you’re showering together, still so, so naked, there are more differences you notice when he lets the water run again to clean you up properly.

Like, his look. A smile you haven’t seen before, you think.

Very soft touches along your cheeks, fingers combing through your hair like you’re something fragile.

Questions such as, “Are you okay? Was that okay? Do you feel good, Pumpkin?”

Also… The hecking forehead kiss when you smile and nod.

The mood has shifted, albeit to something pleasant, once everything’s said and done. He puffs out a breath, discarding the neglected condom. Before he wraps you in a towel, his thumb brushes over your tattoo once more – his eyes look fascinated and affectionate, but he doesn’t comment on it again.

He doesn’t guide you back to your room but to his, drying you up thoroughly and affectionately.

He lets you leave for just a moment, telling you that you need to come back once you’ve found stuff to sleep in. His behavior is odd, but instead of questioning it, you indulge in his tender care.

But in the end, he only lets you wear your fresh pair of underwear and your shorts, snatching your shirt to throw it onto his desk. He rummages through his closet silently and only speaks once he’s handed you one of his cotton shirts.

“Take this?”

His tone is different from how he sounded the rest of the night. Not demanding, but kind of questioning. His teeth nibble at his lip and then he says, “I think you’d look good in it… Just if you’re up to it.”

He doesn’t stutter or hesitate. Like he dreamed of this for ages.

“Okay,” you mutter.

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he waits until you’re done, incredibly ecstatic when you smoothen the fabric over your body. He praises you, “Knew it. Beautiful.”

Then, his mouth falls shut. The joy melts into something softer. His eyes drink you in from head to toe, and he lifts both arms to tangle his fingers with yours.

You oblige, letting him pull you closer softly. Tilting your head, you speak up. “What’s up?”

But he doesn’t elaborate. “Nothing,” he only tells you with a smile.

“Okay.”

“But–”

You knew it. There’s something he’s thinking of profusely and he doesn’t want to keep it hidden. Thank God.

“Yeah?” You spur him on.

“Um… Stay here tonight.”

…Oh. Oh–

After all the things that went down tonight, his offer still strikes you like lightning. There’s a dull thump behind your chest and a growing ache in your stomach. You don’t know what it is and don’t understand why your body reacts that way.

You should be swarmed with butterflies. But instead, a ball of something strange forms inside you.

Maybe because he asks like your room isn't right next to his. Or as though you’d be gone and out of reach for miles if you stepped over the threshold of his bedroom now.

But… You’d be insane to resist.

So you let him drape the blanket over the both of you, crawling next to him.

“Lemme–” He says. You don’t get the opportunity to lay against his heartbeat, because he does it first. An arm holds your body close, his cheek pressed against your chest. “Like that. Feels good.”

He tangles his legs with yours, sighing in extreme satisfaction. You’re sure he’s dozing off when you interrupt by joking, “We didn’t save that much water after all.”

His voice is just a mumble when he speaks. “You did turn it off, though…” You chuckle quietly, and he pulls you closer to him. “I’ll use the college shower for a few days, okay?”

The things he’s ready to do for you…

In hindsight, you don’t think it’s the physical attraction you’ve been feeling for weeks that led to tonight’s fiasco. It’s not hormones or his jawline. Thinking, your emotions might date back to a time you can barely remember.

Because those subtle sacrifices he makes, the caring statements, the love he carries for you that shows in tiny, tiny things. Platonic or not, a bond like yours was bound to make you fall as hard as you did.

You think you remember what occurred that set you on fire so much hotter recently. Just right now… It might not be the time to speak about it yet, so you stuff the secret memory back into your mind.

Zeroing in on the mention of college, you stretch sideways, telling him to hold on a moment.

“Hm?” He mumbles.

“Setting an alarm.” The phone screen lights up your face and you squint one eye shut. “We’re still college students, Jungkook.”

“Mmmh,” he groans in displeasure. “Do we need to go?”

“I mean, do you wanna graduate?”

“I don’t know. I could strip for money.”

You laugh, holding him closer to you than before. Fondness seeps into him, and you notice when he digs his ear harder into your chest.

“Saw you naked, so speaking out of experience,” you support, “I think people would like that.”

He hums again. You feel his lips graze the shirt he gave you. “Would you be my manager?”

“If I get free shows.”

Nodding, he assures, “Of course. You can count on me, mon capitaine.”

“Oohhh,” you praise, tapping his bare bicep. “You can’t just quote The Beauty and the Beast and expect me to stay solid.”

He breathes out a throaty laugh, sounding right from his chest. “Stay solid?”

“Yeah. Look.” You palm his soft cheek, ignoring the way he leans into your touch. Ignoring what it does to you. And he’s smiling, too. “Do you feel me melting?”

“You’re so damn funny, you know?” He tells you.

Your face warms at his compliment, and you think you could fall asleep in satisfaction after all. That is. If there wasn’t what he says next of course. Out of fucking nowhere.

“Hey…” He begins and hesitates. His voice is quiet and drowsy, ready to drift off. “All that happened won’t change anything, right? Between us? Because I’m… I’m sorry if it makes things weird.”

Your heart skips a beat… He might have heard it.

That’s what he wants? To not change shit?

To remain platonic, friendly, close but not close enough. It won’t change anything? Because you thought it would.

But what are you supposed to say? Here, with him in your arms. You can’t start an argument or disrupt the evening you gifted each other. The preciousness of it can’t fade…

“No,” is what you say for that reason. “Of course not.”

“Good. Good, that’s important.” You don’t think he’s aware of what he’s saying. He sounds so tired, worn out after all the things he did today. The way he bids tonight goodbye is proof of that. “Night, Pumpkin.”

“Good night, Kook.”

Why did things happen the way they did? How did you let your guard fall? When did he decide it’d be okay to take a step further in his bed, in the bathroom, in the shower, only to go back to ground zero?

All those questions could plague your mind as you begin slumbering away. But they don’t.

Not yet.

–

pt1 || pt2 || pt3

–

author’s note: I am! sorry for the ending🥴 if you made it to the end of my very first real fic, thank you sowww much! did you enjoy it? let me know what you think--send an ask or reblog if you’d like, i’m really excited to know what you have to say bc feedback and support means everything💕

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook oneshot #bts imagine #bts fic #jeongguk smut #jungkook

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hiro-doodlez · 4 months

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Happy Valentines!! Since it's that sad boy time of year for me (for reasons my aroaceness will explain) I have 2 books about being on the aroace spec that I think anyone looking for, uhh validation would enjoy!! Theyre a joy to read and very very comforting on bad days!! More about them under the cut :3

LOVELESS

Loveless is a novel that tells Georgia Warr's story of finding out she's the A in the LGBTQIA+ community. This book has so many quotes that make me just want to cry, like WHY are you this good.. please mx alice oseman STOP THIS ATTACK ON MY HEART “In the end, that was the problem with romance. It was so easy to romanticize romance because it was everywhere. It was in music and on TV and in filtered Instagram photos. It was in the air, crisp and alive with fresh possibility. It was in falling leaves, crumbling wooden doorways, scuffed cobblestones and fields of dandelions. It was in the touch of hands, scrawled letters, crumpled sheets and the golden hour. A soft yawn, early morning laughter, shoes lined up together by the door. Eyes across a dance floor. I could see it all, all the time, all around, but when I got closer, I found nothing was there.” my fav quote: “I'm at uni for three months and suddenly I'm not straight any more.” “I used to dream of a spellbinding, endless, forever romance. A beautiful story of meeting a person who could change your whole world. But now, I realised, friendship could be that too.”

IS LOVE THE ANSWER?

Is love the answer? Is a manga following a girl named Chika figuring out she's (aro)ace. The entire thing has AMAZING art and just some of the most.. i feel you buddy lines i've ever read. For example: "I see. I just haven't met "the one" yet... yeah. I'm sure that's all it is." "I'm asexual. That's what I am. There might be other possibilities. Maybe a year from now I might identify differently. But right now, that's what feels right to me."

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #aromanticism #asexuality #aro #ace #alice oseman #loveless alice oseman #is love the answer?

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sp1rit-realm · 1 month

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༻¨*:· 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 remus is used to the same day, and then you come into his life.

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 please give me some grace. i havent written a full on fic in... a hot second 𖦹 record shop owner!remus x fem!reader (she/her prns) 𖦹 sirius uses he/they prns 𖦹 also. reader moves to england so she doesnt have british accent. yeah. 𖦹 lily evans being the best 𖦹 FLUFF (everyone cheered!) 𖦹 [brief] ANGST (everyone cried!) 𖦹 not proofread

༻¨*:· words ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 2.7k

Routine—a very familiar word to Remus. His days were the same. Wake up, go to work, go home, shower, then sleep. He ate the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch. Dinner was the only thing he frequently changed—maybe one day, he would have pasta, and the next, he would have chicken. He hung out with friends on Saturday, and they went to the same pub every time. The topics were usually the same. Sirius met someone new, someone they claimed to be "The One," only for that person to leave their life. James usually talked about training, Lily, and updates on her pregnancy. Since school ended, things had become... predictable.

You walked into the rickety old record shop, intent on finding your favorite album. It broke on the move to the UK, and you needed it desperately.

Upon hearing the bell ring, Remus looked up. It was part of his routine—to see who had entered his shop—and there you stood, tote bag in hand with messy, windblown hair.

After searching through the Rock section for ages, you practically squeal when you see the album.

Remus looks up as you walk to the counter, "Hi."

"Hi," You smile. Your accent throws Remus off, and he smiles.

He looks at the record, then puts it down, "We have this in a white vinyl," He says, "I— I didn't mark it as colored, so you probably didn't see it. I can go grab it for you?"

You eagerly nod, "That would be fantastic!"

He stands, and you realize how tall he is—it's like he's towering over you.

A moment later, he returns with the other record, "They're hard to come by," He scrawls something on the record sheet, then rings up the album.

You thank him and pay, leaving him to wonder if you'll be back.

The next time you see him, he's with a pretty girl. She's got bleached blonde hair and a cute button nose. She's beautiful. Of course, you recognize the tall man—how could you not? He and the girl make their way to the counter; they both order.

"For Remus," A woman calls out.

Remus—that's his name.

Remus steals glances at you the entire time he's at the coffee shop.

"Who's that?" Marlene asks with a coy smirk.

"I don't know. Came into the shop a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, so you have a little crush." Marlene is full-on smirking now.

Remus goes red, "What? No." He shakes his head, "No," He repeats, trying to reassure himself that he doesn't have feelings for you.

"Sure," Marlene mutters, taking a sip of her drink.

Remus rolls his eyes.

About a month passes by until you see one another again. You walk into the shop. Remus looks up when the bell rings, and he smiles.

Sirius is there today, and they go up to you.

"What're you looking for?"

You answer, and he leads you to the section as if you don't know the alphabet. He doesn't mean it that way, you know that.

Still, you tease them about it, and their face goes stark red, "Sorry. I just— Sometimes record shops can be confusing in how they order things. Like, when it goes from 'C' to 'D,' does the 'D' section continue on the other side, or does it continue straight across? You know?"

"I'm kidding around," You smile, "I've been here before. Granted, it was just once, but I know how it works. Thank you, though."

"But of course," Sirius curtsies, "Anything for you..."

"Y/n," You introduce yourself.

"I'm Sirius. Like the star," He clarifies, "Like, that's my name. S-i-r-i-u-s," They spell out.

You giggle, "Nice to meet you, Sirius."

"Nice to meet you. I love your silly accent, by the way."

"You're the one with the silly accent," You shoot back.

"Not when my accent is outnumbering yours."

You tilt your head and hum, "Strangely, I understand what you mean."

"It'd be concerning if you didn't."

"Do you frequent this shop a lot?" You ask, flipping through albums.

"My friend is the owner." Sirius shrugs.

You perk up, "Remus?"

Sirius quirks their brow, "You know him?"

You get hot, "No."

He narrows his eyes, "So, how do you know his name is Remus?"

"Well," You whisper, "I came in a while ago. He was really nice when I checked out. Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw him at a coffee shop, and they said his name when his drink was ready."

"You're a creep," Sirius raises his eyebrows.

"No!" You argue.

"Such a creep." Sirius begins walking away; you rush to follow him, "I'm telling him." He says.

You begin to panic, "Wait! No!"

Sirius keeps walking to the front.

"Sirius," You whine, "Stop!"

"Remus!"

You silently will him to stop.

"Remus!" Sirius calls again.

"Lovely lady over here has something to tell you," He smirks.

If looks could kill, Sirius would be six feet under.

"I just– um–" You sputter out, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me with the record last time I was here."

You swear he blushes, but you don't want to look to find out.

"It was no problem," He smiles, "Maybe I could give you a call if any of their other records come in?"

Sirius smirks from the sidelines.

"Um..." It takes a moment to process, "Sure." You nod assertively, "Yeah. I would love that!"

Remus's world has turned upside down—you keep him on his toes. He stays up because, maybe, you'll call tonight. You eat lunch with him sometimes, and gone are the days when he eats the same thing every day. Gone are the days when he closes up shop at 7:00. Gone is routine.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" You ask, wrapping the cord around your finger.

"I'm actually going out," Remus responds. You frown, and your imagination runs wild. What if he's going on a date?

"Hello?" He asks, and you realize you've blocked him out.

"Huh? Sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted to come with me. You can meet my mates. If you want." He spits out. Saying it once is nerve-wracking enough; saying it twice is terrifying because what if you say no? What if you don't want to meet his friends? What if–

"I'd love to!" You cut his frantic thoughts off, and his heart swells.

"Really?" He asks.

"Of course!"

So, now, you're standing in front of a random pub, wondering if he's pranking you. It's been about five minutes, and you know that's not a long time to wait, but your anxiety is getting the better of you.

Then, five turns to fifteen, and you're wondering how pathetic you look.

"Y/n?"

Your head whips to the door, "Sirius? When'd you get here?"

Sirius checks their wrist like they're checking a watch, "'Bout half an hour ago. Did the dimwit not tell you to meet us inside?"

You shake your head, "He said to meet him at the bar. So, I guess he didn't quite specify." You shrug.

"Well, come on in," He holds the door open for you.

You thank Sirius and look around for Remus. He's not hard to spot, and Sirius jogs over to their booth before whispering something into Remus's ear. He looks up and smiles brightly.

"You're here!" He exclaims.

"You're here." You say, tone almost scolding him.

Sirius whispers something else to him.

His face drops, "Oh... sorry for not telling you to meet us inside." His mouth quirks to one side in a guilty expression.

You smile, "It's okay. I forgive you." You sit next to him.

"Oh, thank god," He rests his hand on his chest, "A pretty girl being mad at me would've been my death."

Heat blossoms in your chest.

"So..." James begins, "Now that flirt time is over, can I say hello?"

"Ha!" Sirius barks out, "Flirt time!"

Remus gets warm, "This is James, another one of my school friends. James, this is y/n."

All James says is: "You're his lock screen, y'know?"

Remus kicks him under the table.

"I mean–" James smiles, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I have never seen your face before."

"Smooth," Sirius whispers to James.

You smile at Remus's red face.

"Ignore him, please?" He begs.

You nod.

Sirius and James tell you embarrassing stories about Remus for the rest of the night, and the boy starts to regret introducing you to them as a pair.

At the end of the night, he drops you off.

Rubbing his face, he sighs, "I hope they weren't too much."

You smile brightly, and Remus feels like he could fall to his knees, "I had an amazing time. They're really fun, Remus."

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek—he puts his hand up to the spot and smiles the whole way home.

"I've missed you," You say into the phone.

"I've missed you, too. You should just let me come over." Remus begs for the umpteenth time.

"I don't want to get you sick," You frown, "That would be horrible."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world. We could quarantine together," He smirks, "I could make you soup, and we could cuddle together on the couch and watch some ridiculous rom-com."

"Take a girl out on a date first!" You joke.

"I would if you weren't so busy being poorly." Remus groans.

"So you're asking me out on a date?" You smile and do a little happy dance.

"I guess I am."

He's smug, and you can tell.

A week later, you sit in a fancy restaurant—the kind where the prices aren't even on the menu. Remus is fidgety. He's wearing his nicest button-down, and you think it looks funny on him. He gets red at your comment and looks down at the table with pursed lips.

"I just meant that I'm so used to you wearing those comfy sweaters. You look good, though." You earnestly smile at him.

"You look nice tonight, yourself."

"Well, I'm going on a date with this charming boy. I wanted to impress him."

"I hear he's very impressed."

You insist on paying, but he won't let you. As soon as you pull out your wallet, he snatches it from you.

He kisses you before leaving you at your car, and you don't want it to stop. It's soft and tender, and it's everything you hoped it would be.

One date turns to two, which turns to five, and now you're anxiously pacing in your flat. You're dating Remus; you have been for a few months, and you're not sure when it's an appropriate time to ask the question, but you'll ask tonight. Except Remus doesn't come. He doesn't call, either.

After an hour of worrying, you call Sirius.

"Hello?" He answers—it's obvious he's high.

"Hi. Do you know where Remus is?"

Sirius laughs, "Right here."

"Can I talk to him?"

You hear rustling as Sirius passes the phone.

"Hello?"

"Remus," You whine.

"Hey there. What's going on?" He's calm—too calm. He's also high.

"You were supposed to come over tonight." You frown—it's a fruitless effort. He can't see you.

"Shit. 'M sorry, baby," He frowns, too. You can hear it.

"'S okay. I was just really looking forward to seeing you." You dramatically slide down your wall into a crouching position.

"I'd come over, but, y'know," He wanders off.

"You're so high you can barely walk?" You offer.

He takes it, "Yes."

"It's alright," You sigh, and Remus feels terrible, "Promise you'll come over tomorrow?"

"Promise," He answers.

But then tomorrow comes, and Remus has yet to show up. So you dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. An hour passes until your phone rings, and you're anxious and giddy and hopeful as you pick it up.

"Sorry." Remus's voice is gruff, and you can hear the guilt in his tone.

"It's okay. You can still come over. It's not too late."

"No," He sighs, "I'm sorry, but I can't... I have to break up with you."

Your face drops with your stomach, "What?"

"I can't be with you. I'm— I'm sorry."

"No!" Tears blur your vision, "You can't just tell me we're over. Explain yourself!"

"I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard."

You choke out a sob, "What's too hard? Loving me?"

"No," He sighs, and he sounds tired, oh so tired, "I'm incapable of giving you what you need."

"And who gets to say what I need?"

"Y/n, for your sake, I'm ending this. I can't provide for you in the way you'll need me to."

"Remus," You sigh, "I don't understand. What do you mean you 'can't provide' for me?"

"I can't emotionally be there for you. I'm sorry."

And as you hear the dial tone, you let your sobs out.

You feel empty. Your only friends are Remus's; now you feel like you can't talk to them.

"You're daft," Sirius scolds, "Y/n was lovely, and you break up with her over the phone?!"

Remus hangs his head in shame, "Yeah, I did."

Then Remus looked up and was met with one of his worst fears. He'd been on Lily Evans's bad side more than once, but never like this. He'd only seen this stare a handful of times, but not once was it directed at him, until now.

She marches over to the booth, never breaking her stare, leans close to Remus, and slaps him, "You twat!"

He doesn't know what to say, so he holds his cheek and waits for her to continue.

"You hurt an exceptionally lovely girl for what?! Because you're insecure? Because it was too scary to feel loved so deeply? That girl gave you her all, Remus! And this is how you treat her?" Lily's face is red at the end of her rant, and Sirius tries to hold in their snickers.

Lily narrows her eyes at Remus, "I can read you like a book, Remus Lupin. I know what's going on in that magnificently stupid head of yours! Go apologize to her!"

"I can't," He murmurs, "I've already ruined it."

She rolls her eyes, "You won't know unless you try, and not knowing will eat at you, and you will die confused, sad, and alone."

"She has a point," Sirius agrees, "I mean... we all know you'll just mope around until we push you to talk to her, but by then, it'll be too late. She will have found somebody, and they'll get married, and you'll just be that bloke from when she moved here. Go talk to her."

"What do I say?"

It's almost midnight when a knocking at your door wakes you. Groaning, you get out of bed and make your way to the door.

You undo the bottom lock, keeping the chain in place.

"Yes?" You peek through the crack, surprised to see Remus holding flowers on the other side.

"I'm sorry."

He thinks he's surely blown it when you close the door, but he hears the chain clanking as you fully unlock it.

"What are you doing here?"

Remus wants to cry at the sight of you. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, with red tracing your waterline.

"I—" He has a whole script planned out but seems to have forgotten every word, "I have flowers," He settles on.

"For me?"

He nods.

"What are you doing here?" You ask again, taking the flowers.

"I'm here to apologize. I was a dick the other day."

You tilt your head, "You mean the other day when you broke up with me?"

Remus almost doesn't catch the sarcasm, "I'm sorry. I get so caught up in my head—"

You turn from him, "Come in," You mutter as you walk into your kitchen.

He closes the door behind him and toes his shoes off, "I get scared when I let somebody get too close."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

He watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing cups and boiling the water. He's missed you.

"Why let me get close at all, then?"

"Because I like you."

You turn and look at him, "Do you, now?"

Remus sighs, "Look, I fucked up, I know that. Do you think we can try again?"

You walk over to him, "You said you can't give me what I need. What does that mean, Remus?"

"I'm unfit to be with somebody."

"I don't think so. You were wonderful the past three months. So wonderful that I think, if you work on yourself, we can give this another go."

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, leaning in.

"I look terrible," You laugh.

"No," He rests his forehead against yours, "You're always beautiful."

"Kiss me."

hi guys sorry if this is bad😇😇

my lovely mutuals <33 @sepptember @violetteshoneybee @ay0nha @maroon-winestain @prongsio @imabee-oralizard @storyofaromance @queerpumpkinnn @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @zvdvdlvr @reysdriver @g1rld1ary @starsval @vampieteeth @maddipoof @bruisedboys @ell0ra-br3kk3r

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enhagvrl · 1 month

Text

en- when their words upset you

a/n: the part two of all members will come out next week since I posted three posts within one week :) also i honestly have no idea how to potray the two biggest rays of sunshine in an angst fic so please don't mind this :,(

rest : pocketz fifaz 02z

sunoo

“ as if anyone would believe you.”

Since your childhood, you were the rebel kid who would always lie to her parents and friends about so many things - partying outside, hanging out with certain people et cetera. This led you to not develop many deep bonds with people. Your life was absolutely dark, until this huge and cute ray of sunshine came in and changed the whole trajectory of your being - kim sunoo. He was the one who knew that you were more than just a liar and traitor people assumed you to be. The years of mistreatment you got from people and deep down those insecurities which had always eaten you from inside seemed to disappear the moment sunoo walked into your life. Which led you to go blank hearing these words from his mouth.

“ You know I would really like to see you try and win the trust of all the people around you. Since, you had acted like such a headache in your teenage years.” he said, going back to making silly tiktoks for his fan following.

You knew he meant it as a joke as it is very normal for the both of you to have regular banter exchanged. But maybe, this time you could not take it as a joke. You felt those ingrown doubts getting out from your gut and spreading through your body.

“Yeah…right…I was…a headache for sure back then.” you let out slowly, taking deep breaths. Not bothering to hear his reply, you quickly got up from the floor, saying in a rushed tone -

“Don't you think the weather today is so hot? I’ll get us some mint choco. Wait here.” saying this you disappeared into the kitchen downstairs, gulping down a big glass of cold water to calm yourself.

jungwon

“ What do you know about leading a group anyways?”

You had been chosen as the troop leader for a camping trip your class would be going to for a week. You did not have major doubts on your skills as a leader, being an elder sibling but the problem was your class - the most mischievous and notorious class in your whole batch. If they did not cause any problems today, they would surely cause double the problems tomorrow to make up for tomorrow. The whole school knew it, even the teachers, that this one class was absolutely hopeless when it came to controlling them. Which brings you to your boyfriend, Jungwon - the only person you can get some advice from regarding leading a big group.

“And you know, there's this guy named Wooyoung and I swear he’s not even human. Like, why would you go around biting people you don’t like?! I’m so scared about what to do with him when I cannot even get into his five metre radius……” and you went on about the different troublemakers and how you think you could handle them for a week, when those words of Jungwon made you pause.

“.....what do you mean not knowing how to lead a group?” you questioned, sitting up straight from your lying position on the bed, feeling irritation creeping up on you.

“No, I mean, I get it. You’re the elder sibling of your house so you kinda have some idea when it comes to handling babies but of course you’re gonna be inexperienced when it comes to leading a big group of grown ass adults.” he said, very casually, continuing to reply to his fans on weverse.

“maybe you should pass on the duty to someone else you know. Someone more capable of being a leader and someone who will be taken seriously by the people.”

There. The damage was done.

“So you think I'm some sort of pushover who people don’t take seriously? Huh. I'm starting to doubt if YOU take me seriously or not. All those efforts were for nothing.”

Saying this you grabbed your hoodie and cellphone, heading towards the door. Ignoring maeumi’s barking, you went out - jungwon’s words replaying in your head making you breathe a sigh and look up towards the trees swaying furiously in the wind, indicating it was going to rain soon.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen fics #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #kim sunoo #kpop fics #kpop angst #angst

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samandcolbyownme · 25 days

Text

Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet - I added more details to this one.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, tiny bit of blood play, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, filth

Word count: 5.3k | not edited

Y/n’s outfit did this fic - here

You stared down at the ticket in your hand, leg bouncing up and down as a raging pace as you wait, very impatiently for your plane to finally be ready.

You wanted to get out of there, your hometown was nothing but stress and tears. You thought that coming home for a little would help things - but in reality, it only made them worse.

Made you want to leave and never look back.

And that’s what you did.

You felt full relief inching closer and closer, but you knew you weren’t going to fully get that until you were on that plane, on your way to LA.

“Now boarding flight number 225 to Los Angeles…”

You glance down at your ticket and jump up, tossing your bag strap onto your shoulder as you wheel your slightly beat up suitcase behind you.

——

As you unbuckle your seat belt, you glance out of the window, smiling as you see the sun shining down on the new world outside.

You stood up, grabbed your bag and waited as patiently as you could to get off of the plane.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around for options on how to get yourself away from this airport. There was a small strip of places that looked alive and open.

You walked into a place called, The Night Owl - fitting, considering it’s almost midnight.

You look around, sighing at the dead energy inside the bar. You give the older bartender a small smile as you walk up to the bar, setting your bag down on the seat next to the one you take for yourself, “Can I get a glass of wine please.”

He raises his brows, “Any particular kind?”

You shake your head, “A good one.” You laugh weakly and he nods, giving you small smile, “Coming right up.”

You look around, nothing really catching your attention, which is boring, to say the least.

You let out a sigh as you turn back around, reaching out to take the glass immediately after the bartender sets it down, “Thank you.”

“Eight dollars whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, digging into your purse. You lay a ten down, “I don’t need change.”

“Thank you.” He nods and as soon as you go to take a sip, some guy slides in between your hair and the one your bag isn’t on, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

You instantly regretted coming in here.

“Just waiting on a friend.” You lie, trying to just get him off your back.

“Ah, okay. So one time thing, then yeah? Do you live around here?” He continues to pry and you let out a sigh, “Those are some pretty deep questions for someone I don’t even know the name of.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, “Oh shit. Sorry, I was just so caught up in your beautiful-“

“I’m not going home with you.”

He nods, “Straight to it, alright.” He takes a swig of his beer as he walks away and you can’t help but laugh when his friends boo him.

Probably the highlight of the night.

——

You finish your second glass of wine and Mel, the bartender, comes back over, “Can I get you one more before I start closing up?”

You tilt your head, “Just put a little blackberry bourbon in a glass for me.”

He nods, “You got it.”

As you wait for your drink to arrive, you pull your phone out, hoping there’s a slight chance it would turn on.

But no luck.

You sigh, tossing it into your purse as Mel sets the clear glass down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You gave Mel a smile before digging in your purse.

He nods and you lay a twenty down, “Keep the change, Mell.” He smile, “Thank you, y/n.” You nod and look down at your drink, mind racing about why you decided to move to L.A.

Why did I come here? Because you couldn’t be around your family any longer.

Do I have a reason to be here? Because you need to grow.

Can I really fit in and-

“This seat taken?” A deep voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, slowly turning your head.

A, very tall, guy with a beanie covering his black choppy looking hair, stands there with a small smile on his lips.

He was fairly cute, you couldn’t lie, so you shake your head, “Not at all.” You smile and sit up, turning towards him slightly as he sits down.

“I’m Jake.” He holds his hand out and you look down, shocked when you see his busted up and bruised hand, “Um.” You tilt your head as you take his hand, “Y/n.”

You couldn’t lie, your heart started pounding a little harder when your eyes were met with his bruised knuckles.

It wasn’t something you were really expecting to see right off the bat, but you still felt - safe.

You look up at him and a smile spreads across his have as you speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you okay? Do you need like medical attention or something?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “Nah, nah. I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your cheeks growing redder.

“Thank you for asking.” He smiles and you nod, “I mean, if you say so.” You laugh slightly, eyes moving back down to fixate on your freshly manicured hand in his.

The deep colored bruising and the dark red scabs not only intrigued you in a, what do you do on a daily basis kind of way, but also in a wow nothing has ever turned you on like this before way, too.

“You can ask.” Jake’s voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “what?”

He chuckles, sipping on his drink, “I said. You can ask.”

“Uh, ask what?” You play dumb and Jake squeezes your fingers that are still lingering on his palm. He leans in and his eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “Ask me what I do to make my hands look like this.”

You felt your stomach flip and you tilt your head slightly as your eyes move between his.

A slight smirk plays with your lips, “Tell me, Jake.” You circle his palm with your fingers slowly, “What do you do to get your hands all beat up like this?”

Jake looks up at the clock, “Actually, come with me.”

Usually, a guy telling a girl he just met to, come with me, would usually raise red flags, but you’ve basically held Jake’s hand the whole time have been sitting here chatting.

Jake, as already said, and still as weird as it sounds, makes you feel safe, so you had no problem following him to his car.

“Here. You can put your bags in there for now.” You nod as you watch him open the back door. You nod and toss your duffle in before Jake lifts your suitcase and lays it on the seat, “Alright.” He closes the door and holds his hand out, “Follow me.”

You take his hand, waking with him around the building of the bar you were just in, “Where are we going?” You ask as you walk under Jake’s arm.

He turns, arm still on the door, a smirk on his lips as you look back at him, “You scared, darlin’?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you shake your head, “No. I trust you.”

He nods, taking your hand into his again, “Atta girl.”

You smile to yourself as you look around once you reach the bottom of the long staircase, “What is this place? Looks like an old subway station.” Your eyes fall to him as he stops and you can hear faint shouting and chanting coming from, somewhere.

Jake reaches for the handle of the old door, “You’re good.” Your eyes watch as his busted up and ring cladded fingers wrap around the handle, “And this..” he opens the door, “..Is how my hands get all fucked up.”

You raise your brows and he nods towards the open door, “Just stay with me. You’ll be good.”

You walk in and the shouting grows louder the further into the green lit room you go. Jake walks you up to a balcony and your eyes scan down over the scene below you, taking in what you’re actually witnessing.

You take a sharp breath as the one guy below in a ring formed by the, what you can only assume is, members, takes a bad punch to the jaw.

“Knocked out.” Jake says in a low voice as he leans in towards you. You smile slightly, “So what..” you bite your lip and look up at him, “You fight for a living?”

Jake turns around, crossing his arms as he puts an unlit cigarette in between his lips, “You can say that.”

“I know he’s here!” A guy, who is very angry, yells which catches both of your attentions. You lean over and Jake stops you from going any further by putting his hand flat on your chest.

You look from Jake, back down to the pit below you, and see a guy spinning around slowly, looking at each crowd member in the face, “Webber. Where the fuck you at, brother?”

You look over at Jake who shakes his head laughing, “I knew he’d show up sooner or later.” Jake flicks the ash off of his cigarette.

“Is he looking for you?” You ask as your brows shoot upward. Jake nods, “Uh huh.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh and holds the burning cigarette between his lips as he starts to take his rings off.

He extends his hand out to you, “Can you be a doll and hold these for me, please?”

You nod, looking down to your hand as you bring it up and open it, allowing him to drop his collection of rings into your palm.

He flashes you a smile, “Thanks, now stay close to me on the way down and at the front of the ring when I’m in it, got it?.”

You give him a few nods as you stuff his rings into your pocket before quickly taking his hand, following him down a rickety looking spiral staircase.

Everyone looks towards you and Jake. Their eyes moving between the two of you, and right now. In this moment, you have never felt so out of place somewhere - and your cream colored cardigan was surely bound to make you stick out like a sore thumb.

Jake pulls you through the crowd, his grip tight on your body. You did feel super safe with him, especially now with knowing he can actually fight. You stop as you get to the opening and Jake shrugs off his jacket, “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

Your eyes scan up and down his back. His tattoos, scars, fresh and old bruises moving with his muscles.

You take his jacket as he extends his arm back, almost like muscle memory. The guy cracks his knuckles and then lifts his hand to his chin, “Wanted to take a crack at knocking you down from your rankin’ a lil bit.”

You were interested to know what Jake’s rank was.

He cracks his neck and Jake puts his hand to his ear, “And what rank would that be?”

The guy across from him laughs, “I’m here to remove your title as undefeated champion, Mr. Jake Webber.”

Undefeated champion.. You feel your heart beat harder when you hear the words roar off his tongue. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

You were the safest person in this room.

Jake slips his shirt off over his head, you also take that and drape it over his jacket. Jake quickly stretches his arms a few times and shrugs, “Let’s see you try.”

He motions with his hand, “Bring it, big boy.”

Even though you were smiling behind your fingers, you were nervously chewing on your nails, too. You just met this guy and if he gets hurt, it’s like you’d be able to feel the pain, too.

The guy wasn’t any bigger than Jake, though. Well, ego wise, definitely.

Jake looked back at you, giving you a wink before looking back at the guy walking over to him, fists balled and ready to swing.

You hold your breath as you wait for the first punch to be thrown.

Jake moves, getting them to walk in a circle, getting the crowd amped up right before the guy swings on Jake, groaning in frustration when Jake dodges it.

The longer you stood there, watching it all play out, the more you felt like you belonged there, and walking in with Jake really seemed to help that - hell, especially now with knowing he’s an undefeated champ and all.

Jake swings, popping the guy in his jaw and he laughs, “I think you have the theater and the ring mixed up, there pal.” Jake shoots, cocking his head, “I’m here to fight, not dance.”

The guy lets out a loud yell as he runs towards Jake, and you gasp as Jake’s back meets the dark, blood stained concrete below him.

The guy pulls his arm back just to swing but Jake quickly manages to escape and get two punches to his face before scurrying to stand up.

You were impressed, absolutely mesmerized with seeing Jake like this. The sweat glistening off his body in the glowing green lights.

The way he can take more than a punch and not bat an eye, fuck. You practically had to wipe the drool off of your chin before anyone noticed.

“Come on, Jake.” You mumble to yourself, bouncing up and down in your spot. Jake’s head snaps to the left as he eats another punch, his cheek busted open slightly, but not as bad as the other guys. Yet.

Your lip is pulled tightly between your teeth, biting down harder each time Jake gets hit. Your eyes watch as he stumbles back, falling at your feet.

Before you can bend down to try and help him, he’s already halfway up your body.

You knew what was coming, as he drug his face up extremely really close to yours.

Your heart is beating at a high rate speed. His lips press to yours, giving you a sloppy, but still the hottest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, before he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face.

The crowd goes absolutely mad, but you ignore that as you hold your stare on Jake. Focusing on him to get yet, another win.

You were also too into watching him completely obliterate this prick, to realize that Jake’s blood was smeared on to your face now, too.

“Alright. Alright.” A guy goes out, pulling Jake off of the weakened figure lying on the ground. Jake stands up, turning out and holding his arm up.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

And so do you.

The arm that isn’t holding his jacket gets thrown into the air as you jump up and down smiling at the people around you.

You were so proud of him, and he noticed that right away.

Jake looks around for a second before locking his eyes onto you again. He smirks and nods his head, cocking his jaw as he snatches the money from the guy’s hand and immediately walks over to you.

“That was so ho-“

He cuts you off as he pulls you into him, his arms going around your waist to lift you up off the ground as his lips meet yours.

You don’t even cringe at the new blood mixing with the dried blood on your face,

“C’mon.” Jake sets you down on your feet, arm still around your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

He leads you up the steps and back out into the hall, immediately pressing your back against the old brick wall. His hands cup your cheeks, thumb smearing his blood over your skin, “You look so pretty with my blood on your face.”

You smile and lick your lips, “Sorry for being so blunt but you are incredibly, fucking hot.”

He pulls you in and kisses over your cheek to your lips, “I hope you don’t have any plans tonight, because you’re coming home with me.”

You rest your head back against the wall and bite your lip, “As a matter of fact, my schedule is free.”

He smiles down at you, “Good.” He steps back pulling the dented pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering you one before taking one for himself.

“Sure.” You smile, “I can get you a n-“

“No need.” He lifts the lighter and you inhale as the end starts to burn. You close your eyes, feeling the buzz from the nicotine do its thing.

“Come on.” He extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it before he behind leading you towards the exit door. He holds it open, his head moving as he watches you walk by him and he’s immediately back to holding you against him as he walks you back around the bar to his car.

“You sure you want to come home with me?” Jake asks as he opens his car door. You look up at him, “I promise, me falling for a serial killer wouldn’t be the absolute worst thing to happen to me.”

“That’s.. actually..” Jake laughs slightly, “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “That’s a story for another time.” You go to get in the car but stop, looking back up at him, “If I even make it that long.”

Jake laughs, rolling his eyes as he sighs, “Only time will tell.” He laughs again as he shuts the door and jogs around to get in.

“So can I ask about.. that..” you motion to where you walked from and Jake nods, “Of course. What do you want to know, sweetheart?”

Jake starts driving and you purse your lips, “How do you know when you’re done fighting, like does it have to end in a knockout, or whatever?”

Jake reaches over and your hand instantly moves to interlock your fingers with his, “So basically..” he chuckles slightly, “It’s not over until I win, but yeah. Most of the time it’s by knockout, or if your opponent taps out.”

“Have you had that happen?” You look over at him and he nods, “Oh yeah.” He laughs, “Plenty of times. Guys think they’re all big and bad until they realize they can bark but they can’t bite for shit.”

“Aren’t you scared?” You ask, quieter than the last and he looks over at you for a few seconds before looking back onto the headlight lit road, “Of what?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Can’t you die doing that?”

“You can die doing anything, y/n.” Jake chuckles, waiting a few seconds before he continues, “I mean, I was at first.. I guess?”

He shrugs, “My first fight.” He clicks his tongue, “I remember this clear as fucking day. My friend told me about this underground fight club that his friend took him to, and you need to know people to get in to this, right?”

You nod, smiling at the excitement in his tone, “Next thing I know, Colby is pushing me into this ring and I come out two hundred dollars richer. So I started working out, boxing mainly just so I can stay in shape with this.”

“I mean.” You shrug, biting down on your lip, “The way you held onto that..” You furrow your brows, “Oh what is it?”

He looks over at you confused and you smirk as you squeeze his hand with each word, “Undefeated champion?”

He smirks and shakes his head, smiling big as he pulls into the parking stall, “Oh..Did I forget to mention that?” He looks over at you and you nod, “I mean, I guess I can let it slide.”

“Yeah?” Jake asks tilting his head.

You smirk over at him, unbuckling your seatbelt before you lean in, “Yeah.”

Jake’s seatbelt is undone and he’s closing the space between you with his hands on your cheeks and lips on yours.

You moan lowly against his lips and push yourself up off the seat to lean more into him.

Jake slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, “Mm, alright. Come on. I need to wash this off.” He nods down towards his hands as he leans back.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your cheek, too.”

Jake stares at you for a few seconds and your brow twitches, “Is that.. did I cross a line?”

He shakes his head, hand reaching over to gently cup your face, “No, not at all.” His thumb gently brushes over the dried red marks, “Just never had anyone who cared about me like that.”

You lay your hand on his wrist, patting gently, “Well, you’re giving me a place to stay tonight, so I feel like if I can help out in anyway-“

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You laugh, looking up at him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I basically left home without a trace, looking for somewhere no one knew what my name was.”

“So why did you tell me what it was, y/n?” Jake tries to fight back a smirk and you shrug, “I think I just knew I’d be safe with you.”

You were like a shot of espresso to Jake.

As soon as he seen you, he couldn’t shake this constant feeling that he needed to know you, and to say that he was shocked when you obliged to go with him on a random side quest in the middle of the night was an understatement.

“Y’know..” Jake says, hand still laying on your cheek, “That was my best fight, and I’ve been doing this for..” he blows out a breath of air, “Four years now?”

“Because of the guy calling you out?” You tilt your head into his hand more and Jake’s eyes immediately move to your face, voice low as he subtly shakes his head, “Because you were there.”

“Me?” You ask as if he was talking to someone else, which gets him to laugh, “Yes, sweetheart. You.”

You shift around in your seat, the more you sat here and just talked with Jake, you’re finding out all you need to know - and you weren’t leaving without him.

“Can we.. go inside.” You move your eyes to meet his and he nods, “Fuck yeah we can go inside. Hold on.”

He gets out, running around to open up the back door of his car to retrieve your luggage before moving to open up your door, “Okay, here we are.”

You smile up at him, shaking your head as you take his hand to get out of the car, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Silver key, top lock. I got these.” He motions to your bags and you just cannot stop smiling with him, “Okay.”

You take the keys from Jake’s hands, your fingers brushing against his and you feel that same adrenaline you felt back at the fight, starting to course through your veins.

You swallow, turning on your heel to walk up towards his door. Jake’s eyes were burning into your back, he knew there was something about you, just like there was something about him.

You push the door open, moving out of the way for Jake to go in but he stops, “Ladies first.”

You feel shy and giddy around him.

You’ve never felt this was with anyone. You always close everyone out, scared to let them in, but maybe you needed this change.

Maybe this change came with added bonuses, but you weren’t complaining, not anymore.

You walk in, turning around after finding the lights, to see what you can help Jake with, “Don’t your hands hurt, Jake?” Your eyes move from his face to his hands, “They look like they do.”

He shakes his head as he walks over to you, finger tilting your chin up so he can kiss you, “Mm fine, love. Okay.” His lips go back to pecking yours and you slide your hands up his chest, “Is this a one night stand?”

“This is whatever you want it to be, baby.” Jake kisses down your neck, “I just have this feeling like you’re supposed to be in my life.”

You lean back slightly, nodding as you look at him, “That’s how I feel.”

His hands slide down your sides before he gasps, “Oh shit.” He pulls your cardigan towards him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I-“

“It’s okay. Do you have a washer?” You look up at him, not really worried about the blood. He nods and you smile, “Then I’ll just wash it later.”

You eye the mark on his cheek, but he kisses you to distract right before you can say anything about it.

He backs you up into the wall, his hands slipping under your t-shirt to grip the skin of your waist, “We don’t ha-“

“I want to.” You cut him off, quickly regaining his lips back onto yours. He bends down slightly, tapping the back of your thighs and you jump into his grasp.

He puts one hand on the wall while the other moves to your neck, gripping gently as his hips hold you up.

Your lips part as he slowly squeezes tighter, a moan slipping out as your eyes roll back.

Jake’s lips pepper your face in kisses before he releases his grip, “Bed then shower?”

“Yes.” You whimper out, “please.”

Jake smirks, setting you down on your feet so he can lead you up to his room. It would be a lie to say you made it there without your hands roaming each others bodies.

You were eager to see him shirtless again, the sight alone had you swimming in a pool of your own lust.

As soon as you’re in the room and the doors shut, clothes start flying off. Each of you taking turns to undress the other, getting to impatient so you revert to ripping your own clothes off.

Jake tackles you onto the bed, his lips trailing hungry kisses up and down your neck and over your collar bones, “you are so beautiful.”

You run your hands through his hair, just now realizing he managed to keep his beanie on the whole time he was fighting, “Wait.”

Jake looks up, a nervous look on his face and you smile as you shake your head, “No I still want to do that.” A look of relief washes over him as you laugh slightly, “I just realized that you kept your beanie on your whole fight.”

Jake laughs, “That’s because he hits like a bitch.” His eyes scan over your face, “I’m so glad you were there.”

You smile, “I’m glad I got the last flight to LA.”

He leans in, kissing your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rub the outside of your pussy, “Jake.” You slide your hand down, earning a gasp from him as you wrap your hand around his cock to guide it inside of you.

“Oh shit.” Jake groans, bucking his lips slightly which makes you dig your nails into his shoulders, “Fuck.”

You let out a whine as you dig your heels into his lower back, urging him to go all in, “P-please.”

You look up at him, his lips parted as he moves to brush hair from your face, “I need to just.. fuck you feel so good.” He moans against your lips, slowly pushing his cock into you more, “I’m going to ruin you in the best ways possible.”

You whimper at his words, “I trust you.”

You could tell by Jake’s delayed reaction that, I trust you, wasn’t something he heard often anymore. Which is true, he took everything anyone said anymore with a grain of salt.

Mainly the girls he actually tried to give the time of day to, but with you, it’s like he was told directly by the being that created you - you were his and he was yours.

“You don’t have to-“

Jake cuts you off, “I trust you, too.”

You smile, biting down on your lip when he shifts his hips slightly, “Shit.”

Jake’s hand returns to your throat, squeezing slowly as his hips start to move, “You feel so good.” His lips are right by your ear, his voice low, “Gonna make you mine.”

Your back arches up off the bed as he thrusts his cock into you, hard. A moan is ripped from your throat as your legs tighten around his waist.

His thrusts are hard, almost punishing.

But if Jake thinks you’re the least bit uncomfortable, he stops to make sure you’re okay, and you honestly loved that.

“You okay? You’re kinda starin’ up at me in a daze, babe.” Jake laughs slightly and you nod, “it’s your cheek, I think you opened up your cut again.”

Jake brings a hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the freshly leaked blood, “Mm.” He winces slightly, “These are always the worst ones for me.”

“Do you want-“

“No.” Jake turns his attention back onto you, “You’re all I want to focus on right now, okay?” He bites his lip as his eyes move to his red colored thumb, “Can I?”

You glance over and nod, looking up at him as he starts to slowly thrusts again. Your brows furrow and your face twists with pleasure as he brings his thumb over, dragging a red streak down your cheek.

He groans at the image, hand snapping down to your hip as his thrusts grow harder.

Your hands find themselves entangled within his hair, moaning out as he attacks your neck, leaving little purple marks scattered all over your skin.

You earn a groan from him when you pull, squeezing his cock tighter with the walls of your needy cunt.

“You keep doin’ that an I’m about to be done for.” Jake groans, “Fuck, baby. Doing so good.”

You whimper at his praise, arching your back and he takes the time to slip his arm under, holding you to him as your legs fall to rest over his thighs.

He uses his other arm to hold up his weight as he thrusts into you at a, now faster, pace.

He had you screaming at this point, the tip of his cock continuing to bottom out against your best up cervix, you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Need you to cum for me.” He breathes out, “Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head quickly, eyes screwing shut as you listen to his praise continue, “Such a good girl for me.”

“Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, just like that.”

Your vision goes white and your grip on Jake tightens as you moan loudly into his ear.

“That’s my girl.” Jake moans, his thrusts growing more sloppy by the second, “Where do you want me?”

Your legs tighten around his waist, answering his question - just in the nick of time, too. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum being held in by his slowly softening cock.

“Fuck.” You breathe out as you look up at him, pushing his sticky from sweat hair off of his forehead.

He nods, smiling as he lays beside you, “Agreed.”

His hand searches for yours, and when he finds it, your fingers are instantly interlocked with his, taking a few moments just to lay there in the comfortable silence.

“Do you want to go for a shower?” Jake asks, tilting his head up to look at you. You look over at him and nod, “Only if you get one with me.”

“That was the only way I was offering it.” Jake smirks, moving to stand up, “Come on, my little fighter. Gotta wash this blood off your face.”

——

I hope you liked this! Tell me your thoughts! I love you all so much, thank you for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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southangel · 3 months

Note

hey againnn! hope ur doing well ^^ wendy, stan, and kenny (seperate) x fem touch starved reader? could be nsfw or sfw whatever u want

- ⚡

Stan, Kenny, and Wendy Being Touch Starved

Warnings: slight mentions of NSFW themes

Notes: Hi anon!! Hope this doesn’t get out too late, i’m trying to use my free time on working on all of my requests. Okay yeah this got out late, oops.

Stan Marsh

Honestly, Stan himself would be touch starved himself, if not more.

He really just needs some love, so a simple touch on the hand or a hug would brighten him up so much.

Since you’re touch starved as well, you both just spend time together all the time, rarely apart.

You and Stan always hold hands, whether it be at school, outside, at home, anywhere.

Whenever Stan is cuddling with you, he gets really awkward often, so he most likely has to be doing something separate at the same time.

You might just show up randomly at his house, unannounced. Please keep doing it more often, it makes day a lot better..

Stan is a really good listener, he’ll let you rant to him about anything and everything as you cling onto his arm.

Will get very awkward if you just grab one of his hands and put it anywhere on you; just because you can tell he can’t do it himself.

Stan can be very clueless, so don’t expect him to know what to do once you start crying for him to come back to bed.

He’s learned to tell you every time he has to go for a bathroom break, even when you’re sleeping because you can tell.

Stan had gifted you a matching hat as his with different colors a while back; he can’t remember the last time he saw you without it.

He’s too scared to ask about it though, he doesn’t want you to take it as an insult.

He changed your contact name to parasite without thinking you would see it, you left him alone for a whole week straight.

Stan apologized for it so many times, it was kind of intense.

He got really used to you always being with him, so it just feels unnatural to have you gone from him.

“I swear i’ll be back quick. I just need some water..”

Kenny Mccormick

Kenny was never too touch starved, maybe a bit, but he loves it when you are since it’s just an excuse for him to show you more love.

From the amount of affection he gives you, it’s surprising that you still act like this.

You could message Kenny at a random our at night, expect him to be outside your window.

Both of you aren’t really that social, so you might just sit together at a lone table, not minding about anything else.

Kenny might rest a hand on your thigh, just to hold you over, might go higher if you’re wearing a skirt.

Similar to Stan, he can get really touchy as well. Any kind of touch is fine, but he likes to just focus on you the entire time.

Sends photos of himself to you when he’s away just to tease you, he finds it funny how annoyed you can get.

Feels a little bad afterwards, so Kenny shows up as quick as he can right after.

He takes a bunch of photos of you when you’re like this, just for fun.

Kenny probably will kiss you everywhere but your lips, telling you that you already got “enough” affection from him.

If you both ever have work that’s due, you’ll just ask for a hangout to work on that together.

It’s really just an excuse to be next to Kenny, he doesn’t mind it at all.

Kenny loves giving you head rubs, and he knows you like it as well.

Sometimes he ruffles your hair at the same time and it gets all messed up. He fixes it before you can say anything, and actually makes it look better.

You probably copy that exact hairstyle from then on, or make Kenny redo it for you.

Always open for late night hangouts, don’t be shy to invite him over.

“Do you think I look cute in this photo? I probably do.”

Wendy Testaburger

Wendy is a pretty busy girl, but she understands how it feels to be touch starved.

She tries not to stay away from you too much, just so that you can get the attention you deserve.

Wendy doesn’t want to give you too much though, the last time she did that her whole schedule was fucked up.

A simple kiss on the cheek is what she does most of the time until she comes back, she can tell how needy you can be.

Wendy ends up inviting you over on the days where you really need her, watching a movie together or even just cuddling if that’s what you need.

You’re one of her top priorities though, so she’s always making sure that you’re comfortable.

Wendy is the type of girl to lend you her beret, or just any piece of clothing to let you have a part of her.

You both exchange clothes all the time and it’s so fun.

You’re almost always sitting next to her, doesn’t matter where. She might get a little annoyed at first, but she knows it isn’t your fault.

Spam calling and messaging Wendy late at night would get her so pissed.

You know she doesn’t like getting woken up, but you should be grateful that she loves you because she lets you off the hook easier.

Wendy would definitely know how to deal with your emotions, especially on those days when you’re extra moody.

A good listener, but a good conversation starter. You love just listening to her talk, even if you’re only focused on her voice and not what she’s actually saying.

The whole time she was just trying to comfort you.

“Anything specific you wanna do? Or maybe we can just cuddle..”

#south park x reader #south park #south park x y/n #stan marsh x reader #south park smut #kenny mcormick x reader #stan x reader #wendy testaburger x reader #wendy #wendy testaburger #kenny x reader #kenny mccormick

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Note

I got love in my tummy and a tiny little pain

Vampire Joel 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

uh, hehe, well, this is 500 words... x2 :))))

got a little carried away, my love

Little Pinch

vamp!joel miller x f!reader

warnings | 18+ DUBCON/NONCON-ish, horror themes, smut-adjacent, dark!joel, if this ain't your thing keep it moving

...................................

“Thank you again for giving me a ride, really, I could’ve just called an Uber.”

“It’s no problem, honey. Sweet thing like you shouldn’t be running around on her own at this time of night anyways. Never know what kinda trouble might be out there.” The slow drawl of his words eases any tension she feels sitting in the complete stranger’s car. Well, not a complete stranger. She knows his name is Joel, and she knows that he saved her from a very insistent frat guy at the bar she was at, offering her a ride after her friends had ditched her. And she knows that he’s distractingly handsome, strong jaw under salt-and-pepper scruff, dark eyes and wavy hair, and a voice that runs straight down her spine, each word syrupy with his southern twang.

“How old are you?” The question leaves her lips before she can really think about it, immediately mortified that she did, though Joel just chuckles, glancing at her before focusing back on the road.

“Old enough to know how to treat a lady right. That boy didn’t hurt you, did he, honey?” A nervous laugh bubbles up from her throat at his words.

“Oh! N-no, he was just getting a little handsy, that’s all. I’m fine, really. Um, Joel? I don’t think we’re going the right way to my apartment.” If he heard what she said, he gives her no sign of it, keeping his eyes on the road, the glare of headlights casting shadows across his face.

They drive in silence for a bit longer, nerves running cool skitters across her skin, both urging her to bolt and keeping her stuck still and mute in the passenger seat. But she nearly yelps when he suddenly swings a hard turn into what looks like an empty parking lot, what had been a roller rink sitting dark and crumbling in the distance. He puts the car into park with a sigh before resting both his hands back on the steering wheel, knuckles flexing and tensing, still not looking at her.

“J-Joel? Is something wrong?” When he does finally look at her, his head lolling over on his shoulder, something has changed in his face. Where his eyes had been crinkled with a smile, they’re now dark, almost vacant, his cheeks slack and his mouth in a slight frown, lips parted. And though he still doesn’t say anything, she’s seen enough true crime TV to know that she needs to get the hell out of here now.

“Where you going, honey?” She claws at the lock on the passenger door, but it won’t budge, panic rising cold and clear in her throat.

“I– Joel, please open the door.” “Can’t do that, honey.”

“Please, I want to leave– I-I don’t want you to drive me anymore, please open the door.” She can feel tears starting to slip down her face and his emotionless stare only makes her cry harder, trying to get as far away from him as he leans over the console, crowding her against the door.

“Now why would you wanna do a thing like that? Don’t you know there’s dangerous people out there? So much safer in here with me, honey.” Yeah fucking right. She’s realizing that the worst thing she can do is piss him off, already noting the tick in his jaw and clench of his fist, and she thinks that maybe if she can keep him calm, get his guard down, she can find a moment to snatch his keys and escape. She takes a shuddering inhale, trying to stifle her tears, a thin, fake smile stretching across her lips.

“O-ok, you’re right. T-thank you for keeping me safe.” She can see the clench of his jaw ease slightly and much to her relief, he sits back in his own seat, keeping his eyes on her.

“Why don’t you come over here and thank me, honey?” Her stomach sinks at that, though she tries to tamp it down, knowing that this could be her opportunity to make a grab for the car keys. She nods, trembling fingers undoing her seatbelt. It feels like she’s watching herself from somewhere just over her shoulder as she crawls over the console, trying not to flinch when Joel’s hands wrap around her waist, guiding her to straddle his lap.

She gasps when he presses her down over the crotch of his jeans, the obvious hardness there making her shudder as he chuckles at her reaction.

“How about a little kiss, honey?” She obliges him before she can think too hard about it, a quick peck before she pulls away. But judging by the laugh he lets out, it isn’t going to be enough for him.

“Oh, c’mon now. You can do better than that. That ain’t how you kiss them college boys, is it?” The idea is already forming in her head, and she tries for a shy giggle, though it comes out a bit breathless. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in, licking into his mouth, kissing him for all he’s worth as she lets one arm pull away to reach behind them, fumbling blindly for his car keys.

When she does grab them, she sighs, though Joel takes that as a good sign, only deepening the kiss more. She just needs to wait for a moment that he pulls away, and she knows she can make a run for it. But before that can happen, she feels something sharp slip across her lower lip, blood going metallic in her mouth as she pulls back from him and brings her other hand to her lips. Sure enough, red stains her fingertips.

“What– what was that?” Joel just grins, his other hand reaching around her back to wrench her wrist around, the harsh squeeze of his fingers making her drop the keys into his open palm.

“Sneaky little thing, ain’t ya? That’s alright, honey. I don’t mind a little sour with the sweet.” Her eyes must be playing tricks on her, because if she didn’t know any better she could swear that his pair of canines glint just a bit sharper in the dim light of the moon. She stills in his hold, unsure what to do now, her stomach twisting when he presses a surprisingly sweet kiss to her throat. But when he drags his teeth over the arc of her neck, she finally realizes that her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her.

“Hold still for me, honey. Just gonna feel a little pinch, but I think you’ll like it.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #dark joel miller

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daydreamingleclerc · 1 year

Text

playing cards // mason mount

in which; mason is a regular at the coffee shop you work in, and when he ends up taking you home after a boozy day out with your sister, things escalate.

includes; smut, oral (f, m rec), fingering, protected sex, dom!mason, sub!reader, daddy kink, restraints, choking, squirting, face fucking, swearing, begging, i think that's it.

this is the first bit of mason smut i've written in a long time so please be nice !! this is based on a dream i had, plus... coffee shop au’s are just the best au’s. also this is extremely long, in the ballpark of almost 7,000 words. so go grab a snack or a cuppa <3

mason was a common regular at your workplace. it wasn’t uncommon to see him or his friends coming in for coffee, it was close to their work and a quiet enough place for them to unwind. you always thought he was a very attractive man, although you were convinced, he was way out of your league. you had a bold stint one day not too long after a breakup and went over to ask for his name and in turn he’d asked for yours. you’d been building foundations ever since.

you admired him as best you could through your lashes as you prepared his drink. he kept flickering his eyes up to you whenever you looked away, and there was a thick tension among the two of you that seemed obvious to everyone else in the shop but you.

“how are you today?”

mason opened the conversation, resting his arms on the counter as he stretched out his calves. you smiled over at him, “i’m okay, mason. how are you?” he stood up straight and folded his arms over his torso, flexing the muscles under his shirt and you averted your eyes from him momentarily. he noticed, and cocked his head softly. “i don’t think that was the best thing for me to ask, was it? i saw that you guys got kicked out of the league last night, i'm sorry.”

he shrugged his shoulders and pushed his body closer to the counter to let a few people walk past him to the back of the shop, and he rested his elbow on the corner of the counter. he was so close you could smell his aftershave, and you tried to avoid your reaction at every price.

“it’s okay, these things can’t be helped,” he hummed, and then a cheeky smile came to his face, “i’ve been off sick for the last month, who knows. maybe i could’ve changed the result.”

you laughed, admiring his cheekiness, and silence fell among you as you continued to steam the milk for his drink. another set of regulars said hello to you as they walked past the counter, and you smiled over at them. mason watched as you did a beautiful rosetta on the top of his drink.

“i can’t believe you still want me to put chocolate powder on the top of all my beautiful artwork,” you frowned as you sprinkled an even layer of chocolate powder over his coffee, “it’s not even a cappuccino.”

you cleaned the remains of chocolate powder from the side of the cup and placed it on the counter for him with a teaspoon, “there you go,” you smiled, “i even gave you a spoon to swirl in all your chocolatey desires.”

he laughed and even though he’d had everything he’d ordered, he loitered around for a while longer. “you okay? did you order anything else, am i forgetting anything?”

“no,” he said nonchalantly, “i, uh, i forgot to say that i saw you out the other day, at coppa club.”

“oh yeah? on saturday?” you asked, and he nodded, “my sister’s getting married and saturday was a drunken brunch with the wedding party, whereabouts were you?”

“i was on the opposite side of the road, with my sister and her kids. i knew it was you instantly, i almost... uh, wait. that sounded so much better in my head,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and you laughed out loud, head tipping back. “i just wanted to tell you because i thought you looked very pretty.”

“do i not look pretty everyday, mason?”

he laughed, and opened his mouth to speak, but instead stuck his tongue into his cheek and looked at you with a cheeky smirk.

“so, when’s your sisters wedding?”

“july seventh,” you smiled, “why?”

“just curious,” he rocked back and forth on his feet, “do you have a date?”

“no,” you furrowed your eyebrows but then smiled, “why? are you offering?”

“maybe,” he shrugged, and took his drink by the handle, “i guess i'll just have to play all my cards right, won’t i?”

//////

you were the last person mason expected to notice in the ivy at four pm on a friday, but then again, he was the last person you expected to see. your sister was trying to milk every ounce of her engagement as she could, and so today was a day of shopping for her wedding lingerie and drinking before the big day in a month.

he was sat at an elongated table along the wall, and when he saw you he waved. you waved back, and a blush rose to your cheeks.

“who's he?” your sister asked, wiggling her eyebrows. she never missed a trick.

“who? oh.. nobody, he just comes into work sometimes.”

“he’s cute,” she swirled her straw around in her drink, “you should invite him to the wedding.”

“angelina,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes, “you don’t even know who he is.. i don’t even know who he is. not really. don’t tell me you want me inviting a stranger to your wedding.”

angelina shrugged, already half cut as she finished her drink. she pushed the glass to the edge of the table, and tapped on your glass to hurry you up. “anything's better than that muppet you used to date,” she admitted, “and, this one is actually cute.”

“angelina! will you stop?” you sucked your drink through the straw until you hit the bottom of the glass, and immediately the alcohol went to your head, “first you try and get me to invite a stranger to your wedding and then you insult my taste in men.”

“i didn’t insult your taste in men,” she rolled her eyes, and tapped her fingernails on the marble table. you watched as a waiter went up and spoke to mason, furrowing your eyebrows together when he pointed in your direction, “i just insulted your ex, plus, whoever this stranger is, he’s totally into you.”

“angelina, that’s enough!” you couldn’t help but laugh at your sisters stupid attempts at matchmaking. “he’s a customer at work. that's it, now leave it.”

the two of you continued your conversation, and you were relieved to witness the food arrive. angelina was deep in conversation about the wedding band when a bottle of champagne on ice arrived at the table.

“we didn’t order this.” you gestured to the bottle of champagne, and the waiter smiled.

“this is on the house, ma’am,” he lowered the bucket and pulled at the cork. angelina’s eyebrows wiggled ferociously as the young man filled the flutes and placed the bottle back into the ice bucket, “and this note is for you, looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

he handed you the card, with writing scribbled inside of it.

‘bottles on me, thanks for all the coffee. playing all my cards right, MM x’

you looked over at mason’s table and tried to hide the growing smile on your face as best you could. he was sat back on the chair, with one arm outstretched on the table and one lazily draped across the back of his chair. with the arm on the back of the chair, he wiggled his fingers and shot you a wink.

“are you sure he’s just a customer?” angelina asked when she nabbed the card from your hands, “because he seems like a man with raging hormones.”

you snatched the card back from your sister and raised your flute glass up in his direction. mason nodded his head and watched you with dark eyes as you took a sip. “i hope you’re gonna take him home with you tonight,” angelina muttered, “that’s if you make it out tonight.”

“lina! enough,” you took another sip of your champagne, “i’ll thank him once we’ve finished eating, okay?”

your sister nodded her head and the two of you got back to eating and enjoying your free champagne, which was going down very well. time passed, and mason was still sitting in his chair, and your lunch was long finished.

“fuck sake, y/n, why don’t you just suck the man off right here, you’re giving him the eyes.” angelina’s words attracted looks from people sitting around you and you kicked your sisters leg under the table. she laughed, pouring herself another glass of champagne from the ice cold bottle. you were anxious to stand up and walk over, two cocktails and two glasses of champagne down, you weren’t sure whether your legs would be able to hold your weight or if you’d wobble like jelly.

the place had begun to pack out now, and within the next half an hour, a few of angelina’s friends would be arriving before you all made your way to meet angelina’s fiance and his friends at one of the other local pubs. mason shifted when he saw you walking over to him, pushing himself forward and licking his lips eagerly.

“trying to get me drunk, mount?”

he took a sip of his drink. “that depends, y/n.”

“on what?”

“on if you’re actually drunk, sweetheart.”

you blushed heavily when he used the name, and he scooted over on his chair to let you perch so you didn’t get knocked over. your sister spun around in her chair and held the glass up to mason, and took a swig while she held up her thumb. he couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’m not, but my sister clearly is.”

when you turned back to mason after he’d waved back at your sister, he was looking directly at your bra, which was on full show underneath your mesh shirt, with ‘ANGEL’ written in diamante’s. he tried to avert his eyes before he was caught, but you were very quick and certainly not stupid.

“liking what you see?”

he laughed, and this time he was the one blushing.

“i always like what i see if it involves you,” his arm draped over the top of the chair again, and his fingertips skimmed your shoulder. when you tipped your head forward and giggled, his fingers tapped at your cheek softly, “what, darling?”

“you’re embarrassingly good with your words, y’know that?” mason laughed and soon, the pair of you felt like the only people in the room. your sisters friends had begun to join her at the table, and you felt a sense of relief. “do you wanna get out of here?”

mason admired your confidence, and it was then that you just happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar face walking past the table. “aren’t you here with your sister?”

“yeah, i am, but her friends are here now, and i've just seen my scumbag of an ex walk past this table,” your eyes followed him walking down the aisle to a table down the back of the room and his eyes locked on yours, “and i think you can play your cards right and take me home for a few more drinks.”

your confidence shone through, and mason wasn’t a stranger to sexual advances. he also knew that you were a confident lady, but he didn’t know you were this confident. he admired it though, and he’d always wanted the chance to shoot his shot, and now it seemed, you’d beat him to it. he had no choice but to oblige. he glanced over in the direction of your ex boyfriend, and pushed his lips up to your ear.

“go and tell your sister we’re leaving, and i'll take you wherever you want to go, sweetheart.”

//////////

your hands shook as you fumbled with the key to your flat, mason hot on your toes. he'd parked his car in the drive next to your complex – an expensive 22 plate mercedes that looked shiny and effortless next to your beat up 12 plate volkswagen polo.

you could feel his body heat radiating onto your back when you managed to push open the door, and relief flooded your face when you saw mason carrying your bags into the hallway.

he put the bags in the corner next to the shoerack, and your flat seemed eerily quiet. “jordan?” you yelled, hanging on a tense pause as you waited to hear a response from your flat mate. no response came and you breathed a sigh of relief when you realised she was at her girlfriends for the night; after you told her you were going out tonight, she probably knew it would be safer for her to be out of the flat so she couldn’t listen to any of your antics.

“you okay?” mason asked, raising an eyebrow, “who’s jordan?”

“my flat mate,” you replied, hopping up onto the counter. “i think she’s gone to her girlfriends for the night, probably for the best.”

“why’s that?”

mason’s eyebrows quirked up and his lips curled up into a smirk. you wanted to punch him in the face, but you also wanted to feel those lips all over your body.

“you’re here,” you pulled at his jacket’s lapels, and he didn’t stop you. his eyes trailed over your body, admiring your bright eyes and flushed cheeks before situating themselves on your chest, “and you can’t stop staring at my boobs.”

“as pretty as your tits are,” mason’s fingers ran over the sides of your body and up to your neck, where one hand gave a soft, experimental squeeze, “i can’t help but notice the word on your shirt.”

you looked down and remembered that the diamante’s spelled out the word ‘angel’. your eyebrows furrowed, feigning innocence.

“what about the shirt? what’s wrong, are some of the diamante’s missing?”

he squeezed your neck again. “it says you're an angel but judging by the state of the bra underneath and how hard your nipples are, i'd say you're more of a brat,” his thumb pushed at your chin until you looked at him, “does that sound like more of a legitimate scenario for you, princess?”

dryness formed in the back of your throat and all you could do was nod. mason tutted and pulled you closer, “oh, sweetheart. you’re not a very fast learner are you?” his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you let out a held breath that fanned hot, sweet smelling air into his face, “i need you to use your words.”

you leaned in for a kiss but mason pulled away, waiting patiently for you to speak. you squeaked out a small ‘sorry, daddy’, but mason wasn’t satisfied. “what did you just say?”

“sorry, daddy.”

“you can do better than that,” he leaned in and kissed you. it was hot, tantalizing, everything you’d wanted since the very first time he walked into the café, but it was over far too quickly. “but i'll let you off, because you’re so eager to please.”

he leaned in again, and this time the kiss was perfection. his hand fell to your cheek and you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to sink into it deeper. the rhythm was easy to flow with, and his tongue soon slipped past into your mouth, telling you he was just as eager as you were. when you bit down on his lip, he winced and squeezed your thigh with his wandering hand. you inadvertently spread your legs, and allowed his hand to wander to your inner thigh.

he touched you everywhere but the place you wanted, and every time he teased you by skimming his knuckles over your clit, he would bite down on your lip to keep your mewls from escaping.

“what’s up, darling? hm? what do you want?”

“your fingers,” you muttered, a soft pink blush coming to your cheeks. mason smirked and you frowned. “please, mason.”

“oh, good girl, you do know how to use your manners.”

without giving you a warning, he stuffed his hand down the waistband of your flared trousers and found your clit immediately. it was soaked, and if your flares weren’t black, the wet patch that had formed would’ve been insanely obvious. he laughed in pity of you.

“god, you're soaked,” his words drowned out your soft moans, “you’ve imagined this before, haven’t you?”

you were ashamed to admit that he was the only thought you needed to get yourself off.

“yes, mason – fuck, yes, right there!”

he swirled your clit between his thumb, letting his fingers explore your folds as much as he could with the lack of room he had due to your trousers. his slender fingers worked effortlessly to tease you, and you were being driven crazy when he circled your hole but didn’t insert them.

“need your fingers, mason,” you breathed, tugging at the hairs on his head.

“you’ve got my fingers, babygirl. you need to be more specific.”

you pouted and let out a pathetic excuse for a whine. mason laughed in pity again.

“need them – fuck – need them inside of me, daddy, please.”

mason's fingers dipped inside of you and curled in a come hither motion, but paused after one long curl. “like this?” he asked, knowing full well from the sound that escaped your lips that was exactly what you wanted. you nodded, and mason grumbled. “words, baby. words.”

“y-yes daddy,” you hummed, and when he curled them inside of you again you almost melted, “fuck, daddy. thank you daddy.”

“you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

mason's fingers were effortless. he had had so much practice, it could’ve killed you. you pushed yourself further to his fingers, leaving yourself dangling on the very edge of the counter, and your trousers must’ve caught on an uneven bit of side, and a snag had hit the bottom. mason saw this as his perfect opportunity, and continued to pull at the snag until it ripped a hole right across the middle of the crotch, and he smirked.

“mason!”

“i’ll buy you all the trousers in the world tomorrow, right now, please just let me focus on making you cum.”

now, with more space, mason used it to his advantage. he pushed you back so you laid flat on the counter, albeit uncomfortably, and his fingers pushed into you so much deeper, so much easier, stretching you out so deliciously you felt as if you were gonna scream.

he leaned down and flicked your clit with his tongue teasingly, which sent you into overdrive. you cried out, desperately begging him to make you cum. his tongue flicked your clit in tandem with his fingers inside of you, totalling three so far.

“your pussy feels so good clenching around my fingers, darling,” mason left kisses to your pubic bone, “imagine how its gonna feel clenching my dick.”

your orgasm was teetering on the edge, and you could feel yourself beginning to erupt. “mason, ‘m gonna... please.. please can i...”

he hummed against your clit and it triggered one of the biggest and best orgasms you’d ever had. you saw literal stars, and for a minute you feared that you weren’t going to stop seeing those stars. your hand came to mason’s hair and you tugged at it, pulling him off of your clit and bringing yourself back up to a sitting position.

mason’s lips locked on yours and you moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue. his kiss was hot, effortless, and when you pushed the jacket from his shoulders, he didn’t stop you. his hands roamed across your body, fingers sending goosebumps across your torso as he ran them up under your shirt.

“can i...?” mason asked, fingertips tugging on the hem of the mesh shirt, and you nodded, holding your arms up for him to pull it off, but instead, he tugged at the mesh until it ripped. you let out an agitated groan.

“do you have a kink for ripping women’s clothes or something?”

mason laughed and slipped the broken mesh into the back of his trouser pocket. “the wording on that shirt was bullshit, princess, i was just doing you a favor.”

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders again as you sunk back into a kiss, the embarrassing wet patch underneath you beginning to grow again. mason's hands hoisted your legs onto his waist and when your legs crossed over his lower back, his palms splayed on your bum so he could lift you. lifting you was easy for him, and he never once showed that it wasn’t, and you couldn’t help but get even more turned on by his immense strength.

“where’s the bedroom?” he asked, lips moving from yours down to your neck. he sucked a small red mark onto the skin and when you didn’t answer, he stopped. “i’m talking to you, sweetheart.”

“uh, um.. it's down the hall on the left,” you mumbled, stretching your neck out so he could go back to licking and sucking a mark on the underside of your chin. “i’m not allowed these for work, mason.”

“and yet, you’re begging me for more,” mason kicked open your bedroom door with his foot and pushed you up against the wall where he could continue to suck at your skin, “i might as well write my fucking name on your skin.”

you couldn’t help but grind your crotch on the button of mason’s jeans. there were so many ridges and sensations that you were able to be provided, and you were already sensitive. plus, mason’s dick was hard and the idea of dry humping him in this position made you lose your mind. mason tutted, but didn’t stop you when you grinded down on the very top of his thigh.

“such a dirty fucking girl,” he taunted, “i’ve already given you an orgasm and you’re desperate for another one, hm?”

“y-yes, daddy,” you squeaked, hitting a particularly good spot. you knew you should’ve stopped, but you were so close to cumming again, you really didn’t want to. “please, don’t make me stop. please let me get myself off on you, daddy.”

“using me for your own sexual pleasure, darling,” he hummed, “that’s supposed to be what i was doing with you,” he cooed so effortlessly you were hardly focusing on his words, so caught up in chasing your close orgasm. mason tucked some hair behind your ear, “how can i ever say no when you look so pretty with your eyes rolling back, hm? such a bad little girl.”

mason's words sent shivers down your spine and you could feel the orgasm tinkering inside of you. “mason, please... please let me... ‘m gonna... fuck!” you couldn’t finish your sentence, and words turned into syllables and syllables turned into breaths as you cried out during your second orgasm. mason's hands eased you back to reality, and you unhooked your legs from his waist, standing down on your floor with wobbly thighs.

mason's dick was now rock hard, and he was fighting off every urge to fuck you then and there. you looked so dazed already, so fucked out and he’d hardly even touched you. it made him pity you again.

mason’s hand went to his crotch, and groped at his dick through the material, giving himself a very small moment of relief. you couldn’t help but admire him, and he in turn, adored the way you looked at him with innocent eyes, knowing full well the intentions behind them were anything but.

“gonna help me out here, princess?” mason’s fingers unhooked his button, and you nodded as you got to your knees, and he thought he was going to explode then and there. “this is your doing after all.”

you took over taking off his jeans, pulling them down his legs until they pooled at his feet. his dick looked freer now, springing up in his calvins and he let out a gentle breath of relief at the feeling of no more claustrophobia. mason pushed at the waistband of his boxers until he pushed them down just enough for his dick to spring out, and your eyes widened at the sight before you.

“liking what you see, darling?” he asked, a rather cocky question on his behalf. if you weren’t so desperate to choke on it, you’d have punched him in the face.

“yes,” was all you could say for the time being. it was bigger than you’d anticipated, but it turned you on to know he was packing all this heat.

“don’t keep me waiting, y/n,” mason said sternly, wrapping his fingers around his dick and jacking himself off for a few seconds to yield some relief. “show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

you did as you were told, scooting closer until you were face to face with his dick, and when you held your tongue out to his head and let it rest there while your fingers wrapped daintily around the base, mason groaned. you never broke eye contact while you began to take him into your mouth, inch by inch.

mason's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when your nose finally hit his skin. it took you a few attempts to get to this point, and it was slow, and it drove him crazy. his dick twitched as it sat down your throat and you made an inadvertent gagging noise, and as the muscles of your throat contracted around his flesh he groaned, his hands springing to your head to hold it there.

your hands braced around his knees to keep yourself steady, and when he let go of your head and you pulled away, a string of spit connected you to the head of his cock. you broke it off with your tongue and soon, the soft, slow burial of mason’s dick down your throat became faster, sloppy and wet. you got comfier on your knees and brought your hands up to help with what you couldn't fit in your mouth. spit trickled from your bottom lip every time you pulled off his dick and pooled at the spot on the floor between your bodies.

“fucking hell,” mason groaned, throwing his head back as you gave him arguably the sloppiest, best head of his life. “you’re such a good girl, hm? so eager to please.”

you nodded as best you could with his dick down your throat, and he groaned again at the garbled sounds that spilled from your mouth when you tried to speak, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. he pulled at his shirt, tugging it up over his torso and pulling it off his body, and you watched as his muscles tightened and contracted.

the wet patch had returned, and you could feel your thighs slick with your own juices.

“stay still, babygirl,” mason groaned, bringing his hands to either side of your head, “your throat is so wet, and you look so beautiful with my dick down your throat, i've just got to fuck your face, just for a minute.”

a garbled ‘ok, daddy’ tumbled from your lips and mason groaned once again. his eyes landed on yours and he held eye contact with you as he began to fuck your throat, and the spluttering and spitting of your throat contracting around him at such a fast pace left him feral. he would be thinking of this moment for months to come.

“fucking hell, that’s it,” mason’s hips thrusted and he threw his head back, relishing in the feeling of your throat, “such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? letting me fuck your face like this. i bet you love it, don’t you, baby?”

you tried to answer, but the words only came out mashed and garbled around his dick. mason had to pull out before he came in your mouth, and so, reluctantly, he stopped.

“if you let me fuck your throat like a whore, i can’t imagine how you’re gonna let me fuck your pussy.”

mason pulled you up and you kissed his lips teasingly before bending over the bed and looking back at him over your shoulder.

“why don’t you come and find out, daddy.”

mason thought he was going to explode in that moment, having someone so eager and ready for him left his mind spinning. his whole body felt as though it were jelly in that moment, for some reason he was just itching for you, but he also wanted to take his sweet time.

he stepped out of his jeans and pushed your legs, so you were laying across the bed on your back. you looked ethereal, and he reached down around your back to unhook your bra; in hindsight, it would’ve been much easier for him to do this first, but he needed to see you fully naked, splayed out in front of him.

you pulled your bra off of your arms, and mason watched as he stared at your body in awe. he couldn’t help but suck a nipple into his mouth and draw out delicious sounding moans from your lips, which only spurred him on further.

“mason...” you whimpered, desperate for some sort of relief.

“yes, darling?”

“please,” you felt your throat drying up, “please can you fuck me?”

the pair of you were just as desperate for one another, and mason soon realised that trying to string along the inevitable for at least the first round was impossible. he admired your naked body for a few moments longer, and you in turn admired his naked one too.

“seeing as you asked so nicely,” mason teased, and fumbled with the back pocket of his jeans on the floor, and when he turned back around with the broken mesh in his hands, he smirked at you, “but only if you put your wrists together.”

you did as he asked, and he guided your arms up so they were high over your head and allowed you to spin around and get your head comfortable on the pillows. he tied a knot around your wrists with the mesh fabric and gave it an experimental tug to see if it would hold, which it did.

“do you have anything?” you asked him, and he shook his head. “i’ve got some in that top drawer, you’re gonna have to get them though.”

“probably should’ve asked me the question before i tied you up, sweetheart,” mason couldn’t help but laugh as he fumbled in the drawer for the condoms until he grabbed a few and scattered them across the bed, “ooh, flavoured? aren’t you adventurous.”

“fuck you,” you taunted, and mason leaned down to press his lips to yours, shutting you up.

“good job that’s exactly what i'm about to do, baby.”

he rolled the condom on with no problems and leaned down to press his lips to yours again, one hand on your wrists and another guiding himself to your entrance. you looked so beautiful that he couldn’t help but admire you one last time.

“let me know if it gets too much, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded, and with that, mason pushed his tip inside of you.

a shiver rolled down your spine at the feeling, and he couldn’t help but hold his eyes on yours to see the way they rolled back as he stretched you out. your eyes fluttered softly, and your pupils rolled around to the back of your head multiple times before you came to, and he wasn’t even all the way inside of you yet.

“jesus, you’re still so fucking tight,” mason couldn’t help the words falling from his lips, with every clench of your pussy around him. “even after everything i’ve given you.”

you nodded, unable to speak, and it made him laugh again. the speed of his hips began to increase, and soon you were arching your back and relishing in the feeling of mason’s dick inside of you. your hands were held firmly in place with one of his, it seemed he could sense that you would still try and touch even though they were tied. he was a smart man.

“need you to go faster mason, baby,” you fought for breath underneath him, “want you to go faster, daddy, please.”

his lips attached to your neck and he sucked another mark into the flesh and you arched right up into him as he did so. he loved the way you reacted to his touch, it only spurred him on more. with his free hand, mason hoisted your leg up onto his shoulder, so that not only was he going faster, he was going much deeper now too.

“like this, baby?”

“mhm, fuck,” the new angle had let the tingles swarm in your belly, “just like that daddy, fuck!”

“see, i knew that shirt was a lie, darling. angel's don’t beg for cock the way you do, do they?”

you shook your head, no, desperately clinging onto your orgasm which was fast approaching. mason's arms flexed as you fluttered your eyes open to see one tensed as he held your calve, and one tensed as he held your wrists. he looked so good, sweat had begun to form on his hairline and his tattoos glistened on his torso, it was enough to drive you wild.

his mouth leaned down to one of your nipples and when his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh you yelped, but then the hand that was on your wrists travelled down to your clit and began to rub soft circles on the bud, and you were so close to cumming you could’ve screamed.

“mason... i... i can feel it,” you mumbled, “mason, please... please can i...”

“you need to ask properly, baby,” the sound of his words vibrated across your chest and ran right through your body. his thrusts were harsher now, his hips moving deeper with every thrust and you weren’t sure you could take anymore. “go on, ask me nicely.”

“please...” you had to compose yourself before asking, “please can i cum, daddy?”

mason grunted at your words and as you clenched around him for extra measure, he knew he couldn’t say no. “since you asked so nicely, little one.”

your orgasm hit quickly, slamming through your body and leaving you with convulsing ramifications. you were so overstimulated that you couldn’t control your body’s actions and when mason pulled out, a trickle of liquid followed. it was embarrassing, and you tried to hide your face but failed due to your tied wrists.

mason tore the condom off and shifted up the bed, so he was kneeling with his dick against your mouth. still laying down, you opened up and let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

“wetting the bed all because i fucked you so well, babygirl, hm? how sweet.”

he tapped your cheek and with every shallow thrust of his dick in your mouth, you gagged around him. he twitched on your tongue and you held it out for him to paint white. he came with a loud, gutteral groan of your name and his juices landed all across your chin and neck.

by the end, your arms were exhausted and you were in desperate need of a nap. mason untied your wrists and found some wipes on your desk and helped clean up your face, to which you thanked him with a kiss.

“can you stay?” you asked, after a long moment of silence. “as much as i've been trying to avoid it, i quite like you and i think it would benefit me if i asked you to stay.”

he smiled, a bright, beaming smile that made your heart flutter. “of course i can,” he lay flat on his back and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, encapsulating you in his warmth. “i quite like you too, y’know.”

“i know, you haven’t been very good at avoiding it,” you turned to look at him as he stared at the surroundings of your bedroom. “so, are you free july seventh?”

his lips upturned into a smile, “why? are you offering?”

“i guess you played your cards right after all.”

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