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wheresarizona · 7 months

Text

Old Habits

pairing: Joel Miller/f!former sex worker reader

summary: Back in Boston, Joel Miller was your favorite client who frequented your services, exchanging ration cards and other items deemed illegal for sex with you until he just disappeared one day. It’s years later, and now, by a stroke of dumb luck on your journey out west, you’ve found yourself in the town of Jackson and in close proximity to Joel once again, the two of you immediately falling back into old habits.

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, porn without plot, reader’s age is unspecified but she was born before the outbreak, can be read as age gap, Gruff Joel Miller, Joel manhandling you, Joel ordering you around, rough sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, deepthroating, vaginal fingering, spanking, dirty talk (a lot), praise kink, light choking, squirting, breast play, spit mention, first kiss, talks of sex work (we are respectful in this house), a hint of Possessive Joel, some feelings as a treat, smidge of Soft Joel at the end, a special appearance by Ellie who doesn’t know where Joel is (spoiler: he’s hiding in your bathroom naked))

word count: 3.9k+

a/n: This was a horny thot I wrote in one night because it wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I’m sharing it with you. Thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It’s happenstance you find yourself in Jackson—honest to god, dumb luck, and a series of fortunate and unfortunate events.

The plan was to cross the continent to Vancouver, B.C., where whispers talked about the QZ being a safe haven and not a complete hell hole like Boston. A group of you made the journey, and by the time scouts from Jackson found you getting close to their territory, only a few remained, and you all decided to stay in the quaint town.

That brings you to where you are now, not even twenty-four hours after arriving, and barely settled into your little apartment in a converted garage, naked and on your knees with Joel Miller’s hard cock filling the tight space in your throat. Drool drips down your chin, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes as you suppress your gag reflex.

It shocked you when he showed up at your door, having known him for years back in Boston since he used your services frequently, exchanging ration cards and other illegal items for sex with you. He loved that he could use you however he wanted, and you happily took it. He was your favorite client; then one day, he just disappeared—and in less than ten minutes of being reunited, he had you completely naked and on your knees for him.

Did you mention he was your favorite?

He’s still fully clothed, with only his pants down enough to free himself. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you on him while he watches from above. You can’t even take him to the hilt, your jaw pried open wide. He’s heavy on your tongue, smelling the clean scent of the soap he must’ve scrubbed with before he came over.

“Fuckin’ missed you chokin’ on my dick,” he groans. “So fuckin’ pretty takin’ it down your throat.”

Your fingers are digging into his jean-clad thighs, your eyes rolled back in your head, moaning around him, barely able to breathe. He finally lets you up, and you come off him, gasping for breath. With saliva gathered on your tongue, you let it drip on the tip of him, your hand taking the place of your mouth, slickly stroking him while looking up at him through your lashes.

“I missed this cock,” your words come out rough, tapping him on your tongue.

He’s smirking. “Yeah, baby?”

“Yes.” You nod. “It’s so fucking big and always filled me so perfectly.”

“I missed how your tight little pussy squeezed me—haunted my fuckin’ dreams. I can’t tell you how many times I fucked my hand thinkin’ about bein’ inside you again.”

What he says has you feeling hot, arousal pooling in your belly, your cunt throbbing in the same beat as your heart, wanting him so badly.

Continuing to jerk him in your palm, you dip your head down, licking at the thin skin of his sack before sucking a ball into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he moans.

You give the other one the same treatment, letting it go to lick a hot stripe up his shaft, the tip steadily leaking precum.

“On the bed,” he orders, roughly tugging you up by the arms to stand. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”

“Yeah?” you purr. The bed is behind you, and you walk backward until your legs hit the edge. “Where do you wanna come?” you ask. “My stomach? On my pussy? My ass? My tits?”

His dark eyes are half-lidded and burning with desire as he moves toward you with purpose, saying, “You know damn well I’m gonna come all over your gorgeous tits.” It’s his favorite place to finish. He’s in front of you, his large palms taking them in hand. “Fuckin’ missed these, too.” To end the sentence, he bends, sucking your pebbled nipple between his lips. You moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots straight to your cunt, pushing your fingers into his slicked-back, slightly damp hair.

The reason Joel was your favorite is he always made sure you came at least once—doing things he knew you enjoyed because he wanted to make you feel good. That was rare in your previous profession. Usually, it was all about the client, and your pleasure didn’t matter.

Joel’s a gentleman, though.

A hot, grumpy gentleman.

His mouth moves to your other tit, flicking his tongue over the hard bud; you feel your need for him dripping from your pussy to coat your inner thighs.

Suddenly, he’s straightening and pushing you back onto the mattress, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him as you sit up on your elbows.

The tips of two of his thick fingers touch your lips.

“Open,” he orders, and you do, sucking them into your mouth with a moan. “Get them nice and wet for me, baby.” You massage your tongue against them, his lust-filled gaze watching intently. He shoves them further back into your throat, and you easily take them. “Good girl,” he rasps.

His hand leaves you, his focus locking on your glistening center. Dipping his head, he works his jaw to get saliva in the front of his mouth, spitting it onto your clit, and it drips all hot and wet down toward your hole that’s drooling arousal.

“Pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he mumbles, staring at it. The press of his wet digits between the lips of your cunt sends an electric shock through you that has you throwing your head back. He wastes no time, gathering the mix of his saliva and your juices on his two fingers, pressing them inside you.

A loud moan leaves you at how his fingers slightly stretch your tight walls. He’s pumping them in and out fast, crooking them to slide against that magical spot that blurs your vision.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ missed me, didn’t ya?” he asks.

“Yes,” you gasp.

It sounds wet between your legs, hearing the slide of his digits fucking into you, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clit.

“Nobody else made you come like me. And why’s that, baby?” he rasps, low.

The muscles in your belly have begun tightening, his free hand grabbing at your breasts and teasing your nipples, the sensations ramping up your pleasure.

“‘Cause it’s yours!”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he growls. “This pussy is mine.”

He doesn’t stop his ministrations when he leans over you, his hand on your chest moving up to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly to make you see stars.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks. “Gonna be my good girl and come all over my fingers? Let me have it.”

Everything comes to a head, and you’re falling over the edge, your back arching, body tensing, coming with a moan of his name. Waves of euphoria erupt from your center, spreading out to your fingers and toes as he continues working you through your high to help you ride it out.

“There it is,” he says. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

Your mind is hazy, thoughts feeling slow and syrupy thick, almost positive you haven’t come that hard since the last time Joel paid you a visit.

“You’re still my favorite,” you slur. He lets go of your throat as you lie back on the bed, blissed out.

“I better fuckin’ be,” he replies, removing his hand from between your legs. “You haven’t even been here a damn day.”

“I’m not doing that here,” you offhandedly comment.

It’s silent for a second.

“If this is your last time, can I pay for the entire night?” he asks. “They don’t have ration cards here, but I can trade for things you might need or do work around here. I can find some way to pay you.”

Your eyes open, squinting as you sit back up. “I’m not charging you for this, Joel. You’re not my customer here. I’m having sex with you because I missed you and want to have sex with you.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh. Well, fuck, in that case, is this a one-time thing, or…?”

Raising your brow, you answer, “Depends on if you fuck as good as I remember.”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll fuckin’ remind you why you always made time for me,” he says, working open the buttons on his flannel shirt.

It’s off in seconds, getting a glimpse of his torso before he’s bending down to untie his boots that he kicks off when he stands back up.

Usually, he kept his clothes on, so there weren’t many times that Joel got fully naked when you were together in the past. With all the skin on display, your eyes take in the scars littering the parts of his body he bares—there’s a new one on his lower abdomen that someone clearly had to suture, the skin puckered.

He’s so broad, his chest so wide, seeing the strength and loving how his belly is a little soft. Your eyes follow the trail of coarse hair below his navel, leading to his hard cock, bobbing between his legs as he pushes down his jeans and gets them off.

He’s incredibly attractive, and yet you have no idea his age, never asking because it wasn’t any of your business, but now he’s no longer your paying client.

“How old are you?” you ask.

Standing at his full height, you watch him spit onto his fingers, using them to languidly stroke over his cock.

“Fifty-eight.”

“You look fantastic for your age.”

“Thanks.” His eyes meet yours, and he’s moving forward to drag himself through your wet slit. “How old are you?”

“Not fifty-eight.” You wink. “I’ll tell you if you buy me a drink.”

“Deal.”

Apparently, he’s done talking, notching himself at your entrance and snapping his hips forward to bury himself inside you in one smooth thrust. Moaning in unison, your hands claw at the bedding from how he fills you, falling back against the mattress.

He’s big.

He’s the biggest man you’ve ever been with, feeling the delicious burn at how he’s stretching you and so full it’s brimming on too much.

“So tight,” he groans. “Fuck, I missed bein’ inside you.” He’s got your legs over his arms to keep you open for him.

His hips bump into yours, giving you a second to get used to him, and you can’t get over how good it feels to have him inside you again; how right. Once you’re relaxed, he’s pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in hard. With how wet you are, he moves with ease, setting up a hard, steady pace that has your head spinning.

“Miss bein’ split open on my cock?” His voice is deeper, the words slipping through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” you gasp.

Looking up at him, his eyes are dark pools stuck on the jiggle of your chest, his eyebrows creased, and teeth bared. Sweat is shining on his skin, a flush working its way from his chest up his neck to his cheeks, grey strands of his hair sticking wetly to his forehead.

You press your tits together with your hands, tweaking your stiff nipples while he watches with rapt attention, licking his lips.

“You fuck me so good, Joel,” you moan. “I missed this. I missed you. You feel so good inside me.”

Heat is coiling in your tummy, winding tighter with every push and pull of his hips.

He leans forward, his pace speeding up while he bats away your hands to roughly palm at your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans, seeing his throat work as he swallows hard, and you can tell he’s close.

All of a sudden, he’s standing back up with a grunt. “Hands and knees,” he orders, smacking your hip. “I’m gonna give you what you want.”

What he says makes you throb, excited for what’s about to happen. He pulls out, and enthusiastically, you’re flipping over and getting up into position with your knees at the end of the bed, sticking your ass out, presenting it to him.

His palm slides along your spine as he sheathes himself back inside, making you whimper at how much deeper he is like this.

Gripping your hips tightly, he fucks into you, slowly building up to a punishing pace, pounding into you like he’s finally letting go of all his pent-up frustration and anger he’s bottled up since the last time he was with you. Using you to relieve his stress just like before, allowing him to take it all out on you. His thrusts are knocking the wind from your lungs and stuttering your moans, hearing the slap of his flesh meeting yours and the squelching of his cock working in and out of your slippery cunt.

Perspiration builds on your temples, his body colliding with yours, and you’re in heaven. Your eyes are closed, taking what he’s giving you, pleasure cutting through you at the slick slide of his dick spearing into you over and over again.

A hand comes down on your ass in a loud slap, the sting making you clench and gasp at the heady rush you get, pushing back for more.

“Is this what you wanted?” he grits out, his pace never waning. His hand lands again. “You like this? You want more?”

“Yes!” you sob.

His other hand makes contact with your plump flesh, going back and forth until you’re mewling.

His fingers are digging into your waist, the heat at the base of your spine is growing rapidly. Your arms give out, and you lay your head on them, drooling from the onslaught—your heated skin is buzzing with every nerve alight in bliss, red-hot pleasure scorching in your belly, knowing you’re not going to last much longer.

Words are spilling from your lips incoherently, Joel grunting behind you, your entire body trembling, something big building inside you, thinking you might explode.

No one has ever wrecked you like Joel does.

You’re a mess.

A puddle of a person.

He’s so deep it feels like he’s reaching nirvana inside you with every hard stroke. Pleasure has taken over your senses as it grows and expands inside you til you hit your breaking point, shattering around him with a cry of his name, coming so hard, he gets pushed out of you with a wet gush that splatters onto his thighs.

A long, low guttural “Fuck,” sounds from behind you, hot ropes of his come landing on your fluttering hole and the puffy lips of your sex.

You feel wrung out, and there’s a possibility you might actually pass out.

Hands spread your asscheeks, humming in the back of your throat when Joel’s tongue licks through his mess, feeling the vibrations of him groaning and the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin. He makes another pass and another, not stopping until he’s gotten every last drop of his spend.

He smacks your ass when he’s finished, the mattress springs complaining, and you jostle when he falls onto it beside you.

In the past, once Joel came on his place of choice, he’d take a minute to collect himself, then pay and leave.

What you don’t expect is him pulling you into his arms and spooning you from behind with his nose buried in your hair while hugging you close.

The latter is better.

Much better.

And simply nice.

It didn’t matter you both were drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids—you've been grosser.

Minutes pass where the only sounds are your labored breathing—ten, twenty, twenty-five.

“Wanna spend the night?” your voice is hoarse when you ask.

He nuzzles into you, squeezing you tighter.

“Yeah, but I have to be up early to meet my kid for breakfast.”

His answer has your brain screeching to a halt, wondering if you heard him right.

“What did you say?” you ask.

He turns his head to speak more clearly.

“I’m gonna stay the night, but I’ll have to leave in the mornin’ to meet my kid for breakfast.”

He didn’t have any children in Boston…

“How old are they?”

There’s a smile in his voice when he answers, “She turned sixteen last month.”

The math isn’t adding up…

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you secretly have a kid in Boston I didn’t know about?”

You’d been to the apartment he shared with Tess a few times when she was away, and there were no signs of children.

“No. Ellie came into my life a couple of years ago or so.”

Around the time he disappeared from yours.

“Oh, she’s adopted.”

“And a pain in my ass,” he says in a fond tone.

“So, you’ve got a daughter now. Probably should’ve asked before I started sucking your dick, but are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

For some odd reason you can’t explain, the answer relieves you.

“Single dad. That’s very sexy.”

“I’m glad you think so. What about you? Are you seein’ anyone?”

“Me? No. Been too busy trying to stay alive.”

“I know what that’s like. Do I still fuck as good as you remember?”

A huff of air leaves your nose. “Yes.”

“Wanna get that drink with me tomorrow night?”

Smiling, you answer, “I’d love to.”

There’s knocking on the door, and you’re wondering who would stop by after seven p.m., thinking maybe it’s one of your friends you traveled with or a neighbor welcoming you to the community.

Joel groans as he gets up, heading toward your bathroom while you grab a blanket off the bed to cover yourself.

Unlocking the front door, you hide your body behind it so all they can see is your face as you crack it open, finding a teenage girl on the other side.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask.

“Hi! I’m sorry for bothering you, but I live in the house—” She points behind her with her thumb at the home you share the property with, “—and I didn’t know you moved in until Tommy told me at dinner and I wanted to make sure you knew who I was so you don’t try to kill me or some shit when I sneak out of the house in the middle of the night when the guy I live with is asleep.”

She said a lot of things, but what you’re stuck on is—

“The guy you live with…? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

The girl makes a disgusted face and gags.

“Gross!” she exclaims. “No! He’s basically my dad, but I don’t call him that ‘cause it’d be fucking weird.”

Your eyes widen, closing the door a little more so she can’t see past you.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Ellie.” Oh, fuck. “What’s yours?”

After introducing yourself, you ask her, “What’s your adopted dad’s name?”

“Oh, yeah, you should know that. I’m surprised he hasn’t come by to talk to you yet.” She looks around like she thinks she’ll spot him in the backyard. “I actually have no fucking idea where he is. Probably the bar,” she says with a shrug. “His name’s Joel.”

“What does he look like?” She’s entertaining, and you want to hear her description.

“Oh, he’s old as fuck and big—” She spread her arms wide, and you smile. “—but not in a fat way, like in a big, strong man way?” That’s accurate. “He always looks fucking grumpy or like someone pissed in his coffee.” Also true. “So, if you see an old, grumpy man who barely talks to you, it’s most likely Joel. Wait, come have breakfast with us in the morning and you can meet him! We meet at the mess hall at eight!”

“No, no, Joel doesn’t sound like a people person. I don’t want to bother him.”

“Everyone bothers him. You should still come. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Maybe. Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Ellie. Hopefully, I’ll come across this elusive Joel.”

“He’s a grumpy asshole, but he’s still polite and will definitely stop by at some point to introduce himself, which you should tell him I stopped by like a good, responsible neighbor.”

“A good, responsible neighbor who wants to make sure I don’t try to kill them when they sneak out of their house.”

“Yeah! You get it.” She gives you a double thumbs up. “Alright, it was nice meeting you!” She walks backward, saluting you. “I hope you’ll come to breakfast tomorrow!”

“We’ll see!”

With that, you close the door and lock it.

Turning around, you glare at the man who peeks his head out of the bathroom.

“Is she gone?” he asks quietly.

“I live in your backyard?”

“Yeah, I woulda told you, but we didn’t do much talkin’. Did she leave?” he asks again.

“Yes,” you answer, walking over to the bed and tossing the blanket onto it. You’re in desperate need of a shower even though you took one earlier, heading towards Joel.

“I can’t believe she sneaks out when I’m sleepin’,” he sounds genuinely betrayed, and you think it’s adorable.

“She’s a teenager, Joel. It’s what teenagers do.” Slipping past him, you turn on the shower, the sound of roaring water filling the air.

A long sigh leaves him.

“Are you comin’ to breakfast?” He’s still naked, his arms crossed over his chest, resting his hip against the bathroom sink.

Your head snaps toward him. “Do you want me at breakfast?”

There’s the tiniest smile on his face. “I want you for breakfast, but don’t mind if you eat with us. Just, uh—” He scratches at his mustache. “—don’t mention how we know each other…”

“No shit, Joel. We’re just old friends.”

“Yeah, old friends…”

“There you go.”

There’s a curious expression on his face.

“You really enjoy fuckin’ me for free?”

You snort, getting in under the warm spray and closing the shower curtain behind you—bless Jackson and heated plumbing. “Yes, Joel.”

It’s a bathtub/shower combination, and he follows you in.

Your face is under the water, feeling lips press to your shoulder from behind, blazing a path to the side of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Turning to wash your back, there’s an odd look on his face, his eyes a little bigger, not knowing what’s going on when his hands gently cradle your jaw.

A surprised sound leaves you when his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss—something he’s never done before and refused in the past. His lips are plush, melting into him as he kisses the air straight from your lungs.

It feels like there’s been a shift, the walls he always kept up with you crumbling from showing genuine interest in him without a payment.

There comes a point when you’re aching for air and break away with a gasp while his lips streak across your jaw and down your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

“Joel?” you pant.

His head comes up to meet your eyes, his chest rising and falling hard.

“I’ve always liked you,” you tell him. “If I wasn’t desperate in Boston, I never would’ve charged you for your time—that’s how much I enjoy fucking you. Add in you making it all the way here alive, and how cute you are when you talk about your kid; I like you even more. I’ve always liked you, Joel.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“I’ve always liked you, too, baby.” His mouth descends on yours once more.

Masterlist

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #wheresarizona writes

945 notes · View notes

captainfern · 10 months

Note

I am actually addicted to your drabbles btw you’ve literally turned me into a captain price SLUT.

Anyways, imagine you get back to base from a solo mission and you’re complaining about how sore you are so price offers to give you a massage 😞😞😞 then he starts getting handsy and can’t stop massaging and groping readers boobs and ass and thighs 🥲🥲

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Nevermind

Captain John Price x fem!reader

["Nevermind" Album by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - what the request says but price eats you out too lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 1.4k • warnings - fem!reader, massaging but make it sensual, oral [f!receiving], price has a sir kink obvs, strong language

i used a gif from six just cause bear is fine asf and i literally want him so bad

and tysm anon i'm glad i'm converting people into price sluts it's such an achievement 🙏

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

"I am so fucking sore," you groaned, shuffling into Price's office. "I feel like I just got hit by a fucking train."

Price looks up at you from a stack of paperwork, cigar between his pointer and middle finger as he thumbed through the pages.

"Is that right?" He hummed.

"Yeah," you all but whimpered, rounding his desk until you were standing directly behind him. You draped your body over his, your front pressed to his back, your head resting against his shoulder. "M'sore, Price."

Price placed his cigar in his crystal ashtray and pat your head gently. "Was it a successful mission?"

"Of course it was," you groaned, running your hands down his chest, hugging him. "But I feel like you're dismissing the fact I'm in pain."

Price chuckled. "I'm not dismissing you, love."

"But I need your help." You whined, fingers moving back up to grope along the covered outline of his pecs.

"What do you need from me?" He asked.

"Your hands."

•º•

"That feel better, love?" Price asked.

You grumbled blissfully, face smushed into his bedsheets as he ran his large hands up and down your body, kneading the knots from beneath your skin. You groaned as he worked the stiffness from your shoulders, smoothing the tension from your back and tailbone.

"M'yeah." You mumbled, eyes closed, obsessed with the way Price ran his hands down your bare skin.

Rough and calloused from years in the military, yet his touch was soft. Still, he held a strength and firmness that made you resist the urge to moan as he massaged a particularly taut spot near the base of your spine.

He'd being doing this for just under ten minutes, and you were feeling better already. Body loosening, muscles relaxing. Even Price seemed to be enjoying it; humming contentedly to himself as he watched the way his hands manipulated parts of your body.

Also, the soft sounds you were making. So fucking good. The small whimpers and whines, the breathless mutters of his name, the slightly louder groans you released when he hit a particularly tense knot with his knuckle.

He was struggling to keep focus.

"Jus' need you lower, Price," you breathed, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. "Please."

Price was hesitant. Did you mean your thighs or your c—?

"My arse is sore... and my legs, of course." You added the last bit with a chuckle, and Price couldn't help but smile.

He obliged, of course, and shifted his hands downwards. The glide of his hands on your body was aided by some kind of sweet-smelling oil you unearthed from the depths of your wardrobe. It smelt good, smelt like you, and let Price's hands move effortlessly along your smooth skin.

His hands found your arse, and his eyes flicked up immediately to gage your reaction. He massaged— no he didn't, who was he kidding? He groped— the plush flesh, much to his delight, and yours too apparently, as you let out a soft whine.

"Good?" Price asked, voice a deep grumble.

"Mhm."

He worked the soft skin there for a while, eyes drawn to the way the fat moved beneath the push of his hands, and the sounds that dribbled from your pretty mouth. He was surprised that he didn't have a raging hard on by now.

"S'good, sir." You breathed.

Okay, never mind. He was hard as fuck now.

Sir. You little—

"Yeah? You feel good, love?" He breathed, dragging his hands over the curve of your arse and along your thighs.

He groped and kneaded the soft flesh, drawing as many sounds from you as he could. He pushed and pulled, working the knots from your muscles, making your skin shiny with the sweet-smelling oil. His eyes moved between your legs— pretty and bare, shiny and moving so freely beneath his strong grasp— and your face— pretty, blissed out, lips agape as you whined at him.

"You feel good, love?" Price echoed, working his fingers around the backs of your knees.

"Yeah—" You cut yourself off with a moan as Price pushed particular hard at the top of your thigh, just beneath the curve of your arse.

He smiled to himself. "Yeah?"

"Y-yeah, fucking hell."

"That's usually my line, love." He moved his hands back to your hips and helped you flip onto your back.

You called for him as his hands descended onto your shoulders, massaging your arms and the base of your neck.

"Lower." You muttered.

"Lower?" Price grinned. "How much lower—?"

You grumbled, a wave of arousal settling deep in your core. "My fucking tits, Price, just... Jesus."

His grin widened. "You sure? I don't—"

"Now is not the time to be a gentleman," you hissed, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands on your breasts. "Just... fuck, do what you were doing before."

"Okay, okay," Price mused. "So impatient."

You didn't reply, a whine caught in your throat as Price grabbed at your tits, massaging gently. His hands were warm and very much welcomed, and you couldn't stop yourself from arching slightly into his grasp. He hummed a laugh, tweaking your nipples, making you bite your lip.

"Sir, please—"

"Such a pretty girl," he mumbled, interrupting you. "So pretty. Beautiful, love. Absolutely stunning. Jus' look at you."

He continued to touch you, groping and massaging your tits and the soft skin around, including down the sides of your ribs and waist, making you squirm, ticklish.

After a good few minutes of his hands on you, you were going fucking feral.

"Need more." You said to him.

"More?" Price quirked a brow. "Tell me."

You just whined, and bucked your hips. He got the point. With a chuckle and a short shake of his head, he moved down his bed until he was kneeling between your spread thighs. He massaged your thighs, too, as he spread them further, eyes catching sight of your bare cunt, slick and drooling for him. For him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, which you didn't hear. Louder, he said, "Felt that good, my pretty girl?"

You nodded, embarrassment squeezing your gut. You cursed, hiding your face in your hands.

"Don't hide from me," Price said sternly, but his words were still soft. "S'all right. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of my pretty girl."

As you moved your hands away, he placed his mouth on your core. You moaned, loud, as his tongue moved in a swiping motion from your dripping hole to your clit. He laved over the sensitive bud, sucking it into his mouth as your thighs enclosed around his head.

"Oh my— fucking— Price—"

He hummed, the vibrations making you choke on a sob. His tongue was hot against you as he placed a few more licks to your clit, before dragging it down your slit, running between your folds before delving deep into your hole. You mewled as he filled you, warm and firm, sucking up your arousal with lewd sounds that made your ears ring. You reached down, fisting his hair, dragging his face closer to your cunt. His nose pressed to your swollen clit, and you keened, back arching off his bedsheets.

Your stomach pulsed, low and heavy with release, and it made your mouth drop open. He had barely had his tongue on you for thirty seconds, and you were already about to—

You were mortified. Price stuffed your sopping cunt with his tongue, mumbling something into you that had the vibrations coaxing your orgasm closer and closer until, with a final firm press of his nose to your clit, you came.

Was it way less than a minute? Quite fucking possibly.

You don't think you've cum that quickly in your life.

Your cunt spasmed and gushed around his tongue, and Price lapped it up happily as you moaned his name and sobbed "sir!" into the warm air of his bedroom. He groaned happily as your thighs tightened, clamping him closer to you. He closed his eyes, enjoying the way he was pushed further into your slick core.

Once your orgasm resided, ebbing like the waves on the shore, he pulled back, face wet.

You cracked your eyes open. He was back to groping your thighs, your arousal literally dripping in pearls down his chin. Your heart fluttered. He had a mischievous glint in his eye.

You groaned. "Don't—"

"That's gotta be some kinda record, eh, love?"

"Fucking hell, Price."

He placed a wet kiss to your inner thigh.

"You're welcome." He joked, a fucked out smile on his face.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

not proof read cause i'm lazy x

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #fem reader #captain price #captain price smut #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #call of duty mwii #john price #price smut #price call of duty #captain’snirvana

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sugarandspicewriting · 3 months

Note

girl, you should definitely write something about luke letting you do his make up, please! i'm begging you!

Lipstick Kisses

Summary: Luke brings you a snack after missing you at breakfast, but finds himself getting a makeover instead.

Warnings: Fem Aphrodite!Reader. Fluff.

A/N: Here is the fic I mentioned. I’m also spreading my peel and orange for your lover agenda.

The Aphrodite cabin was filled with a soft morning light. You sat on one of the intricately carved wooden stools in front of the vanity you had claimed as your own when you were claimed by your mother. One of the best things about the Aphrodite cabin? Mirrors surrounded you, a luxury unique to this cabin. You had woken up late due to a late night rendezvous with your boyfriend, Luke the previous night. When faced with the decision of getting breakfast or looking good for the day, you decided that sometimes sacrifice was necessary for beauty.

No one could say you weren’t your mother’s daughter.

As you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup and mentally preparing to start your day, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. You were expecting one of your siblings to be teasing you for your not-so-stealthy reentrance last night. Instead, you were met with Luke voice.

“Figured you didn’t show up at breakfast because of last night, so brought you something to eat.” He spoke softly, not wanting to break the quiet morning atmosphere.

You smiled at him, not wanting to make too much noise yourself. Luke sat down on your bed and began to peel the orange he brought for you while you finished up your makeup, feeding you orange slices occasionally.

After finishing your morning routine, an idea stuck you, and you turned to look at Luke who had busied himself with cleaning up the orange peels. “Luke,” you called out, barely covering the excitement in your voice. “You’ve watched me do my makeup before, yes?”

He looked up at you, not sure where you were going with this, but the sparkle in your eyes made him ready to go along with anything you would say next. “Yes, why?”

“Would you let me do your makeup? Please? It’ll be fun and we can take it off before anyone sees and-“

“Of course princess.”

“-I wouldn’t tell-oh!”

His readiness to appease you in this way shocked you. You beamed at him and got up from your seat and ushered him towards the vanity.

In truth, Luke had no interest in having makeup on. But if it kept you smiling like that he’d wear it all day and all around camp.

Once he sat in front of the mirror, you climbed on his lap and began your artistic venture. Your breaths intermingled softly. The subtle smell of citrus floated between you. In between bouts of concentration you would catch him staring at you, and would have to bury your face in his neck in embarrassment until he coaxed you back up with promises of kisses. You had to ask him to stop staring.

He didn’t.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed once you had finished your masterpiece. It honestly wasn’t your best work. Having his undivided attention with him being so close was still foreign to you and it made your hands shake.

You twisted around and dug through one of the drawers on your vanity, still refusing to leave his lap, looking for a hand mirror so he could get a close look at your handiwork.

Once you found it you got off his lap and held the mirror in front of him and counted down, “Okay three, two, one!”

Luke opened his eyes and gasped softly.

“Well what do you think?”

He laughed softly, “Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I might be a makeup convert now." He said. He started making over exaggerating kissy faces and poses which made you laugh.

But soon, he turned the tables, planting lipstick-stained kisses all over your face. Panicking, you protested, "Luke, I'll be seriously late if I have to redo my makeup!"

He grinned, "Consider this payback for all the times you covered me in lipstick kisses, princess."

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 4 months

Text

Don’t Expect the Expected

Synopsis: Formula 1’s only and most successful female driver and Real Madrid’s star midfielder. It’s too good to be true. Right?

social media au

female driver reader x jude bellingham

A/N: for this one, reader will be 20 and drive for mercedes with george. also im so sorry but some of the photos might be blurry/hard to see

y/n_l/n

august 19th

liked by carlossainz55, realmadridfc, and 687,984 others

y/n_l/n carlossainz kidnapped me to convert me into a real madrid fan

carlossainz don’t lie you loved it

realmadridfc no need to pretend y/n! we know you’ve always been a fan ❤️

user1 omg I wonder if she met the players

user2 need more carlos and y/n content immediately they’re such an underrated friendship

user3 yesss y/n and real madrid my two favorite things

y/n_l/n

september 20th

liked by carlossainz, judebellingham, and 737,421 others

y/n_l/n guess they did something right because im back for more

carlossainz I knew you liked it

y/n_l/n shhh

judebellingham glad to have you back

y/n_l/n glad to be back

user4 ariana what are you doing here

user5 look at y/n and jude 😭

user6 wait what I didn’t even think of them together

user6 im not complaining tho they’d be cute together

user7 omg is that jude in that photo with her??

user8 imagine

y/n_l/n

october 10th

liked by mercedesamgf1, judebellingham, and 624,178 others

y/n_l/n this week so far

user9 IS THE SHADOW PHOTO Y/N AND JUDE???

user10 OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY A COUPLE

user11 these two were not on my 2023 bingo card 😭

user12 my favorite couple fr

user13 is this a soft launch or hard launch I can’t tell

user14 usually I advocate for people just being friends but I ship these two way too hard for that 😭

y/n_l/n

november 8th

liked by jobebellingham, judebellingham, and 987,541 others

y/n_l/n this man said “let’s play mermaids”

judebellingham don’t know what you’re on about mermaids is the best game

y/n_l/n I didn’t say it wasn’t

jobebellingham he can’t even pose 🤦‍♂️

y/n_l/n cant even pose 🤦‍♀️

judebellingham that’s not fair you two can’t gang up on me

y/n_l/n jobe only speaks the truth 🤷‍♀️

jobebellingham facts

user15 caption should’ve said jobe and his parents

user16 family day fr

user17 Y/N’S MET JUDE’S FAMILY IM GONNA CRY

user18 ENOUGH of this soft launch you guys are too cute to stay secret 😭

user19 half of me still can’t believe they’re basically together but the other half of me is so happy they are

user20 my parents

user21 them >>>>

judebellingham

november 20th

liked by y/n_l/n, eduardocamavinga, and 690,357 others

judebellingham let’s stay in vegas

user22 JUDE WENT TO A RACE AHHH

user23 jude’s in his wag era !!

user24 “let’s stay in vegas” 😭 he’s so sweet im crying

user25 both mercedes on the podium AND a jude/y/n post?? it’s a good day

user25 i just know jude was cheering like crazy for her in the merc garage

user26 no more soft launch please i want my parents to be together and proud 🙏🙏

y/n_l/n

november 27th

liked by judebellingham, mercedesamgf1, and 619,926 others

y/n_l/n a great end to a fantastic season ⭐️ so proud of everything we’ve accomplished this year, can’t wait till febuary 🫶

mercedesamgf1 🩵

y/n_l/n 🩵

judebellingham 🫶

user27 can’t believe it’s over already

user28 y/n owned this season she did so good 🙏

user29 i don’t know what im gonna do without y/n’s weekly race photo dumps 😔

user27 especially with jude 😞

user30 wish this season could’ve gone on forever

user31 at least we’ll get some winter break content

y/n_l/n

december 1st

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 801,645 others

y/n_l/n home

judebellingham you couldn’t have chosen a better photo?

y/n_l/n wdym? you look fantastic in that one

user32 omg she called madrid home 😭

user33 or jude home

user34 either are so cute I might die

user35 im so happy they got together

user36 they’re actually perfect for each other

user37 fuck romeo and juliet I want what these bitches have

y/n_l/n

december 7th

liked by jobebellingham, judebellingham, and 845,139 others

y/n_l/n jobe > the other random one on the right

jobebellingham 💪

judebellingham you need to stop with these photos it’s getting out of hand

user38 jobe’s parents

user39 family day pt 2

user40 no but fr where did she get that picture of jude

user41 omg 💀

judebellingham

december 14th

liked by y/n_l/n, jobebellingham, and 987,609 others

judebellingham bts- “this is our second cart, we do not need a 3rd christmas bush” “it’s a christmas tree jude” “dont look like one” “you look like one” “what was that?” “nothing”

“why in the world do we need 4 gingerbread houses? no one even eats them” “so? they look nice” “yeah, 1 looks nice, 4 looks like we’re crazy”

and after we set the timer to get the third photo, y/n slipped and fell. I laughed

user42 LMAOO

user43 jude 💀

user44 im deadddd

user45 holidays with the bellinghams

user46 if she wants 3 christmas bushes let her get 3 christmas bushes 🤨🤨

user47 I would pay sm money to watch this all happen

user48 they bicker like an old married couple I love it

user49 my parents

user50 they’re everyone’s parents atp

user51 im so in love with them

user52 is this still a soft launch??? are they even dating or are they just besties 😭

user53 girl there’s no way they’re just friends

user54 but like they haven’t even called each other girlfriend/boyfriend

user55 they’re 100% dating…. I think

user56 now that I think about it, their posts could very much be platonic

user57 omg no way they haven’t even confirmed their relationship

user52

december 23

liked by y/n_l/n, judebellingham, and 989,876 others

user52 💀💀

user58 all this time we were trying to get them to reveal their relationship but they weren’t even intentionally hiding it

user59 we’re actually so dumb 🤦‍♀️

user60 I can’t believe we didn’t think of a private relationship sooner

user61 omg seriously

user62 well at least (I have nothing, im still shocked)

*I don’t take credit or own any of these photos*

#reader insert #formula 1 #driver reader #platonic f1 grid #female driver reader #f1 imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #social media au #smau #jude bellingham smau #football imagine #footballer imagine

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winterrrnight · 9 days

Text

drew being in love with the makeup artist on set <3 a drew starkey x gn!reader blurb <3 lower case is intentional! <3

“and cut!”

the deep voice of the director booms through the small set where the shooting is taking place, causing the light chatter of the behind-the-scenes crew to fill the room. drew lets out a deep sigh as he slumps on the sofa on the set, leaning against its back as he shuts his eyes close momentarily.

“giving you five to rest and touch up okay?” the assistant director tells him. “it’s best to get this scene done today,”

“yeah yeah…” drew mutters as the assistant director walks off, leaving drew alone. you go up to him with the small makeup kit in your hand, and as drew hears footsteps approaching him along with the scent of the perfume he’s irrevocably in love with, his eyes open as he lifts his head from the couch, a smile spreading across his face when he sees you.

“come sit,” he tells you, patting the empty seat next to him on the sofa. you gladly oblige as you sit down next to him, opening the makeup kit to get the face powder. he lays his head back on the couch, lazy eyes looking at you as you start to apply the powder on his face.

“you look tired,” you say softly, gently patting the powder on his face. “tough scene?”

“real tough,” he mutters, sighing. “I just can’t seem to get it,”

“it’s okay,” you smile, keeping the powder back as you get the blush, just to slightly tint his cheeks. “just breathe, close your eyes for a moment, and let yourself immerse into the character. you know the character better than anyone here, you can do this yeah?”

he can feel his worries slip away immediately with your gentle voice, as he slowly nods, letting his eyes flutter close. you run a brush over his cheeks gently, the bristles stroking his face and fueling him with a sense of tranquility.

“you’ve been doing so well though…” you whisper softly. you both feel like you’re immersed in your own bubble, the chitter-chatter of the crew being a blur to you both.

“I have?” He asks softly, a gentle smile pulling his lips.

you keep the blush aside and get to apply a subtle lip tint on his lips with a thin brush, your eyebrows slightly furrowed as you trace the outline of his lips with the bristles of the brush.

“of course,” you murmur. “you have me in awe with your talent each day, drew. I really do think you’re one of the best out there,”

his small smile converts to a beautiful grin which shows off his teeth, causing you to smile big too. “you sweet sweet human being…” he murmurs, his eyes still closed and his lips not moving too much as he lets you apply the lip tint. you can’t help but let out a soft laugh at his words, shaking your head.

as you finish applying the lip tint, he opens his eyes to meet with yours. no words are exchanged, just smiles as he watches you pack up everything in your makeup kit.

“alright alright everyone get back to your places!”

the same, deep sound of the director booms through the set again and you both snap out of your daze, as you scramble to get up from the couch and leave. but before you can do that, you feel drew’s fingers wrap around your wrist and gently tugging you close to him, causing you to stop and look at him with a quizzical look on your face.

“meet me outside the set after this take okay?” he says softly in your ear. “I’ll nail it in this last take,”

you softly smile, nodding.

“go get ’em starkey,” you smile, leaving the set as drew lets go of your wrist, watching you walk away with a contented smile on his face.

god he is so whipped for you.

#drew starkey #drew <3 #drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey concept #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey thoughts #drew starkey drabble #drew starkey prompt #written by edith! 🪄

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whore4abby · 6 months

Text

a room with a view; abby anderson

part one

warnings; older!abby, ditzy fem!reader, mdni

wc; 1.1k

you were getting tired of the bustling city-that-never-sleeps lifestyle, and it was starting to take a toll on you, leaving you feeling burnt out and in need of a little getaway for a while. you had decided to surf the web and look for any airbnb listings, preferably something a couple hours outside the city.

whilst idly scrolling through the available rentals, you eventually stumble upon a listing that catches your attention. the listing is for a room to rent on a charming farmstead nestled in a serene and rural part of a small town, surrounded by rolling hills and lush greenery that seems to span for miles and miles in all directions.

intrigued by the listing, you quickly make up your mind and decide to book this spontaneous getaway. the thought of being on a farm for a few weeks has you feeling giddy and excited about your new adventure, picturing yourself in the idyllic fields and playing with the animals, maybe even going for a dip in a nearby creek.

and after a few swift clicks of your freshly manicured fingertips and a trip to your purse to fetch your credit card details, you’ve finally secured your reservation. you try to hold back your excitement but before long you’re giggling and kicking your feet like a schoolgirl, rustling the soft floral sheets beneath you with your frenzied movements.

a couple weeks later, you find yourself driving up a long and winding path up towards the farmhouse. the fields either side of you filled with gorgeous wildflowers and tallgrass, the gentle breeze causing them to sway slightly. you hum along happily to the music emitting from your radio, a little smile on your face as you feel the warmth of the sun hitting your cheeks.

abby sits on the front porch of the farm house, a coffee mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. she hears the low rumble of your engine and looks over as you slow down and pull up outside the quaint farmhouse. she watches you hop out of your little white convertible and prop your sunglasses up on your head, your wedged sandals crunching at the gravel beneath your feet as you saunter around to the trunk to grab your bags.

abby stands up, taking a final sip of her coffee before walking off the shady porch and towards you. she crosses her arms across her chest and stares at you, clearly unimpressed with your arrival. the clothes you’re wearing scream ‘city girl’ and she thinks you look a little ridiculous walking around in a short dress and high heels.

“i think you're in the wrong part of town, darlin’…” she blows out a big cloud of smoke and raises an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down and throwing the cigarette butt to the floor and stomping it out with the heel of her beaten up cowboy boots. “y/n right…?”

“yeah, that's me…and you’re abby, right?” you smile, before attempting to haul your luggage out of the car. abby nods and sighs before getting closer to help you with your things. “here, let me…” she mumbles, not waiting for your response before grabbing your bags and suitcases one by one. you watch her as she effortlessly lifts the bags and walks with them towards the modest home. you finally get a good look at the woman you’re gonna be spending the next month with, and you feel yourself start to get a little flustered around her as you watch her biceps strain against her plaid shirt.

you giggle softly and look up at her “i could’ve done that myself-” she smirks ever so slightly and gives you another subtle once over, “a pretty little city girl like yourself…? i don't think so, honey.”

abby looks down at you smugly, and gives you a sceptical look, speaking lowly, “ya know.. this is a farm right? this ain’t a vacation. you can’t be wearin shit like that. jesus christ, girl.” she mutters before she starts to take your bags into the farmhouse.

“this is where you’re gonna be staying.” abby sighs and almost rolls her eyes as she leads you down the corridor and into a bedroom. its a small room, nothing like what you’re used to back at home, but you’ll make do just fine. she sets down the pile of bags and stands with her hands on her hips in the doorway. “set your shit up…” she looks at you sternly.

“listen to me missy….im not dealing with any of this bullshit-” she gestures to the excessive amount of belongings you have, from the makeup to the ungodly amount of clothes and other useless material items.

“i don't want you leavin all your things around, yeah? this is my house and you’re gonna follow my rules whether you like it or not…understand?” you resist the temptation to roll your eyes and give her attitude, instead choosing to just nod for the sake of staying on her good side. and with that she turns on her heel and retreats back down the hallway and disappears out of sight.

you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the bed, giving yourself a little time to adjust to your new temporary home before you start to unpack.

the next morning, you step out of your room, heels smacking against the hardwood flooring as you join abby at the table. she looks up from her newspaper in disbelief and scoffs at your choice of outfit, but its obvious she likes what she sees as her eyes drift down to your thighs, which are barely covered by your itty bitty denim shorts. “coffee?” she pushes over the pot towards you and your eyebrows furrow, “no iced lattes?” she snorts in amusement and shakes her head, “just drink the damn coffee, doll~”

you huff but still bring the mug up to your freshly glossed lips, drinking from the steaming mug, and shuddering a little at the bitter taste, “not even any sugar?” you give her an innocent smile, hoping to woo her into agreeing with you. but instead she looks at you as if you’ve deeply offended her, making it pretty clear she’s not willing to compromise on this.

she finishes reading and snaps the newspaper back together, throwing it down on the table and standing back up. “hey, wh- i wasn't finished!” you pout as she scoops up your mug and pours the coffee down the drain.

“remember what i said!? my house. my rules. now hurry up we got work to do-” she bites back harshly and opens up the door, ushering you out and resisting the urge to slap your ass as you pass by.

god this was gonna be hard work.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby x you

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jeonqkooks · 7 months

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @wintaerbaer for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere.

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house.

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married.

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great.

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met.

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky.

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace.

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground.

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks.

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go.

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back. [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.” You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement.

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge.

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him.

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him. His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening.

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Yandere Cult Leader! Headcanons

Warnings: Toxic Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusions of Grandeur, Narcissism, Manipulation, Indoctrination, Implications of Smut, Implications of Sexual Coercion, Kidnapping, False Imprisonment, Implication of Murder, Implications of Torture, Implication of Sexual Punishment/Reward, Implications of Pregnancy (Not of Reader), Poisoning, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Themes, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he sees you for the first time, a quiver in your walk and your voice as you explain to him that your car just swerved into a tree, seemingly of its own accord, leaving you with no means of transportation, knows there is something different about you. Almost whimsical.

♡ Something that makes his stone heart stammer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you shamble up to his front doorstep and plead for help, welcomes you with open arms into his house – the only one for miles – and tells you to “Take a seat. Please, make yourself comfortable !”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, after finding out that you’re unfamiliar with the area, that you’re not privy to where anything or anyone is, hence you didn’t see whatever caused your car to swerve, can’t help but feel something hidden, dark, light up in the back of his mind.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who insists you “Stay the night; we’d be more than happy to have you !” And actively resists your declination, your promise that you’ll “Be fine if I can get to a hospital.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose only elaboration on who “we” are comes in the form of taking you out the back of the house, which now you see is more like a manor, the front of the architecture being deceptively small and mousy, where, as far as the eye could see, a town slept. One filled with people – hundreds, it seemed – dressed in clothing so similar to one another that they formed a moving pattern.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite knowing there are always vacant houses available for any ‘late comers’ to his Association, tells you otherwise – that you will be “Staying with me.” Just until you’re better. Or the next morning, at the very least.

♡ With no phone signal and a growing headache, throupled with your limp, you feel you have little chance of survival out on the open road; especially at night.

♡ And, with what you suspect to be a concussion and no room to argue given how far from anything and everything you were, you accepted what you thought was a gracious offer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader knows he has to act fast – while you’re still vulnerable and malleable.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he has one of his associates draw you a bath, takes your clothes and puts them somewhere only he knows, providing you with clothes of the same material and disposition as everyone else at the compound town.

♡ “For your comfort,” he says, smiling vaguely. “Those city garments looked awfully dirty and uncomfortable – especially since you’ve just had a nasty accident.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you ask for an ambulance, does one better, bringing you the ‘in-house doctor’ who tells him exactly what he wants to hear. That you’ll “Need to rest for the next week or so, just to be safe.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who thanks whatever deity aside from himself exists who has gifted him such a lenient timeframe to grant you ascension into his Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, standing just outside your guest bedroom, can’t help but smile, knowing that a week alone with you will be a cakewalk. He’s converted people in a single night before now. Albeit through practices he just can’t bring himself to use on you. Not in isolation, anyway.

♡ Despite the unfamiliar sense of urgency that twists his heart in directions it has never known.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who wastes no time in spinning a frivolous, magnificent story for you, proclaiming himself the mayor of this small, humble town, made up of hard-working folk – farmers, labourers, clothes makers; people who were driven from the city after industrialisation made it impossible for them to financially support themselves.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who revels in the way your eyes glimmer when he divulges his accolades to you, though does so with the modesty of one who sees it as their everyday life. Yet, he knows he has not captured your adoration yet. Another idol lives in your heart; a pop star, a film actor, a god of some description. Not him.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who promises to stamp this out of you. In time.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the couple of days after you arrived, commits every ounce of his free time to getting to know you, to understanding what makes you tick, what makes you submissive.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, being the only one in the Compound to understand your culture references outside of this town, having access to sources his Family does not, uses all his knowledge to create an image of himself as a relatable, well-adjusted member of society. Both yours, and his.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can see you’re becoming more comfortable with him the longer he spends in your presence. And he picks up on your body language to know when you want to be left alone, when you want to speak with him, when you’re starting to feel uncomfortable for one reason or another, and acts accordingly.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you start to ask if you’ll be able to leave soon, knows what must be done.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader understands that, to create the perfect disciple, one must first give them the illusion of choice, and the illusion that, when given the chance to leave, they are making the right choice by deciding to stay.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader no longer accosts you when you go to leave the house anymore, instead feeding into your little fantasy that “You’re looking a lot healthier now ! I think you’re almost fully healed.” Even getting the doctor to confirm his false pleasantry musings.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, from the top floor of his sprawling manor, watches you interact with his Family. You’re so easy to track even without his assigned Protectors following you. You stick out with your mannerisms, your smile fresh and not derived from worship of him, but a million other things running through your mind.

♡ You’re a challenge. Oddly resilient to his attempts to charm you as not to want to spend every waking second in his presence as his disciples do. Then again, you’re much more strong-willed than them. Have something to live for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite his goal of initiating as many people into his Family as he can, can’t deny that the more he knows about you – what little information you divulge to this perfect stranger – he feels…drawn to you. In the same way his disciples are to him.

♡ This, he cannot allow. Though he does humour this schoolboy feeling of his interest piquing, his heart fluttering whenever you laugh at his jokes, or relay something to him he never knew before.

♡ Sure, maybe he’s only known you for about a week at this point, but he knows potential when he sees it.

♡ And he’s seen it in you.

♡ Now it’s just a case of getting you – and it – to conform to his will.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, just like whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed or needs to dispel energy of a most nefarious nature, beds his willing disciples – those he knows will not say no, who will gladly take his seed, those who will bear him the fruits of his labour.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader lives for validation, and he’s essentially created his own serotonin farm to stroke his ego whenever he feels it deflating.

♡ And nothing makes Yandere Cult Leader’s ego swell more than seeing the women of his town with his children, knowing that they shall be his successors, the ones to continue his legacy, or fall into his personal army if they are too weak in the mind to take up his mantle.

♡ And that, he knows, is the root of all power. His power, at least.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he realises that people will start looking for you soon, decides to take matters into his own hands. He won’t let anyone take you from him. Not when there’s still so much he has to show you – to teach you.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who fabricates your demise – an unfortunate car accident – sacrificing one of his family collective to take your place in the car, similar to you in every aspect in your physicality; your hair colour, your height, your eyes. And the parts that can’t be faked – moles, tattoos, patches – he has his associates cover up with a fire sparked when the oil leaked into the car engine.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the meantime, starts thinking of ways to keep you inside – to stop you from seeing anyone else besides him, from potentially escaping.

♡ That, and he underestimated your likeability, noticing his disciples beginning to take to you with something akin to haste. Something akin to that which he felt for you.

♡ Attraction.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who sees this liking displayed when everyone is gathered in the hall for his talks, wherein he sees the odd person or two talking with you during his speeches. Something unheard of – straight-up forbidden – until now.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader decides not to punish you for this transgression. After all, you’re new ! You don’t know how everything works here (he’s made sure of that). But the initiator…

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure they learn their lesson – a little etiquette in obedience. And you won’t be seeing them again for a while.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader doesn’t just see you as a distraction for himself anymore, but a potential weapon against his power.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader isn’t stupid. On the contrary, he’s entirely lucid and knows exactly what you’d call his little establishment. A cult. A blasphemy of heretics.

♡ And he can’t have you blabbing your mouth – as much as he loves hearing you tell him stories – to the wrong people. Or realising what you’ve been roped into.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader takes your health into his hands and begins adding a secret ingredient to your meals. One which is tasteless, scentless, yet weakens you with each passing day.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, now having the excuse to do so, rarely lets you out of the house (not that you can leave, anyway) insisting that you aren’t well enough to do so.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure he’s your main source of care and entertainment during your time of declining health.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses your weakened, bed-ridden state to feed you more glorious tales of his philanthropy and godliness. And you, with little else to do – little else you can do – listen. And believe.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as the weeks go on, can see that the defiance in your eyes, the initial hesitation and wariness you displayed in your first days here, is starting to fade, along with any fight or hope you have of ever leaving this place.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader feels his heart clamour when you request his presence, an associate of his coming to retrieve him from his office on the rare day he isn’t there to care for you himself.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he can see you’re particularly pained, looks over his shoulder and, as if he’s letting you in on a secret, flashes you a smile.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader calls you his “Special little Lamb. My Saint,” and gets up, locking the bedroom door, returning to your bedside.

♡ His hand slips beneath the bed sheets, finding your thigh. First, with reassurance. Then, with something else. Hunger. Promise.

♡ And you, in your state of delirium, either cannot or choose not to resist as his hand travels further beneath your night shirt, creeping ever closer to your epicentre. All the while, he’s crawling on top of you, an archway to another world. A cage.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader tells you to “Keep quiet. We don’t want the others getting jealous now.”

♡ And all the while, as he’s taking care of you, making you gasp, too feeble to even make a sound, he tells you how he thinks “The Gods will heal you, if only you acknowledged them.” His gaze turns hard. There is no humour, no levity, within him. “Join them.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, one evening, when he’s at your bedside, after months of his attempts to break you, feels his heart soar when you tell him you “Want to become part of the Family.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can’t tell if he’s eventually gotten through to you, either with his promises of restoration or his nights of gratification, but he sees your conformity as loyalty. Finally.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, seeing that he has you in his iron grip, ceases his poisoning and begins work on your ascension. Immediately.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as your condition begins to improve, tells you that you are to become his ‘special assistant’ – an occupation everyone in his town would kill and die for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose articulation of what ‘special assistant’ means comes in the form of a collar.

♡ And not just any collar. A shock collar.

♡ Not that you know this. Yet.

♡ yandere Cult Leader who, when you’re able to stand, move, and even participate in everyday activities, has your ‘coronation’ organised. A celebration (and display of ownership_ of you and all that you will be bringing to the Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who watches everyone’s reactions carefully, picking out those who showed doubt, even a sliver, and those who seemed overly-accepting of your presence.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, as you went to go to your room, pulled you into his, locking the door behind him.

♡ “An assistant as special as yourself can’t be expected to sleep all by their lonesome,” he tells you, his hand on yours. Iron.

♡ “Not when it’s my job to serve you.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is a master manipulator. A lucid one at that. Though, his narcissism clouds his sense of self.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, takes you for the first time, deeming it to be the claiming ceremony’ – one which has been a tradition since the inception of the Association.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader convinces you that this is the right thing to do, regardless of how much you want to do it.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who doesn’t stop until he sees every ounce of resistance leave your eyes, and not just towards his advances. Extending far beyond tonight – into the rest of your life as you come to accept that this is your fate, one spent with a demon in a god’s clothing.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses sexual gratification as a motivator (or punishment) depending on your behaviour.

♡ If you do something that displeases him, that risks making him lose face if only for a second, he can be vile. Promising the most promiscuously torturous and painful outcomes should you defy his word again.

♡ Such motivators of these punishments can be as simple as wanting to take a walk outside the Compound, asking him a question about the Uncaring Outside, or not doing what he asks of you immediately after he’s told you what he wants.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is most unkind when he is displeased. And he’ll let you know how easily replaceable you are, how quickly he can find a willing body to take your place in his bed at a moment’s notice.

♡ And you know he’s right. That’s why you obey like you do, why you take the slings and arrows your existence is heir to now, why you plead and beg and cry that you’d “Do better next time ! Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

♡ However, if you have displayed good behaviour, he’ll call you by any name you want to hear – “Sweetheart”, “Darling”, “Angel” – anything that reinforces your perceived importance to the Cult Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader has you glued to his side forevermore. Anyone who tries tot ake you from him is deftly dealt with. Which is why you never see the people who’ve come searching for you, who stumbled upon the leader’s human enclosure as you had. Albeit with less guidance from the Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader promises you that “Nobody out There loves you as much as I do. If they did, they’d have come to join you, wouldn’t they ?”

♡ God forbid if you disagree. The Leader didn’t groom you to be opinionated; he tamed you into his pet.

♡ And if you ever want a fighting chance of escaping this place alive, you have to make him believe that you’re dedicated to nothing but him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

2K notes · View notes

hxltic · 8 days

Note

Heya!

First of all, I just wanna say that your stories/writing skills are AMAZING, I’m absolutely obsessed with your page tbh <3

I do wanna request another Megumi smut fic, if that’s okay. Maybe one where the (fem) reader is pretty anxious about getting intimate, but he gently talks her through it iykwim

Thank you so much pretty, and it’s perfectly okay.

You’d been thinking about it all day. So much so, that as your feet patter on the square tile of the kitchen in your shared apartment, you realize that instead of retrieving the parmesan out of the fridge, you’re pacing back and forth.

But then, every aspect of intimacy throttles into what you thought was a confirmed decision. It then splits it apart, leaving you conflicted when you thought you were done contemplating it.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

What if your ph wasn’t balanced? What if it’s not everything you dreamed of? It’s been a while since you’d actually shaved, would that turn him off? Should you wear something different? Can you even be seductive without being unable to take yourself seriously?

You shake your head at the reeling mess of hypotheticals, somewhat hoping the action would disperse them so that they dissipate into the air. Forcing one foot in front of the other with a sigh, you go to the opposite side of the kitchen, and take a seat on the stool at the bar top after plating your dinner.

And then you’re maybe two bites in before the front door’s lock rattles, clicks, and twists to invite nobody other than your beloved boyfriend in, returning from errands.

He effortlessly carries three bags of groceries in one hand, unintentionally showcasing the rings wrapped around his fingers. The other holds another two bags. He shuffles into the house, closes the door, and greets you, raising the food up high enough to rest it along the granite.

“Hey, what’s up? You made dinner early?” He stocks the milk into the refrigerator.

With a final chew, you place the fork down and rest your chin in your hands. “Yeah, I thought you told me to?”

He nods with a small curl of his lips, “I did. Told you to stop waiting up for me.”

You hum in response. It’s pretty quiet after that, just you two in each other’s presence as a couple, until he’s done with his task and gets a plate of his own. Of course, he comes to sit right beside you, but not before moving your hair out of the way and providing a gentle kiss to the forehead first. You smile, but not as bright as you usually do. He inspects your distant expression.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes find his. You can tell he’s trying to think of anything that could possibly be wrong—something he forgot, or something he did. It’s almost instinct for your heavy emotion to lift temporarily when anyone asks this question, giving you the appearance of an excited puppy. “Yeah, yeah! I’m good. Just,” you shrug, “thinking.”

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You definitely have his full attention, but when he takes a bite of his dinner, he can’t help but comment on how good it is. Meanwhile, you’re slightly able to feel heat rising to your cheeks. “Uhm…I don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

By this point the smell of the food is rising into your nose from below, long forgotten as your fingers rub circles into your temple.

“Try. I’ll piece it together,” he reassures. You’ve been trying to work on your communication, as is he, but he’s usually succeeding far more at it than you are, you have to admit.

“Uhh, fuck. I’m…” It’s already difficult to convert thoughts into words, let alone thoughts like these. Oh yeah, Megumi, I’ve been thinking about you fucking me for a while now. It’s even harder when you can feel him staring dead at you with those tender eyes, just waiting patiently for an answer. “Ready to take our relationship— further?”

Your shoulders haunch up protectively when you turn your attention to him, whose eyebrows are furrowed a bit, attempting to comprehend what you just said. It then looks like it hits him, but he inquires anyway, “Further, how?”

You pout, “Are you going to make me say it, Megumi?”

The man wasn’t stupid; he knew exactly what you were asking for. But the culpability of being incorrect would make him feel like the worst person on the damned planet, and this would tell you that he was “hoping” you would say something about sex. He knows you. It implies that the topic was on his mind beforehand, ultimately enhancing the pressure since you then would know he was thinking about it.

But truth be told, he wasn’t. When you said you wanted to take it slow, he was completely okay with that. Of course—there’s no denying the amplification of his hormones when you’re fresh out of the shower, walking around braless in a large tee, shorts, and wet hair—but it was never enough to push you into something you weren’t ready for. It would never be. All he had to do was take a shower, whether extra long or cold.

“Are you sure? You do understand that, no matter what, you come before your body, right?”

“Of course. You’ve always made me feel safe, and I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t done the thinking. I’m just nervous, I guess? I want it to be good for you, but I haven’t really done this before.”

“I guarantee you, there literally isn’t anything you could do that would make it a bad experience for me.” His smile spreads a grin to your features, lifting your mood a little. “And you don’t have to be nervous— I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“Finish your food. I know you’ve had a long day and you need energy for the scandalous acts you’ve committed to,” he adds. You giggle at the joke, suddenly feeling lightweight from the anchor that he’d single-handedly lifted off you.

Only to leave as quickly as it came because that meant you had to get ready for tonight.

——•——

After taking one more shower before he took his, you’re already in bed after dinner, curled up watching the light from the tv fill the room every time you change the channel. The smell of strawberries and coconut bounces off you, probably now into the fibers of the bed, and you’re as smooth as a baby. Everywhere.

The door to the bedroom suddenly opens, revealing Megumi with a towel draped low around his waist, hair fallen, dripping all over the carpet, and cut abdomen a distraction from whatever show you had playing.

The best part about having had that conversation is that you don’t have to conceal your feelings or the throb between your legs anymore. There’s no guilt from knowing the two of you will only get to kissing, desperately trying to find some friction.

Megumi leisurely walks over to the closet, entertained by your low eyes trained to him like a moth to a flame. You don’t even notice his amused gaze. “Can I help you with something?” He teases, eyebrows dipping into a smirk.

Your eyes finally shoot up, but you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed. “Maybe.”

He chuckles, opening a drawer to grab some sweats. “We just talked, like, an hour and a half ago, and you’re already about to pounce on me.”

“Oh please— tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

You carelessly throw the remote down. Megumi disappears, then reappears, pants on and ruffling the towel to dry his hair. When he finishes, he comes to his side of the bed, pinches your chin delicately, and tilts it up to him. His voice was lower, and velvety sweet. He knew he could ask you to do anything if he spoke like this.

“You know I do.”

The ravenette allows you to kiss him softly, but he keeps it short. It’s just enough for a huff to leave your mouth when he pulls away. “We don’t have to do this tonight. There’s no deadline for me to be inside of you,” he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip.

You’d think he was talking about taxes with how casually he said it. Now that was what embarrassed you. “Right. Yeah.”

You force a smile to your face and turn away, going back to the tv, trying your best to ignore the growing heat in your stomach and the sudden disappointment of your work going to waste.

He observes that you don’t actually look satisfied, and was instead shuffling and moving awkwardly. To be fair, he knew what it looked like when you were horny.

“Unless, of course, it was what you really wanted.”

Then you look to him, and when he slowly pans back at you, knowing you took the bait, he immediately understands the severity of how you feel by the undercurrent of desperation in your eyes. You seemed to need him. His eyes slightly widen.

You didn’t just randomly want to have sex with him; it had been growing over time. Every kiss, lick, and touch began to lose its fervor when you’d already known the outcome— when it would stop. You’d just finally been able to vocalize it.

“Come here,” he opens his arms up to you. The bed bounces when you throw the covers off and crawl to him, resting atop his lap and clearing his view to the tv. He didn’t mind; he has a better one.

The friction you get from his legs, pathetically, has you shifting before getting fully situated. His hands come to rest in the dip of your hips to keep you still. But he knows.

“You understand that I love you...”

It was said declaratively, like he was sure, but just in case he was wrong, you could speak up. His eyes carried a kindness to them and his cushiony voice melted your brain. “I do.”

“And you understand what you truly want? You’re sure I’m who you want to be your first?”

You nod. “And hopefully my last.”

“Then I want you to know that anything after this,” he waves his hand in a circling motion, “You are in complete control of. Tell me to wait, I will. Tell me to stop, and I’m sure as hell pulling out, taking my hands off you, whatever, all in an instant. And don’t feel bad about anything you say to me. Ever.”

Soaking in the lecture, being unable to ignore as if they were terms and conditions, makes you fathom how serious this is. He’s speaking earnestly because you did before, hence when you begged to take it slow the day you started dating (he confirmed he didn’t mind, but you truthfully didn’t believe him as per past relationships). In this heart to heart, you looked into his dark blue eyes, wondering how you managed to find someone like him that would wait a million years for your trust.

“Okay. Likewise, I want you to teach me. That way in the future I can be better at what you like.”

A finger comes to brush a tendril of hair behind your ear as you mindlessly fiddle with your thumbs. “You are what I like, beautiful.”

And then you can’t resist feeling the sight in front of you, the same one the pads of your fingers have memorized from repetition, so with a featherlight touch, your hands separate and design delicate swirls into his v-line, trailing only up to about his belly button.

You love seeing his muscles contract when he twitches since everything he does seems to send a shiver down your spine.

Widening your fingers as they rise, they stretch the span of his chest. There’s a low hum when you make sure to lightly drag your nails across his skin, reminding you to shift your focus to his expression. He was already staring at you through his eyelashes.

Your lips find his in the slowest, most sultry manner you can control. Both hands card through his semi-damp locks, quickening his breath alone, while his take rest at the band of your sleep shorts. And just when you think he’s going to slip his fingers through the silk, he grabs you with a firm grip and rolls over so your back is to the sheets, leaving you still pawing at his nape.

The experience increases in heat as it does speed. You were smothered with his presence but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He connects your lips one last time before he parts to share his kisses on other spots of your body, including your jaw, collarbone, and once he gets the thin shirt you’re wearing off— your chest.

And he does just that, peeking up at you first for confirmation you two share the same idea. You answer by lifting and helping him tug it off.

You reach your hands up past your ribs to the swell of your breasts, massaging them, unable to look him in the eye.

“Look at me.”

Well fuck.

You do, and just then he’s placing his free hand over yours, ultimately pilfering its spot entirely, and taking his time to lick around the bud, swirling it into his mouth. It’s his first time hearing the whine that came out of you. He will hear it again.

He does the other the same, hardening the peaks only to leave them be with a conclusive squeeze. “Do you like that?”

You manage, “Yes.”

He kisses down your stomach, leaving a hum in response, and drags his fingers down even further to ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Lace?”

“Yeah, for you.” You shiver at his touch.

His thumb circles over your clit as his chin tips down to shift his eyes around the garment. “How long have you been planning this?”

“It started last week.” Your chest rises and falls when you giggle, it ultimately dissolving into a breathy moan once he applies a deeper pressure. “I took a trip to the mall.”

There’s no response. His hand draws up to the sides of your waist, pausing to give you more slow, endearing kisses along the band.

“I wore it so you could take it off, Megumi.”

“Great.”

And just like that, he’s sliding it off you, down your thighs and throwing them elsewhere behind him. “Can you open up for me?” He coos.

There’s a coil beginning in your tummy, and you aren’t exactly sure if it’s because you’re already throbbing or if the embarrassment is just now settling in. No matter what, you just want him to do something. You spread them.

He groans at the sight of you. Bare.

“Fuck, you’re something else.”

With some hint of friction to stabilize himself, he shifts his hips against the bed, then he dips his head into your center.

You’ve thought about what it would feel like when he “eats you out.” Would it feel slimy and trigger your sensory issues? Would you squirm in disgust or ecstasy? Would it feel like anything?

And now, you finally have an answer, because after the swipe of his tongue on your inner thigh, there’s a warmth you associate with the muscle of his tongue dragging between your lips. Involuntarily, you do begin to squirm.

He does it again, sealing his mouth over you. The unpredictability of where you will feel him next is thrilling despite being now sat up lazily on your elbows.

There’s no doubt it’s making you feel something and it’s starting to gather. So much in fact that the sight of his angled nose and eyebrows between your legs may be too much to handle. You don’t render it as pleasure quite yet though.

“That feels kinda weird,” you mumble honestly. The rumble of his chuckle surges through your stomach as he pulls his face away for only a moment.

“Here,” he utters, and you’re expecting him to do something to help when he shuffles, but suddenly, a single finger prods at your wetness until it’s sinking seamlessly. “This is something you’re familiar with, right?”

Immediately, a gasp forces itself out. You’d done it yourself before so he wasn’t wrong, but when it’s him toying with you and his long finger, it’s a little different. “Mhmm.”

Now he’s really pulling the noises from you. He curls the one finger experimentally; Left, your hip twists. Right, your breathing picks up. Straight up, and your back arches.

He doesn’t take his time sucking up your clit and anything you release for him, the lewd sounds his mouth creates enough to support that, but how can he help it when he thinks about how bad you wanted it? He’s gotta make it count.

On that note, his tongue drags up from your hole to the nub and his head shifts to the side for a better angle. At the same time that he repetitively curls his finger into the spot he observes you like best, he slurps your clit, only to release it wetter than it went in and do it again. There’s a messy sheen of saliva and your slick coating his chin and a dot on his nose.

His palm snakes around the thigh he isn’t practically laying on to your lower stomach and rests it there so you feel everything but tenfold. It wasn’t to keep you still; he likes the chase.

“That feels s-so good, Meg,” you praise, watching his thick eyelashes flutter open when you speak, but somehow still looking like he has no idea what you said. The tingle was getting stronger and stronger, now converting to a hot fire resonating just under his palm. He adds another finger. One of your hands that wrapped around your breast drives into his dark locks. “Oh God—”

When he groans at the feeling is when your body tenses and cinches up, holding onto him for dear life, chasing something not quite too far, but the contorted countenance your features hold instantly lets him know how you feel.

“Let it go, I got you.” He speeds up the finger gyrating through the cushiony walls.

“Megumi.”

“Come for me, baby.”

You relax just enough to feel the entire distant, solitude of your orgasm; but at the same time, it didn’t feel lonely at all. He was right there, quite literally fucking you through it, but it didn’t feel lewd or sexual at all. It was the first time you’d felt anything like it.

It was like you were somehow spiritually connected as well and emotionally and physically, and there wasn’t anything to separate you from him as every ounce of your being was woven together.

Fuck, you’re already this sentimental and he hadn’t even put it inside yet.

Returning back to the Earth was as hard as it sounds, but the fall is a lot easier when Megumi is there to mitigate it.

On the other side— when you release the iron grip of his finger, he can finally remove it. The only sound in the room is your own heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” He wipes his chin carelessly.

“It kinda felt like... like I was dying. But good.”

“Perfect, that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

He nods in approval. Anxiously, your feet rub against each other. His hands trickle around his waist as he slides off the bed, but he notices the staring just before he kicks his pants off.

Instead, he comes around to the side of the room, near the bedside table, only propping a knee up on the comforter to get closer so he can ease you into what he’s about to do next. “Give me your hand,” he suggests.

Without thinking you oblige, but your curious eyes blow wide when he begins to lead it onto his lower abdomen and deeper until both of you, in one movement, are smoothing over trimmed hair and down the length of skin. He was obviously erect beforehand, pressing through the fabric as if needing an escape, but feeling it is something else. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he cups your hand and drags a slow stroke all the way up to his tip and back. Similarly, he releases a shameless, airy moan of his own.

He does it again, and again, then feels that you’ve gathered enough confidence to do it yourself. Which you do—by the time he lets go, you’re already fully wrapped around him and feeling what you can’t see. You follow what he did.

His body slightly moves when he facetiously laughs, but it somehow removes the nerves and duplicates simultaneously.

“What?” You blink up at him.

“Nothing. You’re just so delicate with it.”

“Shut up. I’ll rip it off.”

“Please do,” he laughs once more, bringing an imminent smile to your face, and then he moves to push his pants down his hips. You can’t help but stare at his length in your hands.

He was right, you seemed to be barely gripping him, right before the tip. It was a smooth descent to the shaft, colored a muted shade of pink.

You pop back into reality. Squeezing, you earn a grunt. It was slightly harder to move now. There were only a few ways to lubricate his cock that you had on hand, and the best way that you had been curious to try is right next to it already.

You correct your positioning laying sideways on your elbow, the other hand curled around him, and he almost recoils when you stick your tongue out and look up for his reaction as you press your head forward. A deep sigh flows from his chest.

It wasn’t bad, and didn’t taste like anything, so you do it again, enclosing your lips softly over his tip. He wanted to let you explore so he stayed silent.

You had began to bob your head to cover some distance while trying not to choke yourself, and that’s when he gives the instruction, “Breathe through your nose. Don’t stop breathing.”

It does make it just a little easier as you keep going, but not much, so you pop off and roll your hand around his slick cock now that it was wetter. You sit up completely, tracking the other hand to his balls, praying it’s a myth that boys don’t feel anything there. Hopefully, it will make up for your sensitive gag reflex. “Sorry,” you mutter.

He holds his hair up with his arm, the other hand brushing through yours. His eyes are barely open and accompanied by a darkness brewing inside his pupils. “What did I say?”

You search over your brain for the memory. “Not to feel bad.”

“Yes. And don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t even know how fucking close I am to exploding.”

With that, he removes himself from your hold and reaches down to swiftly grasp your ankles. Yelping, you come sliding down. His pelvis is connected to your ass.

His lips can never stray too far from yours. Just when you’re expecting the deep fervor from not having ever gotten this far, or maybe just having not kissed since you were perched atop his thighs, he resonates his love in the cloud-like puff of his lips. Just when you begin to moan softly while placing a hand on his cheek, he pulls a few inches away.

“You ready?” He rubs over your clit a few times with his thumb. “What do you want me to do? Condom? Birth control? Both?”

You fidget underneath him, shoulders raised high and cheeks reddening. “I’m on birth control. Can you wear one anyway though?”

Your little voice as if he would have any type of negative reaction hurts his heart. “Of course.”

Just as he turns around, you add, “there are some…uh… in my purse.”

“In your purse?” He quirks a brow, smiling.

“I told you I’d been planning this…”

Moments later he returns with the small packet in hand just to rip it and casually roll it onto himself. His eyes focus and his brows furrow.

“Hmm.”

“What?” You sit up. Finally, you spot the problem, most importantly, how the base of the plastic stops about four fifths of the way down his shaft.

“What size did you get?”

“I don’t know. I asked for whatever the average was.”

“Have you no faith in me?” He lightly presses you back down to your back. “Do I look average to you?”

No.

Not like you knew, but you could imagine.

“We’ll make it work. Hold on to me,” he assures. You do just that in an attempt to run away from the embarrassment and link your arms around his neck.

Before you know it he’s patting your dripping pussy, lining himself up, tipping his head up to nip at your neck, and prodding at your entrance.

“Oh shit,” he hears you under your breath. He didn’t mean to laugh, but it slipped.

“What? You scared?”

No reply.

“It’s okay, you’re in charge. Take a deep breath.”

When he feels you inhale under him is when he takes the chance and inches in, pulling a gasp from your lungs right into his ear. Both of you curse at the same time. “Megumi.”

“Breathe, baby.” He inches in farther, not quite bottomed out yet, but closer. Your back raises from the duvet. “You’re almost there.”

One more deep breath that you have to actually, manually breathe out, finally has him buried inside you to the hilt. “Good girl.”

You were delirious. You wouldn’t be able to believe what is actually happening if it weren’t for the uncomfortable throb below you. It didn’t burn; it was just a pinch from the stretch, which is the best case scenario from all the ways you imagined it would go. Wriggling around to try and speed things up, you were unknowingly killing the man above.

His breathing picks up because, fuck, you were so tight, and whoever said the condom takes away some of that is a fucking liar. Or maybe they weren’t, and if you ever allow him to, going bare might just be on his headstone. You were latched onto him with all your might both on the outside and the inside.

“Tell me—”

“—You can move.”

You accidentally cut him off, but before you can feel bad about it, he’s pulling out, slowly but surely, and turning up your eyebrows when he returns.

A few more of these, a few more “are you okays” from Megumi, a few more of your nods “yes”— and the pain dissipates. Your hums dissolve into low moans that wisp against his neck.

“Does it hurt?” He lifts his head and looks down at you cautiously, searching for pain.

“I’m okay Meg, you’ve asked a thousand times.”

“Do you want me to speed up?” His hands change from your hips to your thighs, then to your legs. His body language portrays that he is nervous. He’d been so focused on you that it slipped your mind how he felt. What better way to calm him down than to get him riled up?

“You’re saying you’ll fuck me now?”

It seemed to work perfectly. His eyes blew wide for a split second hearing your voice say something so demanding and vulgar, but he raised his chest high, took a mean grip around your hips, and pulled all the way out. When he presses in, his hips have a small curve to add some distance, and persists like this with increasing speed. The sound in the apartment grows.

There’s a constant movement from the bed going back and forth because of the rhythm he set. With each thrust your jaw drops further. There wasn’t unimaginable speed, but he was pounding against the fat of your ass each time. One of his hands finds your bouncing breast.

“When did you get so needy?” He asks. He wasn’t even grunting or anything, just very accurately moving his hips so his cock stretches the length of your walls.

“When—”

His fingers quickly squish your puffy cheeks together while he bends over close to your face. “Don’t answer that, smartass,” he pecks you on the lips.

The familiar warmth was building within you. Your arms reach up to connect around his back, locking him to your figure and keeping the angle of his thrusts low. You were already finding ways that you liked. Him not too far and his pelvis running against your clit as he grinds. Somehow, you manage to shake him off your face.

Not even to say anything, just to squeeze your eyes shut and release useless words and whines into the atmosphere with your red cheek to his shoulder. He did catch one word though, “closer”, and even though you cannot possibly be any closer than you are, he would try until you’re satisfied.

Testing your flexibility, he hikes both your knees up until they’re almost touching the comforter below and brings them together. This initially makes you feel farther apart with a barrier called your own legs, but then he leans forward on his toes so far that it pushes you deeper into the bed and his nose less than a breath away from yours. He curls his arms around your legs and lifts your head to dig his fingers through your hair before allowing you to rest your head again. How you’re balled up makes you feel so little.

No, to him, you feel more than little; the closeness of your thighs squeezing together removes a significant amount of space on its own. He gazes deep into your eyes when you whisper “There.”

He hadn’t moved yet, but he could conclude his tip brushed past it as he was trying to get situated. It doesn’t take long for him to find the patch again by the way your eyes flicker back and forth in front of his. The his hips lift, and he relies on gravity to slam him back down.

“Fuck!” You squeal, twisting your waist to no avail with his weight atop yours. He hits the spot dead on. “Hngh, m’ gonna come s-soon.”

He has an aggravating look on his face like none of this affects him but you know it does. The twitch of his cock says so. “Oh yeah? Can you feel it?”

“Yes! Yes—stop teasing.” The words come out slightly muffled by your scrunched up position. He continues pounding down, the squelch and slapping of skin loud in your ears. It felt like he was reaching your belly button. Every now and then a grunt would push past his mouth.

“But I’m not. Are you sure you haven’t already? You don’t hear that? Or is your pretty pussy just that wet for me?”

You could hear it along with the creak of the bed, but none of it matters when he comes forward, just a little more, to taste the swell of your lips, catching all of your moans in a sultry kiss. “Meggg,” you whimper, eyes hanging low and fresh painted toes dancing in the air though every thrust.

“Yes?”

He wasn’t supposed to actually reply, but he only did because he knows you’ll provide an answer if he wants you to. You croak, “Please don’t stop,” to both him and the universe.

“That’s not something you want, beautiful.”

And you take it just how it is— a warning, because now that he’s had a taste of you, he’ll go until sunrise. He glances down to where you connect to a somewhat cleaner situation that when he was buried between your legs the first time. It was wet, no doubt, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. “Push against me.”

What? Is what he takes the way your eyes peel open as.

“Try to push me out.”

When you finally understand his advice, a light groan turns into a full on cry of his name. He immediately regrets it because you tighten around him, removing the already little space necessary for him to move, almost making him spill on the spot while dragging your nails down the span of his back. He hadn’t known that was what would set you off. Oops.

“Damn,” his brows dip together and his head drops to yours. He decides to suck on the thin skin of your neck as you, like he asked, try to push him out, as well as the rest of the silky white he has clogged. Of course, he was pushing back with just enough strength. Your face was turning red with how hard and unexpected your orgasm hit.

Now, a few more thrusts (that are more deep grinds) to ride out your high is enough to tip him over the edge. He grabs the base of his cock as he pulls out quickly, making sure to hold on to the plastic. Despite how tired you are, you still feel empty.

The second he’s out, he rips the condom off, soothing the skin of your leg with one hand and the other wrapped around his length and quickly twisting the tip. Huh, you were being delicate, you realize.

Watching through deep, weighty breaths as he works himself, it takes everything in you to sit up on your own and wait patiently. It tells him all he needs to know by your posture.

He finally groans loudly, nothing to your volume though, cursing over and over when your hand comes up to knead his balls as the white comes out in spurts all over your chest. It was mostly your breasts, but some tainted your collarbone and chin too.

He finally comes back to Earth sometime later and wipes away the spot on your chin with his thumb before it drips.

“Fuck, sorry,” he breathes.

Before he can get too far, you wrap your lips around the pad of his thumb, sucking it and more off. You get all the way to his bottom knuckle, smiling as you watch his eyes zone in on the action. You remove yourself with a pop.

In case you didn’t know—yeah, he was hard again.

©️hxltic

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