#cc count your fucking days

[layla-carstairs]

I knew this was going to happen. I knew it and it still doesn't hurt any less. i knew this scene was coming

#cc count your fucking days #you will never see heaven im telling you rn #also the whole point of tatiana being poetic #& the fact she kill Barbara and Christopher; Gideon's first child & Gabriel's second #oh she is so sick and twisted for that #and the fact nobody else is there... with Barbara they were all there but who's going to tell everyone in idris #who's gonna tell gabriel and cecily their son is dead oh my God #saw someone on twitter say Thomas and Christopher should've been parabatai & that's making it worse I fear #christopher lightwood #:( #thomas lightwood #also you know what I'm not done #the fact Thomas wasn't there. he was with Alastair when kit died & he had no idea #he wasn't there to help just like how he couldn't help babs #im never going to recover from this #chain of thorns spoilers #cot spoilers #chot spoilers #chain of thorns #bella reads cot

[taylormarieee]

Dollar bills and love Billionaire!Miguel O'Hara

🎶I'ma take her bougie ass to Rodeo and then let her pick up whatever she want. CC, Gucci, hit Bottega, whatever she want She piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want🎶

Summary: You were bratty all day, no matter what Miguel tried to do, take you shopping, buy you food, he even bought you puppies, you were still bratty so he decided maybe fucking it out of you would do the trick.

Pairing: Husband!Billionaire!Miguel x Fem!Entrepreneur!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, annoyed Miguel, bratty reader, PiV sex, oral(f), rough sex, mentions of arguing, Miguel being considerate, Miguel being slightly mean, degrading kink, praise kink, pussy whipped Miggy, mentions of height difference (reader is 5'7 Miguel is a 6'9 kingggg!), established relationship(there married), kinda angst/sadness, animal awareness(please be kind to animals, there so precious and adorable, especially puppies.)

A/N: I'm in the writing mood lol, ENJOY!

Miguel was the best husband you honestly could ever ask for. He was kind and so loving and caring. He was the opposite of what you thought about him when you first saw him.

You own your own business called Size Flows. It's a business for making clothes for plus sized people. Many plus sized people don't get to have clothes like that.

They have to fit in clothes that don't define their curves and beauty properly because the clothes are made for skinnier people. So one day when you decided to throw a party for the celebration of your business being a success you didn't expect much.

Yes, you did send flyers out but you didn't think they were going to reach the higher-higher staff and people in the world. So when famous billionaires and Multi-billionaires and millionaires started showing up into your building, you were shocked,

One of those billionaires happened to be, Lord and Behold, Miguel O'Hara. You were intimidated by him for quite some time at the party. He was tall! That was a fact. He also looked annoyed and mean.

Not really engaging in a lot of conversation like the others did. I mean yeah, the party was at night but it wasn't that late and the party didn't go on for too long so people didn't start getting bored of each other in there.

Eventually you decided to make conversation with him because why not (though you did notice most people cowered and scurried away from him when walking by). So when you arrived at his feet it took about 3 looks to finally meet his eyesight.

He was staring down at you with a tight lipped smile and you looked at him with a wide, happy, inviting one. Your signature smile at most, as that's what your assistant Alexandria says.

"Hello! You must be Miguel! I've heard a lot about you and your work and I must say, I'm intrigued to know just a little at how your mind works.

Miguel had a completely different company from yours, obviously. Yours was about clothes, he built his own museum. It was about like history and about Aerodynamics. The museum was impressive and it was large. I'm talking like, really LARGE!

You honestly couldn't help yourself. You visited the museum about 13 times. A couple with your friends who were into that stuff and like twice with your family and other times with your co-workers who wanted to go on their lunch break. You introduced yourself by saying your name or at least trying to before he cut you off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Miguel, my name is-" you start off.

"I know who you are hermosa. I've seen your face on the cameras at my museum every time you go." He says.

Your eyes widen. You were so shocked by the cameras bit you didn't even register the intimate name he gave you. 'He's in charge of the cameras. And he's seen me over and over again!?' you thought in shock.

"Your honestly probably one of my most frequent visitors besides a bunch of college boys." he says with a polite smile on his face that makes you feel the need to laugh. He chuckles and laughs with you.

"wow, so you're frequent with the cameras huh?" you ask in a playful tone. He chuckles as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Yea, if you say so. I like to make sure my museum is safe and the guests are happy." he responds with a seriousness in his tone.

"Well, I mean coming from number one guest, I must say... I'm extremely happy every time I see the front of the building. Just so eager to go inside."

He laughs again and for the first time, you see a twinkle in his eyes. You guys talk for the rest of the night to the point you're the only two left in the building.

He kindly walks you to your car, which you were forever grateful for and that night ended and more frequent ones with him in it began until you two finally got married.

You were more happy in your life now than you have ever been before. You have the hottest man in the world to wake up to every morning and to say goodnight to every night.

That was three years ago and now, your here dragging Miguel everywhere, looking and searching for stuff you don't need.

Miguel was pissed at you because you were being a bit bratty today. You weren't satisfied and you constantly gave him attitude and sass. He was slowly loosing his patience and his temper the more and more bratty you got.

It got to the point he yelled at you and told you to get in the car both of you arguing for a good 20 minutes on why you were being so bratty and why he was being so annoying and grumpy.

He took you to a pet store. He bought you a tiny little bedazzled blue collar and then told you, "Pick." he said just standing in front of the dog pen with a bunch of puppies running around your legs.

"w-what?" you ask quietly, some forms of your attitude gone. "Pick. One." he says sternly with his jaw clenched. You feel slight fear but get filled with excitement when you see the two puppies you've been wanting forever!

A Corgi and a Yorkshire terrier! They were the cutest puppies to you, well that's a lie, you wanted every puppy in this store but it's not that Miguel wouldn't buy them all, it's the responsibility and care you have to have for them.

The hours you work make it difficult to buy every single one. "Miggy," you start, batting your eyelashes at him, "Can I get them all?" you ask.

There were like 15 dogs in here and you wanted every single one. "mami, no. You can get 2." he negotiates. You pout and your bratty attitude comes back.

"no! I want them all! If not then how about like 8?" you argue the amount with him. He rolls his eyes, once filled with sincerity and love now filled with anger and annoyance.

He usually wasn't annoyed with you when you got like this sometimes but he had a really bad day a work and you arguing with him didn't make it any better.

"No, two. No more negotiating mama." he says as calmly as he can because the last thing he wanted was you flinching and crying at his temper and how scary he got.

He did that once and the last time he did it, you didn't utter a proper word to him face to face for a month. He made you so scared and for a second when he raised his hand you flinched.

You genuinely thought he was going to hit you. He immediately stopped raising his voice at you after that. You allow it sometimes when you're arguing but you don't raise your voice at him that much because you know his temper and his patience.

"ok, how about 4? is that ok??!" you ask with those puppy dog eyes and that cute little pout he loves to see in different circumstances if you know what I mean.

"ok mama, and that's it." You get 4 collars for their genders one pink, one red, one green, and one violet. You got a Dachshund, a Yorkshire terrier, and a French bulldog and a Shih Tzu.

-The Dachshund was a boy and you named him lucky. (he got the red collar.)

-The Shih Tzu was a girl and you named her princess. (she obvi got the pink collar)

-The French bulldog was also a girl and you named her cleo. (she got the purple collar)

-The Yorkshire terrier was the last you chose and he was a boy and you named him stripe. (the name is because he was black and had a brown stripe on his face and he obvi got the green collar)

"That'll be $1,375 sir. And would you like to donate to charity for dogs in need?" she asks with a smile on her face.

"Ok, and yes I would like to donate!" Miguel responds with a smile on his face matching hers.

"Oooo! No Miguel! Can I do it instead? Oh, please hermoso, lemme do it!" you beg you wanted to be part of that cause.

"Ok hermosa, go ahead but lemme pay for the doggy bowls and the food and all the beds and everything else ok?"

"Miguel that means i'll have to buy something! Leave the doggy bowls out, I'll buy them because you'll have to press decline." You explain to him.

"No, I'll pay some to charity and then you pay some." He says smiling glad that your attitude is over.

"If you both don't mind me asking, how much are you donating? I run the charity and I'm just curious." The lady who you now know her name to be Sam, asks.

"Oh I'm paying 500,000 dollars." Miguel says nonchalantly like it's nothing. Her mouth drops.

"And i'm paying 600,000." I add with a smile on my face. Miguel dips his head back down at me and narrows his eyes like it's a competetion.

"Never mind 700,000." he says eyeing me up and down.

"800,000"

"900,000"

"1,000,000" I say finally winning.

"I'll pay 900,00 Sam." Miguel says smiling at her. The lady is crying now and you rush over to hug her.

"Oh poor thing. I have just as much love for dogs as you do. My dog died a couple weeks ago and i've been dying for a new one. That's why we're here so i'm glad we were able to help." You reassure her hugging her.

She mutters a sorry for your loss as she's fighting back tears and you smile feeling tears run down you face as well. Animals were such a big part of life and they brought so many people happiness.

To see the way so many people mistreat animals really crushes your heart. You both pay and walk away with happy smiles and 4 happy puppies with a new home.

You wave to the other employees as they finally realize who you and Miguel were. They asked for pictures and hugs. You gave that to them and then bid them a farewell.

"Thank you Miguel, I really needed this." You say with more tears in your eyes. His face softens and he hugs you and kisses your head. "It's ok baby. I have one more surprise for you at home." He says with a smirk on his face.

You decided to be a tease. The entire car ride you acted bratty and all mad because he wouldn't let you get all the puppies.

You knew exactly what the surprise was so that's why you acted like this. The surprise was sex, you knew it was. That smirk he had on his face in the pet store showed it. He was horny and now frustrated so that only meant one thing...

ROUGH SEX! You loved rough sex with Miguel so much. He would always degrade you and then praise you. He was just so bipolar during sex but whenever you made him real mad and pushed his limits like you are right now,

It always led to hateful, angry sex, well maybe not hateful but really angry, rough sex.

"Get out." He says through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Your eye's go wide still keeping up with the act. "No Miguel! This conversation isn't over." You say stubbornly sitting in your seat.

"Fine. Then I'm getting out and I'm going to feed the dogs you're neglecting right now." He says with an eyebrow raised and a shrug.

You gasp and cross your arms over your chest. Your body and the car slightly shakes with Miguels slam to the door.

"what a jerk." You mutter under your breath but sometimes you forget your husband has super hearing and you also have a trunk, that happened to be open...

SMUT INCOMING: MDNI!!!!!

"Hmm love? What was that? Oh. I'm a jerk? mhmm mami, I'll show you a jerk." He says in that sultry smooth voice that had your knees buckling, every. single. time.

You let out a sigh as you watch him go into the house( aka a big ass mansion.) You wait until he goes fully inside. He closes the door but you still wait a little just for good measure.

When you walk in, something pushes you against the wall and Miguels lips are instantly on you roughly. You whimper and he grips your throat.

Your hand rushes to his hand around your throat and he growls biting your bottom lip, drawing it back before letting it spring back to it's original place.

His grip on your neck only tightens as he pushes his crotch against you. He flips you around roughly and your face and front part of your body hits the wall hard, his hand still on your neck.

You moan at the feeling of his crotch pressed against your ass now. "You wanted me to be a jerk right? Your so fucking ungrateful baby but damn are you beautiful." he growls in your ear, clearly fed up with your bratty attitude.

"Guess daddy is gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you huh? ¿Es eso lo que quieres, puta sucia?" He asks you. You loved when he dirty talked to you in spanish, it turned you on so much.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck it outta me papi." you say in return, your voice low and seductive. He grins against your neck before biting it roughly. causing you to. cry. out.

He licks over the bite and you whimper, your legs clenching to find some sort of friction. "Nuh uh mamacita, no trying to please your self. Spread em open baby." He says in a soft voice he didn't have a second ago.

You hesitantly oblige and spread your legs. "Good girl, look at that, mi niña bonita es tan buena para mí." he says proudly.

you smile to yourself before he's picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Miggy, i-i'm sorry, I won't be bratty again! I promise." You beg him with pleading eyes when he rests you in the bedroom, on top of the bed as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"No. Don't do that. That's what you said last week, and last month. Every time you beg, I have mercy on you and let it slide, not today baby. Me lo tomarás como una buena chica, ¿verdad?"

"Yes daddy, I'll take it like a good girl for you! I promise, i'm sorry."you respond. His hand trails up. and down your body agonizingly slow and it's making you anxious and needy.

"mhm, daddy, can you fuck me now, please?" you beg. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, mi amor. Shut up, and maybe I will." He says roughly. Your eyes start to tear up, not from his words but from his actions.

I mean, I guess you deserve it but he didn't have to be this slow. You stay quiet for the next 20 minutes? you don't even know anymore cuz you lost count.

He finally dips his head, kissing down your stomach, your clothes long gone. He finally reaches where you want him. His warm tongue flat against your soaking cunt.

You let out a relieved sigh, "mhmm thank you thank you thank you miggy." you chant out breathlessly.

his tongue dips inside of you and that alone has you winded. Your breathing his ragged and your hands immediately flying to his hair as you tug on it.

"What'd I say, hmm love? shut up or I stop." He says sternly, your cunt now feeling empty without his tongue. He licked and sucked and prodded at your entrance multiple times.

Soon making you come undone. Your legs closed around his head and you cried out as he licked up every single drop you had, not letting any at all go to waste.

Once he stood back up and met your teary eyes, he smiled. Not a genuine, happy smile, no. It was this smirk that he made when he knew he won, when he knew that he had your little mind wrapped around his finger.

He begins moving the belt to his pants and all you hear is a grunt. You don't even register his cock slipping and sliding through your slick folds.

"Joder mi amor, te sientes tan apretado a mi alrededor." he moans out as he slides his cock into your entrance. You feel so tight around him. Like virgin tight.

"Gonna beat this pussy real nice baby, No quiero que camines por el resto del fin de semana. No walking at all mama." He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

He's pounding now. First it was small, slow thrusts to ease you into it but your pussy is just too addicting. Miguel was so lost in your pussy, he doesn't even realize how hard he's pounding in to you.

His pace unrelenting, even after he made you cum for a second time. Your pussy feeling overstimulated and sore but Miguel is too entranced to care, constantly muttering out cure words and how good you feel wrapped around him.

You felt your orgasm coming as your walls fluttered around him again. He groaned at the feeling and roughly thrusted into you yet again.

"This pussy is all mine, such a fucking brat. Now look who's a mess over my cock hmm hermosa? Mierda, eres una jodida puta para mí, cariño." he says aggressively, enunciating his words with his thrusts.

You scream out and chant Miguels name over and over again while your orgasm rushes through you. you claw at his back and pull on his hair. You've left little tiny crescent shapes in his biceps.

He finally cums inside you at the same time and he releases this animalistic, primal groan and you shudder at the sound. You moan when you feel his hot warm load burst inside you.

"Fuck Miguel." you pant out before sleep over comes you. You were so weak and so tired.

It's a little later in the night, 12:32 to be exact. You look at the clock and then look behind you to find a sleep Miguel with his arm under your head and the other keeping you close resting on your stomach.

You turn until your face is in his chest. You had Miguels shirt on and underwear. He's so sweet, he must've cleaned you up when you passed out.

Your hands run through his hair lightly and you smile at his resting face. You kiss his face, then his nose, then his lips and the his neck.

You loved everything about Miguel and you hope he knows it. How tall he was compared to you, how he had such a sweet soul behind that mean facade. Everything about him was drop-dead gorgeous.

If you had the option to relive one memory with Miguel, It would be the first time you met him. So kind and such a gentlemen.

Taglist: @oharaslover @ribbonprincess @willyoubemycherryy @cherryredstarsreblogs /@cherryredstars @versatilehater @dustbunniess / @evbunnie

#Youtube #miguel smut #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #dom!miguel #sub!reader #miguel o hara #miguel x you #miguel atsv #spiderman 2099

[elliebarker]

yessss cc fic plz there’s not nearly enough

fuɔk me. ( c. clark )

category: caitlin clark x girlfriend!reader (angst, fluff)

summary: after seeing you talking to another after one of her games, caitlin goes into an obsessive spiral of jealousy, unknowingly sending you down your own rabbit hole.

warnings: way sadder than i intended 

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: i tried capital letters, y’all fw it?

_________________________________________

“I mean, it was electric, truly.”

Caitlin’s voice echoed into the microphone of a random media reporter who was interviewing her. She tried her best to stay focused on the questions whilst the camera clicked and pump-up music blared. Iowa had just won a home game and she knew you were in the crowd. She regained consciousness with the present and began answering the interview questions with basic textbook answers about ‘the Iowa culture’ and how great her shots felt, whilst scouring the stadium for you. You interlocked eyes and waved to her. She waved back and politely wrapped things up with the media girl (hehe) and headed your way. 

In the minutes she had spent with her eyes off of you, an umich girl from the opposing team had walked up to you. She was, in Caitlin’s eyes, getting a little too friendly. Smirking, and smiling too wide. Caitlin backed away, choosing to head to her teammates instead and pose in photos with fans. See… people love me she thought. And we literally bet them and that fucking umich girl had the nerv-

“Caitlin!” you ran, hugging her from behind. “You do so good, omg!” 

“Thanks, babe.” She slipped away from you, cold and isolated. Caitlin spent the night with the girls on her team, which wasn’t irregular for away games, but you were looking forward to getting to spend time with her when she was actually in town. You were slumped in your apartment, staring at yourself in the mirror, picking a pulling at your skin, hair, and hair. Meanwhile, Caitlin was glued to her phone in the corner of the room her teammates were in. Staring at that umich girl’s stats and Instagram. Caitlin knew she was a good player, she knew she was a good girlfriend, she knew you. She knew you wouldn’t do her wrong but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. About finding someone different. She knew she wasn’t there for you all the time, on account of her schedule with basketball that seemed never-ending. She felt like a bad girlfriend. You deserved the world, more than she could ever give you.

Sounds of shoes squeaking and balls dribbling filled her ears as Caitlin entered Iowa’s gym. After nights of stressing, overthinking, and flashes of your interaction with the umich girl appearing in her head, Caitlin was ready to clear her head with some practice. She stretched, dripped the ball a bit, and began shooting. First shot, miss. She went and grabbed the ball. Second shot, miss. Everyone has bad days. The third shot, she could barely focus, overwhelmed with this stinging feeling of inferiority as she missed that basket. “Fuɔk me,” she muttered under her breath. She suddenly turned around when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kate was standing, now facing her. “Hey Caitlin, can we talk?” 

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of off…down, you okay?”

“Um yeah,” she tried to hold her guard up, “yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled, “Need to lock in.” Kate laughed, agreed, and went on with her practice.

Later that day you, being friendly with the Iowa team, reached out to Kate. You texted her, 

You: hi kate!

i haven’t seen caitlin in a bit and just wanted to check in and make sure she’s doing okay

Kate: Hey! Thanks for reaching out, she has been acting a little weird. 

I was going to ask you but I guess you don’t know what’s up either.

You: no, i don’t know

has she talked about me?

at all?

Kate: No, not really. Is everything okay?

You: (…)

You stared at your phone for a solid five minutes attempting to keep your emotions under control.

You: yep! everything's good

just been a hot minute since ive seen her

but thats prob just cause shes so busy lol

Kate: Fair. But if anything does you can always talk to me.’

You: awww thanks kate! that's so sweet.

Days passed and you finally got a day to spend with Caitlin. You had invited her over to your apartment. You had excitedly and worriedly done up your hair and makeup, cleaned and refreshed every inch of your apartment: fresh sheets and fresh flowers, and made sure to wear an outfit you knew she liked. You felt it in your bones that your behavior was suspicious and 100% fueled by insecurity but you told yourself that you were doing this to make Caitlin feel comfortable, let her relax from working so hard. Totally not convincing her to want to stay with you. 

You and Caitlin were in your bed watching a tv-show and you could sense something was off. “Hey baby, can I get you anything?” you ask, trying to make yourself useful. 

“Um, yeah sure,” she replied, “water works.” You scoot yourself off the bed and head to the kitchen. Caitlin watches as you walk away, thinking about how you’re perfect in every way. She pulls out her phone, and her most recent search on instagram, umich bitch, is controlling her thoughts again. 

You come back with a glass of water for Caitlin and see she’s engulfed in her phone. Goddamnit you’ve bored her.

“I’m sorry,” you muster out. The stress of the possible end of your relationship that you conquered up in your head makes you almost fold into tears.

Caitlin sprung up, “Sorry, babe, sorry about what?” she went to hold you. You slithered yourself out of her arms,

“You’re probably sick of me, I need to stop holding onto you.” 

“What?” Caitlin asked, “Okay, first of all, I would never be sick of you. You are the most gorgeous, fearless, kindest, perfect girl I’ve ever seen. I would be crazy to ever let you go. But I know you deserve, you need better than me.” your tears turned to happy ones as you exclaimed,

“Caitlin what? You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world.” You grabbed her face in your hands as hers found their natural place around your hips.

“I love you,” she whispered before moving her face close to yours and kissing you passionately. Your arms wrapped themselves around her neck as you leaned into the kiss. You slightly pulled away, whispering back, 

“I love you too.” Caitlin then pulled open her phone, to delete the umich player from her search history, but not without catching your nosy eye. “Wait. This was about her?” 

“What?” Caitlin said, trying to sound clueless.

“I spoke to her for five seconds? Wait…you were jealous?” you inquired. 

“No- I- who-” she stuttered, trying to deny it. “Also, I don’t get jealous.”

“You goofball,” you said, pulling her into a deeper kiss, to which Caitlin picked you up and plopped you back onto your bed, pulling you into her chest, and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t get jealous” she re-enstated.

“Mhmmmmm…” you replied, nodding your head, in a non-believeing tone. “Got it. Not jealous.”

“I’m being serious,” she said. You, too lazy to lift your head, nodded and closed your eyes falling into a deep sleep, to which Caitlin would follow you.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb x reader #caitlin x reader #wbb fanfic #caitlin clark fic

[allilcat]

Ive been noticing an increase amount of Dreamtwt refugees, and let me preface with saying: Welcome!!! Genuinely, we lovingly welcome you to this happy lil community.

That being said, Tumblr is confusing, between the big etiquette book and the interface that hasn’t changed since 2008 there is a lot to learn. So this is my little attempt to a welcome guide tailored to our lil dream community! Feel free to add your own recommendations and stuff.

Tumblr is a Blogging site, a goog ol relic from ye olden days, your ‘profile’ is your blog, and you can put anything you like on there! However, please do change your avatar and background, we have a massive bot issue here and we tend to auto block someone with a standard avatar.

The main tags for the dream team are as follows: - just their entire usernames, but, those do get hooped up in controversy from time to time. -Dreamblr for the content creator dream

-Dreblr, for C!Dream

-404blr for CC George

-pandasblr for CC Sapnap

-Dtblr for the Dream team

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING: #Dream, that’s for people actually posting about their dreams, and #myct as it is mostly used for general MYCT stuff, we prefer to stick to our own spaces.

‘how do I find people?’ you go to any of these tags, find someone you vibe with and click ‘follow’. The algorithm here sucks, and we don’t advice the ‘for you’ page.

On that note, the ‘like’ button is useless, use reblog instead! If you like someone’s hot take, art or stupid shit post, REBLOG. Its how we keep our fandom alive and active here :D

When you reblog you usually keep your comments in the tags, one only really uses the comment section when they DON’T want to reblog. (usually because of le discourse).

Send people asks! People love to chit chat, you can do it anonymously! Tell that one artist youd love to have their brain for lunch! Engage with everyone! We love discussion and open communication here. (prob since there is no real word limit to posts)

Tumblr has developed a nice ‘block liberally, no need to make a fus’ culture. You can block someone for any reason, and it really isn’t a big deal.

On the Tumblr is more relaxed note, we tend to be more relaxed on CC boundaries, since most CC’s do not use twitter. If you don’t like people breaking CC boundaries, even in places where they cant see it, follow the advice above and blockkkkk!!!

Please spell out words! Don’t censor triggering words at it can fuck with people’s filter settings, by censoring these words you put people in more risk.  

Now for some technical advice: Most tumblrina’s turn on ‘hide likes and follower count’ . Any blog can have 4 people following it or 4000, we like to keep it mysterious.

Also turn of ‘best content first’- once again, the algorithm is not to be trusted.

Furthermore, you can really personalize your Tumblr experience and please do! Under ‘account’ you can find many options to filter the content you see, make use of it, for your mental health sake.

#Dreamblr #404blr #pandasblr #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #dtblr

[billzoned]

i met gnf last summer and he intertwined our fingers and its all i’ve thought about since

idk if ur taking requests but maybe if u wanna write smth abt george gently holding ur hands while tapping it not so gently.. 👀 just a suggestion hehe love ur work

THE WAY I ACTUALLY SCREECHED, THANK U!!?? ur so luckyyy shsjsh. thank u sm for the request btw!!

ps. i went a bit overboard...

ps. #2, ill admit, i literally spent over 2 days constantly on janitor ai talking to nsfw bots trying to improve my smut...erm. we dont talk about that!! :3

desc. afab! reader x cc! george. 1.07k words.

barely proofread — nsfw under cut.

you've lost count how many times george had made you cum in the past twenty minutes. your legs shook violently as you came undone again and again.

he was in between your legs, circling his tongue around your painfully sensitive clit, and he had his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping wet cunt for god knows how long. "missed the taste of you. s'good" he says, words muffled by your thighs closing around his head. and of course, that familiar euphoric feeling of your abdomen tightening was coming near.

until it stopped. george stopped his pleasuring movements abruptly. you barely even noticed when the tip of george's cock was prodding at your entrance. he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers together before roughly pushing into you.

"f-uck!!" you moan out, before george starts to move slowly. though, that pace didnt last. before long he was thrusting into you erratically, nipping and kissing the flesh of your neck. his own moans and whimpers were slipping out, he missed you too much.

before long there were strings of moans falling from your lips as george keeps up his pace, brushing against the spot that makes your eyes roll and start seeing white. "yes- yes, fuck! such a good girl f'me. taking me so well." george groans as he pulls you closer to him, lifting your hips a little so he could reach deeper into you.

you had completely forgotten that dream and sapnap were out; they both went to the store, and at any time could open the door and see the both of you on the couch. in a way, it made you a bit more aroused thinking that they could walk in. you tightened around george, meanwhile you were looking at the door and remembering that they have been out for a little bit already. george, being aware, noticed.

"what? hm? you want my best friends to walk in? seeing you get fucked?" he laughs teasingly as he stops his movements and pulls out of you. he then pulls you closer to him before sliding back into you, deeper than before. "you want your boyfriend's two best friends to watch you get fucked by me? or do you want 'em to join in, hm?" he leans down to whisper in your ear as both of your fingers are still intertwined together.

you let out an almost embarrassing whiny moan at the thought, especially with him mentioning it. your eyes roll back into your skull and your back arches off of the couch "mm. yeah you do." he mocks you, his voice in a teasingly whiny voice. it wasn't very long until george hit the sensitive point inside of you dead on. your head falls back into the cushion of the couch the two of you rest on.

your climax was coming, and it was coming quick. george could feel how close you were getting, since your cunt was erratically squeezing around him so much. he took his hand off of your waist and used his now free hand to lightly fondle your breasts, lightly squeezing at your nipple before trailing his hand up to wrap around your throat.

"please, pl-ease! can i cum- i need t'cum." you whine as a small line of drool starts to trail down the side of your mouth. he pretended to think for a moment. "hm.. do you- mm- really deserve it?" he leans down and whispers into your ear. "tell me, pretty girl. do you deserve it?" a small smirk plays on his lips as he awaits your response.

"eeh!- yes, yes, 've been a good girl! 'lease let me cum," you beg.

george lifts himself back up before letting go of your throat and bringing his hand down to circle your sensitive clit. "huh... i think you can hold out a bit longer, cant you?" you were barely sure that you could, considering the speed his fingers were going. but you nod anyway, praying that you could hold back. "yeah.. good girl."

he decides to speed up his thrusts a bit, just to put you on edge; slowing the pace of his fingers just a little bit. his mouth curls up into a nearly sadistic smile as he watches you writhe beneath his grasp. he watches several headlights go past the window through the curtains, knowing well that one of them could be dream and sapnap. he focuses back onto you rolling his eyes at your needy whines and whimpers.

"let go, cum for me. be a good little whore and cum for me." as if on cue your body shakes violently as your cunt spasms around george. you let out a silent moan as you reach your climax. george grunts as he feels himself getting close as well, quiet whimpers falling from his lips.

soon enough, his seed spilled into you as he slowed the movements of his hips. "ooh- fuck." he groans, feeling the aftermath of his orgasm. before long he eventually pulled out, seeing his cum quickly running out of you and some spilling onto the couch; a stain he knew he would have to explain to his best friends later.

"did so good for me." he praised before leaning down to you and pulling you into a quick messy kiss. "be right back, baby." he says, looking down at your fucked out expression.

he quickly returns after walking away to get a wet wash cloth and wiped all of the excess cum off of you. noticing your tired look, your eyes already closed, he picks you up as gently as he can manage, and brings you to his room and lays you onto his bed. he covers you with a blanket and lightly kisses your cheek before going to try his best to clean off the (obvious) stain on the couch before the others come home.

right as he was finishing wiping it off the best he could, he saw the headlights of sapnap's car bleeding through the curtains. he hurriedly finished up and sprinted to his room.

the front door opened before shutting quite loudly, the voices of sapnap and dream joking barely audible from his room. he heard dream talking to sapnap as he walked to his room before shutting the door.

it wasn't long until he heard sapnap yell from downstairs. "george, where the hell did this stain come from?!"

uh oh.

1K WORDS HOORAY!! first time ive ever officially written that much :3 i also apologize for the slight delay!! ive been WAYYY to caught up with school :c

#ゞbillzoned #mcyt #smut #georgenotfound #dream #sapnap #dsmp #dream smp #dteam #gnf smut #georgenotfound smut #dream smut #dreamwastaken smut #sapnapvids #sapnap smut #dream smp smut #dsmp smut #dsmp x reader #dream x reader #sapnap x reader #gnf x reader #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #dteam smut #dteam x reader

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

From Helvete With Love

Summary: Euronymous' twin hippie brother is in town and up to cause some chaos! (Bear with me, I'll make it work!)

Pairing: Euronymous x fem!Reader x Kappa

Word Count: ~1.8k

Content Warnings: Double Trouble Smut 18+!, You Don't Really Expect This To Have A Noteworthy Plot Do You?, Threesome (mfm), Spit Roasting, Hair Pulling, Subspace, Emotional Cheating, Implied Substance Use (Alcohol and Pot), Dub-Con Due To The Substance Abuse, Kappa Having Insane Amounts Of Audacity While Euro Is Kind Of An Asshole

A/N: I really hope the nonnie with the Threesome request from 2-3ish weeks ago sees this 👀 Also not proofread bcs I literally need to catch the bus to work in like 3 minutes.

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess

Cry

Who do you need? Who do you love

When you come undone?

Who do you need? Who do you love

When you come undone?

- Come Undone By Bad Omens

In a high pitched jingle, the little bell above the door indicated that someone had entered the record store but you didn't really bother looking up from the latest issue of Kerrang! magazine, your eyes busy with studying an oven-fresh Duff McKagan interview.

"You call that shithole a record store, huh?" A somewhat familiar voice asked in a cocky tone.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the person it belonged to and the snarky comment certainly had you raising your gaze towards the counter, shooting right towards the new visitor.

With a sleazy grin playing around his mouth, a well familiar face stared at you with strikingly blue eyes just like those of your boyfriend.

"Look what the cat dragged in…it's the hippie cunt!" You teased right back at the man that happened to be Øystein's twin brother, Kappa.

"Oh, mean, missy!" He scoffed and arched his brows in amusement.

"What do you want, trashbag?" You sneered, smiling at him while your eyes roamed over his features.

You only had met him on a few rare occasions but it never failed to befuddle you just how similar and yet dramatically different Euronymous and Kappa were. Polar opposites in everything but being terribly eccentric and pretentious jackasses.

"I'm in town and I thought to say hi to my brother, is he around by any chance?" Kappa inquired, leaning his torso against the counter whilst throwing you a borderline flirty smile.

"In the back." You nodded your head towards the bureau behind the countertop to gesture him the way.

"Thanks, sugar!" Kappa quipped whilst walking around the counter, heading towards the bureau.

"Fuck off, hippe." You beamed at him with a cheeky smile before lowering your gaze back onto the glossy pages of the magazine.

Neither of you had really been ready for the way this day played out after this seemingly innocent interaction. Everything started with a few guiltless beers at the pub nearby, maybe a few shots of vodka too and the occasional cigarette to go with tipsily firing neurons, craving one hit of serotonin after the other at this point. However, the nicotine in your bloodstream turned into herbally-pungent THC by the time the three of you arrived back at Helvete, sloppy steps scratching over the cold asphalt illuminated by cool-toned street lights. Of course, Kappa had brought some weed with him and neither of you held back in indulging in it to the point where your body felt like one buzzing cloud made out of cotton candy. At some point you weren't sure anymore whether the couch was actually a part of you or not as your weary eyes grazed over a scenery of crushed beer cans, shot glasses and scattered vinyls. The air around you was thick and heavy with the smell of alcohol and pot, the smog covering the record store in a white, translucent veil seeping into every last nook and cranny.

Your bloodshot eyes felt like simply fluttering shut and you could've sworn they did but you weren't sure of this at all. Did you black out for a moment or where did the memories go that would’ve explained how your train of thought got back on track again as you heard yourself breathing out a muffled moan?

"There she is! Got me worried there for a second, sugar." You noticed Kappa talking to you in a breathy tone from above.

The hits of information reached your brain one after the other in a violent flush of realization. You knelt on all fours, a soft mattress underneath your palms and knees swallowing up a good part of the recoil caused by your body being penetrated from both ends, Kappa in the down your throat and Øystein buried deep inside your oozing cunt, both their cocks fucking into you in a firm pace.

Pulling in all the air you possibly could through your nose, you reluctantly looked up to Kappa as you noted how sore your jaw felt with your lips eagerly wrapped around his girth, sucking him off like you never did anything else in your life. How the hell did you get here? The question burned inside of your racing thoughts but you tried to push it to the side as your gaze met with Kappa's, who was looking down at you with an unexpectedly warm smile.

"Don't worry, I got you, make sure you’re okay, hun." He whispered to you in a raspy voice as the hand, that wasn't grabbing fistfuls of your hair to guide your head back and forth over his throbbing cock, went to your cheek to give you soft caresses filled with affirmation.

"Good girl.", He praised, the tip of his hard on nudging against the back of the throat, "Øystein really lucked out with you as a girlfriend. You're funny, you're smart and hella pretty."

"Could you not?" It was now that you really took notice of your boyfriend behind you with his hands on your hips and his lap rocking against your rear in desperate thrusts.

"What? You gotta make her feel at least a little special right now." Kappa sneered back at his brother without ever taking his eyes off of you, practically hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared into your throat with every roll of his hips.

"I think I can do that very well on my own." Euronymous huffed, tightening his grip around your waist before pushing himself into you with such brute force that it nearly hurt.

You winced around Kappa's cock, a few wayward tears pricking at your lower lash line and his thumb wiped them away before they could even really trickle down your face.

"Issok, sugar. C'mon, close your eyes and enjoy yourself." His broad hand cradled your face and you trusted him, allowed yourself to.

"There you go…" Kappa cooed to you in a saccharine-sweet voice, hips rolling against your face in a steady pace, careful to not hurt or overstimulate you.

With that you let yourself go, adjusting to his rhythm while your mind rendered blank. You've never ever felt this filled up before and it was continuously bordering on the very fine line of being just too much for your body but instead of your actual boyfriend it felt like Kappa was guiding you through this, all his attention was on you and you only. Of course, he loved the sight of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth in wet, sloppy sounds, making him feel ready to burst at any minute now but he not once put his own pressure released over your well-being in this constellation. Quite the contrary to his brother who was railing into you at a merciless pace from behind, rendering your tightening cunt sore from within. In a way, he knew that he wasn't having the upper hand here anymore and in desperate, failing attempts Øystein tried to turn your attention back to him which only led to you being even more infatuated with the gentle yet firm ways of his brother.

Kappa put you in a headspace you've never experienced before and to say that this state was blissful oblivion would've been an understatement. Mixed with all the substances in your bloodstream, you felt yourself slipping into beautiful nothingness and just felt your body, felt Kappa's cock sliding down over your tongue again and again while he held your head by your hair, steadying you, making sure to not accidentally choke you with his girth. He made it known that he was here for you and it made your chest feel all warm and secure, a warmth that would shot right down between your legs in the very next second, making you clench down around Euronymous' cock in what turned out to be the first contractions of an orgasm that took you by surprise. You inhaled sharply as undefined moans and whimpers vibrated around Kappa's hard on which he only reluctantly pulled out of your mouth. While Øystein rode you through your orgasm, gradually losing himself in it, Kappa stroked himself off with a few quick pumps of his fists, spilling and splattering thick ropes of his seed right onto your face. With your entire body convulsing around your boyfriend one rouge thought escaped its prison and ran wild inside your mind. For a moment you couldn't help yourself but to wish that it was Kappa's cock you were cumming on right now. Your eyes shot wide open as a sharp pang of shame and guilt chased right after the orgasmic high.

"Dude, really?!" Øystein groaned behind you, drilling himself into your now utterly overstimulated pussy one last time before coming undone deep inside of you himself. You recognised how he filled you up with himself like so many times before but you couldn't pull any please from it right now, instead you stared back up to Kappa who was breathing heavily.

"What? I thought it to be a bit more decent than busting my load down your girlfriend's throat, no?" Kappa scoffed at his brother, lowering his hand down to your face again, gathering a dollop of his cum from your chin and smearing it just over your trembling lips, the tip of his thumb prodding against your mouth, leaving it up to you whether to open up or not. Entranced by the way his icy blue eyes were beaming down at you, you did just that, a part of you defiling your boyfriend for never taking care of you the way his brother did.

#rory culkin #rory culkin lords of chaos #lords of chaos #euronymous x fem!reader #euronymous #kappa x you #kappa smut #kappa x fem!reader #kappa black mirror #kappa

[haunted-headset]

WILBUR MEETING YN AT A VINYL STORE.

Thats it. THATS THE REQUEST 🤭

HOLY SHIT!!!! MY FIRST ASK!!!! YES!!!!

☆ We Fell in Love in October ☆

Summary: You work at a vinyl store near Wilbur Soot's apartment. One day, he comes in & asks you where a specific vinyl is. You compliment his shirt. He compliments your voice. & the rest is history.

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of soulmates

Word count: 556

Genre: Fluff

Tags: @joviepog (mutuals/followers, let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one!)

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! Sorry if it isn't good :p

You exhaled softly as you stared at the clock in the vinyl store. 7:45 pm. 15 minutes until closing time. Thank God.

"Maybe I'll be able to get off of work early," you mumbled to yourself.

& that's when he came in.

He was a tall man, with perfect chocolate brown curls & a gorgeous face. He had simple glasses & a guitar on his back. He looked very out of breath.

"Are you still open?" he asked, breathing heavily. He had a lovely British accent that sounded like music to your ears, like a song that you would play all day every day for a week straight.

"Yeah," you said with a smile. "What can I help you with?"

He smiled softly & said, "Do you have any Los Campesinos vinyls?"

You nodded. "Right over here." You walk over to where the Los Campesinos vinyls are. You motioned toward his Arctic Monkeys shirt. "I like your shirt, by the way."

He smiled again. He had such a gorgeous smile. "Really? You like Arctic Monkeys?" He sounded so giddy & it killed you.

You nodded. "They're one of my favorite bands. I got to see them live once. The lead singer's kind of an asshole."

He laughed. "I've heard that he was a jerk." He paused before saying, "You have a really nice voice, by the way. That probably sounds weird as fuck, but your voice is really lovely."

You felt your cheeks heat up & you smiled. "Thank you. Your voice is nicer, though."

He laughed again. You could listen to him laugh all day. "Your voice is nicer."

You laughed. His smile got wider.

"You have a really nice smile, too," he said. "& a very nice laugh."

You laughed again, not entirely sure what else to do. He laughed with you. You both stood there for a moment before he turned over to the vinyls & grabbed the one he wanted. Breaking the silence, he asked, "What's your favorite Artic Monkeys song?"

At the same time, you both said, "My personal favorite is Do Me a Favour." He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We're practically soulmates at this point," he said jokingly.

"Are you flirting with me?" you replied with a smirk & a raised brow.

"Maybe," he said with a shrug & a smile.

You chuckled & walked over to the counter. "Ready to check out?" He nodded & placed the vinyl on the table. You told him the price & he paid, leaving a few extra dollars in the tip jar. When he asked for a receipt, you quickly wrote something on the empty space on the receipt.

"Bye...what what your name?" the man asked.

"Y/n," you said. "What's your name?"

"Wilbur," he said. "Wilbur Soot."

"Well, I'll see you around, Wilbur Soot," you smiled. He returned the smile as he walked out. As he walked out, you smiled to yourself, knowing that he'd like what you wrote on the receipt.

As Wilbur walked home, he looked down at his receipt & his face flushed. At the bottom of the receipt, Y/n had written "Call me <3" with their number below it. He knew that he was going to call them tomorrow for sure. & come to the vinyl shop again.

& the rest was history.

#fanfic #wilbur soot #wilbursoot #creative writing #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #fluff

[loversj0y]

bad day?

cc!wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: dissociation, explicit implications of self harm, blood

word count: 2.1k

note: please, please, please, heed the trigger warnings. i have been going through a rough time and i wrote this fic as a coping mechanism, so please be aware of what you are going into. it's not my best work but it brought me some comfort to write it, so i hope it may bring you some comfort to read it

There was blood on your hands. 

Why was there blood on your hands?

You looked up in the mirror. It took a few minutes to recognize where you were. You didn’t recognize yourself, but you knew you were looking at yourself. 

You were standing at your sink. There was blood on your hand, dripping into the sink. Fuck. 

You were slowly coming to, turning on the water from the sink and gently running your wrist until the tap. You held in a whimper, hissing at the feeling. As irritating as it was, the cool water and the sting helped ground you more and more into yourself. Once you washed the majority of the blood off your hands and arm, you sighed, slowly taking a seat on the bathroom floor. You couldn’t stand staring at the stranger in the mirror anymore. Opening up the cabinet, you pulled out the first aid kit, nestled at the back behind Wilbur’s spare hair products. The first aid kit collected dust most days now. It almost felt like it was mocking you as you opened it up, pulling out some supplies.

You made quick work out of cleaning. You didn’t want to have to stay here staring at your arm for any longer than you had to, and you’d rather not still be here on the floor when Wilbur got back from filming. After you were properly bandaged, you pulled a hoodie on and just collapsed straight into bed. You had no conscious idea of what time it was, but you felt exhausted regardless. 

You stared at your bandage for a few moments, tracing the line of where the gauze met your skin. Wilbur taught you how to do it properly. Your recovery was no secret to him, and he had always been incredibly supportive. However, the first time he had seen the way you bandage your arm, he looked almost appalled and immediately pulled out the first aid kit again. 

“Darling,” he was chuckling lightly, as if the issue was something far lighter than it was, and it made you feel more at ease as he started undoing the bandage you had done. “I’m going to teach you how to do this properly, alright? I don’t want you getting an infection on me.”

“And how do you know how to do it properly?” You asked, eyebrow raised. 

He hummed, pulling out some antiseptic cream and gauze. “You don’t spend as much time in and out of hospitals for no reason without picking up small things. I went in once because I had a pain in my side that my brain convinced me was my liver failing.” He started rubbing the cream onto your arm so delicately as he continued, “While they went to do tests, I was sharing a hospital room with this guy who had gotten this bad infection on a scrape on his leg. They were training some new nurses, so they started going over appropriate techniques for wrapping cuts and scrapes.”

“And you listened?” 

He looked up at you, pausing his hands to just smile fondly at you and chuckle, “of course I did. As convinced I was that my liver was failing, I also just thought to myself: well, if I survive this, there’s nothing saying the next time I get scraped up won’t be my end. So may as well learn how to prevent it and buy myself some time to say goodbyes.” 

You snorted softly, “That’s pretty dark.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t doing the best at the time,” he chuckled lightly, “but it was for the better. Because now, I can make sure that doesn’t happen to you.” 

You smiled gently at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “Thank you, Wilbur.” 

“Of course, darling. Anything.” He smiled, turning his attention back down to finish wrapping your arm. 

Once he finished, he turned your hand over, kissing the top of the bandages. 

“If you’re trying to be cliché, that’s the wrong side,” you hummed. 

“Oh please, I saw your face when I was wrapping you, I know how tender your arm is right now. The day one of my kisses hurts you will be the day I die.”

You flushed softly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently, “Dramatic much?”

“For you, darling? Always.” 

You thought about that night as you pulled your sleeve back down to cover the bandage. No matter how much you knew Wilbur wouldn’t judge you for it, you still felt a shame bubbling in the back of your chest. Instead of pondering it or letting it consume you, you let the exhaustion take over you instead. 

You woke up to the feeling of arms wrapping around you, shifting and sighing. 

“Hi, darling,” Wilbur spoke softly as you turned to face him, settling into his arms, “Bad day?” 

You nodded softly, sighing and looking up at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Never judgemental, always kind, even if he was finding you in bed after a few days. Even if your room was a mess and your hair was oily and you couldn’t stop crying. He always met you with nothing but kindness. 

He gently brushed some hair out of your face, gently kissing your forehead. He spoke gently, “I saw the first aid kit on the bathroom floor.” He kept the light smile on his face, as if he was asking you about the weather, not your own mental doom. “Do you want to talk about it? Or just lay here for a bit.” 

You leaned forward, resting your head on his chest. When you spoke, your voice was a bit jagged, “Lay here first. Talk after.” 

He nodded, pulling you into him closer. You pressed your head onto him, relaxing slowly. You focused on the sound of his heartbeat, closing your eyes again. He hummed softly. You could spend the next day just lying here before you spoke again, and he would never complain. He’d take as much time as you needed. 

You didn’t know how much time passed before you opened your eyes again. When you did, you watched Wilbur’s face for a moment. Contently, he continued to hum, eyes closed as one hand absentmindedly traced figures into your back. You took a deep breath before speaking softly. 

“I don’t really know what happened,” you spoke. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze full of nothing but love and acceptance. He nodded a bit, waiting for you to go on. 

It took you a while to continue, but he didn’t push, just waited patiently. 

“It felt like a glitch or something. One second I was staring at myself in the mirror and the next I was staring at blood dripping into the sink. I don’t even remember doing it.” 

He nodded, keeping you close, “Did something trigger you?” 

You frowned a bit, “I- I don’t know. I don’t think so, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. 

“That’s okay. To not know,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “walk me through your day. I’ll try and see something you don’t.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright, uh. I woke up pretty late. You’d been gone for a while already, the bed was cold.”

“How were you feeling when you woke up?” He asked softly. 

“Uh,” you thought, “hard to say. I- I guess numb? Didn’t particularly sway one way or the other.”

He nodded, “Alright, continue.”

You nodded, “I went to the kitchen first. Didn’t change out of my pajamas, but I went and I got water. Then I made some breakfast, something light, but I don’t remember what.” You took a deep breath, thinking back and sighing, “I- I remember feeling gross.”

“Gross?”

“Like physically? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered, so I just felt gross. So I went to take a shower. I- I felt… rough. Couldn’t look at myself without feeling gross, no matter how much I’d cleaned myself. At one point, I was just staring at the floor completely… blank. There were no thoughts really going through my head, it just felt like I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“What got you out of it?” He asked gently. 

“My phone went off. I- I never actually checked it, but the sound startled me enough to pull me out of it. I got out, got dressed and everything. And I stopped in front of the mirror to put product in my hair, but when I started looking at myself, it just… cut out from there.” You finished, frowning and focusing your eyes on the seam of his sweater. 

He nodded softly, “Can I see the bandage?”

You shifted your arm, lifting the hoodie sleeve to show him. “I used your method, don’t worry.”

He inspected it carefully, nodding. “Should probably change them, it’s been a while. Are you alright with me doing it, or would you rather do it yourself?”

“You can do it,” you spoke softly. 

He nodded, standing briefly to grab the first aid kit. “How here are you?”

You sighed, thinking. “About 95%. Still not fully here, but I’m mostly all back to myself.”

He nodded, sitting back on the bed next to you. He carefully started undoing your bandages, humming again to himself as he finished getting them off. 

“This will sting,” he warned, waiting for your nod before gently starting to wipe the wounds with an alcohol wipe to disinfect them. You hissed softly, and he gently shushed you. 

“I know, darling, it’s alright. I’m almost done, you’re doing great,” he spoke softly, distracting you until he’d finished cleaning them. 

“There you are, the hard part is over, love,” he spoke softly, grabbing the antiseptic cream and gauze, starting the process of dressing your wounds once more. 

“Scale of one to ten, how bad do you think they are?” He asked softly.

“Physically? They’re not that bad, probably a six. Mentally, I’m not sure. Probably a nine.” 

“A nine?” He asked softly, focused on wrapping the gauze over your wrist but still listening intently. 

“It’s just another reminder that I’m not doing good. That I’m never going to be able to fully heal. I know healing is not linear, but it’s still frustrating to have a physical reminder of it.” 

He nodded softly, “I can understand that. I think you may just be focusing on the wrong thing.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think when this happens, you focus on the whole thing about breaking the amount of time you’ve been clean. Am I right?”

You nodded, so he continued. 

“I think instead of focusing on the streak being broken, we should focus on how good it is that you went as long as you did. You’re treating an addiction like a competition instead of an addiction. You can’t just stop all at once, especially when you were used to doing this every day. So instead of being upset that you didn’t go as many days as you wanted or that you have to start over, focus on the fact that you went as long as you did without doing it. Because it’s a big thing, and a good thing. It deserves its praise.” 

He finished wrapping your wrist, and he placed a gentle kiss to your palm. 

You sat up, slowly leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered softly. 

He wrapped his arms around you gently, whispering back, “of course, darling.” 

You kissed his shoulder lightly, and he rubbed your back gently. 

He waited calmly for you to pull away before pulling you into a gentle kiss. He placed a hand on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on your cheek. 

You kissed him back gently before resting your face into his hand. 

“You said your phone going off helped break you out of it when you were in the shower, yeah?”

You nodded softly, looking up at him. 

He used his other hand to gently brush your hair from your face, “alright. Moving forward, when I’m not home or not with you, I’ll text you at least once at the start of every hour. And unless I know you’re busy, if you don’t respond within… thirty minutes, I’ll call you. Does that sound good?” 

You nodded softly, “That sounds good. Maybe within twenty instead of thirty though.” 

He nodded, “alright. We can experiment with it or change it up occasionally to see what works best. Good game plan?”

“Good game plan,” you nodded softly. 

He smiled, pulling you in for another gentle kiss. 

“Good. Now, choose your comfort film of choice, alright? I’ll order your favourite in too, God knows I won’t be cooking tonight.”

#mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #lovejoy #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur #dsmp #dsmp fanfic

[alphabetboyluvr]

THROTTLE - JJK | EIGHT

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - welcome one and all to the chapters that made some of my wattpad girlies stop reading throttle, you have been warned! mentions of drugs. jungkook wears a key around his neck and it ain't for a door! solo masturbation (m). enter stage left: cc @ yoongi's door. infidelity (boo), dry humping (yay), yoongi has a choking kink (?), he cums in his pants <3 back for round two! not all that explicit, oral (f), he's so talkative <3, protected sex, incredibly sombre aftermath!! v satisfying end to the chapter IMO!!

word count - 16.5k

minors dni // series masterlist

It surprises everyone when Jungkook is the first to speak. He stands, shoulders broadening like a fallen angel unfolding its wings, and then he's back.

The man you once knew? It's undeniably him. He's still just as powerful in his stature as he always was, just as handsome, just as life-threateningly attractive.

For a second - only a moment, barely even a millisecond - you let yourself indulge in the chime your stomach has been subduing.

It's just the same as it always has been.

He's different now, though. So vastly different, you question whether or not you would have recognised him in the street.

His hair is dark, and it doesn't frame his face in the way it used to. Shame. You used to love getting your fingers tangled in it. It's pushed back now, the fury in his dark brows as clear as day. They're missing a piercing, which you'll admit is a bitter loss, but the lip ring is still there, at least.

You don't let yourself think about the one on his tongue. Haven't thought about it for weeks. Months.

Only because every time you do, you force yourself to think about roadkill instead. It's the only way you can get it out of your head. Does now mean that when you see roadkill, you think about him. Fitting, really, given the tragedy of your time spent together.

Instead of letting him know just how fucked up he still gets you, you simply raise a brow in his direction. Your back sinks into the chair you've poised yourself on, and you cross your arms, imploring him to speak the fuck up.

Part of him doesn't want to, just as 'fuck you' to your prissy rich bitch attitude. He'd forgotten about this; how much a little cunt you'd been when the pair of you had first met. Back then, it had gotten his interest piqued. Kept him coming back for more. Was the thing that got him cumming, full stop.

But now, it just feels vindictive.

And so he decides to be just as much of a vindictive swine back.

"No one's been looking for you," he says as his eyes burn into you - and yet you remain perfectly cool. Calm. Unaffected.

There was a time, a few moons ago, when a look like this from Jungkook would have surely killed you. Now, it's just all very laughable.

"Eunhee's never been much of a liar, Jungkook," you smile, glad to have checked in with her before heading to the boxing club. Maybe he did stop showing up at your door two months ago, but it was enough of a weapon to use against him.

"That senile old bat?" He laughs, and you remember just how mean he could be. It's a trait that you'd pushed to the side in your memories, all rose-tinted and sweet. The reality makes those memories a lot easier to swallow, the salt from his words diluting the sugar. "Wouldn't take her as a credible source."

The air around the pair of you is stale; unpleasant. It reeks of desperation. Desperate for what? It's debatable. Nothing good, that's for sure.

Quite literally everyone in the room is uncomfortable.

Everyone except for the pair of you.

See, this is a back and forth you've perfected. The way you bicker - the way you taunt one another - used to be foreplay. He'd rile you up just ruin you.

It's electric. Jungkook wonders what has more volts - your shared energy, or the taser he's pretty sure you've got hidden in your bag. You're too smart to come somewhere like this completely defenceless.

He's just as smart as you, though. Reads your moves, and knows exactly what to predict. Maybe it's not a form of intelligence that will do any good, but he's spent so long studying you that it would be impossible for him to not be an expert by this point.

He could write an encyclopedia about you; a dictionary based on your vocabulary.

He'd file himself under 'asshole', and would hope you'd reassign him to 'inamorato'. You wouldn't. If anything, you'd place him in a pile of discards; words unused by you for so long that you've forgotten their significance in your life.

If he were to have his own dictionary, he'd file you under cocotte. CC for short. But he'd draw fucking hearts in the margins, and crack the spine from just how often he looked at your page. Might just rip it out and keep it in his wallet like a passport photo.

"Credible source?" You smirk, ruby red lips pouting in a way that feels new to him. They're slightly different, he thinks. The shape is the same, but they seem poutier. The product of fillers, maybe. He never thought you'd be one to go down that route, but he's questioning everything he knew about you as the lights of the club reflect in the diamond on your finger. He's blinded by it; blindsided by you. "Surely this isn't Jeon Jungkook talking about credibility? About trust? That'd be a first."

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and it's clear you've hit a nerve. Good. "Got shit to say? Say it, then get fuckin' gone, C."

And, oh, it's painful. So gloriously painful.

The way you don't falter is the worst part. The name given to you in the sanctuary of his car lingers on his tongue, his lips ajar. There's no crease between his brow, eyes just as round and inviting as they always had been.

You think he's baiting you. Think he's trying to get your defences down. You don't realise that his defences actually are - not until he knocks his head to the side, flicking a switch as his glare returns.

"I think what Jungkook is trying to say," Jin speaks up, knowing that there'll be no resolution without a mediator. He can feel the energy between the pair of you. The vibrations run deep and jagged, stained in red and echoing regret. "Is that we aren't aware there was business to discuss?"

You turn to face Jin, but let your eyes linger on Jungkook for just a second longer before you address his friend. Handsome, you think. Incredibly handsome, in fact.

You've always thought Jungkook was the most beautiful thing about Daegu, but you might change your mind. All you need is this new guy - the one with plump lips and shoulders that eclipse Jungkook's - to glare at you. See if it gets you searing under the collar, hot between your legs, like Jungkook's glare does.

Many men before have looked at you with suspended disbelief, agitation curving around their brow bones. It's nothing new. The way that Jungkook's glare could have gotten you on your knees? That was new to you.

"Nor was I - or at least, I wasn't. Not until Jungkook told me about that little plan of yours a few months ago," you say as you smile at Jin, all pleasant and performative."But I'm very selective about who I invest my time in."

You don't have to look at Jungkook for him to know that he should take your next statement personally.

"I've no time for little boys running around playing cops and robbers. I conduct my business exactly like that; like a business. I make negotiations, I make deals. Sign contracts - and I'd never hire someone without running a background check. Can get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you don't know who someone really is."

"You're planning on employing us?" Namjoon pipes up, the prospect of a hefty payday sounding like music to his ears.

"Not employing," you say. There's more you could divulge. So much more. But it's time for baby steps, now. No use in getting ahead of yourselves. "Think of it more like... entering a partnership. A mutually beneficial agreement."

"Your appearance on TV today," Jin says, the most analytical of the bunch, trying to figure you out. "How would that help to aid your negotiations?"

You smile. It's quite simple, really.

"That was to stop you from thinking you could ever fucking touch me."

There's more venom than you intend there to be behind your words, but you haven't quite healed from the last invasion of your autonomy. You're still disgusted but how easily you were manipulated into thinking that Jungkook ever gave a fuck about you. If they think they're ever getting the chance of getting that close again, they're sorely mistaken.

"The world is watching boys," You continue. "One wrong move, and the world will be asking: what happened to her? It's my way to keep you in check. Anyways, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Who do you work for?"

"Who do you work for?" Jungkook spits back.

"Myself. Answer my question."

Jin takes the reins from Jungkook. "We're not at liberty to say."

"Fine," you shrug, getting to your feet. You're here to talk with men, not boys. If they can't make decisions for themselves, then what's the point? "I'll be on my way then. Time is money boys, and if you aren't willing to give me a dime, then it's not worth it for me. I don't need you."

"Yeah, well, if you don't need us, then why the fuck are you here?"

The way Jungkook's nostrils flare amuses you. Let's you know the real question he's asking: If you don't need me, why did you come back? Back here, specifically?

It's a good question. One you wish you had a solid answer for.

"There are rats all over this city," you tell them, thinking that it'd be best to choose at least a half-truth. "I don't know many of them, not well. Not personally. Don't know you fuckers personally, either - very rude of you, by the way, to break into my apartment like that. I'm sure Jungkook could have just told you the code - but anyways, I digress. I know how you operate, to a certain degree."

"Oh, yeah?" Jungkook questions, doubting that very much. "How do we operate?"

"Like fucking idiots," you say with a voice as flat as his tyres after a few too many burnouts. "You send in unprepared fuckers who think with their dicks instead of their brains."

Jungkook scoffs, but the rest of them wave their heads a little, contemplating the fact that you're entirely correct.

"I know your weak spots," you say, but choose not to elaborate on the fact that you were once Jungkook's. You sit back down; an act of defiance for the fact that Jungkook quite clearly doesn't want you there. "And I know some of your strengths. I also know that we have a mutual interest in the downfall of my father. Might not trust you fuckers as far as I can throw you, but I trust that your feelings towards him won't have changed all that much in three months."

"Yours seem to have changed," Jungkook notes all rather bitterly, and it makes you laugh.

You lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on your knee, chin in your palm. Your ring glistens in the light, but Jungkook ignores it. Wishes he could ignore you, full-stop, but he can't take his eyes off you. Deprived for so long, he doesn't know when he'll get this luxury again.

The fact that you're in the boxing club alone - unprotected, despite it all - should be indication enough that your feelings towards your father haven't changed. Why risk it? Why put yourself in a circumstance where you could be used against him if you weren't willing for that to happen?

"Look at you," you smile, but it's laced in contempt. "Finally making assumptions of your own. I'm proud. You got a little way to go, though, baby. You're missing the mark. Give it some time and you'll be able to make assumptions that check out."

The pet name is delivered with such ease that Jungkook almost doesn't notice it. It's the look in your eyes that really delivers it, the chaos and confusion you're conveying in one simple smirk.

"Like yours did when we first met?" He says with a raised brow, thinking you've never made an accurate assumption in the whole entire time he's known you.

"I assumed you were a cunt. Ding, ding, ding. Always right."

This earns a snicker from Namjoon, who can admittedly see why Jungkook liked you so much. There's something about you that gets the heart rate going; gets people interested in what you have to say.

Jungkook says nothing. Rolls his eyes, and grates his jaw. Doesn't see any point in conversing if you're just gonna be a bitch. He always knew you were like this, but he'd managed to chip away at your softer side and had somehow forgotten just how hard your exterior is.

You've fortified it, now though. Built your defences up. It's been three months, and you've not wasted a day. Naive of him to think you would have. You're your father's daughter after all.

"Look," you turn to Jin, still pretty and poised, but this time there's an air of sincerity to your words. "I'm waving a white flag here. You fuckers are lucky I came to your first. Might not trust anyone else in the city, but I don't trust you either. Thing is, boys, I'm traceable. If you try and do anything to me now, you fuckers'll get caught."

"So why would we want to do business with you?" He questions, incredibly curious. He thought after everything with Jungkook, that'd be the last you would see of him.

"Cause I was always traceable, you silly cunts. Do you think just cause I wasn't on speaking terms with my dad, that that was it? The moment you did the raid, I was back on his radar. I'm your connection. I'm your way in," you say, gesturing to yourself to really drive it home how important you could be for them. "If you want to bring him down - if you want to take him for all that he's worth - then you need someone on the inside. You need me. Honestly, the fact you thought a ransom situation would work is laughable, but it just shows you're lucky to have brains now to go with your brawn."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Jin reminds you. There's a warmth to his voice that contrasts the atmosphere within the room.

"No, but you will."

"Why?" Jungkook interrupts, eyes narrow, voice scornful. He's picking at the sides of his fingers, chipping away at hangnails.

"Cause what more do you have to lose, huh?" You shrug. "You're Kang's bitches, now. Wouldn't you rather be mine? I give great employee perks."

The way your eyes dance around the room, from man to man, and eventually land on Jungkook's is deliberate. He knows this, and he lets it get to him.

"What would they be?" Namjoon scoffs, unaware of your innuendo. It's kind of sweet, how naive he is.

And so naturally, you shatter all illusion of innocence.

"Ask Jungkook."

There's silence. No one quite knows how to reply.

No one except Jungkook.

"Ring on your finger be happy with you saying that?"

And for the first time, you're rattled. You hadn't expected him to mention it.

"That's of none of your concern," you shrug. Now's not the time to let him get to you - but the way you rabbit on afterwards is evidence enough that he has. "I'm not here to be interrogated. I'm extending an olive branch; giving you the chance to earn the money you were so desperately trying to make from me. You get your money, I get my father's downfall on a silver platter."

The way you look at Jungkook is unfamiliar. It's as cold and frigid as the winter nights you used to stow away with him in his car; breath clouding in the freezing temperatures despite the warmth in your heart.

A few months ago, such a look from you would have destroyed him. Absolutely decimated his entire sense of belonging. Life wouldn't have been worth living.

Now? It feels like a luxury. A sinful indulgence. He's been deprived for so long he'll take even the smallest hit of whatever you'll give him - and even when it's fleeting, your attention is like crack fucking cocaine.

It's not just your hair or your gaze that has changed. In fact, a lot about you has. There's a hollowness to your cheeks now that there wasn't before; a slight gauntness.

Without the convenience store snacks to keep you going, you actually had to eat decently. Having someone to go home to also meant that your junk diet had to be replaced with something more... appropriate for a woman in her twenties. No more eating like a teenager.

Your loss of appetite in the aftermath of Jungkook's revelation had certainly helped with this, and if anything, you've gained weight over the last few weeks - but you're still not as soft as you once were. He can see it in your cheeks. Saddens him, a little.

Has him thinking about what you could look like beneath those clothes of yours. Wonders if his hands will still fit your waist perfectly, or if your tits will still overspill in his palms just how he liked it. Considers that maybe they won't. Maybe he'll never get the chance to find out.

You think Jungkook looks colder. It's funny, cause the weather has heated up quite considerably, but it's never been frostier between the pair of you.

Getting to your feet, you brush down the tops of your thighs to straighten any creases. You've still got a persona to keep up, even when it's dark outside.

"You can discuss it amongst yourselves," You sigh as begin to head for the door, heels clicking as beneath your feet. There's something about the sound that you just adore. Maybe it's the repetition. Maybe it's the way it drowns out the chime in your stomach as you walk past the man you once thought you... No, you think. That's not right. The man you used to fuck. Much better. "I don't care, either way. I need an answer by the end of the week, or I'll find someone else. You aren't special. Plenty of other fuckers in the city who want to make a quick buck. Plenty of others who hate my father for one reason or another. You just had the balls to try it first."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jungkook calls after you.

He's disappointed when you simply call back, "you don't."

There's more to be said, he thinks. More to discuss.

So he follows you to the parking lot. None of the other boys do. They already know they aren't welcome, and quite honestly, none of them wants to third-wheel such an awkward encounter. They'd already filled their quota for the day.

As he enters the dreary parking lot, he notices a car that's unfamiliar. It's a Merc. Black. Matte. Not too standard around these parts. Fuckin nice, though. He's impressed. Makes a mental note to ask you about the spec some other time.

"Hey, honey." You speak pleasantly into your phone as you pace around, not realising Jungkook's presence yet. He doesn't speak up. Too curious about who this honey could be. "Yeah, Just heading to Jieun's now. I'll be a couple of hours. Okay, okay. Love you, too."

Jungkook pretends like he didn't hear that bit. Does a terrible job of it - but at least he tries.

When you clock him, you couldn't be less bothered if you tried. So what if he heard you on the phone? It's up to him if he reads into it or not.

"You wanna know you can trust me?" You raise a brow, reading his suspicions of you.

Jungkook remains silent. He'll pretend it's to preserve his hard exterior, but in reality, it's to save himself from admitting the truth: he'd trust you with his life.

"I just lied," you continue. "I'm not going to Jieun's. I'm going to Yoongi's. Can follow me if you like. We both know it wouldn't be the first time. I'll be transparent with you - but don't think for a second that I trust you back."

"Yoongi's", Jungkook nods. Remembers the way Yoongi used to look at you. Remembers how he once thought that he was competition. More fool him for ever thinking you actually cared. You've a ring on your finger, now. Neither of you were ever competing, apparently. And if you were? Fell at the first hurdle. "What's that then? A little extra marital fun?

You smile insincerely. "Not married yet."

"So?"

"So even if it was, Jungkook, you're not the one who put this ring on my finger. You've no right to an opinion."

"And I never would have given you a ring," he says, as if he thinks his lack of interest in you could hurt you any more than it already had.

"Never would have wanted you to," you shrug, both of you as good at feigning disinterest as one another.

There's something about him though that has you curious. Has you feeling like you're being challenged. It's just like it was when you first met. The words you speak are laced with disgust, but the burning in your eyes can only be described as desire. He hates how easy it is for him to get like this around you. Hates that you know exactly what you can do to him.

He's realising now that you're far more in control of your feelings than he ever thought you were. He only ever saw you so vulnerable because you chose that. You let him. He's shut out now, and he doesn't like it.

But he does like the smile resting on your pretty lips as you walk towards him.

The way you encroach on his physical space has him hitching his breath in his throat, as if he's terrified to breathe around you. It's fitting, given the way you make him feel like he's drowning.

It's more than that, though.

What he truly fears is inhaling your perfume. smelling your shampoo. He's terrified of what it will do to him if he learns your hair still smells like gasoline. Even more petrified of how he'll feel if he learns that you don't smell like it anymore, mind you.

It's when you extend your index finger and hook it beneath his necklace that he really begins to lose his mind.

"Yanno," you say so quietly he has no choice but to edge just a tiny bit closer. Raising the key to be level with your eyes, you study it, watching the way the tiny crystals almost sparkle in the moonlight. You know they don't. It's just an illusion. If you had to guess - had to assume - you'd say coke. It's the only thing you can imagine him doing. His eyes are focused down on you, lashes long, gaze stern. "You should have told me you like coke."

Jungkook stays silent as you look up towards him, your lips laced in seduction. He knows better than to let you succeed, but - fuck - it's so hard not to. Whatever you're doing has an ulterior motive. It has to.

"Bumping coke's gonna ruin that pretty little nose of yours," you note.

"The fuck would you know about it?" he scoffs, but doesn't pull away. Can't bring himself to. All he can think about is the way your lips look. The difference in them is minimal, but they're definitely plumper. Have to be. Or maybe he just wants to kiss you more than he ever has done.

Your lips part as you lay your tongue flat and press the key to it.

Jungkook swallows, the lump in his throat swollen and intrusive. You wait a second. Wait for two. Then twist the key and dab the other side against your tongue.

"Takes longer if you swallow it," he whispers. "Snorting is much more cost-effective."

"Maybe so," you shrug, releasing the key from your mouth before pressing it against his chest with a slight push. "But you can't go around wearing Class A evidence like that, you silly prick. I meant what I said," you trail off to a whisper, stepping even closer towards him. He doesn't back away. Quite the opposite. He edges a little closer too. He knows he shouldn't - knows you're just baiting him - but god what a temptress you are. "I need to know I can trust the men I work with. I can't have you getting thrown into jail just for the fun of it. I need you clean."

There's something different about that last command. A softness. A plead. Your eyes linger on his, and then you pull away from the magnetism of his being.

"Stay off the drugs, Kook. A deviated septum looks sexy on no one."

And you're right.

But it doesn't really matter. The coke was just a pass time until his favourite drug came back to town. He's one hit down, and thinks the high will last him all fucking week.

The buzz perseveres. He's so consumed by it that he can't recall the conversation he had with the boys before he left. Can barely fucking remember the drive home.

But as he strips himself bare in the quiet comfort of his apartment, he can remember you.

Can remember your eyes, and the way they engulfed him with the heat of your fury - but also the way they simmered. Lashes low, lids half closed, you'd looked at him like a fucking siren, and the memory of it had his tattooed hand stroking at his firm cock. He hadn't been able to get like this since you'd left. Had tried on more than one occasion. Never managed to see it through. Would feel sick after a pump or two.

It's different now. His wrist flicks and his hand works his shaft, head thrown back into his pillows. His hips pulse, desperate for more friction, his own palm a shitty compromise after the luxury of your pussy.

It's when he's thinking of you that he gets breathless. Starts to moan. Wanks himself even faster. Harder. "Shit, C."

The term of endearment sounds so fucking sweet on his tongue. Has his torso tensing. Ass too. The wave of an orgasm threatening to crash.

Driven by instinct, his strong fingers wrap tightly around his hardened length, stroking gently. Tilting his head back, eyes firmly closed, he lets pleasure wave over him as he rolls his hips up into his palm. A guttural moan escapes his wet mouth, his teeth finding their home on his bottom lip.

More. He needs more of you. Needs your hair in his face, the scent of gasoline suffocating him. Needs his lips around your nipples, hands grappling with your ass. He needs you here.

All he's got - the only thing he's got - are his memories. His body writhes beneath him, the chain around his neck slipping from its position. There's little thought that goes into the way he moves the chain and holds the key tight between his teeth to keep it in place; nothing except the knowledge of your tongue licking against it earlier.

And then his lips close around it. His teeth ease, and the key sinks onto his tongue, the chain taut on his chin. He slows the movement of his wrist for a second. Rolls it once. Twice. Tries his best to work out if he can taste you or not.

He can't, but he can't taste the coke either, which means you did exactly as you intended. He moans, vibrating around the small key, devouring the idea that he'd exchanging spit with you once again, in a way. He knows the truth of the matter couldn't be further away from that, but it feels so fucking forbidden.

Just like you always have been. You'll remain that way.

But as his torso grows damp with the release of his orgasm onto his abs, ropes of sperm that he wishes he could have fucked into you going to waste on his skin, he can help but let his mind run wild.

Can't help but wish for more.

And so it comes as no surprise when Jungkook arrives at the boxing club, bright and early the next morning and says, "I'm in."

────────────

There's a sheen to Yoongi's skin as he opens up his apartment door, damp from the shower that was shut off just a few moments prior. Hair wet and sticking to his forehead, you're surprised to find you're the one choking on your words.

And then he smiles.

Smiles as if he's just beaten the high score of an arcade game, smiles as if he's managed to reach the peak of Apsan just in time for sunset. He smiles, and it feels like he's fixing you up with gold; seeping into the cracks that Jungkook left in you.

"If you wanted me to cover your shifts, you could have just asked," he beams. It's the first time he's seen you in three months. "You didn't have to be all dramatic and quit on me like that."

His teeth are showing, and they only show more when you give him a light tap on the shoulder with a closed first. His body jolts back slowly, eyes eating you up like a souffle pancake after a month-long fast. He bites down on his bottom lip with those pretty pearly whites, and pushes his door a little further back to invite you inside.

"You know you like a girl who keeps you on your toes," you grin back at him.

"Coffee? Tea?" He asks as you cross the threshold. You both know he won't have any at home, and that he'll need to order it in, but the gesture is kind. He's kind. "On my toes, yes. Sprinting marathons just to keep up with her? Less so much."

"Wine? And you'll thank me for the cardio in later life," you assure him, and toy with a joke about other forms of cardio you could do together. It dances on the tip of your tongue, and you know that if you spoke it aloud, goosebumps would form on his bare arms - so you say nothing, instead. 

He'd be the perfect distraction, you think, nothing like the boy you're trying to forget. Kind, and handsome, and someone who actually gives a shit about you. 

Forget distraction. He'd be the perfect man. Or at least he would be if he wasn't so helplessly infatuated with you.

That's thing about Yoongi; he sees all the good in you, and ignores the bad.

He'll take your witty banter, but neglect to factor in how mean it can sometimes be. He'll watch you yawn at work, half-bored to death, but refuse to acknowledge the fact you could cure said boredom with the tasks on your to-do list, that you instead leave for the next shift worker. He revels in the beauty of your laugh, but apparently is deaf when he hears you bitching about customers who have done very little wrong.

You aren't a saint. Perhaps not a sinner, either, but you sure do feel a lot closer to one than you think you should.

For all his wrongdoings, Jungkook never once treated you like you were a saint. There was no pedestal beneath your feet when you kissed him; he'd stoop to your level.

He saw you exactly as you were, which is why it hurt so much when you realised you'd only ever seen a facade that he'd cooked up in the shitty back room of a boxing club.

Thoughts of him are dissolved with mindless chatter, Yoongi always so good at taking your mind elsewhere. He knows you in such a way that talking is easy. It never feels calculated, never feeling like you need to think about what you say. He'd never judge you for a single thing.

Perhaps he should. Perhaps if he'd have held his guard up a little higher, stood his ground a little firmer, then he wouldn't be so weak to the way you batter your lashes and give him coy looks in dull-lit rooms.

There's talk of the garage; the usual customers, your old boss, how late shifts drag without you there. He's quiet when you ask about Jieun. Just tells you she's all good. He changes the subject. Asks about your dad, and how the fuck you managed to keep that one quiet. 

You're surprised to find that honesty feels nice. 

Until, inevitably, it doesn't.

"You gonna tell me about the ring?" he eventually asks after you've both had a little wine to ease the tension of three months you've been away.

You don't drop your eyes from him, not even for a second. His damp hair is nearly fully dry, and he looks so comfortable in a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt, reclined on his sofa. Simplicity looks good on him.

You're still in business casual, tight dress hiked around the top of your thighs as you sit on his floor. It was always your default when you came to his place, for some reason always opting for the floor instead of next to him on the sofa. Always been concerned about keeping a little distance. Funny, how the one time the distance would be apt, you find yourself wanting to sit next to him instead. You don't, though. Not yet, at least.

"What of it?"

Yoongi looks at you like you're a little bit mad. He kind of thinks you are.

"It's on your ring finger."

"Oh?" you say with a small laugh. "Is it?"

His eyes narrow on yours, before they glance back down to the ring. The stone is clear, and if he were to guess, he'd assume it was diamond - but he'd never struck you to be the kind of girl who ever wanted diamonds. Opals, maybe. Emerald, topaz. Stones with a bit about them. Something interesting. Not a diamond. Of all things.

But perhaps he didn't know you as well as he thought he had done. Perhaps you really weren't the girl he had dreamt up in his head; the one that he spent hours upon hours daydreaming about after you left.

Funny, how both he and Jungkook would get lost for lifetimes thinking about you, but they were both so vastly different.

In Yoongi's you'd come back home, show up at the garage like no time at all had passed, and tell him that you were wrong all along. He's the one you want. He's the one you've been going crazy thinking about. He's the one you came back for.

Sometimes he thinks about that week you went to Busan. Thinks about what it could have been like if he'd been the one to take you. Thinks about how fucking good it could have been to experience life outside of the confines of work and your apartments together. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks. Occasionally he acts on those thoughts too, but he tries not to.

It all feels a little wrong.

But that's what he likes about it. The fact he knows he shouldn't be thinking about you when he's turned on just turns him on even more; so he finds himself thinking of you far more often than he should. Thinks of you when he's alone; his bedroom lights switched off, duvet pushed midway down his thighs, hands roaming down his body. He grazes his skin with the tips of his nails. Pretends it's you.

"What about you," you shrug, nodding towards the scrunchie that's looped around the neck of a wine bottle on the counter. "Don't think your hair's long enough for that."

"You'd be surprised," he grins, pleased to find you grinning back.

"Prove it," you flirt, getting to your feet to retrieve it.

Yoongi watches as you retrieve the scrunchie, and knows that he should tell you no.

He should say 'actually, that's my girlfriend's.'

But she's only ever been a distraction to stop him from thinking about you - and how can he think of anyone else when you're in his space, heels off, dark hair draped over your shoulders like fine silk?

In your heart of hearts, you know that the scrunchie means he has someone. The hair grips by the sink, the takeout containers for two next to the recycling, the fact his apartment is actually clean and tidy, too.

"Prove it?" He grins as you return to his sofa, but you don't sit. You stand in front of him. Keep your eyes on him. Wait as he adjusts a little, his leg unhooking from beneath the other so that his lap makes the perfect seat for you to sit upon.

And so you do. You hike your dress up. One of your knees rests down next to his thigh. You're tentative. Slow.

His hand strokes up the back of your thigh. He nods. Encourages you further onto his lap. When your second knee finds its home next to his other thigh, he nods again.

You're smiling as you lower your weight, ass perched on the tops of his thighs. There's a little distance between the pair of you. You're not as close as you could be. Proceeding with caution. His lips pouty, eyes pure. A paradox.

"Prove it," you nod, and your hands start to toy with his hair. He's smiling right back at you, enthralled with the flirt almost as much as he's enthralled with the way it feels to have your nails scratching against his scalp. "Gonna make your hair look so pretty."

It's unfair, he thinks, that you get to have your hands in his hair, but his aren't allowed in yours. Doesn't realise that you wouldn't object.

"Don't think you will," he simpers back, the hand of his that was on the back of your thigh now resting on top of it, stroking ever so gently. The touch is so gentle, so minimal, and yet it has you pulsing beneath the lace of your underwear.

There's a ring on your finger, and someone waiting for you at home, but no one's had you in a position this provocative since you jumped town. See, you're 'waiting'. 'Want it to be special'. Don't want to make the same mistakes you did last time the ring had been on your finger.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself, and your fiance seems to believe it - why else would he get down on one knee again?

"I definitely will," you banter as you wrap his hair up with the scrunchie. His hair sticks on end, like a tiny sprout, and he looks adorable. "Gonna make you look sooo pretty."

He frowns, but with a sparkle in his eyes that let you know he's just joking. "Done?"

"Done," you beam, giving it one final adjustment. There's a slight movement to your hips, too. Getting cosy. His hand sinks a little further up your thigh. You pretend not to notice it. "Prettiest sprout in the whole of Daegu."

"Only Daegu? There are prettier sprouts outside of Daegu?"

You shrug. "Maybe. We should enter you into the national pretty sprout competition."

He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little straighter. He moves you into a more comfortable position as he does so. You're closer now. So much closer.

"Think I could win?"

"Best in show, baby," you grin. "I'd win for best sprout stylist, though."

Laughter echoes around you, his smile so sweet, so saccharine that you think he must surely be made of sugarcane.

The way Yoongi looks at you is devastating. Eyes soft and round, they're glossy and wet. Earnest.

They drop to your lips, then return to your eyes. Repeat. His lashes flutter whenever he does so, and there's a reflection from his floor lamp that looks like a pretty little love heart in them.

So devastating. It's the kind of look people would write films about, all for that one shot of his eyes after the confession scene. The one that will go viral, the one that will be cited for years as 'the look', the one that would earn Min Yoongi a place in the heart of every young woman who watches it. Young men, too. Fuck it, anyone with a pair of working eyes.

He's got a look in them that makes you want to believe in love; but the fact you even have to think about it just proves that this could never be that.

"I'm using you," you tell him, knowing that honesty is all you can really give him. He deserves that much, at the very least. Deserves more, you think, so much more than you can ever be - but he doesn't want more. He just wants you.

He tries a little banter. "To win the competition? I know."

But you don't feel like bantering. You want him to know how much of a piece of shit you are. How much you only ever think of yourself. How selfish you can be.

There's a look on your face that is unfamiliar to him. A warning. I'm a hurricane; I will destroy you. It's one that he ignores.

"I know," he whispers back, seriously this time, his index finger tucking away strands of your hair that are hanging loose. Eyes focused on the movements of his fingers, he's too scared to look into yours. Shy, almost. Timid, and sweet, and everything that Jungkook's not. "And I'm letting you. I'm using you, too."

It's funny, because he really thinks he is. He thinks he's got control over the situation, that all this is happening because he chose for it to happen - as if you haven't been holding the cards this whole entire time. He's only winning because you're letting him win.

Part of you feels bad. You know that his feelings for you run deeper than your simple want to be wanted, and yet you don't try and rectify the situation. He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He can make his own mistakes.

The tentative tips of his fingers trail down your cheek, your neck. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, and presses a kiss against it.

His lips trail a little further up, ghosting your neck, occasionally pressing down. He's slow. Takes his time. Savours this; savours you.

You're surprised by the way it feels when Yoongi finally kisses you.

His lips are just as they should be, firm and soft, and when his tongue begins to trail across your bottom lip, you accept it into your mouth. There's silence in your sternum. You had expected that bell to chime like it so often did, but instead, there's just a small fizzle and pop, like a sparkler being dunked in a water cup. You can feel the fizzle, mind you, working its way down until you find yourself clenching.

This is good, you tell yourself. What you need.

Yoongi's tongue is slow as it licks into your mouth. He's working you out. Seeing how you taste, how it feels when your moans vibrate against him.

His hands tentatively begin to roam; hips pulsing beneath you. The weight of your body on top of his feels like a fucking crime. His fingers trail up your back. Tickle at your spine. Curve round your ribs and ghost the underside of your tits.

Your breath hitches, and all you can think about is him.

Your fingers clasp around Yoongi's, holding them in place, stopping them from moving further. He looks at you, head tilting when he realises yours is shaking. He's scared he's fucked it already.

"Just," you say quickly, noticing the panic in his eyes. "These," you gesture to your chest, not wanting to be specific but needing him to know. "Off limits. If that's okay?"

He nods. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry."

"No," you smile. "It's okay."

You could clarify. Could explain. Could make up some lie about how you don't like it, or how you're insecure, but Yoongi accepts your boundaries without question.

"Sure?" He asks, a little scared to venture further. He doesn't want to do the wrong thing. Doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel like regretting your choices. He knows that he's probably only ever gonna get one shot at this, but he's gonna treat it like an audition for a permanent position. If he does well, maybe you'll want him again.

His hesitancy is sweet, you think. Endearing. Perhaps a little bit of a turn-off, but you don't seem to mind. You like that you can take of him just as much as he wants to take care of you.

The pace of his hips increases beneath you, your clothes aiding and abetting your crimes. It's not technically cheating if nothing happens. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Sure, his cock is fucking solid beneath his sweats, trapped in the confines of his underwear, and - fuck it, fine - maybe you are so wet that you're leaving a small mark on his crotch from where it's seeped through - but it's nothing.

It's not like you're actually touching his dick. Your hands are exclusively in his hair, his pretty sprout long gone, the scrunchie now around your wrist.

And it's not like he's inside you, either - although he wishes he was. In fact, he's thinking about it when he begins whining into your mouth. Your hips are working against him, the friction getting you closer and closer an-

"God, you're gonna make- fuck, I'm gonna-" he rasps, but he doesn't slow his movements. His hands are on your waist, dictating the speed at which you're moving on top of him. He's using you just as much as you're using him.

"Cum?" You finish his sentence with a sinful smirk against him. Your tongue flicks against his, and he's whining again. You're so direct, so blasé, that he doesn't know how to control himself. "Don't pretend like it's the first time, Yoongi."

See, Yoongi doesn't fuck like Jungkook.

Yoongi fucks nice girls. Girls who fuck for love. Girls who rarely fuck. Girls who do as they should; sit pretty, let the man have his way with them, and ask for nothing in return. Girls who are prudish, and refuse to discuss sex unless they're about to have it.

More often than not, Yoongi goes for girls who love him.

And it's probably why he's so fixated on you; because he knows you never will.

You're unattainable. Good girl gone bad. Sultry and seductive in a way that he's never seen before.

He ruts up against you, chest heaving as his grip on your waist forces you to angle a little further away from him. He shakes his head ever so slightly, lips hanging ajar. "Not the first time. Course it fucking isn't. Look at you."

And now you're fucking whining. He likes the reciprocation. Makes him feel like you want this just as much as he does - and you do. There's nothing you want more at that moment than to have Yoongi twitching in his underwear, unloading himself all because of you. You want the control. The power. The satisfaction.

You want a man weak for you, to make up for how weak a man had made you feel. You want confirmation that Jungkook was nothing special. That you can have the same impact on any man.

And here Yoongi is, hard beneath the weight of your body, your pussy hot against his stiff crotch; body clammy as he pretends like the scrunchie around your wrist doesn't belong to a girl who bakes him homemade tangerine tarts, just because. He isn't thinking about her. He's utterly consumed by you. He'll feel bad about it after you leave, but for now, he's just thinking of ways he can make you stay.

"Slow," you tell him, placing your hand against his chest, just below his ribs. You both ignore your ring just like you both ignore the scrunchie. He's just as corrupt as you are. Maybe you're a good match. Maybe you can be each other's favourite mistakes.

You shuffle back a little; ass perched on his knees, eyes looking at his crotch as your palm follows your gaze. It's not hard to get a read on his size beneath his sweats. They're a pale grey, but there's a telling dark stain where you've been sitting.

"Shit," he hisses. "We can't- I can't. I want to - fucking hell, I really do - but I can't."

"I know," you nod. "That's not what I'm after."

The way you smile as you say it has Yoongi thinking he might just cum right there and then. You're fucking with his head - but what bothers him the most is how much he likes it.

"What are you after, then?" he asks as he feels your hand squeeze around his length. He groans, head tipping back against the top of his sofa. The way his hips pulse is involuntary, and it has sin lacing your smile.

"Just wanna adjust you slightly," you shrug. You want his cock laying flat against his body. It's kind of at an angle now, and while it feels great to grind down on, you know it will be even better if you can work up and down his shaft a little easier. Better for you both.

He bites down on his lip to hold back another moan and nods when you release the pressure of your palm.

"You wanna move it, or shall I?" you ask, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

"I'll do it," he says, hand dipping beneath his waistband without hesitation. It's not cheating if he does it, he rationalises. It is cheating if you do it. He's decided, that's his limit. As long as you don't actually touch his cock, then it's fine. He hasn't given the kissing much thought because he doesn't want to stop doing it.

He looks at you as he strokes his cock, just a couple of times. Just enough to make you wish it was your lips around it, not his hand. You can't see anything - it's still hidden by his sweats - but the adjustment just makes the outline so much clearer. So much bigger.

"This okay?" he asks, almost nervously. Eyes darting around your face to get a read.

You nod. "Perfect."

His hands find your waist again, and he pulls you further up his lap. He holds you in place as he slowly pushes up against you. Your hand snakes behind his neck, the other clasping one of his wrists. Your nails dig in; a moan stuttering from your pouty lips.

"That feel better?" he checks, but your reaction was all he needed to confirm it.

Still, you're notoriously the worst - and so you smirk. Lean forward. Subtly move your hips as you do so. Press a chaste kiss against his neck. Whisper, "I'm not sure. You'll have to try again."

He's even slower this time. Deeper. You shouldn't be doing this, Yoongi.

And yet he does it again. Groans. Curses. "You make me so hard."

You can't help but laugh. He's sweet. Nice to be with. "You're welcome."

It's the giggle that gets him.

Sweet? Nice? Yeah, fuck that.

His hips get erratic. The speed, the pace. Jesus H. Christ. It's a good job you aren't fucking because you think he'd actually break you. You know he'd kiss it better, so it's okay - but now you're thinking of his tongue and how badly you want his head between your legs.

"Wait for me," you whine into his lips, as your hand dips towards your clothed cunt. It's so warm and wet that it's a miracle Yoongi hasn't stripped you bare just to have the luxury of experiencing it.

You both know this is a one-and-done kind of thing. One time can be classed as a mistake. A lapse in judgement. Forgiveness will be far easier. Repeat offences? Well, they're a pattern. Guaranteed to reoccur. It'd be an affair, for lack of a better term.

Yoongi was raised better. You weren't, but that's neither here nor there.

With your dress hiked up around your hips, it's almost cruel how easily Yoongi could access your pussy if he really wanted to. Has been resisting the temptation. The lace of your underwear - black and barely there - leaves little to the imagination. He's salivating at the sheer thought of how you could taste. He can smell your arousal, and thinks you must be some kind of delicacy.

His brain is playing tricks on him. Making him feel like he hasn't eaten for weeks. What he wouldn't give to have you in his mouth right now.

It's out of bounds, though. He can't.

But he can match the rhythm of his hips to the pace you're rubbing languid circles against your clothed cunt, right above the hood of your clit.

And again, he wants it in his mouth.

He needs a distraction. Something. Anything. Feels your grip on the back of his neck and decides that's it.

"Throat," he husks. "Put your hand around my throat."

The sound Yoongi makes when you do as he's asked, nails digging into his skin ever so slightly, is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's desperate, unrestrained. Pathetic. So fucking hot.

But you're both mewling now, bodies clammy beneath your clothes.

It hits you first; the wave of an orgasm crashing down over you, taking Yoongi with it. Your body shakes on top of his, teeth biting down into his shoulder as hands squeeze your ass so tightly you think it might bruise.

Good. Would be nice to have the mark of someone else on your skin for once.

He folds almost as fast as you do. He's quiet as he cums, not minding that your grip on his throat had dropped. There's no announcement, no prewarning, he just lets his body fall into the familiar notion of what it feels like to experience euphoria because of you. Breath hitched, cock spurting into his underwear, Yoongi's head lolls. His eyes are half-mooned, lips resting ajar, looking directly at you as he cums.

It's sordid. Dirty. Forbidden. Your favourite kind of sexual exploit - but Yoongi is a willing participant. Wanting.

His hair is a little ruffled from your hands, body limp and docile from his release. He makes no objection as your frill his hair with a smile. He does eye you a little curiously as you begin to tie his hair back up with that damn scrunchie again. He's glad it's off your wrist. Felt guilty looking at it.

You tilt your head, eyes expansive and inquisitive as a smile prevails. "Prettiest sprout in Daegu."

And he really is; honey skin all pink and clammy, eyes glossy, a smile forming on his pouty lips. But he's also not stupid. He knows you're just trying to pretend like what just happened never did.

It's the sensible thing to do - but fuck, he's been thinking about that (or at least some variation of it) for months. Years, even. Against his better judgement, he steals a chaste kiss from your lips. "Prettiest sprout maker in Daegu."

The bashful shake of your head, the way your cheeks apple, the sound of your fucking giggle, all confirm it for him.

"Shut up."

"Don't think I can," he grins, satisfied to have finally gotten you like this. And then he kisses you again, because he knows full well that very soon he won't be able to. "Why the fuck did we never do that before?"

You wrap your arms around his neck and simper into his kiss. It's nice to be wanted. Nice to have someone want you just for the sake of wanting you. Nice to use someone instead of being used. There's no ulterior motive with Yoongi; just bad timing. That's all.

"'Cause we'd have never got any work done at the garage if we knew how good it felt," you hum, voice light and airy. He's missed you in the months you've been away. "Would have spent all our time in the stock room."

"You did that anyways," he laughs, pressing kisses down your neck. "Fucking slacker."

His lips stop beneath your collarbones, just shy of your chest, mindful of the boundary you set earlier.

"You never complained," you remind him. "You loved it."

He shakes his head. Doesn't deny it. Just grins.

And that's when the guilt starts to creep in for you, too.

Yoongi's one of the good ones. Hair tied up all cute and silly just because you wanted to do it. There's safety to be found when you're sitting in his lap. He'd never fuck you over. Never.

But you've twisted his arm, and made him fuck over some other poor girl. You know it's gonna eat at him - because he's a good person. Far better than you are.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I should get going."

"It's late," he replies, his deep voice a similar dulcet volume to yours. He's mirroring you. It's cute. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch again. Like last time."

The way he tacks that last sentence on is so delicate. So pure. Proof that you can trust him. It's tried and tested. Customer approved. Trip Advisor recommended.

In your heart of hearts, you know you don't deserve another minute of his company. You look down. Choke on your words a little. Shake your head. "Wouldn't wanna put you out."

You've a home to get to.

"It's no bother," he smiles.

You know leaving will hurt him, but fear staying will do more damage.

And again, you've a home to get to.

"Stay," he says.

"I can't," you whisper. Nudge your nose against his. Let your lips linger a little too close. Don't press down until he does. And then you kiss him like you really mean it. You think you do. "I'm sorry."

The worst thing about Yoongi is the way he smiles. It's innocent, even if what you just did wasn't. Sincere. Compassionate. You know he's only thinking about you - but there are other people in this equation. You reach for the scrunchie. It pulls from his hair with ease - a testament to how he feels about his short-lived romance. It doesn't matter though, as you pick up his wrist and place the scrunchie around it.

He looks at it; at your nails and how they clasp his hand so delicately. He squeezes them. Nods. Purses his lips, takes in the shine of your ring, then looks at you. "I'm sorry, too."

You're not sure what for. For not acting sooner? For not asking you on a date all those months ago? For the fact he moved on when you moved away?

"It's cool," you say and try a sincere smile back. He sees right through it. "We're cool."

"We are?"

"We are."

Yoongi calls you a cab. You've had too much wine to risk getting pulled over. The scandal your father would face as the result of you getting a DUI isn't worth it at this point. You've a role to play. A home to get to before the sun rises.

And despite it all, he kisses you goodbye.

"Better not go rogue again," he tells you.

All you can do is smile. "No promises."

────────────

When your fiancé calls through to the master bathroom - letting you know he's off to work - you pretend you can't hear him. There's a shuffle by the door as he waits for a reply, but when he doesn't get one, he assumes you're beneath the water.

Easy enough mistake.

You've been too busy staring at your reflection for upwards of ten minutes, trying to assess who the fuck is staring back at you. The marble countertops are cold beneath your hands, the shower running freely, 'cause you're not the one footing the bill. Your fiancé is.

You don't feel bad about the fact you're quite literally pouring his cash down the drain. There's enough money to cover it - but of course there is. Despite his well-to-do salary man image, his main income comes under the table. It's illicit, but so is everything in the world you'd left behind all those years ago.

The man who put a ring on your finger is on your father's payroll. Has been since he turned eighteen. Is following in his own father's footsteps.

It's all very sweet, when you come to think about it - what kid doesn't look up to their father? You sure had.

You, the daughter of a political figurehead; he, the son of the Chief of Police.

It's what made you such a great couple from the get-go.

Was kind of like the fairytales your mother would read to you before bed. You wonder now if she was trying to ingrain the idea of such a suitor from your early childhood. Get her ideal man embedded in your brain before it even had a chance to fully develop.

Your fiancé is a little older than you are, so they had to buy time. Make sure no relationship between the pair of you could be scandalised.

Once you were of age, it seemed to be a match made in heaven. The stuff of Shakespeare plays.

It was only natural that you would end up together. Set in stone. You'd marry and become an unstoppable force for your parents. The city would remain theirs.

Thing is, you never wanted to be a character in a Shakespeare romance. You always thought it'd be fruitless. They all end up the victims of great tragedies, anyways.

What you had wanted was to be the muse of a sonnet. Have a man dote on you; write you poetry under the glare of sweltering summer heat. Someone who'd make metaphors out of the condensation on cans of chilsung, consumed together down by your favourite spot along the river. He'd mumble nonsense about the smell of your hair and how he'd long to touch you with his ink-stained fingertips.

As you grew, you began to favour motor oil over ink. Hardly a surprise that you'd been suckered by a motor-loving swine with ink etched into his knuckles. You tend not to think about how gentle those hands of his could be. He'd been everything you had ever wanted wrapped into one. Tied with a pretty red bow.

Now, you think you'll be lucky if you make it to the footnotes of a political history book.

You shower. Take a little longer than normal to rinse the grimey feeling of betrayal from your skin. It'll never leave. Not really. Lodged beneath too many layers of skin.

It's not like you had gone to Yoongi's with the intention of letting things get that far. A little flirt, sure, something harmless - but it was just so lovely to have choices. So nice to be able to choose someone who is also choosing you, even if just for a moment. A lapse in time; in judgement.

Your fiancé never chose you. He chose the path of least resistance from his parents, and you just so happened to be crossing the same road as him.

He's tall. The full cliche - dark, handsome. Had been your first 'love' before you knew what love actually was. First everything. First boy to cheat on you, too, but you mother just told you all men were cheaters. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. Your father was leading by example.

So even though you're in his apartment, wearing clothes washed in his detergent, helping yourself to snacks he bought, you know not to be too comfortable. Not to convince yourself he actually wants this relationship for anything other than his own political gain.

He's banking on a promotion. Not within his career, but within your father's corruption. You're an asset.

And him? Well, to state it plainly, he's an ass.

He's also definitely fucking his secretary, but it's not like he's getting lucky with you so you don't care all that much. She was in the picture before you. Or at least, while you were away. It's been a few years since you were last here. Enough time for something to blossom. Poor thing probably actually loves him. You doubt it's reciprocated.

The ring on your finger is nothing more than a political move; a safety net for the man who had held had refused to pawn it after you left the first time. You'd been a diamond girl, back then. Had been a different person entirely.

You're sat on his sofa, twiddling at your ring, garbage reality shows play on his obnoxiously large television screen, when he pops home towards the end of his lunch break.

He seems agitated. Doesn't really greet you. Is looking for a casefile he'd left at home this morning.

"Think they're by the bed," you hum, vaguely aware of flicking through them this morning after he'd left.

Petty convenience store robbery, nothing really to write home about. You scoff at the cases he's been assigned, as if he were still a rookie. He's been on the force for years. He should be investigating major crimes. Murders. Narcotics. Corruption.

Then again, he'd end up investigating all of his friends if he did those cases. Must be better for him to stay away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he dismisses as he rushes on through.

There's a slight waft of perfume as he passes you. It becomes clear why he decided to cram the document retrieval into the last ten minutes of his lunch break. You find yourself wondering if you had smelt like Yoongi when you'd arrived home the night before.

"You picking up the car this afternoon?"

Shit. The car.

"Yeah." Your capability of making lies sound like bible truth is commendable. A skill. Talent. "Was just about to go."

"Okay, good. You gonna be near Kang's? I need some more oil."

You're silent for a moment. Think of which lovely little lie to tell. Settle on, "Jieun lives not too far from it. I can pop by."

He hums something in response. You think it might be a thank you but he doesn't care to articulate it properly. It's not till he walks back to the living area that you realise he's still talking. "-actually be good for you to get out of the house. You can't mope around here all day."

You scowl. Look at him with genuine disdain. "Sorry?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, a look on his face as if he genuinely thinks he's not being a dick. "You can't be out all hours at night - and before you say it, I don't care if it's just at Jieun's, I have a work schedule I have to sleep for - and then spend all day doing nothing."

This time, you stay silent.

You don't think he's wrong, but he's also the one who had given you terms and conditions when he put that ring back on your finger. No GS25 was one of them. No university either, which is what you'd really wanted to do; actually educate yourself on business affairs, so that it wasn't all bullshit when you were dealing with the hooligans from Kang's.

But no. To be welcomed back into the fold was to be restricted; prevented from doing things that would garner you any further independence.

"While I'm at Kang's, I'll see if they've got any jobs going," you say. The garage in front of the boxing club would actually be the perfect place for you to work while you figured out your next move. You also know there's no way in hell it would ever be given the green light.

"Working for your father's political rival?" he scoffs, not taking you seriously for a second.

"Says the man who wants me to buy oil from there," you scoff right back. "But fine, I can go back to GS2-"

"No. Your father said-"

"You think I give a rat's arse what my father said?"

"Your father said to keep a low profile until he can justify another job opening in the mayoral office."

"Joy. Can't wait," you say as he walks to the door. He's out of it without even so much as a goodbye when you mumble, "You might be his bitch, Hoseok, but I'm not."

Realistically, the conversation had been done as soon as you mentioned getting a job.

It's on the list of 'No Can Do' activities, set in place by your father to keep his political appearance clean. No job, no school, no clubs, nothing worthy of a scandal. Nothing that could be used against him. He might have won the last election, but Kang came pretty fucking close to stealing it from him. He needs to gain back the favour of his people.

It takes well over an hour to get to Kang's by foot from the city center apartment you're in, so you head to the nearest bus station. Figure you'll just hop on the 503. Will try not to think about Jungkook when you do so.

You're dressed down, a slouchy jumper over a pair of jeans fading you into obscurity. Nothing special. You know you should really make more of an effort to keep up appearances, but you're tired. Exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Your old life is draining you.

There had been method to your madness: you'd returned 'home' for a reason.

Part of you wishes you hadn't. Wishes you'd have gone straight to Kangs.

But you needed an 'in', and to be honest, you needed protection. You play a mean game of poker, and your bluff has been perfected, but behind the poker face, you're scared. Of your reality. Of your father. Of the men who dwell in Kang's boxing club.

And so you'd needed to get your ducks in a row before you stepped foot into Kang's. Couple of months was all it had taken for your family to be convinced that your reckless youth had been outgrown; for a ring to be back on your finger.

You find yourself thinking about Jungkook; what it could have been like if you'd have met him before... well, before everything.

You think about your life as a teenager - privileged, affluent. Think about his hardships, and how you could have tried to help. Your father never would have listened to you, but you could have a least appealed to his sense of humanity. Could have tried to stop the funding cuts. Probably could have extorted your father; used his mistakes against him.

Instead, you'd distanced yourself. Changed your legal name as soon as you could because you knew that, eventually, you'd want to run. Would want to remove yourself from any position of influence.

It's why you never could have helped Jungkook. You had been running from the very thing he needed: power, influence, money. At the time, they'd been meaningless to you. Not meant for you, you thought - though you're doing rather well cosplaying as Daddy's little princess again.

As you make your way across town, you notice how bad the air quality is once more - heavy in your lungs, drying your eyes out.

You make your way to Yoongi's, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like you're just going to hang out on a day off. You'll gossip about the boss, maybe make theories on why Jieun had called in sick the week before.

But when Yoongi opens his apartment door, he wants to look like he's ambivalent about your arrival. Indifferent. Unphased. Can't help but smile, though.

"Twice in twelve hours?" he says. "Really making up for lost time, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, because there's an innuendo lacing his words and you're not sure what to make of it. Both of you are sober, now, not a drop of wine left in your systems and yet... you kind of feel like you are a little tipsy.

Your skin is clammy, heart beating a little faster than it should be. Just the air quality, you tell yourself. Harder to breathe. Yeah, just the air. Just the pollution, baby.

Funny, how it's Jungkook's voice in your head again.

But Yoongi's heart is doing the just same. Can't blame it on the air.

He knows last night was wrong, but the adrenaline rush that had come with giving himself up for you made him feel like he'd digested enough uppers to kill a man. Swallowed them whole. Chased a high he'd never reached before. Nirvana. Purgatory disguised as paradise.

"Look, Yoongi I-" You begin, but he interrupts you. Knows the tone of voice you're using. Doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't," he says, opening his door a little wider to invite you in.

You hesitate, but when he knocks his head back, eyes half-mooned as they drink you in, you can't refuse. He nods to the sofa, where you take a seat, shoes off, feet up, legs crossed.

He stands by the wall opposite you, keeping a little distance. Looks down - but then right back up and into your eyes as he says, "You've only just got here. Don't treat me like I was a mistake already."

There's silence as you look at one another. Your lips rest ajar, a million thoughts fighting it out to be spoken first.

"You weren't."

You're not sure you believe it, but you want him to. Don't want him feeling like you regret him.

"No?" He says, dark but deliriously honest; not only how they drink you in, but how they also pour out for you. The windows to his soul are open, curtains wafting in the breeze. He's inviting you in. Offering you a home. "Why does it feel like you were about to say that it was?"

Because you were.

Not because you thought it was a mistake for you; but because it was a mistake for him. The scrunchie has been hidden away, and his take-out for two containers have been left out for the recycling collection. He's testing out what it could be like, you think. What it could be like to have you in his space.

"I can't give you what you need," you say quietly, avoiding eye contact. You'd expected a little more small talk before jumping to the hard hitters, but Yoongi's been striking out for years. He's making the most of your defence being down.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," you feign a half smile. "Even if I wanted to, Yoongi, I don't think I could. I'm not made for you people like you."

"And what am I like?"

"Good," you speak so softly he can't help but smile. "Deserving of more."

He just shrugs. Doesn't hide his hurt. "What if I don't want more?"

"Yoongi-"

And then his hurt takes precedence; obscures any whispers in his mind that tell him not to do... well, do whatever the fuck this is. He's waited years for a green light from you. Instead, you'd raced through amber the night before. Looks red now. He just wants fucking green.

"I don't want more."

"Yoongi."

He looks down. Shakes his head.

When his gaze meets yours again, the windows are shut - but the curtains are still drawn open wide. It's dark inside. Lights are off, but there's somebody home. They're waiting for you to come home, too.

He walks a little closer to the sofa. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You're so good at lying. Have mastered it. And yet-

"That's not fair."

Why aren't you lying to him? You can be cold. You can be callous. You're perfectly capable of treating the ones you love like they mean nothing more than the shit beneath your shoes, and yet it's hard to do it with Yoongi. Hard to tell him anything he doesn't want to hear. He deserves the earth, you think, and yet all you're giving him is dirt that will get trapped beneath his nails.

"Tell me you didn't," he repeats, standing a little taller now. His shoulders are broad. Powerful. You'd be safe with Yoongi. Would want for nothing. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You look down. Shake your head.

Shame is a funny feeling. Fools you into thinking you should be honest.

"I can't."

Yoongi doesn't smile. Just nods. "Because you want me, too."

"Not for the right reasons, Yoongi," you stress, hoping he'll see sense.

"Who gives a fuck about the right reasons?"

"You will."

"I won't."

"When you ruin what's good for you because of something I can't give you, then you'll give a fuck," you tell him. The hairband might be hidden but there's half a tangerine tart left in his fridge and a concert ticket she bought for him taped on the door of it. His life is good. He doesn't need you storming through it like a summer typhoon. "I am nothing. I can give you nothing."

And then Yoongi does something all rather unexpected.

He smirks.

Toys at the corner of his lips with his tongue. Crosses his arms and raises his brow. "You gave me yourself last night."

"I gave you my body," you correct him, getting to your feet. Nothing good will happen from this conversation. You just need to get your keys and go. There's an urgency to your movements, heading towards the kitchen section of his open planing living space. Your keys will be on the hook where he keeps his own, you're sure. "Look, I've got-"

Your movements are halted as Yoongi reaches for your hand. Pulls you round. Walks you back until your ass is against the kitchen cupboards. You're looking up at him. The closeness of your bodies is intentional. Orchestrated by him; allowed by you. His voice is low as he says, "That's not nothing."

"But it's not enough," you stress, and you absolutely mean it. "I'm engaged to be married, Yoongi."

"And I'm already going to hell," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You don't stop him. "So I may as well have fun with it."

This is a side to him that you've never seen before. One that screams danger. Either he's learnt what you like in a man, or maybe he's just been hiding this part of him. He's tried being perfect, has seen it doesn't work. Maybe this is the real Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi," you say with little thought as his nose nudges against yours.

"Mhmm?" he hums back. His lips ghost yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest. One of his hands is flat against the kitchen counter as the other brushes up the curve of your waist.

You shake your head. The movement only causes the friction of your lips to tenfold. "If this happens, it doesn't mean anything."

He smiles against you. Shakes his head. Presses his lips against yours. One, two, remember to breathe. Pulls away. "It means everything."

You've always been a sucker for men who speak in definitive terms.

But you know how dangerous they can be, now. Know not to trust their words.

"We're not on the same page," you say. At least this way, you can't be accused of leading him on.

"We're not even reading the same damn book," Yoongi smiles against you. Kisses you again. Pulls away before you're ready for him to do so. "But does it really matter if they both have the same ending?"

And then you kiss him. It's soft. Tender. So sweet and gentle compared to the hardness of your heart. "It's not a happy ending."

"So close it, then," Yoongi says, pulling away from you a little. He's giving you the chance to leave. To get out. Escape. "Close your book. Stop this from happening."

But then you're kissing him again, and his tongue is in your mouth and - fuck - it's so nice to feel someone touch you with such intent. You know this is more than something casual, know that you've cared for Yoongi for too long for it not to have stemmed from nothing, but there's no permanence. It's terrifying and soothing all within the same swipe of his tongue against yours.

"One last chance," he says, lips so close to yours that he may as well be sending you telepathic messages. "Close your book if you want to."

It's shameful, the way you shake your head. Keep your eyes closed. Swallow. "But I wanna know what happens next."

Must sound like music to Yoongi's ears. He kisses you so deeply you think you may suffocate.

"What happens next is up to you," he moans into your lips, his nimble fingers pushing the button of your jeans through its fastening. "But it starts with this."

The sound of your breath is heavy. It soundtracks the murmur of your jeans zip being pushed down. Doesn't hide the way he curses against your lips.

"Yoongi," you whisper, eyes closing to stop yourself from catching his gaze.

His lips press against your throat, his dexterous fingers toying with the lace of your underwear. He knows he shouldn't. Knows that there's no taking this back. Knows he's fucking everything up - but he's played it safe for so fucking long and where has that ever gotten him before?

"Yoongi, I-" you try again, but his tongue strokes against your neck, teeth grazing it ever so scarcely. His fingers sink into your jeans. Press on your clit above your underwear. It has you gasping for air. He eases his pressure, then reapplies. Repeats. Your hips move languidly against his movements. You want this. Want him.

Want to feel like you're actually loved.

"Say the word, and I'll stop," he promises.

But you just shake your head.

"No?"

"No."

"Don't stop?"

He presses his fingers against you. Circles. Once, twice. God, it feels so fucking good to have him touch you like this. Has you mewling. "Don't stop."

"I won't. I'll make you feel so good," he husks against your neck. "You know I can do it. Know I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

The promise is pointed; directed at Jungkook. You hate that you're thinking about him. Hate that as you tug on Yoongi's hair, his fingers still pressing against your clothed cunt, it's Jungkook's face in your mind. His smirk, how he loved watching you come undone, how he comes undone.

And so you open them. Focus on Yoongi. Tell him how good he's already making you feel. Tell him how you've thought about this before.

It's not a lie. Admittedly, it was before Jungkook had ever come onto the scene, when you and Yoongi were still dancing that awkward line of flirting or friends. You'd settled on different sides, but, for a while, you contemplated what could happen if you chose the same side as him. Spent a couple of late nights imagining how he'd feel.

He's more delicate than you ever expected. Gentler. Softer.

"Is that what you want?" You moan as his lips yours, nails scratching up his throat, remembering how much he'd liked it the night before. He whines a little into the kiss. "Wanna make me feel good?"

He nods. "Wanna be the reason you cum."

His hands sink further into your jeans. Slip beneath your underwear. You're like fucking silk on his fingertips. Incredibly sodden silk, but silk nonetheless. Exquisite.

Yoongi presses his body into yours, and you can feel his bulge against your tummy. No matter how badly you appear to want him, he wants you more. Always has done.

What a devastating achievement this is. Yoongi finally has the girl he's wanted in the palm of his hand, lungs stuttering her chest - but it's tarnished.

All he ever wanted was to love you. Not to fuck you. Sure, it'd be an inevitable side-effect, not one he'd ever complain about, but this just... wasn't how he'd envisioned it.

He's not sure that he could classify what he feels now as love. It's something quite similar, yes, but it's tainted. The waters he's treading are murky, as if something could pull him under at any time. A little bit of seaweed, maybe, wrapping up around his ankle, seeping up his legs like the ribbons of ballet shoes, pulling him down to dance on the ocean floor.

He'd let it, he thinks, if it meant he got to dance with you.

It's when your hands creep to the top of his trousers that he knows he's won. Knows that you do want this, too. Want him.

The second your hand wraps around his length, warm and stiff in your palm, he's ready.

You'd come undone with one another the night before. Used each other. It was self-serving. Self-gratifying. But now?

He's going to be the reason you come undone. His movements. His hands. Him. All him.

The way he guides you through his apartment is sweet. Careful, and gentle; his back is to the walls just in case he knocks into them. Keeps you protected.

And that's exactly what Yoongi is; a safety net.

But as he gets you on his bed - gets you undressed, gets his lips in places he only could have dreamt of, his tongue on your skin, teeth nipping - it's easy to forget that the safety net is still suspended a few meters above ground. You're not entirely secure.

The way Yoongi cradles your jaw makes you think you are, though. He always asks permission. Never takes a chance. Is vocal not for the sake of it, but to make sure that you always have an out. He wants this, wants you, but only because he's convinced you want him too.

Let me eat your pussy, baby. Is that okay? Will you turn over for me? That's it. God, yeah like that. You're so fucking good at that. Wait, wait- no. I'll cum. Don't wanna cum yet. Sit on my face. Shut up, no, I don't care. Maybe I want you to suffocate me. God. Taste so fucking good. That's it. Grind. On my face, baby. All over it. Look at how hard you made me.

And how can you refuse his requests?

Yoongi doesn't hide what he likes. Likes you. Likes you on top. Your hand around his throat. The way your nails feel against his skin. Would really like for you to leave a mark but he always grabs onto your hand whenever he thinks that you might. It's a reminder: his body isn't yours.

His heart might be, but who cares about that?

You don't, clearly, and so nor does he. He'll take what you give him.

And what a gift it is; clammy bodies, dulcet moans, whines of his name.

Yoongi's thought about this so many times, but he's never realised how good it would feel; what it would be like to hear you giggle while he's pushing himself inside you. Had never realised that you'd kiss his temples when he bottoms out, or that you'd whisper his name like a fucking bible verse. Never considered that you'd be so tight around him that he'd spend a fair while warming his cock inside of you, kissing you slowly as you adjust to his size. Never thought you'd taste so sweet, sound so serene.

Never thought he'd get this.

But he did.

And so now he gets it. Gets why that blonde-haired prick couldn't stay away. Gets why he wanted Yoongi to know how well he'd been fucking you - because now it's the only thing Yoongi wants to do, too.

Wants you. Wants you. Wants you.

Wants you in his bed, on his floor, in his shower. Wants you in the GS25 stock room, wants you out back in one of the cars he's working on. Wants you in every way he can get you.

Wishes he hadn't taken so long to act on it.

Because he knows that he can never really have you, now.

It's why he's letting himself indulge on this occasion. He knows what he's doing is wrong, but as far as he can see it, it's a once in a lifetime. He'll never get the chance again.

Never get you sat on his cock like you are now, never get to watch the light that peaks through his half-closed blinds illuminating your features, never get your cheeks all rosy and dimpled like this ever again. Never gonna hold your bare hips as you grind against him, never gonna pull on your wrist to bring your chest flat to his, never gonna kiss you through another orgasm.

But for now, he does. Bucks his hips, whines your name, tells you he's there, tells you - oh god, like that, baby - he's gonna cum. Fuck.

And so you meet him there. Rub delicate circles on your swollen cunt, bringing yourself to release just when he does. The thin layer of latex between you protects you from becoming his, but it all feels the same. The way your heart beats. The way he kisses you. It all feels the fucking same.

His arms wrap around your back. Hold you tightly. A kiss is pressed into your shoulder; up your neck.

The guilt that you expect to arrive never comes.

It will do, eventually - but much later on. His will come in the depths of the night, when he's sleeping beside his girlfriend, too much of a coward to tell her that he's betrayed her.

You think yours will come in the cold light of day a few months from now, when you finally let your brain process everything you've been through.

He tells you he's sorry, cock still buried inside of you, and you shake your head. Tell him you're sorry, too.

"What if I don't forgive you?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood - but you almost think he means it.

"Good," you smile. "It would be good if you don't."

You trace the vein that runs down his arm, and forge some faux sense of intimacy. You're playing house, but you can't play forever. Always have to go back to reality at some point.

This point comes half an hour later; Yoongi shirtless in a pair of sweats, leaning against his door frame toying with loose strands of your hair. He wants to kiss you. "Do you regret it?"

You want to kiss him, too. "Do you?"

The way you ask is so light and airy that Yoongi still feels like he's floating. The only thing he wants to weigh him down is your body on his.

"No."

Your want is growing too large, so you look down to avoid his gaze. Yoongi notices a lash on your cheek. A wish. He should reach for it. Collect it on his thumb, tell you to blow it away.

But he already knows what you'll wish for. Who.

And so he doesn't give you the chance. Hopes the wind will steal it from you.

"Don't be a stranger," he tells you as you go. His lips are plump, annoyed with his brain at the lack of kisses stolen from you before you left.

You lie. Tell him that you won't be. Say you'll see him soon.

Both of you know that you won't.

And it's only confirmed when you get into your car - breath heavy, eyes warm, tears verging - and you spot fucking Jieun walking up the road towards Yoongi's apartment. She's carrying a punnet of tangerines. Wears her hair tied into a half ponytail like you used to do.

This. Now. Yeah, this is when the guilt comes.

It makes so much fucking sense. Of course they'd have ended up together without you in the way to fuck everything up like you're so bloody good at. You wait until she's inside his apartment complex to start the car up, and fucking pray that Yoongi's gone to freshen up, that he's hidden the condom in the trash, that his lips won't taste like you.

Oh god, it's all so fucked.

"What have I done?" You berate yourself, head resting on the top of your steering wheel.

Whatever has happened has happened. You can't take it back. Nor can Yoongi. Just a fact of life now: Min Yoongi has fucked you. And you've fucked his life up.

You dart through town, giving little to no shit about the speed limits nor the unwritten rules of the roads, and find yourself cleaning tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. You're not crying, not really. Not intentionally. It's just kind of happening.

That's your excuse for everything these days. It just happened.

The radio is off, and the roads are smooth beneath your tyres, but everything just feels so fucking loud. The engine barely makes a rumble but it feels like it's roaring at you. Screaming.

And then you are, too.

Screaming at the world; why it had to be this way. Why you're incapable of making good decisions. Why you couldn't have just stayed in Busan with the boy who'd stained you red with the colour of his love that ended up being nothing more than a little lie.

By the time you get to Kang's, you really are sobbing. It's in the way your shoulders shake; chest tightens. That's the issue with going back to your family. You're a frightened little girl all over again. Out of your depth. No fucking clue what you're doing. Just trying to feel something. Anything. Anyone.

For a moment, it had worked. And now everything is broken again.

You twist the keys in the ignition; let the engine cool before you pull yourself together. Pull down the sun visor, check yourself in the mirror. Check for signs of weakness. Grab a little lipstick from the centre console. Your eyes aren't all that bad. There's a little blush on your face, but there's plausible deniability. If anyone questions if you've been crying, you can blame it on windburn. Or tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. One of the two.

A deep breath settles in your sternum. You're not who you were a minute ago. You can do this.

Shoulders rolled back, you hold your head high as you enter the boxing club. The TV is playing in the background, Seokjin and Namjoon sat up by the sofas. They're surprised to see you, but it's not entirely out of the blue. They knew you'd be back.

Jimin clocks you as he's grabbing a water, and nods. You don't nod back.

And despite the fact you refuse to look at him as you enter the boxing club, Jungkook knows.

He's not entirely sure of what he knows, he's just aware of the fact you aren't quite yourself. There's an elegance to how you carry yourself and now is just the same, but... there's something. He can't pinpoint it. Can't figure it out.

But of course he can't.

It's a matter of the heart, not the mind.

In the same vein, it's not a matter at all. He doesn't care about you. Not like that. Doesn't give a shit if you're hurting, or if you're upset, or if someone has been unkind but-

Oh, fuck it.

He does care. He does, he does, he does. He cares so much. So, so much. So much that it feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest just looking at you. There's blood pooling all around him. Kids fucking dance in it like puddles. You watch from afar with a smile and a shrug, holding his still beating heart in your hands. You did this, love.

Jungkook closes his eyes. Shakes the image from his head. Tells himself to stay off the hallucinogenics for awhile.

His eyes find you again as you walk towards Seokjin. Jungkook is down by the bags, unwrapping his hands after a heavy session. There's sweat gleaming on his skin, staining pretty patterns down the back of his shirt. He's pleased you'd arrived now. Knows he looks like shit, but also knows how much you liked fucking him after a workout. Would tell him not to shower. Was the pheromones. Some shit like that. Drove you fucking wild.

The pleasure he takes in your timing is forgotten about when he realises just hollow your eyes are. Finds himself actually wanting a shower - admittedly, with you. It was always where you'd find the most comfort together, and that's what he wants. Just wants to fix whatever's gone wrong for you today.

Instead, he just walks toward the sofas. Doesn't like not being a part of the discussion. There are a few nods. Slight deliberation - and then Seokjin calls the Jungkook and Jimin in to the sofas regardless.

"Taking a vote," he says. It's already been discussed in private between the boys, but no formal plans have been put in place.

You choose to stand. Jungkook sinks into the leather of the sofa in front of you. Avoids eye contact. You pretend to look at the men around you, but you don't really take any of them in. You're unfocused. Disillusioned; disassociating. Daydreaming of the beach, where the water is clear and the sand is warm.

And then, you do let your eyes fall on his. They're so wide and worried. Jungkook is certain he's never seen you like this. Something isn't aligning. Hasn't been since you left, but he thought things would fall back into place when you returned.

You okay? he says silently.

You look him up. Look him down. Part your lips - only to close them again once Seokjin starts talking.

"All those in favour of working together?"

One by one they raise their hands. Seokjin first, then Jimin. Namjoon looks around. Shuffles uncomfortably. Doesn't look at you as he raises his hand.

"Kook?" Seokjin asks.

"It's a bad fuckin' idea," he says, eyes never once dropping from yours. He's not telling the boys. He's telling you.

"Your forte," you say sweetly, but there's no smile on your lips.

And he just nods.

"Yeah. It is."

He raises his hand.

Full house.

"Alright, then," Seokjin beams. "Let's get to work."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

[eywamygoddesswrites]

— 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭 — (multiple x fem!reader) | 1

pairing: avatar men x fem!human!reader

tags: just men taking care of the reader during her period, can be seen as platonic/romantic

warnings: like one pussy joke and that's about it HAHAHAHAHA

a/n: neteyam, lo'ak, ao'nung, and rotxo are aged up! this is for the men characters since i don't want it to be too long. the ladies of avatar will have their own post because let's all be honest, we love women. also i made this 'cause it's currently shark week and everything hurts ;-;

also sorry for the lack of any new fics. i'm hella hella busy with school and i have duties next week (just 3 days) but i will be in the hospital with no data sooooo yeah :cc and the rest are regular f2f classes. i hope y'all understand.

also, happy one month everyone!! i've been posting for one month now and i hope we continue this flowery road together 💙 anywhos, i hope you guys enjoy!

word count: 1.3k

jake sully

this man was a human in his previous life, he knows what the fuck he was doing

when you got your period in the middle of work, jake (with his strong avatar senses) caught a scent of you

he asked norm where they keep women's pads and norm pointed to where they were

he got some pads and getting a few more stuff that you liked

some chocolate bar, a venti cup of coffee/juice/tea, and a heating pad

you were surprised when he stood beside you with said stuff in his hands

then you finally got the idea

oooooooohhhhh… is it that time already?

yes, baby girl. but don’t worry, i’ll help you

he goes with you until you reach the lady's comfort room

he gives you the pads and tells you to holler for him if you need anything else

waits for you while you do your thing

younger!jake would rock back and forth on his feet and bite off the skin of his lips (a habit i canon him of having) while he waited by the door

older!jake would go to get the stuff he forgot if he forgets and comes back before you knew he even left

once you were done, he suggests you take a rest now before the cramps start

you told norm this and being the great friend he was, he lets you go rest

jake would be there for you like your personal cocoon

he would massage you abdomen, lower back, head, or wherever you felt pain in

would get you whatever that is you need

just honestly the best in the bunch since he knew what human women go through

neteyam sully

you yo daddy’s son !!!11!1!!

but for real, he’s like a mini jake with neytiri’s face and her nurturing aura

he learned how to care for human girls because of his dad

literally cried when you first got your period since he thought you were dying

but jake reassures him it’s a normal thing human girls go through (since na’vi girls and women don’t go through this | i agree with the fanon that na’vi women don’t get periods)

would learn basic human anatomy just so he understands what was happening during your periods

kinda scared because of the side effects of periods

would do anything and everything just for you to be comfortable during your monthly bleeds

since na’vi bodies were a lot warmer, he uses his hands as heating pads to put over your abdomen

would purr when you’re on his chest as he massages your lower back

sings his songcord to you to lull you to sleep

kisses are a must with this man

would litter you with kisses to make you smile and feel better

he just loves you :ccc

lo’ak sully

obviously, like neteyam, he knows that human girls get their period

he’s similar to neteyam but a bit different in his approach to periods

he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do at first

like, should he massage you or should he not because it might worsen your pain

do you like chips or chocolate more?

what pussy size you got because there are so many pad sizes—

tAMPONS ARE A THING WHAT—

lowkey scared of that thing and why tf does it go in?!>!?!

still, his effort counts really

it’s the thought that counts

he still helps you around (even with the smallest thing like grabbing a cup of water)

would follow your commands especially when the pain is unbearable and you need assistance

he would stay with you in your room even when you sleep just in case you wake up and need help (even if you told him it’s okay to go home and rest. he insists on staying)

would go to norm and ask for extra gas air when he runs out of it

would bring you some pandora fruits because weirdly, you crave them more than the regular food you eat

would treat you greatly 1000/10

tonowari

like his son, he didn’t know what periods are so he asks his friend jake about it

upon learning what they were, he immediately goes into his ‘teddy bear’ mode

he would be cuddly as fuck

like  c u d d l y  cuddly

a cuddle bug for sure

he would always bring you fresh food to eat

would help around your home despite being a busy man himself

would treat you as if you were a porcelain doll

would weave you a reusable period underwear (with the help of ronal) so you can just clean them and reuse them

would do your laundry and wouldn’t be bothered by the blood stains at all

when you need him (especially when you’re a lot emotional), he would stay with you until you feel better

doesn’t matter if you fell asleep. he will do his duties once you wake up and say that you’re feeling better

only then he would be comfortable enough to leave to tend to his duties

would ask tsireya and ronal to look after you especially when he’s a lot busier and can’t go to you physically

overall like my man jake but a lot more domestic

would recommend to everyone

ao’nung

he didn’t understand what a period is and why you got them because he didn’t care at first

you’re a sky person, the cause of distruction

but you were different (or whatever jake sully and his kids say)

but the more time he spent with you, he must at least learn what you go through, being your period

it was weird that you had to go through this every month until you become old

like, his mom and sister never got these so why were your kind cursed with them?

would ask jake or his kids what he can do to help you out

you stayed in a makeshift house with regular oxygen so you can eat without having the stupid mask on

ao’nung literally didn’t like the mask he has to breathe pandora air in but after one time that he didn’t use them, he didn’t like the feeling so he uses them religiously when he’s with you

he would bring you gifts and meals he caught so you don’t feel too isolated when you don’t leave your home

would ask you constantly what you were feeling and if you feel uncomfortable at every moment of the day

are you okay? does you abdomen hur—

i’m fine ao’nung!!

would still ask for confirmation if you’re really really okay

would carry you every time you leave your house (even if you went out to walk and stretch your legs)

shy with physical affection (hugs, kisses) so the most he can do is carry you

call it his love language in a way

rotxo

he was absolutely lost when he sees you bleeding. like neteyam, he thought you were dying

he thought he would never see you again

but when you explained that human women bleeding was normal, he was like:

dude, that must suck so bad

it does, rotxo, it does

but still, he wants to help you out the best way he can

like the other metkayina men here, he would bring you food to eat and bring little trinkets to make you feel better

since metkayina bodies were a lot cooler than omatikaya bodies but still warmer than human bodies, he does his best to warm you up

he stays with you as much as he can just so he can help you

craving for a certain fruit? he’ll get it for you

need a soothing cream from ronal? he will get it for you

you feel tired? he can go into your home, use the stupid-looking gas mask to breathe and stay with you longer, and keep you company

he’s just a sweetheart man give him compliments pls

taglist: @nyotamalfoy @hanhanartz @murderousmushroom @myvath @iwaslikeblah

— part 2 with the avatar ladies here

#avatar x reader #avatar x fem!reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #atwow #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully x reader #tonowari x reader #ao'nung x reader #rotxo x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ penpal ˊ-

[shubblelive]

— CUT THAT

summary : being an editor for the sorry boys means you witness a lot of embarrassing moments. but there’s no one tommy would trust more with them.

genre : fluff

warnings: swearing, just general tommy-ness

pairing : cc!tommyinnit x gn!editor!reader

pronouns : they/them

featuring : cc!tommyinnit, cc!wilbur soot, cc!sorry boys (mentioned)

request : @gaytoadwithapopsicle can you do being a feminine reader (they/them or she/they) in sorry boys! and it’s tommy x reader (romantic)

word count : 966

note : i made reader an editor cause i had this cute little idea and it’s not really something you see in fics a whole lot

it was late. everyone else had gone home, it was just you, tommy and wilbur. you and wilbur in your separate booths editing videos, tommy sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest as he scrolled through his phone. wilbur was working on the first video and you were doing the colouring for the second, and the three of you had lapsed into a comfortable silence in the few hours you’d been there.

but of course tommy’s calm state had an expiration date that allowed approximately three hours of quiet, and now he was getting bored.

“can we go home?” he huffed. “i didn’t even get a chair. i don’t want to be a floor boy anymore,”

without even looking away from his monitor wilbur pointed at the couch behind him. you glanced at your boyfriend, giving a sympathetic smile. “i’ll be another hour or so, and then i still need to wait ‘till i get a reply. sorry, tom. you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

tommy sighed dramatically. “i offered you a lift home, i’d be a bit of a shit boyfriend if i left you here alone with him.”

“i’ll split an uber with you?” wilbur offered, spinning slightly in his chair. “make sure you get dropped of first.”

“oi,” tommy said from his position on the floor, pointing threateningly at wilbur. “back off,”

you rolled your eyes affectionately. “sorry, the lighting in this prison was absolutely abysmal. there’s a lot to fix.”

tommy finally pushed himself off the floor and almost tripped walking towards you, looking at your screen. the part you were currently colour-correcting was focused on charlie and wilbur, and tommy nodded resolutely. “yes, there is a lot to fix there. i don’t know how you stomach it,” you laughed quietly with wilbur rolling his eyes, but tommy wasn’t done. “like, look at his fucking hair. it’s too long, i hate it. i know something else that is too long.” 

this time it was tommy sniggering at his own joke, but instead you looked up at him from your chair and said “how long we’ve been together.”

at that, wilbur burst into laughter, with tommy trying his best to hold back his own. he was spluttering while attempting to reply, and in the meantime, you decided to go back to your work. “anyway tommy. the amount of shit jokes of yours i have to cut out because they’re just not funny is so incredibly high, if anything it’s your fault we’re still here.”

“fuck you my jokes are funny.” tommy pouted. “at least my face doesn’t look like that.” he pointed to where you had paused on an unfortunate face charlie was making, and you scoffed.

“i have an entire folder of dumb faces you’ve made in videos that i’ve cut out,” you replied. “i just choose not to share them with you because i love you.”

“so you’ve been removing tommy’s face from the entire prison video, then?” wilbur asked.

you nodded. “the second you’re done with the courtroom cut i’ll go back and fix that one too.”

tommy was growing increasingly offended, hiding the fond smile he was directing at you. you’d been hired as an editor for the new group channel because of him, and while he’d known his friends would love you he had been a little worried. the two of you had only been going out for four months before you took the job, and at the time you’d only met wilbur. 

but when you first showed up at the office on the day of the first full production meeting, he’d been relieved that everyone loved you. seeing you get along so well with wilbur filled him with comfort, and he resisted the urge to plant a kiss on your forehead, knowing it would break up the banter you were sharing.

“you can talk, wilbur.” he spoke up. “your face is dumb and if i were you i’d keep growing my hair out so no one has to see it.”

“says the kid who got the same haircut as me.” wilbur fired back.

“alright, you two,” you stopped them. “tom, give me half an hour and i’ll be done? then i am all yours for the rest of the night.”

tommy reluctantly nodded, and went to go sit back on the floor. but before he could, wilbur spoke up again. “nah, you guys are alright. you should go home, i’ll finish the rest of it.”

you shook your head, pointedly ignoring the way tommy’s face lit up at the prospect of getting to spend time with you after a very long day. “no, will. it’s too much for one person. it’s my job, i’ll do it. it’s fine, really.”

“whatever i don’t finish tonight, we can do tomorrow,” wilbur encouraged gently. “we’re way ahead of schedule thanks to you. take tonight off, go do what the youths do.”

“yeah, listen to him,” tommy nodded eagerly. “he’s old and wise like a president,”

you looked uncertain, but the fond smile wilbur was giving you both was enough to make you cave. “five minutes to finish up? then we can go home?” tommy nodded and pressed a kiss to your temple. that night, when you got back to your flat, tommy immediately pressed his face into the top of your head, holding you close to him. 

“i missed you,” he mumbled. “i’m really glad you took the job. i love working with you.” his voice was low, and you knew he was being uncharacteristically earnest, but you couldn’t resist.

“i think i’m getting sick of you,” you tried, bringing a hand up to scratch his scalp gently. 

“no you’re not,” he corrected, closing his eyes against your touch. he wasn’t wrong. 

#wishing i could write my name on it #tommay #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit fluff #tommyinnit x reader fluff #tommyinnit fanfic

[justmeinatree]

Hii I have a fluffy request! Based on Niall in Japan out in the rain in his white shirt!

Basic idea would be him and reader are watching TV in his living room, cuddling and being all cutesy, it starts pouring down with rain outside, Niall wants to go outside, reader says no because it's cold, Niall gets up and goes outside on the balcony and dances about in the rain, making the reader laugh, then he comes back inside and drags her back outside, they have a dance in the rain, maybe a cheeky kiss?

Niall in Japan is giving me all sorts of feels😫

Have the best day!❤️

fluff incoming !!! i hope you enjoy ✌️

Word Count : 600

“did ya get the popcorn ready ?” niall shouts from the living room, starting a movie, keeping it on pause for you to return.

“yes, yes,” you huff playfully, shuffling quickly into the living room, plopping yourself down on the couch next to him.

a shiver runs through you, feeling a cool breeze, making you shuffle closer to your boyfriend.

niall smiles widely, always accepting the cuddles, slinging his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side, kissing the top of your head.

as another cool waft of air flows through the room, you look over to notice the balcony doors open, “what the fuck ? go close the door !” you shriek, giggling, swatting at him.

“stop being a baby, s’warm in here,” he laughs, holding you tighter against him, your arms trapped against your body. “just cuddle with me, i’ll keep ya nice and cozy.”

“niall,” you whine, pouting at him, “seriously, m’freezing. and it’s starting to rain !” you exclaim, hearing the sudden rush of water droplets falling from the sky, the air somehow instantly feeling colder.

“christ, s’not that bad,” niall shakes his head, bouncing off the couch, heading for the door, “here, lemme show ya darling,” he hums, wide smile, stepping out onto the balcony.

niall turns towards you, arms spread out wide and high, getting absolutely soaked as he does a little shimmy in the rain.

you giggle, hiding your face in the blanket, questioning your boyfriend’s sanity for a moment, “you’re fuckin crazy !” you laugh, shaking your head at him.

“think so hmm ?” he smirks playfully, stepping back into your home, walking towards you.

“wait ! you forgot to close the door,” you peer up at him with pleading eyes.

niall’s quick to shake his head, smirk growing wider, “told you i’d show you that it wasn’t cold,” he explains, throwing himself onto you, arms wrapped around you in a big bear hug.

you shriek loudly, your clothes soaked in cold rain water, droplets falling off of niall’s clothes, leaving a small puddle on the couch. you were both laughing, cheeks hurting from the wide smile, lungs screaming for a proper breath of air.

niall stands back up, scooping you into his arms, running back out onto the balcony, getting you absolutely drenched, just as he is.

“fuck, fuck that’s cold,” you giggle, gripping onto him, niall twirling around with you in the rain, dancing like an overhyped toddler.

“would ya stop with that,” niall huffs sarcastically, setting you down on your feet, arms still wrapped tight around you, “dance in the rain with me, and then i promise to warm you up real nice.”

you find yourself smiling, despite the frigid water clinging to you, swaying back and forth with your boyfriend. you feel his arms wrapping tighter around your figure, in a comforting squeeze, making you look up at him.

niall quickly kisses you, lips pressed to yours, rain water having gathered on your skin. you couldn’t believe he still felt warm to the touch, despite the briskness of the night. you smile, melting against him, murmuring a quiet, “i love you.”

he smiles wide against your mouth, forehead resting against yours, “i love you too. lets get ya inside,” he hums, feeling a shiver run through your spine. “think you’ve indulged me enough now,” he giggles, “time for you to get all warmed up.”

……

Masterlist

tags : @cc-horan

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan request #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan story #niall horan one shot #niall horan blurb #niall horan drabble #niall horan imagine #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #niall horan masterlist #niall horan writing #one direction #writings #justmeinatree

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 05 -> CH 06

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" "I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl

"How is your sleep? Is it leveling out or are you still experiencing fatigue?" Jack stretched out in front of the computer screen and yawned.

"It's still weird. Some days I'm too exhausted to function. Other days I work my ass off to clear out the house but when I finally lay down, I just can't shut my mind off." Jack explained.

"What goes through your mind when you find yourself unable to sleep?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Everything...nothing at all...I think about what I might do the next day or working on the book but then I'm too exhausted to even sit in the chair." Jack was growing annoyed with how his meds made him like a zombie. His brain was far too developed to not be able to use it during the day time.

"How about your appetite? Are you eating regularly?" Jack hated having to explain that he was miserable because his body required these meds to stay sane.

"Not as often as I should. Most of that is because I haven't done the grocery shopping yet. I have to put in an order." Jack listened to the hum come from the doctor.

"Have you thought about maybe going to the grocery store? Getting out among the people just to explore." Jack laughed.

"Yeah I'm not sure I have the energy for that. Maybe if I go late at night but I don't want to mingle just yet." Jack couldn't imagine having to walk through the grocery store having people stare at him or offer condolences that are empty and way too late. He wouldn't mind running into Y/n but that's a different story.

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" Dr. Carty questioned making notes.

"I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet." Jack explained with a self deprecating laugh.

"You aren't crazy Jack. People live completely normal lives with mental illness. It's like any other illness and you are taking the steps towards a bit more normalcy." Dr. Carty had been with Jack since he checked into the facility. He felt like Jack absolutely needed to be hospitalized for the time he was in order to not only get to the root of his trauma but to allow his brain time to come to terms with it. He recognized all the progress he's made and wanted him to feel proud of that.

"Well how does it feel to interact with someone your own age who isn't a doctor?" Jack shrugged.

"She's fine. I mean we have a really cohesive sense of humor. I think if we did hang out, it wouldn't be awful but I'm pretty sure she's a nurse or something. She wears scrubs whenever she's not in regular clothes and when she's in regular clothes she's usually care-giving for her mom." Dr. Carty laughed making Jack tilt his head.

"You like her." He said confidently.

"What? No! We've had two conversations. That's hardly enough time to develop a liking to anyone." Jack defended.

"Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?" Now Jack knew the doc was fucking with him.

"Yeah, thankfully I live in the real world. Plus everyone knows it's more like lust at first sight. No one can fall in love just seeing someone. That's based entirely on physical attraction." Jack was more of a pessimist when it came to love and attraction. Plenty of people could be attractive but love is few and far between. Jack can count on one hand how many people he's genuinely loved in his entire life.

"Well is she attractive?" Dr. Carty pressed.

"She's conventionally attractive, yes. I mean she hasn't cured my lack of sex drive but again, we've only spoken twice. I don't think I could fuck even if I wanted to." Jack had known the Doc for long enough that his random bouts of vulgarity didn't make him flinch.

"So you have decent conversation with a pretty woman who can match your intellect and has a dog you enjoy spending time with...She doesn't sound like an awful friend to make. Maybe you should work on that." Jack pushed away from the computer and ran his hands down his face.

"Why? I don't want to ruin anyone else's life. She's clearly a much better person than I am and she's already agreed to let me take the dog for walks on occasion so why risk ruining that with her getting to know me?" Jack genuinely feared letting anyone close at this point. Shanda had been with him since day one and the only person who has gotten a pass is the Doc and that wasn't something Jack asked for but has gotten used to.

"She's not Cleo, Jack." The mention of Cleo knocked the wind out of his chest.

"I know that." Jack whispered timidly before standing from his chair to move to the window.

"Just because you never received closure from her doesn't mean you can't move forward. You have done your part in taking accountability. We knew going into that you might not received the absolution of forgiveness." Dr. Carty himself had reached out to Cleo and was told she didn't care if Jack had dropped dead, she refused to talk to him after having their child cremated alone. Jack had sent a twenty page letter without any sort of response and when he sent a follow up, it was returned to sender.

The few times he dared to check social media, she had erased him from her entire existence. She had a memorial post for the baby but she didn't use his last name. When he accidentally liked one of her posts, he was met with a block on all outlets. Shanda had assured him that she had moved on and was doing better but he held onto that guilt for abandoning her after such a sudden miscarriage.

"What are you thinking Jack?" Doc's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood at the window. He could see Y/n down in her mother's garden watering the flowers and talking to her mom who was sitting in a wheelchair on the porch with Ace in her lap. He didn't need to know Y/n well to see she was a good person.

"The best thing she could do is to stay away from me. I'm just...I don't deserve that again. I wasted it the first time and ruined someone's life. What would I even do if I allowed myself to find that with someone else after Cleo? How do I explain to someone what I did to someone I loved enough to want to marry and start a family with?" Jack's ranting started to make his chest hurt.

"Jack, I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath." Jack became annoyed but did as he was told counting in his head as he took a few deep breaths.

"You need to remember that we are not our mistakes. We all have flaws and blemishes but it's how we right our wrongs that define us. You are not a bad person." Jack opened his eyes feeling a slight burn from squeezing them so tightly. Jack let out a breath before digging in his pocket for a lighter, picking up a cigarette and opening the window abruptly. The daylight made it hard for his eyes to adjust at first but he didn't realize the sound of the window would draw any attention towards him. He was met with Y/n's gaze as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"You have to forgive yourself Jack. If you don't let go of that weight, it will drown you." Jack kept his eyes on Y/n as she smiled at him and waved. Jack returned a weak smile, biting his lip.

"I want to...I really do but I just don't think I can." Jack admitted out loud glancing over at the screen to see Dr. Carty was frowning. He hated ending his sessions on a such a negative feeling but he knew he was out of time today. He knew that Doc didn't want to leave him alone with these thoughts so he gave him self work to do over the weekend so it would keep him occupied. Self work always made him roll his eyes because he could knock assignments out easily but whenever he sat down to work on his writing, his mind would be blank. All he wanted to do was figure out how to feel normal again.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Goes Home #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Glass Houses #One Shot Series #5/38

[megsbr]

distraction | punz.

You were just trying to enjoy a gaming night with your friends on a night your boyfriend was acting particularly needy. After a string of texts, one caught your eye and changed your plans for the night.

cc!Punz x fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut, sexting, degrading terms, slapping, throat fucking, MDNI word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is actual a fic based on a blurb @sacnac posted that I just couldn't stop thinking about. so thank you to her for permission to write this fic based on her blurb! (and make sure to check her out! i absolutely love her writing and enjoy seeing her on my dash!) this took me a while to write but I got there eventually! hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! <3

The sound of your character being killed rang through your ears along with the groans of your friends as that meant you lost the round. Your team was up by five, but that gap was slowly closing once the sides switched at the half. As your friends’ voices came through your headphones, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket.

One buzz came after another, and you already knew who would be blowing up your phone this late at night. You directed your attention quickly to your phone screen and saw multiple texts from the blonde who was just a few rooms over. All the texts were similar and were filled with need. 

Punz had protested your willingness to accept your friend’s invitation to join their valorant games tonight. You hadn’t got to just game with your friends in a while so you were more than willing to spend the night with them. Your boyfriend on the other hand wanted you to himself that night. He had been clingy all day and it was clearly not going away anytime soon. 

“when will u be done???” “just a few more games i promise &lt;3”

You had barely been playing for an hour and you had no intentions of stopping anytime soon as the next round started. A few more texts had come in with offers of food and cuddles if you left your friends, but you didn’t bother sparing them more than a glance. After a couple more rounds, your team is now one round away from winning the whole match. You had just bought your friend a gun when your phone buzzed again, and you glanced over at it once again with a sigh.

“i miss u”

There was no time to respond as your friends started shouting about which way to go and where they saw the enemy team. You took the final shot on their Jett and won your team the game. Cheers and celebration flew through the discord call as you all basked in the glory of winning your second game in a row. There was talk of the best plays and the other team’s players, but you drowned them out as you finally read through all of your boyfriend’s texts.

Just as you were about to tell him you were on a win streak and couldn’t abandon your friends another text came through. This time it was accompanied by a picture that knocked the wind out of you. It was something resembling his countless mirror selfies but this one was different.

Punz was sat in his gaming chair, legs spread out to either side. The phone was half covering his face, but you could still see the little smirk he adorned that sent chills down your back. It is mostly dark in the room, but his streaming lights were on and were casting a beautiful, yellow glow on his skin. His hair was messy as if he had been running his hands through it recently. 

But the most interesting part of the picture was the pair of shorts that were pooled around his ankles and his hardened cock in his hand. It stood tall and proud with a bright tip that contrasted the pale color of his hand. 

“he misses you too”

You didn’t realize how dry your mouth had gotten as the shock of receiving such a photo faded and you came back to reality. Your friends were calling out your name and asking if you wanted to queue again. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the photo. It was intoxicating and you were falling more and more every second. 

Images of Punz with his head thrown back as he let out strings of moans clouded your brain. Spit was building in your mouth at the mere thought of getting your mouth on him.

You managed to spew out a weak excuse to leave and promised to play another time. Just as they were attempting to convince you to stay you had already begun scrambling to exit out of everything and throw your headphones on your desk. You were practically skipping your way down to Punz’s streaming room where you found him in the same position as he was in the photo.

He still had his cock in his hand and was slowly moving it up and down. “I heard you get quiet when I saw the read receipt.” Punz chuckled to himself as he stared down at his moving hand. He hadn’t spared you one glance yet as you just stood in the doorway, shifting your weight onto each foot every couple of seconds.

Seeing him spread out on his chair in all his glory with his hand lazily stroking himself was going straight between your legs. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Punz looked up to lock eyes with you through the mirror. 

His bright blue eyes bore into yours and they seemed to pull you farther into him each second. Without even realizing it, your feet were carrying you to where the chair sat in the middle of the room. Once you had two had come face to face, you instinctively fell to your knees in front of him. You got as comfortable as possible on your knees as you ignored the building sting from the carpet.

Punz leaned over to caress your face with his hand as he stared down at you with eyes that were overflowing with lust and hunger. “Just leaving your friends like that for some cock. That’s pretty embarrassing sweetheart.” His thumb felt like fire while it rubbed back and forth on your cheek. The way he was towering over you and staring down at you caused your breathing to quicken. “Is my cock all you can think about?” As you nodded almost immediately you licked your lips a few times to get them wet and shiny.

Just as Punz was about to throw another insult at you, your mouth opened wide as an invitation to him. But instead of accepting your idea, he just laughed and withdrew his hand just to bring it back down in the form of a slap.

Even as you relished in the sensation of the stinging burn on your face, you kept your mouth open wide. “Sweetheart, I don’t want your mouth tonight.” Punz then stood up from his chair and pushed it back, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. A pout formed on your face as you went to stand up and protest his statement. But Punz pushed down on your shoulders and prevented you from standing.

Before you could question why he landed another smack on your cheek and took a step towards you. His cock was basically pressed against your face, and it took everything in you to not start touching him then and there.

“I think you were staring at that computer screen too long with that pretty little face. So, I wanna use it instead.” 

Punz lifted his shirt up a bit onto his chest so he could get the full view of you on the floor, looking up at him with his cock in your face and the biggest dopey eyes. Seeing you sitting so patiently for him on your knees made him feel so proud and caused his heart to swell up. 

“God, you are so fucking pretty baby girl.” Punz ran his fingers through your hair for a few seconds, your eyes closing in bliss as you turned your head into his hand. He brought his hand back down to your face and opened your mouth a bit by pulling down on your chin. Punz admired you for a second before leaning down a bit and opening his mouth to drop a line of spit into your mouth. 

You let out a whimpered as you swallowed the spit and opened your mouth again to the same position. Punz slipped two fingers into your mouth and instructed you to suck them. You twirled your tongue around them a few times as Punz praised you for doing a good job. 

After he pulled his fingers out, Punz pushed his cock into your face again. You leaned forward to slowly lick the underside of his cock and then put your mouth onto the tip, earning a quick reaction from Punz. You wasted no time taking him all in your mouth at once, pushing yourself down his length. Punz placed his hands on either side of your face to help keep you in place. “Remember, tap my thigh twice if you need to stop,” Punz whispered down at you and waited for your little nod and mumbled groan to signal you remembered your safe action.

He started to slowly move his hips, his cock moving in and out of your mouth at a slower pace to help get you ready. You grabbed onto both of his thighs for support once he started increasing his speed. 

Before you knew it, Punz was almost violently bucking his hips into your throat and out again. You felt your lungs tighten up at the lack of air and the pain in your throat growing from the repeated attacks, but you didn’t care. The moans coming from Punz sounded heavenly. He was in pure bliss as he abused your throat for his own pleasure and showed no signs of slowing down for a while. “You feel so good, baby. Doing so well for me.” 

Strings of praise and moans of your name were bouncing off the walls as he continued to use you. Spit was spilling from your mouth and your eyes were watery from the few times you gagged at an especially rougher thrust. You were truly being used like a little toy right now by your boyfriend and you couldn’t be more content.

The slick sounds of Punz’s cock pulling all the way out and ramming back just edged him on further. “Gonna let me come in your mouth baby?” You tapped against his thigh once for yes. You needed to feel his warmth and you were ready to take all of him, not ever wanting to disappoint your boyfriend. “Wow, what a whore.” Punz scuffed as he slowed down his thrusts and gave you a false sense of calm before pulling all the way and letting you breathe in and immediately pushing himself in again, hitting the back of your throat. 

Punz threw his head back as you continued to bob your head back and forth on his dick in time with his thrusts. His eyes screwed shut and shuddered moans took over as he got sloppy with his thrusts. He moved to grab at the root of your hair, pulling for support. You moaned lowly on his dick, the vibrations pushing Punz closer to his finish.

You felt his dick start twitching a few times in your mouth and pushed yourself as far down as you could. Punz looked down at you again, seeing your eyes get hazy and tear falling down your face in pleasure. You started gagging a few times as you were beginning to feel that familiar tightness in your chest.

Punz hips start stuttering a bit as his release got closer. With a few more thrusts and a moan of your name, Punz felt the knot in his stomach release. He pulled a bit as he came in your mouth, your warmth just pulling everything out of him. He lazily thrusted in a few more times to urge you to swallow him. 

You pulled off him with a pop and let his dick fall out of your mouth. Punz tapped his thumb against your bottom lip in his post-orgasm haze. You showed off your empty mouth and he smiled down at you. 

Punz reached down to help you up, opting to just pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and left the room, quickly returning with a glass of water and pain meds. “Your throat will probably start hurting soon. So you probably shouldn’t talk.” You nodded softly as you smiled at his gestures and how much he wanted to take care of you.

He placed the meds on the side table and handed you the water, letting you take a few sips before placing that down as well. You guys changed into comfier clothes and got cuddled together in bed.

You laid your head on Punz’s chest and listened to his breathing, and let him run his fingers through your hair the same he had just a few minutes prior, but in a much different context.

“I love you so much”, was one of the last things you heard as you drifted to sleep in the arms of the man you loved.

#pnz #pnz fic #pnz smut #punz smut fic #punz smut #punz x reader smut #punz blurb #punz smut blurb #punx x fem!reader #punz x you #punz x y/n #punz x reader #dsmp smut #cc!punz #cc!punz smut #punz mcyt smut #punz imagine #punz smut imagine #punz imagine smut #punz dream smp #punz fic #punz fic smut #punzblr smut #punzblr fic

[groovebunker]

can i humbly request some francc headcannons? 🫶🏻

....literally always. i feel like i'm not great at general headcanons and i'm currently very involved with future! cc x fran but here you go:

(we just talked about this in chat) fran pretends to be scared of spiders when cc's at home so that cc deals with them. when fran's home alone, she deals with spiders just fine. cc does not like spiders but she is absolutely not going to let fran know that.

in the future, cc babcock does have twitter for work purposes. she is only allowed to use twitter with adult supervision. the adult is her teenage daughter. fran finds this impossibly funny.

cc is a vacation planner. there are binders. their days are planned down to the hour. her bag is packed forty eight hours before she has to leave for the airport. which is always four hours before the flight. when they get to where they're going, she looks in the binder and finds that fran's rearranged it because cc didn't factor in enough time for making out. she cannot find it in herself to be annoyed.

fran packs the night before and inevitably forgets at least three things. cc always has spares.

they are atrocious at fighting. fran is very much a 'fight for what you love' kind of gal and cc is very much a 'if we're fighting, we're already doomed' kind of gal. the first time they argue, cc storms off to her bedroom and slams the door and is very surprised to find fran storming through thirty seconds later to tell her they weren't done yet. they're both stubborn as hell and their arguments never get less fiery. everyone does learn to get out of the way though.

(cannot remember if i have posted this one before) when they have a kid, cc wants to hire a nanny because....that's just what you do. fran is horrified bc frankly, all the people she knows who had a nanny are a little fucked up (she is counting the sheffield kids, she did her best). cc 'hires' sylvia to help (as if she wasn't going to anyway) and fran is like 'that is my mother, why would you want her raising your kid?' and cc's like 'well she raised you and you're my favourite person in the world so it made sense'

cc is a fucking nerd and fran has absolutely said 'i'm too pretty to watch those movies' about [insert franchise here] but she secretly enjoys them.

when they get married, they plan some ridiculous competition to see if they're going to be the babcock-fines or the fine-babcocks. they both bribe niles to rig it. there is never a decision made and they literally end up flipping a coin the morning of the wedding.

#cc x fran #fran x cc #francc #these two are my idiot babies

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Training Wheels

Summary: It’s all or nothing on this Sunday night…

Pairing: virgin!Gabriel x nurse!fem!Reader

Word Count: - 3.6k

Content Warnings: Psych Ward Smut 18+!, Unprotected P In V, Cock-Warming, Gabe Eventually Losing His V-Card, Hints Of Body Worship, Nipple Sucking, Reader Is Having A Lil’ Breakdown, Angsty On Reader’s Part, Crying, Hurt/Comfort But The Other Way Around This Time, So Much Unintentional Manipulation, Gabe’s Delusions Gaining A Lot Of Momentum, Oh The Co-Dependency, Awkward Idiots In Love

A/N: *inaudible screeching* The grand final 🖤

Find The Other Parts Here!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

I love everything you do

When you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do

Wanna ride my bike with you

Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you

And I'll pull them off for you

- Training Wheels By Melanie Martinez

Sunday evening, the clock gradually ticked towards 10:30 P.M.

Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack. The clock hand moved a tiny bit further with every second that passed by with the dull, metallic sound echoing in your ears whilst your teeth nibbled around the aluminum edge of your halfway-empty Red Bull can. Everything was as usual yet nothing felt like it did before this weekend. Something had changed, shifted deep within you and it felt as if all that was oozing out onto the cold, loveless and gray linoleum floors of Ward 4 now. Borderline paranoid, you felt caught by everybody who had looked at you today. The clerk, the lovely, elderly lady in front of you in line at the supermarket and especially your colleagues from the day shift you took over from…it was in their eyes, a tell-tale flicker of judgment and disgust towards you. The only reaction you deserved for your actions and that you were well aware of. However, you couldn’t stop, couldn’t save either of you especially not sweet Gabriel from the thrashing hunger festering in your insides.

It corrupted your senses from the inside out, taking over in moments when you should’ve applied better judgment to stop this thing from getting out of control. Instead, you had watched it derailing further and further with every longingly stolen kiss, every brush over your fingers against his skin and every needy, little moan of his you had soaked up oh so willingly, allowing it to fill your very own emptiness and to patch up all the putrescent holes in your heart little by little.

The metallic clanking of your bottom teeth against the silver and blue aluminum can nearly entranced you as it mixed in with the clacking of the clock behind you. Gnawing away onto your bottom lip, the insides of your cheeks or your cuticles soon hadn’t been enough stimulation anymore, not enough dull repetition for your racing mind to zone out to it and now that little, chewed-up can was your lifeline. Maybe you should just quit your job already, hand in your two-weeks-notice and fuck right off. Gabriel would be in shambles, yes, and so would you, but you’d get over it in time…no? Wouldn’t you? Eventually, Gabe would be back on track too, maybe he’d forget you and everything that happened here over the years, maybe it all would fade into blissful oblivion in a med-induced haze that would keep him calm and sedated enough to be happy again.

No, stop, what the fuck? What were you thinking? There was no way you could just weasel your own ass out of this before it all blew up in your face. This situation here was your fuck-up and yours all alone, poor Gabe had nothing to do with you being too damn dense and full of yourself to do your job, your catastrophic shortcomings. With your back slightly swinging back and forth in your chair, you bit down harder on the can, teeth digging dents into the metal whilst a deep sight rolled over your tongue.

“Such a pretentious little fuck…” You groaned to yourself and very much at yourself somewhere between laughing and crying out about the sheer absurdity of it all.

Right underneath the thin cotton fabric of your mint-green scrubs, you felt the material of carefully picked lingerie smooth against your skin.

Black lace sewn in between satin straps and little bows to form an intricate design, the good shit that you only dug from your closet for the worthy occasions. Thinking about it, the last time you had worn that black lace set in particular was months ago on one of the few nights you’d allowed yourself to get carried away at the bar. A few gin tonic’s down the line, a shallow conversation with the dude right there with you at the counter and the very next thing you knew was a very sloppy and below-average fuck in a creaky toilet stall.

From toilet stalls to psych ward dorms… wow, really fucking your way upwards, huh? Your bottom lip quivered against the cold metal as you noticed yourself blinking for the first time in minutes, eyes burning in dehydration as you straightened your back and kept your eyes shut for a moment, allowing a layer of moisture to soothe the burning sensation. With your senses turned inward, it seemed like glaring right at the scene of the crime. You felt the war raging inside of your chest, the need to get your shit together fighting the urge to just swipe Gabriel off his shaky feet and have him your way, professional scrubs rubbing against seductive lace at any given moment tonight.

“Fuck this shit.” Letting your shoulders slump down, you reluctantly opened your eyes back to the cold, white light of Ward 4.

It was now or never. By tomorrow you had a few days off to recover before you’d start your next cycle of night shifts next Friday and, perhaps, by then all the tension would be gone, swallowed up by the unwelcoming smell of disinfectant and bleach cleaners emitting from sterile walls. The possibility of Gabe cracking under the nosey questioning of his therapists wasn’t too far off as well and you felt your stomach coiling up at the thought of it going south like this. You had to make a decision sooner than later, that much you knew, and you tried to get yourself to move by emptying out the can of sugary-sweet energy drink. The bubbly liquid gushed down your throat leaving an aftertaste that indicated dental damage and heart failure but that didn’t faze you just in the slightest, already way too uptight with the thought of what you were about to do.

“It’ll be fine…”, You muttered to yourself, fingers rubbing over your slightly sore eyes, “He wants it…fuck, craves it and you want it, too. Consensual, right? Nobody has to know…”

Haphazardly pep-talking yourself through it was a weak attempt but better than just freezing into your chair, allowing hesitation and anxiety to gradually knock the air from your lungs with every passing minute.

“Everything will be fine…”, You breathed out aloud but continued the rest of the sentence in your thoughts, “Everything will be fine as soon as you feel his lips on yours, washing all that scum out of your brain…it’ll all just go away…Gabe will make it go away…”

Repeating that to yourself over and over again in your mind, you pulled yourself out of the bureau chair, your legs nearly faltering upon the first hasty steps down the hallway.

“Gabe?”, You softly made yourself known by a few knocks against his door, “Can I come in?”

“Sure!” Gabriel quipped right back from the other side, the jolly smile on his lips already audible to you.

“Hey…” You reciprocated his smile with a rather cranky one of yours after you stepped into his room, the light on his nightstand somberly illuminating the walls in a warm shine.

“Are you…okay?”, He asked softly, putting the book down from his hands whilst scooting closer to the edge of his mattress, “Your face, it’s a bit pale, if I may say so.”

“I’m…I-...uh..”; You desperately tried to get something coherent out of your mouth but your voice was breaking and trailing off with every shaky attempt, “I- I..fuck. My head, so full of thoughts.”

The last mumbled words trickled from your lips and with them, everything felt like falling out of control simultaneously, a sniffled sob breaking free from your lungs whilst white-hot tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh, no….no,no,no… what’s going on?” Gabriel stammered in an overwhelmed hectic, practically jumping from the bed and rushing towards your trembling form to cradle you in a warm and impossibly close embrace.

“It’s not your fault…none of this is, fuck…”, It just cascaded out of your mouth without any aim to your words, “I fucked up, Gabe. We shouldn’t..none of this should’ve happened…”

Your breathless cries got muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt that covered his torso, long sleeves pulled up to his knuckles for maximum comfort.

“Why would you say something like that?”, Gabe inquired, the former ease and happiness drawn from his tone, “You said…you said that you love me. W- what’s wrong about that now?”

“Nothing, Gabriel…nothing is wrong about that, I promise you, I promise. It’s just…I fucked things up for both of us, angel face, I really did.” Trying to catch your breath, you pushed your head into his embrace, helplessly nuzzling your face into the curve of his shoulder, lips brushing over his skin right atop the collar while you breathed him in.

“No…no, no, no…you didn’t mess up anything. Didn’t mess me up, only made me better…is me loving you not making anything better?” You knew that he only intended to help but right now his words cut even deeper into you.

“Gabe…Gabriel…please, it has nothing to do with that. It’s the fact that we’re trapped in here until someone finds out and then we’re fucked. Fucked, Gabe, fucked!” Your fingers clawed at his sides while you whimpered into the crook of his neck.

“Nobody will find out, I promise. I-...I’ll get better and then I’m going to get out of here and…and then we can go wherever we want, yeah?” Gabriel was fighting with his own tears at this point, his voice brittle and trembling.

Unironically and in a rather cruel way this posed very much as the only option in which things could perhaps, somehow work out…if Gabriel, in fact, got better, better in taking his meds, better in not lashing out like a little boy, and much much much better at lying to his therapists.

“You gonna get better, yeah?” Gabe nodded into the embrace, carefully guiding you away from the door behind you to gingerly sit you down on the bed next to him, the mattress still warm from his body resting there prior to all this.

“Hey, look at me.”, He requested in a soft tone and you did, eyes meeting his shyly, “I’m going to get better, pinky promise. Then, I’ll get out of here…we’ll work it out but don’t underestimate me.”

A mischievous glint flickered through his eyes as a smile tugged at his lips for them to slightly curl upwards.

“I’d never…” You sniffled, wiping the last vagrant tears from your face, breathing heavily.

“Good. Then I need you to trust me to handle some things. Do you trust me?” His gaze was soft yet stern with anticipation toward your answer.

“Yeah, I-...I trust you.” You nodded, validating your words.

“Okay, good. Then we’ll work it out somehow.” Gabe inhaled deeply before mentally washing all the anxiety out of his body by exhaling again, a learned therapy skill… and a good one at that.

Just like two nights ago, Gabriel raised his hand up to his lips, mimicking the movements of a key turning in a lock before tossing it to the side.

“Nobody will hear a single thing about this, I promise. Nobody but you.” Gabe smiled before leaning in, planting a tender kiss to your lips as his hands searched for yours.

With the welcoming feeling of his plush lips against yours, you practically melted into his caress, your fingers being guided by Gaberiel’s to the seam of his sweater, invited to slip them right underneath the cozy fabric and that you did. Your fingers searched hungrily for the warmth of his body, the sensation of his incredibly soft skin under your fingertips getting soaked up by you immediately.

“It’s going to be okay…I just know it. Come here, been waiting and thinking about you all day long.” Gabe hummed against your mouth, eliciting a soft smile to form around yours.

“It’s gotten kinda hard to think about anything else lately…” You confessed, the palms of your hands cupping his sides whilst slowly wandering upwards.

“I could say that I’m sorry about that but that would be me lying to you.”, He laughed out softly, the tip of his nose stroking upwards over the bridge of yours until his lips gingerly pressed down on your forehead, peppering a playful wash of smooches to it, “And I don’t do that, no no.”

Just the way you had told yourself, being around him, finally close to him like that again, flushed all the bad feelings and thoughts out of your system, your chest filling with a comfortable warmth instead and you took every single shred of comfort you possibly could from him.

“I missed you, Gabe. Everything out there suddenly feels weird…meaningless if I’m not in here with you, you know?” You didn’t expect him to understand and in some way, you felt sorry for him to mention the world outside the facility.

“Even in here, it’s pretty dull without you now. Don’t get me started on how boring the day shift staff is…and the food? Ugh…” His comment made the both of you chuckle for a moment.

“Maybe I can sneak in a proper chocolate milkshake for you next week, Gabe.” At that he pulled his head away from you, searching for your gaze with glacier-blue eyes sparkling in nothing but pure joy.

“You’d do that for me?” You nodded vigorously.

“Of course, I would. Can’t let you hang in here without a little treat, no?”, You smiled back, the anxiety-fueled thoughts from not so long ago rapidly crumbling into oblivion, leaving your entire body feeling elevated with a slowly forming desire for more of him, “Speaking of it, I might be bringing a little treat with me for you already…”

Gabriel's eyes grew even wider in almost boyish excitement.

“Uh, show me, pretty please?” He quipped, his smile turning into a slightly agape grin that showed off his pearly whites.

“How about you feel it first?”, You couldn’t help yourself but to bite down on your bottom lip a little, “How about you sneak that pretty hand of your right underneath my shirt and let your fingers wander up a bit, hm?”

“Oh…okay…” A tell-tale surge of red crept up into Gabe’s cheeks as he reached out to slip his hand to where you guided it, the tender tips of his fingers caressing over your stomach up to the curve of your breasts, reaching the lacey-soft fabric causing him to suck the air in harshly.

“That…uh, that feels pretty.” He stammered a little clumsily.

“It feels pretty?” You snickered, watching the color in his face change into an even deeper tint of red.

“Yeah, uhm, or not?” His fingers explored the piece of cloth further, grazing over the plenty of satin strings cupping the rounds of your cleavage and stroking over the plenty of small bowtie details.

“Well, if it already feels pretty to you, I bet it’ll look pretty as well.” You noticed it getting harder to hold yourself back from not simply jumping him, but you kept it together, drawing your hands from his back to pull the top of your scrubs off your torso.

“It sure does look pretty, too!” Gabriel stammered coyly, looking right at your breasts, mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

With a sly grin tugging at your lips, you tossed the top to the ground before leaning in and whispering: “The panties are just as nice, I can assure you!”

“You…you put all that on f-for me?” You nodded your head after the question had left his lips.

“Sure did…I- I uhm…”, You started stumbling over your own words a little as well, “I wanted to make it a little special for you, you know.”

“To make what special?” Gabriel blurted right out and with that, you felt the heat climbing into your cheeks too.

Oh, good lord, you swallowed awkwardly whilst looking at him, the words in your throat clumping into an embarrassed, dry lump.

“I…”, You haphazardly cleared your throat, “I…I’d like to be with you tonight, Gabe. I mean, i-if that’s what you want as well, of course.”

For an excruciatingly long moment, Gabriel simply stared at you rather dumbfounded, lips halfway agape and eyebrows softly knit together.

“Do you-?” You cut him off right there and then.

“Yes!” It shot out of your mouth, your free hand grabbing for the collar of his sweater to pull him towards you.

In an uncoordinated mess out of busily fumbling limbs, Gabe tilted into your front, heavy breaths filling the room whilst the two of you shimmied out of the remaining clothes until he halted, resting between your legs, his skin glowing in a warm hue with the soft light emitting from the lamp on his nightstand. You watched his former confidence crumble away, eyes trained on your lingerie and cheeks colored in a deep red as Gabriel discovered the little special that your slip held.

“Oh, that’s…inviting…” He murmured, his face leaning in to shamelessly latch right onto one of your lace-covered nipples.

Exhaling a pleasure-filled moan, you allowed your head to loll into the flat, hospital-like pillow, a warm rush washing through your entire body as you felt his mouth closing down around your perked-up nub, the warm and wet tip of his tongue lapping at it.

“Thought you might like that.” You pushed out from between slightly trembling lips, your eyes helplessly fluttering shut whilst you felt him pushing his lap closer to your exposed cunt in that slightly slutty, crotch-free string of yours.

This time, unlike last night, you endorsed the thought of wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him into you, however, before you guided Gabriel to push into you, you let your hands roam along his neck to his head, fingers grazing through glossy hazel-brown hair and carefully asking: “You okay with this?”

“Uh-huh…”, Gabe whined back, the tip of his pulsing cock prodding right between your thoroughly soaked folds and against your entrance, “Wanna feel you so bad, please!”

His pleading tone vibrated against your breast, pushing your senses right over the edge to pull him into you.

“Oh…oh, fuck, oh fuck, damn…shit…”, The words fell from lips in an aimless avalanche, “God, fuck, you’re so warm, shit…f-feels so fucking good…”

You bit down on your bottom lip feeling him thrusting into you, stretching you out just right with his hard-on, a ripple of brain-deafening bliss jolting through you.

“There, there…” Your hands shot down to his hips to hold him in place for a moment, calming him down as you felt him twitching inside you already.

“Fuck, sorry, feels so so so good…” Gabriel mewled with his temple pressed against your collarbone.

“It’s okay, angel face, don’t you worry. Feels good for me too.” You assured him, still holding him in place, cock-warming him for a little while, allowing him to get used to the feeling of being nestled into you down to his shaft.

“Hmhmm…wanna make you happy and satisfied, too.” Gabe whimpered, trying to move in your grasp but to no avail.

“Oh, don’t you worry about any of that, angel face. Just enjoy yourself, hm?” You lovingly cooed into his hairline, reluctantly loosening your grip for him to roll his hips into you at his own pace again.

“Mhmmm…. ‘m trying to, god, fuck….you feel so fucking good!” His warm breath breezed over your lace-covered tits.

“Such a good boy for me.” You huffed out, calves still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“Your good boy!” Gabriel groaned right back, thrusting into you again.

“Hmhm, you’re my good boy, Gabriel.” You encouraged him to let himself go wild with your body for his own pleasure and that he did.

“L-love you so much, shit…mmmhmmm…” You didn’t miss his cock pulsing and twitching against your walls, thick, pent-up ropes of his cum filling your insides as Gabriel’s body turned rigid above yours during one, final stroke, “Oh, fuck, so warm and tight...”

Breathing in deeply, he very much collapsed onto you, hiding his flushed face in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too, Gabe.” You planted a deep kiss on his slightly sweaty forehead, the salty taste of it slowly seeping into your mouth.

“We’re gonna get out of here somehow, no?” Gabriel murmured into your skin, nuzzling his lips right onto your pulse point.

For a moment as the painful reality of things hit you again, you swallowed hard, moving your body to cradle his.

“Yeah, we gonna make it out of here somehow…”