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fvnalgirlcomplex · 5 months

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PRETTY ISN’T PRETTY ✸ J. HUGHES

and it begins!! this is irl but also mostly social media au because my tumblr is/was acting up and deleted most of what i had written and.. i’m lazy so!!! reader is referred to as ‘you’ and their looks are talked about but i tried to avoid describing looks… however… reader doesn’t have blonde hair but listen like every nhl fic uses a blonde girl for the fc so. i think its justified!! but sorry to anyone blonde reading lol. i didn’t rlly know how to end this tbh but i hope it’s still good and i hope u like it!! remember that you are beautiful! any negative things said obviously aren’t true :)

warnings: light mention/implication of an eating disorder, insecurities, hate comments, reader gets picked up (lowkey manhandled a little bit), suggestive comments (2), unedited writing

masterlist, series masterlist

fc: olivia rodrigo ( oliviarodrigo on ig )

summary: dating jack wasn’t gonna be easy, you knew that. you just thought him traveling a lot was gonna be the hardest, not being picked apart by his fans.

bought a bunch of makeup,

tryna cover up my face

i started to skip lunch,

stopped eatin’ cake on birthdays

youruser

liked by lhughes and 56,890 others

youruser 22!! shout out to cole caulfield

view 182 comments…

colecaulfield thank you for the shout out. I really needed it.

youruser anything for a fan

user19 she’s so cocky omg

yourfriend the cake was so good! you should’ve had some :(

youruser the cake wasn’t very big and i don’t really like cake that much anyways lol glad you liked it though!!

jackhughes ❤️

liked by youruser

user373 at least she chose a blurry pic so we don’t have to see her face lmaoo

jackhughes

liked by trevorzegras and 120,293 others

jackhughes birthday girl 🎂

view 367 comments…

_quinnhughes haps

youruser damn. not even a full sentence 😔

user14 even his brother doesn’t like her lmao 💀

user298 i hope she knows she’s public enemy #1

user63 bro could do sm better

trevorzegras big! 22! 2️⃣2️⃣

user86 the way she looks at him though 🥹

user7 no..

user329 why are you so miserable

user738 he did her so dirty with the second picture 😭 makeup can only do so much but somehow she looks even worse than i imagined with no makeup

“I didn’t know it was such a big deal—”

“It shouldn’t have to be a big deal, Jack! I asked you not to post it, I don’t understand why you don’t listen!”

Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were taking your insecurities out on Jack when it really wasn’t his fault. But, it’s hard to stay calm when you’ve started to hate what you see everytime you look in the mirror, or someone takes a picture of you and that’s when you have makeup on. Words couldn’t describe how gross you feel without makeup on.

“I think you look gorgeous. I don’t know what the issue is.” Jack responded, too nonchalantly for your liking.

“The issue is that I don’t think I look gorgeous so I don’t want it out in the world for all your fans to see.” Jack sighed at your response. He knew what this was about but to him, you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He just couldn’t grasp how someone like you could be insecure.

“Y/n…” He said softly, grabbing the sides of your face. The mood in the room had quickly changed from tense to sad as soon as the word fans was mentioned. “You’re stunning. I know you don’t believe me but, you really are. All those comments are from a bunch of teenage girls who are jealous. I know it’s hard to block out but you just have to try ‘cause I wanna show everyone how pretty my girl is, okay?” Jack finished, trying to cheer you up. It didn’t really work to be honest but still, through glass eyes, you looked up at him and nodded before he brought you into a comforting hug.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But it wasn’t just teen fan girls. It was also grown men. Men your boyfriends age who thought you were just as hideous. They couldn’t have been doing it for the same reasons as the fan girls. They had to have just been being honest, right?

‘cause there’s always somethin’ missin’

there’s always somethin’ in the mirror

that i think looks wrong

when pretty isn’t pretty enough,

what do you do?

You loved spending time with Jack. And you also loved getting to spend time with the people he cared about. But the pressure of looking good before going knowing that pictures would be taken, with or without you knowing, made you want to puke.

You started planning out your outfits far in advance, what shoes, how you’d do you hair, your makeup. Everything. You told yourself over and over again that the outfit is cute. You asked Jack about it and he always reassured you that you would look beautiful in anything and the friends you’d ask say the same thing.

But that still wasn’t enough to stop your brain from making you think everything was wrong. No matter you were wearing, when you looked in the mirror it just looked… wrong. Like something was missing.

“Babe?” Your boyfriends voice came softly through the bedroom door. Jack had invited you to the Devils Halloween Party this year which would be your first New Jersey Devils event. Jack and Luke were wearing matching spider-man costumes with Nico and Dawson who were currently at the brothers apartment. “You ready?” He asked you as he poked his head into the bedroom before fully stepping in, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, I was just looking for my cat ears.” Lie. You were overanalyzing yourself like you always did before you went out but you knew if you told Jack that he’d feel bad and tell you that you didn’t have to go if you weren’t comfortable.

It wasn’t clear if Jack really believed your lie but he glanced around the room for the headband anyways before finding it on the edge of the bed next to you and placing them on your head for you.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed from when you were putting on your boots before you caught a look at yourself in the mirror, you looked up at Jack, who’s hands stayed on the side of your face after gently placing the headband on you.

Words weren’t exchanged as he looked at you, his thumbs tenderly moving over cheeks. He moved down to place a lovingly soft kiss on your forehead and then your lipstick covered lips.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your mouth. You almost believed him.

njdwag.updates

liked by jackhughes and 2,384 others

njdwag.updates y/n at the halloween party with a fellow wag. she went as a black cat 🐈‍⬛

view 103 comments…

theotherwag sweetest girl to ever exist 🩷

user273 jacks like 🥹

user33 is this a safe space?

user649 depends…

user33 i love yn. and i love yn and jack!! they’re so cute and it’s so obvious everyone that hates her is just jealous :/

user472 REAL!!! they claim to be fans of jack but hate to see him happy… like something isn’t adding up??

liked by 208 others

user634 wait jack went as spider-man and she went as a black cat?? she’s kinda funny for that

user710 jack probably didn’t want to outright match with her 💀

user845 her standing next to another wag.. this is so sad like jack!! wake up!!

and everybody’s keepin’ it up, so you think it’s you

i could change up my body and change up my face

i could try every lipstick in every shade

but i’d always feel the same

‘cause pretty isn’t pretty enough anyways

njdwags

liked by 1,266 others

njdwags y/n y/l/n at her colleges football game with friends!

view 103 comments…

user968 everytime there’s a picture of her standing next to someone it really highlights how ugly she is LMAO

user263 idk why people hate her sm she’s so pretty

user945 she’s even prettier in person! i met her at the game and she was so nice. it’s so sad to see all the hate she gets :(

liked by njdwags

user293 we have class together!! she’s literally so sweet and smart

user683 ugly ass

user78 she chose a college football game over her boyfriends hockey game…

user537 why does she always have her tongue out 💀

and i try to ignorе it, but it's everythin' i see

it’s on the poster on the wall, it's in like every magazine

it’s in my phone, it's in my head, it's in the boys i bring to bed

it’s all around, it's all the time, i don't know why i even try

It’s like you couldn’t stop yourself from reading comments on posts about you. You knew you should ignore but it seemed impossible to ignore at this point.

You knew the comments would be negative like they always were but you always had hope they would be nice for once. And there was nice ones sometimes! But most were so overwhelmingly negative, you couldn’t even focus on the positives.

And it wasn’t just comments either, no. Not anymore at least. Since, you’ve read the comments, it’s like all the negative has leaked out of your phone and into every aspect of your life.

It was when you visited your family over winter break, you had totally forgotten about the posters you had in past years of icons from your childhood. Icons who were so how all skinny or blonde or had stunning blue eyes or all three. The break was supposed to get you away from all that and yet, you still cried yourself to sleep that first night.

Every aspect of life also included you and your boyfriend. You knew before you and Jack had started dating, he was constantly liking other girls bikini pics on instagram. And even though he had stopped doing that, you’d still seen tweets from his fans in the past joking about how he was “always at the scene of the crime” with a screenshot of his like on a picture of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. And while you tried to ignore it, you noticed of a pattern with all the girls. They looked a lot like the icons from your childhood. Nothing like you.

So now, late at night, when you were supposed to be having quiet and sweet moments with your boyfriend; your boyfriend that you didn’t get to see very often at that! You spent those moments thinking about those stupid likes on those stupid pictures of those stupidly beautiful girls.

And as for you, the comments had really gotten to your head. Even when you weren’t with Jack and you weren’t on your phone or in your childhood room. You still found someone to compare yourself to. It was like some kind of superpower.

and i bought all the clothes that they told me to buy

i chased some dumb ideal my entire life

and none of it matters and none of it ends

you just feel like shit all over again

Was this silly? It feel silly.

This didn’t feel like you but a change was needed.

Jack (and Luke) had been hanging out with the team all day and you had the day off. You had decided to spend the time alone shopping for clothes that you would’ve never worn before this past month and a box of blonde hair dye.

“We’re home!”

Luke’s voice rang through the apartment, snapping you out of your trance that you were in while staring out the box of hair dye taunting you on the bathroom counter.

“Y/n?” Now it was Jacks voice that made its way through the apartment.

“Bathroom!”

You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door before a knock on the door, hesitating before opening the door before him. He slipped in before locking the door behind him.

“I was gonna jump in the shower if he wanted to join me.” Jack told you, his hands sliding around your waist with his back to the door. Naturally, your hands slipped around to rest behind his neck, forgetting about the hair dye sitting on the counter.

“I think I’m gonna have to pass this time—”

“You’re gonna dye your hair?” Jack cut you off, his eyes focused behind you.

“Oh- Yeah, I just, um, wanted a change I guess.”

Jack didn’t say anything or take his eyes off of the box of hair dye. He didn’t buy it for a second but he just didn’t understand. How could you not see how beautiful you were. Jack had known the comments were bad, he just didn’t realize they were getting to you this badly. He looked back to you, who had a guilty look in your eyes. Jack sighed before moving you over to the counter, placing you next to the box.

“Baby, if you really want to dye your hair blonde; go for for it. But I don’t think you want to.” You couldn’t even look at him. You felt embarrassed that you’d been confronted about how out of hand these insecurities have gotten, even if it wasn’t really your fault. You felt like a child being scolded. “I know we’ve talked about this before but you really have to listen to me this time okay, babe?”

Jacks hand came up to your chin, gently pushing your head up to make eye contact with him.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I mean that. All those assholes just want to find someone to hate more than themselves and I’m sorry that dating me has made you a target for that. But blonde hair dye isn’t gonna make them stop. I’ll say something— I should’ve said something sooner but I’ll do it now. Just- Just don’t change for them because they won’t ever be happy. Pretty isn’t pretty enough for them, okay?”

You were crying now. Because you knew he was right and you were upset you had let them drive you crazy. You continued to cry as your boyfriends arm came around your frame. You uttered apologies, not quite sure for what, while his hand rubbed your back.

After a while, your tears stopped and Jack pulled away. “I love you. And I told you, if you really want to go blonde, go for it. I mean, you’ll look hot either way—”

“Jack!”

“Okay, okay. Blonde or no blonde.” He asked with a small smile on his face, holding up the box of hair dye.

“No blonde.”

Jacks smile grew as he threw the box into the trashcan. His hands slid down to your thighs, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So… can we get that shower now?”

#GUTS SERIES🩸#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

623 notes · View notes

tearsofastraeax · 3 months

Note

hiii i just love ur stories and i was wondering, could u write a story where a lot of girls flirt with ghost (cause he's just so hot tbh) and we're crying and feeling bad bcs we're scared he'll find better since he dosen't reject or ignore them??

ty a lot and take care <3

thank u anon ♡ i had so much fun writing a lil angst

sorry it took me longer than expected to wrap up your request, the creative juices are not flowing these days, but i hope you enjoy ♡₊ ⊹

It's no surprise to you that going out with an incredibly fine piece of man is going to come with some jealous feelings here and there.

Just a couple weeks after you started to hang out with Ghost, you noticed women staring at him. But you didn't blame them, how could they not stare? Ghost just naturally attracts women, with his broad shoulders, his veiny arms, those giant hands ... you could go on and on forever.

But you never expected to find yourself sitting in your bedroom, hiding underneath the blanket and silently sobbing into your pillow because of it.

Earlier that day when you were out with Ghost for a drink it really hit you. You had barely left for a minute to head to the bathroom, but when you came back you saw a beautiful woman standing next to him. Inching closer and closer to him, her hand on his shoulder and a flirty smirk on her face. And it didn't look like he was opposed to it in the slightest. His body was slightly angled towards her, his face covered in mystery behind his mask, but you could feel his smile, you just knew.

Your heart felt like it was about to drop, break apart, stop beating all together. Your stomach was in knots. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, you had no right to be jealous, right? You were only seeing the man for a couple of weeks now, nothing serious... only, at one point, unbeknownst to you, your little heart had accepted him in and made it serious. You were fucked, royally fucked.

To feign calmness you took a slow breath, in and out. Before you made your way back to Simon and the woman still plastered to his side. You coughed uncomfortably to make them both aware of your presence.

It took him a moment to take his eyes off the woman, before he turned to you.

"Oh, this is my friend, y/n," he looked back towards her, gesturing to you.

You all but managed to swallow the big lump that had formed in your throat. His friend? Is that all you were? A friend? Nothing more? Did it only take one beautiful woman to suddenly make you nothing but a friend to him? You should have known this, it was just too good to be true. Of course he would find someone better than you. You felt your eyes begin to water, but you aggressively blinked the tears away. No, you were better than this.

"Yea, his friend", you pressed out, a tight and obviously fake smile on your lips. "Who is just about to leave actually. Have fun."

You grabbed the jacket haphazardly thrown over the seat next to the one you were just sitting on and turned around. Your legs carrying you out of the bar, you couldn't wait to get out of there, to just get away, as far as possible.

What you didn't see was Ghost's slightly confused expression as he watched you leave. But what you did know was he didn't follow you. Didn't he notice how upset you were? Did he just not care?

You huffed out an annoyed sigh, at yourself, at him, at the world, at everything.

You had barely made it home, slamming the door behind you, before the tears came. They welled up, making everything blurry, and then they came crashing over you like a wave, making it hard to breathe, harder to see and impossible to do anything but slide down against the door and sob into your hands.

And there you were, laying in bed, an hour later, still fucking pissed and sad and helpless and jealous and ...

Your phone vibrated next to you, Simons name popping up on your screen. You tried to ignore the call but he immediately called again. Deciding to pick it up you heard a low growl in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up, a slight shiver running down your back.

“Open the fucking door, y/n.”

The edge in his tone made you immediately jump off the bed. For a quick moment though you stopped in your tracks, hating how he could command you and make you feel, how he had so much power over you when clearly he didn't feel the same about you.

But you heard him pounding on your door, so you hurried to open it. The door swung open and his eyes immediately bore into yours. You swallowed down a thick lump in your throat as he crowded into you, effectively pushing the two of you into the apartment. He slammed the door behind him shut and stared down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"What the fuck was that?" He growled. You couldn’t fucking believe his attitude, weren’t you the one that was supposed to be angry?

You took in a deep breath before you answered, "well, I wasn't the one flirting with some chick..."

You meant for the words to come out more powerful, maybe even as aggressive as his. To make him understand that he had no fucking right to barge in here like this and act as if he had the right to demand answers.

"You...", his gaze softened then, shifting into ... surprise? "You're jealous?"

All you could do was shrug, feeling too raw from crying to vocalise your feelings. But to your surprise, he didn't say another word, his hand softly cradling your cheek. Your skin underneath his felt hot to the touch as you looked up to him. His eyes seemed so soft and gentle then, making your breath hitch in your throat. The feeling of him wrapped around you like a warm blanket was overwhelming. His gesture nearly stitching your heart back together all by itself.

"I'm sorry... I-", was all he could say before his lips pressed onto yours, so harsh and hurried, yet somehow gentle and sweet.

His hands slowly travelled down your body, once he reached your ass, he lifted you up so effortlessly, your legs immediately wrapping around his, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently whispered between kisses, "I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

#Simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #Simon Riley angst #ghost angst #request #✧･ﾟ⊹ astra writes 📖

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slutforln4 · 4 months

Text

EMAILS I CAN’T SEND

🖇️ in which your ex-boyfriend is the perfect muse

🖇️ faceclaim: sabrina carpenter

🖇️ not a request, just an idea i've had for a bit

🖇️ oscar piastri x singer!reader

oscarpiastri uploaded a story

[caption: late night talking]

replies

landonorris we have a race tomorrow

oscarpiastri i’m aware

landonorris you need to sleep

oscarpiastri i can risk a few hours of sleep for her

yourusername 🩷🩷

oscarpiastri pretty girl

gracieabrams

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 984,347 others

gracieabrams there’s gotta be some sorta compensation for thirdwheelers

tagged | yourusername

comments

user1 is that y/n

user2 that’s y/n omg

user3 who’s she with tho….

user4 the f1 girlies know

yourusername i wonder who that is…

gracieabrams only the most disgustingly cute couple i’ve seen

oscarpiastri not a couple

yourusername yeah, we’re strictly business partners

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, gracieabrams, landonorris and 2,892,927 others

oscarpiasti Race weekend + other things

comments

user5 other things = y/n

user6 business partners are surely partnering

yourusername you slayed that race tbh

oscarpiastri all thanks to you :)

gracieabrams that's disgusting

danielricciardo i agree

landonorris me too

yourusername stay mad

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, gracieabrams and 679,638 others

yourusername sooo is t-posing a necessity to win or is that just an oscar thing?

comments

landonorris long story short, george russell happened

yourusername ah, that explains it.

oscarpiastri did you have to post that specific image?

yourusername would you rather i post the one where your cheeks are so full you look like a squirrel?

oscarpiastri no ma’am

user7 “ma’am” she’s got him wrapped around her finger good lord

gracieabrams the taylor swift lyrics. you’re so down bad it’s sickening

yourusername it’s just a nice song 😇

yourusername

liked by gracieabrams, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 749,937 others

yourusername sad girls write sad music

comments

user8 awe :(

user9 someone zoom in and decipher what that says PLEASE

user10 methinks an album is coming

user11 new heartbreak anthem, can’t wait

danielricciardo is taylor swift finally featured in it

yourusername she didn’t reply to my email (i forgot to send it)

user12 😭

gracieabrams sad girls unite

yourusername i love u more than he ever could’ve <3

gracieabrams shade but true (love you too)

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, gracieabrams and 983,837 others

yourusername same time here next weekend?

comments

user13 paris was blessed with her presence

gracieabrams girl wyd in paris

yourusername hunting for french boys ❤️

gracieabrams find one for me ty

user14 next weekend is french gp GUYSSSS

user15 is she hinting at smth…

user16 i hope not, because she deserves better

charles_leclerc can’t wait to see you on the paddock!

yourusername and at your house, obviously

charles_leclerc silly me, how could i forget

used17 ??? WHAT

user18 girlie is moving on fast huh

user19 no bc this is insane

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, gracieabrams, danielricciardo and 3,837,837 others

oscarpiastri Tiny victories :)

comments

user20 oh! okay!

user21 why’s he smiling as if he didn’t cheat on his girl… uhm

landonorris tiny victories + huge losses

oscarpiastri you win some, you lose some

landonorris and you lost, big time

user22 uh. What

user23 HELLO???????///

user24 idk if this is y/n or lando’s homie hopper era, but i support it

gracieabrams boo no one cheered

oscarpiastri yawns

user25 gracie babes…

user26 taking her bestie’s man right in front of her 💀

user27 y/n’s bestie isn’t gracie but! good riddance!

yourusername

liked by gracieabrams, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,928,508 others

yourusername what it was and what it wasn’t

comments

user28 is this her official statement of them breaking up?

yourusername yes

user29 mother confirmed they were never together 💔

user30 brb crying

user31 love isn’t and never was real

oscarpiastri and what was it?

yourusername you giving too much and then getting scared

user32 OH???

user33 are they about to settle their argument in an instagram comment section…

user34 mmm no… this is sus. y/n wouldn’t do that in her own insta comment section

user35 no fr like she’s not as immature as other celebs to just handle her private love life in public 💀

user35 but then again, what do we know about her to assume this? cause she did it even when we assumed she wouldn’t

gracieabrams something is brewing

yourusername something’s cooking mhm mhm

gracieabrams someone lock this girl in the kitchen, she’s cookin up bangers

gracieabrams

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 2,928,937 others

gracieabrams so incredibly proud of my girl y/n 🩷 second slide is probably one of her best moments as a songwriter. who could’ve thought he used a fork? or that forks are everywhere? genius stuff, i tell you. no but honestly, she’s worked so hard for so long and “email’s i can’t send” is finally out. everyone go listen or else third slide y/n will stab you with a fork.

tagged | yourusername

comments

user36 the subtle bullying 😭 i love them

user37 the best friendships are like this

yourusername you’re such a loser ily 🤍

yourusername thank you for the help with the fork lyrics! It was all gracie’s idea guys, don’t listen to what she has to say

gracieabrams i knew you’d somehow put the blame on me

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, gracieabrams, charles_leclerc and 3,384,038 others

yourusername “emails i can’t send” is out and i couldn’t be happier. not only because it’s released, but also because i can finally stop getting oscar into trouble haha 🤍 i’m just a girl in the world, sorry os. this lovely boy continued supporting me even when i suggested such a crazy idea, so that just proves he’s the right one for me (seriously, who would cook pasta for a girl that asked if they could fake a breakup?) last slide is oscar’s actual reaction to seeing me be silly on the gram. listen to my new album and stay delusional, my loves. 💌

tagged | oscarpiastri, gracieabrams

comments

oscarpiastri i can’t even be mad about the last slide cause it’s true…

oscarpiastri i love you princess, couldn’t imagine my life without you.

yourusername os :( i love you so bad

user38 wait huh

user39 IT WASNT REAL????

user40 LOVE DOES EXIST GUYS AND ITS THEM ❤️

gracieabrams my bestfriend is batshit crazy, and i’m all here for it

yourusername love you always

user41 so all of that… was all a marketing strategy…

user41 honestly, y/n is a mastermind

landonorris finally, oscar will stop asking me if you were serious about the breakup or not

danielricciardo the grid shall know peace once more

charles_leclerc i can’t deny that it was kind of funny seeing oscar walk around the paddock with his tail between his legs

oscarpiastri okay guys haha the bit’s over, shut up

landonorris @/yourusername break up with him again, he’s being mean

oscarpiastri no please don’t

user42 i’m crying 😭 why’s this kinda funny

user43 y/n messing with oscar’s reputation is funny to you? She could’ve fucked up his career lmao

oscarpiastri she didn’t mess with anything, i agreed to joke around and fake a breakup. I asked my pr team and they thought it was as funny as we did, so we did it. and it ended up putting my girl on the top of the charts, so :) stay mad, i guess liked by yourusername

user44 HE SAID STAY MAD IM YELLING

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, gracieabrams and 4,974,093 others

charles_leclerc thank you so much to my *friend* y/n for letting me feature on her new album. and to oscar, thank you for not murdering me when the dating rumours happened. wishing you two all the best.

tagged | yourusername, oscarpiastri

comments

user45 aw wait this is so sweet :(

user46 y/n is besties with all of the grid this is adorable

user47 him having to clarify that they’re friends HAHAHA

yourusername love u charlie <3 was lovely working with you. (all the piano bits you hear in the album are charlie’s work, round of applause everyone)

user48 clapping so loud

oscarpiastri cheers mate, thanks for keeping her busy and me sane

yourusername such a liar, you were at home weeping for me to stay

oscarpiastri no i wasn’t (yes i was)

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris, gracieabrams and 5,937,938 others

oscarpiastri So proud of this crazy girl, for more than just her new album’s release. She’s been so strong and so hard-working, and so loving. Peep the second slide to see her crying selfie that she sent to me immediately after commenting “yes” and confirming our pretend break-up. The third slide is of my girl and her best friend, because they’ve kept me on my toes for the past two months. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you to the moon and to saturn, y/n.

tagged | yourusername, gracieabrams

comments

user49 i love my virtual parents 🫶

user50 love is real and they’re proving that everyday

user51 HE QUOTED TAYLOR SWIFT TO HER IM SOBBING ON THR FLOOR

yourusername me too bff, i love this boy so much

landonorris is gracie single

yourusername no

gracieabrams yes i am?

yourusername you don’t want lando, trust me

landonorris okay what the fuck

yourusername i’m breaking up with you for reals this time

oscarpiastri what the fuck :(

yourusername was the crying selfie really necessary 💔

oscarpiastri you look cute

yourusername don’t even.

yourusername i love you so much, thank you for being my muse

oscarpiastri i hope i’m your muse for happy love songs too? (pls say yes)

yourusername next album is called “oscar is the love of my life”, so i’d say yes

oscarpiastri fuck yes

🖇️ just a silly little story. hope you enjoyed <3

#formula one fanart #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula one smau #oscar piastri smau

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kiwisbell · 4 days

Text

helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood.

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth.

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will.

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do.

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver.

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones.

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain.

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love.

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring.

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him.

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother.

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath.

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out.

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job.

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet.

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above.

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep.

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed.

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says.

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear.

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow.

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition.

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time.

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world.

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge.

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does.

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind.

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger.

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing.

Don't hurt me again.

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly.

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black.

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before.

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told.

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again.

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention.

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers.

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep.

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly.

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging.

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down.

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop.

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs.

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat.

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear.

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to.

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back.

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans.

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin.

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply.

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole.

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks.

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter.

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines.

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again.

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you.

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel.

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly.

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile.

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.”

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful.

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day.

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…”

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth.

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning.

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs.

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve.

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there. “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.”

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him.

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply.

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor.

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm.

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his.

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded.

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental.

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.”

Silent, he waits for more.

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose.

It's raining.

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover.

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall.

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun.

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be.

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man.

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing.

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now.

Joel steps out of the car.

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest.

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger.

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left.

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt.

“Joel,” greets Cabrera.

“Manuel.”

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep.

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning.

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals.

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious.

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow.

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it.

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears.

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life.

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last.

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet.

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade.

But the song of death does not call to him now.

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle.

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did.

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now.

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel.

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest.

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket.

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave.

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now.

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call.

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat.

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home.

So he does.

#fic: helen #kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #john wick au

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valsarchives · 1 year

Text

my girl - t.c (part 2)

warning: google translate used french and spanish, sorry if it’s wrong!

part one

yourusername

liked by tchalamet, zayn, zendaya and 10,859,276 others

yourusername felt like a dream! thanks again for being there for me y’all!

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zayn 🖤

yourusername 🖤

kissmeyn ok but when are you guys gonna release the song??? we’re still waiting 👀

hero_ft you were amazing

yourusername thank you!!

ynmybaby GUYS I WAS THERE AND SHE DID AMAZING!! IT WAS LITERALLY A DREAM COME TRUE SHE WAS SO SWEET!! SHE STAYED A LITTLE LONGER AFTER IT WAS OVER SO SHE CAN MEET HER FANS!!! 🥹🥹💖

ynsbabygirl she’s such an angel 🥺♥️

timmytimmy did Timothèe showed up???? 👀

ynmybaby tbh I was so focused on Y/n I didn’t even look around me from the moment she was on stage lol

timmytimmy i got you girl 😮‍💨

chalamtfan guys I don’t think he was there. I mean someone would see him but there’s no pictures of him so idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

ynfan2 breathtaking ❤️‍🔥

username49 Timmy liked again!

randomuser i wish timmy was there tho

yourusername ok so usually I don’t like talk about this stuff, but as you can see, it’s my account that you’re commenting on and i was having a good time with you guys but everytime i see comment like this i feel like that’s all I’m worthy of and it makes me uncomfortable. So please be more respectful about this stuff. Take care <3

randomuser you’re right i’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again

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enews

5,594,279 likes

enews Timothèe Chalamet showed up at Coachella watching his ex girlfriend Y/n L/n’s performance. We are wondering what will “sources” say about this.

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timmytimmy I KNEW IT!!

chalamalabingbong OFC HE WAS THERE FOR HIS GIRL

ynfan2 he was so sweet to fan but he was hiding and he never took his eyes off of Y/n 🥺

username49384 well it explains everything right???

callmebyyourpeach i wonder if she knows he was there

ynmybaby E! News is on team Y/n&Timothèe everyone!!!!!

tchalafann i mean they’re not wrong 👀

timmychalamt Guys! I was there and I saw him. He watched her perform and sometimes he sang along with her. He took pictures of her everytime she got close to his side. And I’m not too sure about that but when she started singing “holding on” there was tears in his eyes.

ynmybaby it was their song 🥺

timotea0 this made me cry 🤧

sweettimmy wait really????? 😭

timtim24 I’m actually crying I feel so sad for him. He loses the girl he loves, everyone is making fun of him for something that isn’t even true and now deuxmoi claims that he was dating Taylor and he cheated on her with Kylie.

sweetteaa what?💀

timotheefan15 istg that girl is crazy . Leave him alone!!

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tchalametdaily

1,848,276 likes

tchalametdaily after all this, they’re still claiming that him and Kylie are officially dating?? Now that’s what I call crazy.

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yourfan8 I’m done 💀

timmyfan04 HE LITERALLY SAID HE WASNT DATING THAT GIRL OH GOD

randomuser93 i love & support them!

timmytim wtf

ynynyn9 they’re not even dating 🤡

timmytimmy leave him alone for god’s sake!

randomuser look, idk the details of this whole situation but didn’t he literally showed up at his ex’s performance? There is a video of him looking at her with tears in his eyes and they’re still talking about that plastic bitch? I wonder how much kris payed them.

ynmybaby Y/n claims that they ended their relationship on good terms but i think there is something else going on. She was asked about timmy this morning and she looked so uncomfortable. I really wonder what’s going on but I don’t want my girl to feel uncomfortable.

username953 what if he really cheated on her?

randomuser no way he would do that to her but i think the rumors are part of the reason they broke up.

randomuser97 “devil works hard, kris works harder.”

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ynlndaily

3,593,275 likes

ynlndaily Timothée at Y/n’s performance last year vs now :/

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ynsbabygirl does it ever drive you crazy…

ynmybaby just how fast the night changes…

timmytimmy I still remember when he hyped his girl every chance he got and after she finished her song he said “that’s my girl” and the fans went crazy :((

sweettimmy BRING THEM BACK 😭

kissmeyn God pls let Timmy and Y/n get back together

username491 I don’t think they’ll get back together

chalametfann he was so excited for his girl (he was literally jumping the moment she got to the stage😭) and after the performance him and Y/n met with fans and had so much fun together I MISS THAT SO MUCH

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enews

3,594,279 likes

enews Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n spotted together, seemingly arguing about something.

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kissmeyn wait wait

ynmylove I saw the other pics, they were not arguing!

timotheefan8 pls get back together pls plsss

ynmybaby no arguing my babies just hug each other and forget everything

ynsbabygirl I saw the other pictures. She was laughing in one pic. And his hands was on her waist on another 👀

timmytimmy omg is it really happening???

timotheefan15 yesyesyes

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timmyandynupdates

3,593,274 likes

timmyandynupdates GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

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ynmybaby damn, they were arguing last week now here we are. I’m so happy tho!!

ynsbabygirl they can’t resist each other anymore

timmytimmy OMGOMGOMG

tchalafann I was waiting for this one!!!

timotheefan15 they look happy 🥺

randomuser isn’t that kylie’s new boy toy?

timotea0 no, that’s Y/n L/n’s boyfriend Timothèe Chalamet.

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yourusername

liked by tchalamet, austinbutler, pauline.chalamet and 13,894,275 others

yourusername Tu me manques depuis le moment où tu m'as quitté, he said.

the comments are limited for this post

tchalamet Empecé a extrañarte tan pronto como nos despedimos, she said.

*liked by yourusername

ynsbabygirl SOMEONE TRANSLATE THIS PLS

ynmybaby OK OK!! The caption is “I’ve been missing you since the moment you left me” in French and Timmy’s comment says “I started to miss you as soon as we said goodbye.” in Spanish.

timmytimmy I love when they talk to each other with their first language 🥺

chalametfann SO THEY’RE BACK TOGETHER?? 😭

kissmeyn YESS!! They’ve been spotted kissing yesterday!!! 🥹🥹🥹

timmytim THANK GOD!

tchalamet’s story

@iloveneilperry @miawastakens

#timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet #x reader #instagram au #timothee chalamet x reader #celebrity reader #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chamalet #timothee x y/n #smau #timothee chalamet social media au #timothee imagine #timothee x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x y/n #timothée x reader

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giac222 · 1 month

Text

I wanted to talk about this scene in their parents kitchen real quick.

Alright we all know that Andrew hates being called “Andy”. To him Andy is a completely different person.

The reason I wanted to talk about this scene specifically was because of this:

Tbh I can’t believe I’m just now noticing this, like I knew he was upset, but I can’t get over how SAD he looks here, especially after Ashley says she really doesn’t like Andrew. I am in tearsss. 🥲

He’s showing Ashley the real him, but she doesn’t get that yet. “Andy” was a facade, but again, she doesn’t get that yet. That’s why his recent behavior scares her a bit because she’s not used to it. :(

He wants her to love “Andrew” the same way she loves “Andy”. 😭

Like girl.. his mask is coming off and he’s showing you his true colors. He wants you to love the real him just as much, if not more.

I also wanted to talk about this scene from the Decay route:

Then Andrew responds with this:

“You keep calling me by some other guy’s name. What do you expect?” Oh it’s serious 💀. He’s so down bad for her, that her referring to him as his fake persona even makes him jealous 😭. Poor Andrew 😩

I have a feeling we’ll see them completely open up to each other in Burial, and probably in Decay too depending on how things go in that route. They definitely need to.

#tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #nemlei #kit9 #andrew x ashley #ashley x andrew #leyley x andy #andy x leyley #coffincest #gravecest #ashley graves #andrew graves #andy graves #leyley graves #game screencaps

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psychwxrdd · 3 months

Note

could you write for dark!donnie with a corruption kink?? i’m so in love with him 😞

omggg me too babe 😭 i'd let him ruin my life tbh

corruption

🎀 warnings: 18+, corruption kink, innocence kink, dark! donnie, bimbo! reader, gaslight, rough sex, dub con, i could put a few more but just be aware that this is really filthy lmao i got way too excited while writing

donnie and you were dating for almost 6 months, and it was all going extremely fine. he was anything you always wanted in a boyfriend, he was protective, loving, treated you like a princess, was totally and completely obsessed with you. anyone knew better than to even stare at your direction cause they knew how donnie would react when the topic was you.

yet, you guys haven't had sex yet. you were still a virgin, not sure if you were ready to take a bigger step, and you were both only 18. it wasn't like you had a mature view of anything, needless to say, sex. donnie also told you several times that he would wait as much as it needed, because he didn't wanted his little girl to lose her purity. but that was what he told you.

it wasn't what he thought, tho. donnie had so many dirty, terrible thoughts about you. he was always trying not to get hard but you were constantly on his mind, teasing him. he wanted nothing more than to turn you into his own slut. he wanted to hear your sweet voice telling him the dirtiest things he could think of. he wanted you to feel desperated for him. and he decided he would have his dreams to come true.

"my day really sucked" you said, laying in your boyfriend's bed while he was searching for the dvd of an horror movie. it was friday night, it was halloween week and you were both not in the mood to go to any party, donnie said he much rather spend with you than in a "loud ass party full of assholes".

"yeah?" he stared at you, with a concerned expression. "was it anything in particular?"

"not at all, i was just really sad. couldn't wait to leave school" you spoke softly. donnie then stopped what he was doing to come sit by your side in bed, placing your head on his lap to give you a forehead kiss. "so glad i'm here with you now"

donnie smiled, you could see his eyes brighten with those words. he caressed your hair and your face, his fingers moving to your cheeks and jaw. "i'm glad you're here too, baby. i really wish you could be by my side all the time... i don't hear or see frank when i'm around you."

his fingers then went to your lips, pressing softly, and you didn't knew why, but you felt like opening your mouth in that moment. it was just intimate.

"but i do hear these...these voices in my head, that i-" donnie stopped for a moment and you stares at him, seeing his eyebrows frowning "i hear these voices telling me i should hurt you, baby."

you frozed slightly, not sure if you heard him correctly. "what do you mean, don?"

he sighed, looking sad. "i hear these voices telling me i should hurt the ones i love... that the only way i could stop something bad from happening to me is...to make something bad happen to a loved one instead."

he covered his face with both hands, as if he wanted to hide tears. you felt your heart so broken in that moment, you hated to see him suffering like this. you wish this could happen to you instead.

"baby..." you sat, in the middle of his legs, putting hours hands on his arms. "this is not your fault. really"

he looked at you with those puppy eyes you loved so much.

"is there something i could do to help you?" you asked, worried. donnie seemed to think for a while.

"maybe if i... if i did something bad to you, that you consented me to." he placed your hair behind your ears. you were curious about it, but you felt happy you could help him somehow.

"you have something in mind? i mean... you can give me a pinch, just not too hard"

he chuckled at your words. "i have an idea, actually. what do you think about giving me consent to ruin you?" he said with a slight grin, and you didn't knew how to respond. how would he even ruin you? was sex that sinfull?

you stayed quiet for a few seconds, avoiding eye contact with him, but he grabbed your chin softly, making you stare at his eyes.

"hey, it's okay baby... i promise i'll make you feel really good. and if you don't like it we can stop, huh?" he pressed a few kisses around your face, holding it with both hands. "but then i'll keep having these horrible thoughts, and i'll have to find a way to make something worse."

his words were awfull, but his voice was so sweet...it didn't sound like a threat to you. donnie would never hurt you, right? he promised that a thousand times. you trusted him.

"ok." you said almost in a whisper. his eyes widened a bit.

"ok? yeah? right now?"

"yeah don... i want you to feel better. you can do it to me."

he smiled big, so big. you loved his smile, so you smiled as well. he waste no time to give you a passionate, loving kiss.

he rolled you two on bed, him being on top of you. the passionate kiss didn't take long to become sloppy and hot. his hands that were just holding your face minutes before, were now holding your neck, not tight enough to choke, but enough to make you feel the pressure and gasp a bit for air.

his tongue felt so good against yours, kissing him like that... it made you feel things that you were ashamed to say out loud. felt likes butterflies all over your stomach, but lower, and better.

you wanted to let out a sound, to say his name, but you didn't.

he let go of your throat to move his hands all over your body, much different from you, he didn't seemed to feel ashamed about his own needs.

"you're so fucking sexy" he told you as he roughly took your shirt off "had to jerk off so many times just by imagining these boobs on my mouth"

he then put your bra down and quickly sucked your nipples, making you close your eyes and whimper. that felt extremely good.

donnie made pretty loud noises while sucking on your tits, you were worried that someone else would might hear it and ask what was it. but he didn't, not in the slightest.

"don-"

he grabbed your throat all of sudden, making you gasp, scared.

"shut the fuck up, baby, you talk when i ask you something" he made an intense eye contact, know you knew that he wasn't playing. his blue eyes looked pretty more dark, it was scary. "come here, get on your knees."

you felt scared of what he would do if you didn't, but at the same time, that fear turned you on. you did as he told, hearing the sound of him unzipping his pants.

"look so fucking gorgeous like this..." he could groan at the sight of you in your knees for him, so close to his cock. as he pull out, your eyes grow big at his size.

you didn't said anything tho, remembering you were supposed to stay quiet unless spoken to.

"open that pretty mouth f'me"

opening up as wide as you could, he caressed your chin. "thats my good girl"

he shoved his tip inside your lips and groaned, he wanted to be nice cause he loved you, but there was no way he could held himself back. what a pity.

donnie's cock hitted the back of your throat and you gagged so hard you thought you would throw up, but you didn't. your eyes were full of tears.

"shhh, it's okay baby. breath through your nose, fine?" you nodded slightly, saliva and tears running all over your face already. donnie loved how even your gag sounded lovely, he wanted to get you to make more of these.

he fucked your mouth harshly, and you would be lying if you say you weren't enjoying. it was uncomfortable, but so hot at the same time. so hot that you started moaning.

"like sucking my dick?" he asked, slapping your cheek softly, staring at your pretty eyes full of tears and lust. he couldn't hold any longer. "shit, fucking slut"

he came deeply inside your throat, and you had no choice other than to swallow. you didn't liked how it tasted, you wanted to spit it.

when donnie noticed it, he held your cheeks tightly "uh uh, swallow all of it"

tears were still falling, but you did as he told you. "good girl."

donnie carried you on his arms, placing you roughly on his bed, ass up and face down. "fucking nice ass, goddamn it"

he grabbed and slapped your ass, stroking his cock. he caressed his fingers on your clit to make sure you were wet enough.

"i wanted to eat that soaked pussy but my dick is still too hard right now honey, have to break you"

you were ready for the pain, considering you were still a virgin and he was fucking big, but as he put it inside, you could tolerate it.

"go slow, donnie" you searched for his body, placing your hand on his chest, and he held your hand sweetly.

"won't move till you tell me to"

you breathed, feeling so horny... you wanted him to move, but at the same time, you knew if he did that in that second it would make you feel a lot of pain.

donnie, behind you, were controlling himself in the best way he could to not rail the shit out of you. he wanted to corrupt you, and he wanted you to feel pain, but in a way that it would have you begging for more, screaming his name and turning into a slut. he didn't wanted it to hurt in a bad way.

a few more minutes and you were telling him to move, as it started to feel really good. donnie groaned when he hitted all his way inside you, feeling like this was the closest he would ever be to heaven.

"oh my god... move, donnie, please" you moaned in a desperated, slutty tone, and that was it for him. he started fucking you as if there was no tomorrow.

he rammed your head against his pillow and held your hair and throat, going harder and harder in each thrust. you were moaning, whimpering, crying, almost screaming and laughing at the same time, you didn't knew anything could ever feel this good.

your pussy was extremely wet, mixing with his pre cum, so everything felt even better. thats when you thought if he had a condom on.

"donnie..." you tried to say, but it was impossible. he was also groaning and too fucked out in his own pleasure to answer.

you also thought about his family, what if they were still upstair and heard this?

but if you still had any upcoming thoughts, they easily gone away when donnie hitted a very sensible spot inside you, making you scream in pleasure.

"yeah, right there!"

"fuck baby, your screams are driving me crazy" donnie was now against your back, holding your face to give you a messy kiss. he played with your clit in a fast rhythm, it was all too much. he was trully fucking you dumb.

"tell me your mine, y/n" he whispered in your ear, and you put your hands on his hair.

"i- i'm...yours..." you say, struggling.

"whats it, sweet thing? already cock drunk? got you addicted?" he smirked, not remembering the last time in his life that he felt so happy. "first time being fucked and i already turned you into my little slut."

you camed so hard you thought you would fall down, but he held you strongly. not even a second later, cumming inside you.

"shit..." he groaned. it felt so good to come inside your pussy. he mocked you saying you were already addicted, but in reality he was the one who already could never lever live without that pussy anymore.

you both felt on bed, hugging each other and breathing harshly. he held your head on his chest, caressing your hair. you chuckled, feeling relaxed by your orgasm.

"i still wanna eat your pussy, baby... been fucking starving from how much i wanna taste you"

"don, i'm fucked out."

he laughed at your words. you weren't one to say bad words, ever.

"i'm sure that any bad thought could go away if i gave you enough orgasms to pass out."

#donnie darko x reader #dark! donnie #donnie darko imagine #imagine #dark fanfiction #x reader

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hon3yteddy · 1 year

Text

꒰ nct dream + intimate moments i want to experience 🍞 ꒱

synopsis: tbh idk but there thing i'd generally kill to experience (this is not a joke), and add some arson too if i get to do them with dream genre(s): established relationship, romance, tooth rotting fluff warning(s): mix use of tenses, severe symptoms of delusions and signs of parasocial relationship, not reread at all !!! author's note: hanging out with newjeans at the psych ward

#𝟎𝟐𝟎𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 . . .

― kind of cliché a cheesy... but slow dancing! mark's one of us - a hopeless romantic so he'd definitely be a sucker for a slow dance under the dim lights of your shared apartment. he'd perfectly time his movements after instantly recognising your favourite slow song (i recommend any song by laufey) drift from the kitchen as you prepare your dinner for the evening. he's heard the song too many times to count but mark never minded. he loved that about you - the little things, the big things, and everything in between.

just before the chorus, he'd slip behind you, guiding your hands with his own to carefully drop whatever you were holding, and clumsily twirl you round to face him. i can feel it in my bones that the man would do those knew weakening, borderline giggle, chuckle of his and gently pull your hand for a light kiss against the skin of your knuckles. you would find yourself resting one hand on his shoulder and the other being embraced tightly by his. mark always loves how close you feel when you're like this.

he would give you that look, the look you've seen a hundred times. it's the same one he gave you before he kissed you for the first time, the same one he wore when he finally got the guts to ask you on a date, that look so beautiful and real that your too much in a daze to notice him slip an arm around your waist. together you slowly sway to the beat of the song, forgetting the past and ignoring the future.

he holds you close, maybe too close even. yet none of that mattered. all that did was the way he was whisking you across the room, embracing you tight. feathered kisses, words of worship, lovesick eyes - truly a night to remember.

♡: mark, the foods going to burn... mk: guess so. but i'll eat anything made by you, burnt or not. ♡: the food is definitely burning right now!

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟑 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 . . .

― renjun is a true artist and what is one of the most popular forms of art? paintings. he adores painting you, a truly enjoyable pastime. countless of times would you catch him sketching you, entrapping every detail of your soul onto a canvas or simply just the ripped page of a battered notebook. you have always been curious about his hobby so every now and then you'd have the honour of spending the hour painting with renjun.

there's something so dear about painting with someone you love. maybe it's the serenity, or the way the soul becomes so vulnerable yet so free on the canvas. whatever it was, things always felt so different when it would be the two of you.

evenings were always the time for such dates and soon enough the both of you would have long ago abandoned the canvases. it all had started when you had gotten frustrated with your piece of the day, for it could never compare to renjun's. so frustration took over, and you had painted a sad face on side of his face so very careful to not poke him in the eye. your shaky attempt at frown reminded you of the earlier days where it was socially acceptable to paint on one’s face and so you didn’t stop.

you enjoyed it and he could tell as he too abandoned his own piece to paint on you. the way he carefully held your giggling bod still and swirled his brush against your exposed skin from the blush of your cheeks, to the dent of your collarbones. you always found renjun prettier when he was focused and now he was focused on every part of you, adorning you with works of his own. yet none of his paintings could ever compete with the beauty of you.

♡: you always make me look so beautiful, renjun. rj: you just simply are, that's all.

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟒 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 . . .

― jeno is a man sent from the heavens, carved by zeus himself and blesses the undeserving earth with his presence. basically, he's a sweet man with big, beefy arms you kinda just want to chomp and snuggle against. (the indescribable things i'd do to be embraced by the lee jeno can not be said aloud.)

cuddling is a simplistic show of affection and jeno must be the best person to hug in the whole world. a true safe place in this cruel world where you can finally let yourself be vulnerable and receive the love you oh so needed.

jeno loves hugging you. if it's after work, after a hard day, on the sofa, out of the blue, the man would be at your beck and cal. sometimes you didn't need to ask. he'd would be right there each and every time and he would love every hug he got to share with you. the thought of simply hugging you is everything to this lovesick puppy.

the hugs he loves the most are the ones you just needed the most. the ones where there was no need for an exchange of words or questioning eyes, just open arms. there was no other soul on this very earth who could make you feel so loved yet so weak in his arms that you could swear you could break, and sometimes you did. but he was there, and that's all you needed.

there's something so intense between each hug - tight embraces, soft hums, tender kisses, and the alignment of both your hearts. with each hug, jeno told you he loved you without the need for a single word.

jn: … (i love you) ♡: … (i love you too)

#𝟎𝟔𝟎𝟔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 . . .

― now it's no surprise to us when i say haechan adores physical touch. he honestly invented the love language itself. so of course, the dude is very much in love with you and the act of kissing you. every chance he got, he kissed you every time. but if there was one thing haechan loves more than kissing you, it's you kissing him.

imagine just kissing every inch of this man who deserves all the love in the world! he loves it when you kiss his moles with whispered words of praise in between. he never lets you miss one and always points out one just to get another kiss.

he's a giggling mess and you are too. hiding underneath the bed covers, tracing your hands against his bare skin, enjoying the way he writhes in anticipation for your next kiss. it's a game you both enjoy too much.

don't worry, you always get your fair share of kisses. he loves kissing the details of your skin and he loves even more the reaction he earns with each one (cocky dude). there isn't a single part of you he dislikes. oh, and if you too are blessed with moles of your own, he'll find each and every one to give a tickling kiss. sometimes he'll call them stars, sometimes its the cute dots of ladybugs - every single blemish, scar and mole would be loved, for haechan is just utterly in love with your very being down to the last detail.

hc: you know moles are where your lover kissed you in your past life? ♡: really? you must have given me these then. hc: and in your next life, you’ll have so many more for me to kiss…

#𝟏𝟑𝟎𝟖 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 . . .

― bubble baths. i can't explain it easily, but there's something so romantic about bubble baths. jaemin isn't necessarily joining you, but if wants to, he can hop in my imagine bath tub. he's actually the one preparing them for you. he'll always want his lover to feel a tease, he could never let you drown yourself in stress.

every now and then he would prepare the perfect bubble bath, filling the tub with hot water, scented ointments, expensive soap and even a dash of petals. you can tell he enjoys doing it too as he'll usually greeted by the man himself at the door, wearing the proudest smile. he doesn't hesitate in sweeping you off your feet, always nagging for you to relax while he takes care of everything else.

he always prepares a lot, paying attention to every detail he knows you'll love. your favourite song plays, a calming scent drift from the candles he's lit, there'll always be a glass of your favourite drink by your side and your favourite pjs hang against the door for you to slip in after.

as you lay in the bath, wading your hands against the water that’s just right, you sometimes feel shy under jaemin’s attentive and kind gaze. You may even complain about it all being too much but he’s quick to hush you with a kiss. jaemin just wants you to enjoy the serenity every now and then, he can’t handle seeing the one he loves struggling. he enjoys spoiling you and he loves seeing your tense body finally give up and melt. this week he’ll read you a book as he sits beside the bathtub, not caring if you splash a little water onto him. the next he’ll let you enjoy a movie, and the one after, he’ll bring you a meal for you to enjoy whether that be a fast food burger or home cooked pasta. chivalry could never be dead with jaemin around.

jm: it's time you to take a break! ♡: you already did this for me like last week! jm: it's not illegal for you to take regular breaks, okay?

#𝟐𝟐𝟏𝟏 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 . . .

― you know that genre of romance scenes where the main couple help the other put on a necklace, fix a tie, button up their shirt, brush their hair etc, that - all of that. the simplicity of getting ready with a lover is so dreamy and chenle is indeed the man of everyone's dream.

the intensity shared between the two of you is unmatched. the bliss silence, hesitant touches, enchanted eye contact... gosh i'm blushing. when he stands behind you, letting his fingers graze the back of your neck to clasp the new necklace he's bought you. a compliment leaves his lips to touch upon the shell of your ear. he never dares to hide from your watchful eyes in the reflection and neither do you.

chenle lets his fingers glide down you bare back to zip the material of your outfit together. he holds you still while his hand painstakingly slowly moves up your spine for him to stop with a soft “all done”, enamoured by you and only you. and when he places you in front of the vanity mirror, threading his fingers through your hair, taking his time in watching, no, worshipping your very being in a blissful silence

the tension would almost be too much to bear. the way he gazes down at you while your busy fixing the tie he has clearly messed up on purpose. he always catches himself enjoying it all too much. something about the close proximity, focused eyes and building tension that's got his knees on the verge of buckling. just every moment chenlesees you, he swears he's fallen in love with you all over again.

cl: so b- ♡: you're going to call me beautiful again, aren't you?

#𝟎𝟓𝟎𝟐 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 . . .

― now me and mr park jisung don't have a lot in common, but we do share the epitome of being awkward (he just pulls it off better than me. so it's fair to say that hand holding would get jisung weak in the knees. he's just a tall grown man with the soul of a little child and who's hopelessly in love with you.

and i must say, jisung has got the prettiest hands i've ever seen, no wonder you can't hold yourself back from slipping your hands into his. it makes him jump every time but he'd hold hands with you forever if he could.

it begins with the two of you walking side by side and a noticeable brush of hands. then a classic pinkie lock comes into play and jisung is in a mess already. and finally you'll intertwine your fingers with his once again. it's shock to his poor heart every time it occurs. he'd never let his eyes meet your face, he's far to weak to look at your beautiful face. he would simply falter and break under your loving gaze.

hand holding is a timeless classic move that is every loner's dream. does jisung wish he could experience the sensation of holding hands with you for the first time? very much so!

♡: you're adorable, jisung. js: … (internal monologue about how much he's in love with you)

january 2023 © hon3yteddy

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kvthgok · 10 months

Text

Little Spider | Miguel O’Hara x Teen Spider Reader (Platonic)

warnings- none

Summary- Miguel doesn’t want you to go on a mission with him because its too dangerous and he doesn’t want to see you hurt.

Side note- Not proofread soo~ sorry if theres any spelling or grammar mistakes! Also thank you for 100 notes on Bribe ♡ tbh I didn’t think it would do good 😭💀

“I told you no this mission is to dangerous. I DON’T need a KID getting hurt.” He said in a cold tone. Miguel acted as a father figure to you ever since you joined the Spider Society. He can’t help but see and treat you as a daughter and feel that he’s responsible for you.

“But if you just listen-“ I got cut off

“I don’t want to hear it.” He says while raising his voice. “I already told you no, you’re gonna sit this one out.”

“I always sit them out!” I argued

“And i’m telling you this one is different.” He says in a serious tone “I can’t even put it into words. Just this time please, sit it out.”

“You say that All. The. Time.” I complained

“Because I’m worried about you!” He snaps, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Your not invincible, I’ve seen your combat records and there’s been close calls. You can’t avoid it forever.” You stayed silent.

As he speaks his tone is stern yet loving if that makes sense he wants her to understand how truly dangerous it is. “Im not gonna stand here and wait for the day you go off on a mission and don’t come back..”

His expression softens as he begins to let his true feelings show, “This is why I want you to sit this one out.” His voice is soft and tender as he says this. He knows she wants to be included but he also wants to protect his Little Spider.

Their gaze meets for a few seconds, the look on his face shows the love he’s felt for her all this time. “Please, please for once listen to me.”

"Can I just watch from afar-“

“No.” He says in quite possibly the hardest tone yet, he doesn’t want to sound harsh but he’s not letting up on this one.

We started arguing back for a little again then he left you there back at the HQ alone in his office like he always does, leaving to the mission that was currently happening. She was there for quite a while, left to think to herself for the next few hours.

As time passes she begins to feel the emptiness of the room, it was quite and somber and she began to realize how right Miguel was. She shouldn't have argued with him, but it was to late now he was already gone. With Miguel gone she did her best to help around the HQ, taking care of various tasks.

While she worked she couldn't help but feel bad for how she acted towards Miguel. He only wanted what was best for her, maybe she was being a little to eager to jump into dangerous missions..

-Skip some time later-

As she continued to work around the HQ she finally heard Miguel return, his voice echoed and it was clear he sounded upset. She continued with her tasks as she heard him open the office door, she just hoped he wasn't mad at her.

As he walks in he goes straight to his chair, he takes a seat and lets out a sigh as if he was annoyed or just tired. You couldn't help but feel guilty. As you see him sit in his chair he looks up and sees you "Oh. I see your helping around." He says in a annoyed tone.

"Yeah." you say looking down and going back to work, this only made you feel more guilty. You did your best to help but the silence that's going on is making it hard to feel comfortable. You knew he was mad, but it hurts knowing that it was your fault.

Miguel looks over at you once more, this time he's not annoyed anymore. In fact... there's a hint of sadness to his expression. He sighs once more before speaking "You know, maybe I was being a little harsh." he says rather quietly, his tone isn't quite the same anymore. “No, no, no its fine Miguel I understand that your just trying to keep me safe.” You said in a low voice

His tone changes to a quiet whisper "I just care about you okay? Thats the whole reason why I didn't want you going out." he says while letting out another sigh. "I don't want you thinking it's because I don't trust you. Its because I just can't bare to think of anything happening to you..." He looks at you with a expression that shows how much he means his words. Another long moment of silence passes by as Miguel just stares at you, he looks at you before giving you a small slight smile.

Even though he knows you still feels bad about the whole thing he can't help but feel like its his responsibility to keep you safe. He doesn't know if your truly understand why he was mad in the first place but he was just glad that you were safe.

After this Miguel stands up and looks towards the desk, "I'm gonna go make myself something to eat." he says while stretching his arms. You knew he was still a little mad for what had happened a few hours ago.

But for some reason Miguel just couldn’t seem to stay mad at you, no way can he be mad at his sweet little spider.

A/n - The next one shot is gonna kinda be longer cuz like I got a little too carried away 🙏

#miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara #teen reader #x teen!reader #x child reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider man 2099 #platonic #fluff #cute #miguel x you

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whyse7vn · 7 months

Text

BREAKING POINT -

[ ot7 x reader ]

this is like super short pls forgive me tan twitter tl for context

tan on twitter!!!

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: yoongi pls unblock me on twitter

yoongi: kill yourself

tae: i tried guys why doesn’t he love me 💔

y/n: that was a pathetic try

tae: guess what

y/n: what?

tae: ligma man..

y/n: ligma??

jimin: no way 😭

jk: baby…

namjoon: really

y/n: WHAT???

jin: i’m with her

wtf you guys on about??

hobi: this is a sad day

tae: LIGMA FUCKING BALLS BITCH

y/n: drown

jimin: ur fault tbh

hobi: real

y/n: leave me alone

jin: look you made her upset idiots

y/n: IM NOT UPSET

hobi: cheer up baby ❤️

namjoon: it’s okay tae upsets me all the time

y/n: im fine

hobi: bts song

jk: i know bts

tae: me 2

y/n: i want to stab you with a pencil

tae: watch out namjoon

namjoon: she is definitely talking to you

tae: proof?

hobi: bts?

jimin: i’m gonna bts outta you shut the fuck up

hobi: aw man :/

jk: bts?

jin: beat the shit

tae: beat MY shit

jk: woah

yoongi: he actually needs to kill himself wow

tae: @y/n u 2

y/n: LEAVE ME ALONE

jimin: she’s mad

y/n: I’M NOT MAD

jin: y/n are you still with that scoups guy?

namjoon: didn’t we just find out they we’re together like a week ago?

jk: WE DID????

jin: she moves on fast tho so idk

y/n: NO I DONT????

jimin: yoongi mingyu jk scoups mark wonho minho san all of us

there’s more hold on i’m thinking

hobi: all of us?

jk: say sike…

y/n: ARE YOU FUCKING SICK???????

jin: woah major slut alertttttt

namjoon: shut up

y/n: ONLY LIKE 4 OF THOSE NAMES ARE RIGHT

jk: what

y/n: AND IVE ONLY FUCKED 2 OF THEM SO KILL YOURSELF LEAVE ME ALONE

yoongi: she’s a grown woman

y/n: RIGHT

sorry i’m hot as fuck and pull bitches it’s not my fault

jin: u mid

y/n: ur 30

jin: ok please leave me alone i’m sorry

tae: my body count is also 2

jimin: -2

tae: ummmm?

jk: i’ve killed no one

i could of but don’t worry

namjoon: ??

hobi: fyi she did not deny being with scoups

jimin: TRUE

jk: NO

y/n: i deny it

jimin: too late we know

jin: SLUT

sorry

pls i’m sorry i didn’t mean it pls don’t be mean to me

please oh my god i’m sorry it slipped out

love u

please

y/n: THIS IS NOT FEMINISM

namjoon: it’s okay if ur with him

jk: NO ITS NOT STOP SAYING THAT WHATS UR FUCKING ISSUE STUPID STUPID STUPID

y/n: IM NOT

tae: who have you fucked

yoongi: are you stupid?

tae: no i’m curious

hobi: OH IM CURIOUS YEAH

wow i love shinee

y/n can you please start talking to minho again and then get married to him so i can be at his wedding and we can be forever connected

jk: SHUT UR MOUTH

y/n: you guys know so much about my relationship life it actually makes me want to throw up

jimin: ur easy to stalk

hobi: she’s fucked jk and yoongi

tae: and me

jin: in dreams doesn’t count

yoongi: lol

tae: LOL AWAY FROM ME YOU NASTY BITCH

U THINK UR WINNING BUT UR FUCKING NOT

WHEN ME AND Y/N GET MARRIED IT WILL BE ME KIM TAEHYUNG WHO LOLS IN UR FUCKING FACE

YOU RAT

yoongi: L

tae: no

yoongi: O

tae: YOU FUCKING STOP RIGJT NOW MIN YOONGI

yoongi: L

tae: 6pm seoul south korea apartment block C floor 7 door number 279 a ak47 a man a mask and a fucking dream

namjoon: wow ok that’s great!!

nice vogue shoot btw jungkook!

jk: I WILL NOT FUCK U GO AWAY

namjoon: oh my fucking god

hobi: scottish pride!!

jimin: ???

hobi: was he not wearing a kilt?

jimin: a what?

hobi: killing myself

jin: why they put you in that dirty ass bathroom omg?

tae: dirty shoot for a dirty man

jin: ?

tae: what?

jin: just a bit crazy coming from u

y/n: tae you need to shower

tae: you in love

fucking bitch

jin: do you fuck her or fight her damn?

jimin: right he’s pissing me off

tae: can you leave me alone i’m going through a lot rn

jk: dick

tae: ??

jk: a lot of dick

yoongi: lmao

namjoon: he likes men?

hobi: ewwwwwwwwwwww

jimin: homophobia?????????

jk: yes so he’s going through them

cuz he does not like y/n

yoongi: you say this like every 2 weeks

jk: because it is true

y/n: thank god

jk: no thank men

hobi: thx men

jin: so it’s not jimin?

jimin: what??

tae: i’ve never touched another man let alone sleep with one

hobi: amen

y/n: now that is just not true

namjoon: who cares

tae: I DO

hobi: no one will ever say those words to you

jin: i will

tae: fr 🥲?

jin: LOL

tae: ok kys

and fuck that bitch y/n

yoongi: have

tae left “tan on twitter”

hobi: cuteness overload ^_^

y/n: what crawled up his ass today tf

jk: hi do you need me do you want me do you love me

namjoon: can we just talk about life or like

jin: let me guess trees?

jimin: weed?

jk: OH MY GOD NAMJOON WANTS TO TALK ABOUT WEED

hobi: life is a downward spiral noting matters we are all slowly dying the government hates us money is worthless drugs are all around our water is running out

jk: where is it running out of

let’s catch it

y/n: tae was being super weird right?

hobi: super shy

namjoom: what’s new

hobi: new hair

namjoon: stop

hobi: forgive me master

namjoon: i’m at my breaking point

jimin: breaking bad

jin: drugs?

jimin: it all links back to namjoon…

jk: omgggggg namjoon is this true……..

namjoon: LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

—-

pls lmk if you like the twitter concept idk if i’m feeling her yet but if you guys are i will do more idk trying to be different 🙈

280 notes · View notes

ateotd-izzy · 11 months

Text

ceilings | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

PART ONE | part two

summary: in an attempt to bring stiles back from the ghost riders, lydia, scott and malia try to help y/n to search her memories and remember him completely.

warnings: set during 6a, kissing, possibly swearing? idk how i feel about this tbh

taglist: @brvceyamada

☾

ceilings, plaster

“okay, y/n. imagine you’re in your bedroom.” lydia’s voice calmly echoed through the room. “visualize yourself in your bedroom.”

you looked around. your bed, your shelves, your desk, it was your bedroom.

“can you see it?” lydia asked and you nodded. “okay, good. can you see your shelf? the one with all your movies?”

you took a few steps over to the bookshelf, dvds filling each individual shelf and only a few books lay around.

“yes.”

“y/n, imagine each dvd is a memory of stiles. every movie is a different memory.” lydia spoke. “you need to find the correct memory. the one that’ll bring him back.”

you pulled the first dvd off the shelf and opened it, putting the disk into your player.

can’t you just make it move faster?

“what the hell?” you wiped your cheek with your hand as the boy in front of you laughed. “what the hell was that?”

he shrugged, still laughing.

you were in your kitchen with stiles, the afternoon sun spilling through the window as you went through the cupboards.

“seriously, babe, what was that?”

“it was just water.” he chuckled, dipping his fingers into the glass beside him and flicking it at you. “don’t need to worry.”

“you’re such a dick.” you rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that grew on your face as he slowly made his way over to you.

“you love me.”

“mhm.”

“go on. say it.” stiles whispered into your ear, his arms wrapping around your body from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder. “you know it’s true.”

“fine.” you spun around so you were still facing him in your arms. “i love you, stilinski.”

he smiled and leaned in, pecking your lips.

“i love you, too.”

lovely to be sitting here with you

“can you see him? can you remember him?” lydia asked.

“it was just water.” you mumbled. scott and malia exchanged a confused look behind lydia’s back.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory. keep looking.”

you’re kinda cute, but it’s

you ran your hand along the different dvds before stopping on one.

you pulled it out and glanced at the cover. it was blank.

they were all blank, so you knew it would be a hard search to find the right memory.

“find a stronger memory, y/n.” lydia’s voice guided you and you placed the new disk into the dvd player.

raining harder

“you guys won!” you cheered, grabbing both of stiles’ hands in yours.

you were standing on the lacrosse field at the high school, and he was wearing a beacon hills jersey.

he was number 24.

it must’ve been winter, or just cold, because it was raining.

the grass was all soaking wet, and water dripped down your face and near your eyes as you looked up at him with the biggest smile.

my shoes are now full of water

“did i look super hot out on the field?” he joked. you knew he had only been out there for a few minutes.

“totally.” you pulled him by his shoulders and kissed him on the lips, drops of water falling off his hair.

“i did better than scott, right?” stiles asked after you pulled apart and you laughed.

“well…”

the boy made a face at you and you scoffed.

“okay, well, he’s team captain for a reason.”

“it’s fine, i know i was better than him.”

“you keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

lovely to be rained on with you

“did you find a good one, y/n? something strong?” lydia asked and you shook your head.

“keep searching, y/n.” scott’s voice was just as soft as lydia’s, but she quickly shushed him.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory.”

it’s kinda cute, but it’s

you looked through the dvds and picked one out at random.

it wasn’t like you could pick and choose when they were all blank.

you thought, ‘better than nothing.’ and put it in the player.

so short

“again?”

“come on. please?” stiles made a sad face as he held out the star wars dvd to you. “we haven’t watched it in like… a month.”

“we just watched a star wars movie like a week ago.”

“yeah, but that was a new hope, so now we have to watch empire.”

“okay, fine, but my mom wants me home right after.”

“yes! also, don’t worry about that. i’ll drive you.” he smiled brightly as he put the disc into the dvd player in his living room then dropped onto the couch beside you. “you know, this is why you’re my favorite.”

“what?”

“scott would never watch this with me. especially not multiple times.”

“scott never watches movies with anyone. you should know this by now.” you bumped him with your elbow.

“i know, i know.” stiles slid his arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “you’re still my favorite, though.”

then you’re driving me home

you sat in the passenger seat of stiles’ jeep, which sounded like it was going to fall apart as he drove it, later that night.

you glanced to your side, staring at his face.

you could tell a smile tugged on his lips and he looked to you for a split second.

“what are you staring at, weirdo?” he asked and you looked out the window again.

“nothing.”

“liar. you were looking at me.” he teased. “cause you think i’m so hot.”

“is that a crime?”

“oh, definitely not. you can look at me all you want.”

there was silence between you two for a moment as he pulled into your driveway. you sighed.

he looked at you this time.

“do i have to leave?”

he chuckled and gave you a kiss. “i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“see you tomorrow…”

and i don’t want to leave

“keep pushing, y/n.” lydia motivated. “search deeper. you can find the one you need.”

“do i have to leave?” you muttered the words. “see you tomorrow…”

lydia sighed. “y/n, try searching deeper. you’ve got this.”

there was a growing stack of dvds being dumped on your bed after going through its memory.

you picked out another one.

but i have to go

“come on. you don’t need to go in there.” you pointed up at the building beside you inside the large gates. “you’re not crazy.”

“i don’t want to hurt anyone, y/n.” stiles spoke, sheriff stilinski standing beside him. “especially not you.”

“but eichen house?” you stared at him sadly. “stiles…”

he reached out his hand and pulled you into his chest, hugging you tight. he kissed the top of your head.

“i love you, y/n.”

you sighed, your arms keeping him as close as possible. you didn’t want to let him go. “i love you too, stiles.”

you kiss me in your car

“come on, stiles. breathe.” you cupped the boy’s face in your hands. “try not to think about it. think about something else.”

“like what?” he panted, looking up at you with sad eyes and a broken expression.

you were both sat on the locker room floor, he was having a panic attack.

“happy things. friends, family-” you stopped yourself after he gave you a look. “okay, not family. try not to think about your dad. just breathe.”

“i…” he hyperventilated. you adjusted your hands on the sides of his face. his eyes met yours.

that was all you could see. his eyes.

“stiles, just breathe.” you could see there wasn’t really a difference in his actions. you leaned forward and attached your lips to his.

his eyes went wide, but he seemed to melt into the kiss.

you pulled apart and he stared into your eyes, his breathing slowed down, the panic attack over.

you grabbed his hand and he intertwined your fingers.

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

“i kissed him.” you spoke to lydia and the others, your eyes closed as you sat at the table in front of them. “he was having a panic attack. i kissed him.”

“holding your breath stops a panic attack.” lydia nodded, explaining to the others. “now, y/n, find something deeper. something more important to you. something more important to him.”

“to stiles.”

“exactly.”

the next dvd was higher up on the shelf, you grabbed it easily.

bedsheets, no clothes

you were lying beside stiles, running your finger along his bare chest.

he pulled you closer to him with a smile, pushing some of your hair away from your face.

“hey.” he whispered.

you smiled back. “hey.”

“that was something.”

“a good something or a bad something?” you asked, still whispering.

“definitely a good something.” he rubbed his hand up your arm. “probably the best something. i don’t know if there’s been a better something—”

“alright, i get it.” you chuckled softly.

there was no need for the whispering, it was the evening and no one else was home, but you still did.

his hand ran along the side of your face. “you’re so beautiful.”

there was no way you could’ve fought off the smile on your face as your cheeks warmed.

touch me like nobody else does

“definitely a good something.” you recalled. “he said it was definitely a good something.”

“what was?”

you went quiet again, searching through the different dvds.

some memories were shorter than others, just conversations or things like that.

“find something, y/n. good or bad.”

lovely to just lay here with you

you picked out another dvd. it was blank like all of the others, but it seemed different.

you took it off the shelf because it seemed to be staring right at you, practically calling your name.

you played that one.

the memory didn’t give you a feeling that it would bring him back, but it felt like something you needed to see.

you’re kinda cute, and i would say all of this

“come on, stiles.” you whispered. “you can talk to me.”

he was ignoring you. and you had no clue why.

he sighed and your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

it was late at night and you were both lying in his bed, him with his back to you.

“can you just… drop it?” he mumbled. “i’m not in the mood.”

“what happened, stiles?”

“nothing, just go to sleep.” he adjusted himself in the bed slightly, but didn’t face you.

“stiles…”

but i don’t wanna ruin the moment

time seemed to skip and he was sitting up, facing you.

“what? do you not trust me or something?” you asked.

“no, that’s not it—” he cut himself off. “i just don’t want to talk about it.”

“stiles, i get that, but i want to know what’s going on with you.” you put your hand on his shoulder and he, quite obviously, winced. “what’s up with your shoul—”

“nothing, y/n. just leave it.” he winced again and pushed your hand off. “i don’t need your help.”

“seriously?” you scoffed as he turned his back to you again. “you know what? whatever.”

you pushed the covers of his bed off and stood up, slipping your shoes on.

“where are you going?” stiles asked, sitting up again.

“home.” you answered. “you obviously need space, so i’m respecting that. i’m not gonna push it anymore.”

“wait, babe,” he started getting out of his bed. “i don’t want you to go.”

“i’m still going, stiles.” you picked up your backpack. “we can talk tomorrow.”

“it’s late.”

“i’m aware. my car’s outside, remember?”

“please stay.”

“i’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready to talk about whatever the hell’s going on with you right now.”

lovely to sit in between comfort and chaos

standing in your bedroom, staring at the tv as you left stiles’ bedroom, you remembered the fact that you didn’t talk the next day.

stiles just never said anything about it to you.

not until after everything with theo was practically over.

basically everyone else knew about it, but you.

he didn’t think you would understand, which was probably the most upsetting part for you because you did.

you understood it was self defence. you understood he did it because if he didn’t he would’ve died.

but it’s over

“y/n? are you okay?” scott asked, ignoring lydia as she shushed him.

you nodded. being hypnotised was weird.

lydia had taken notice of your saddened expression too.

“find a different memory, y/n. i know you can do this.”

then you’re driving me home

the next memory you found was not long after theo was literally sent to hell.

you were with stiles in his jeep. he was driving you home again. except this time going home from scott’s house.

the car was silent, but not in the usual comfortable way. neither of you had really spoken to the other since that night, only really for pack stuff.

you were terrified that he thought the two of you had broken up, and he was scared of the exact same thing.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you that night.” stiles spoke up. “i should’ve said something.”

“no, i get why you didn’t. i was being pushy and you didn’t want to—”

“i did want to tell you.” he sighed. “i was so scared, y/n. i thought there was a chance that you wouldn’t understand or something and i’d lose you.”

he looked right at you.

“i mean, scott didn’t.”

“that was theo’s fault.” you told him. “scott didn’t know the full story. you know he knows the truth now.”

“mm.” he seemed to agree, but you could tell something was still off by his body language.

you took the hand he didn’t have on the wheel into yours.

and it kinda comes out as i get up to go

“you know, i still love you, right?” you told him after he stopped and he looked over at you.

“wha— oh, yeah. yeah, i know.” he nodded, avoiding your eyes, looking outside the car.

“do you know?”

he didn’t answer for a moment, then shrugged.

“i do, stiles.” you kissed his cheek. “i love you, and that never changed.”

“never?”

“not for one moment.”

he smiled, then laughed softly, then leaned forward and kissed you on the lips.

“i love you too.”

you kiss me in your car

“it never changed.” you sniffled slightly. “i still loved him after everything. he was so scared i wouldn’t, but it never changed.”

“after what, y/n?” lydia asked, hoping more elaboration would help them bring back stiles.

“after donovan.”

scott knew what you were talking about, that was something he had remembered when he thought about stiles.

“after i knew, i still loved him, and he still loved me.”

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

then you picked up one more dvd. you just stared at its blank cover and seemed to know what it was.

putting the disk in, you watched as you ran with stiles to his jeep in the school parking lot.

this was the last memory you had of stiles. the last time you had really seen him.

but it’s not real

“y/n, babe, listen. you’re going to forget me.” stiles’ voice seemed to echo around you as you recalled the night.

“no, i won’t. stiles, i won’t.”

“you will.” he cupped your cheeks and made you look him in the eyes. “you will.”

you shook your head as tears threatened to spill. “i won’t.”

“it’s okay, just find some way to remember me. any way.”

“stiles…”

and you don’t exist

“i was the last person to see him.” you spoke to your friends. “i was there when they took him. i saw it happen.”

that night was so long ago, but all the details were rushing back to you now.

you were starting to remember it all.

not just that night, but everything about stiles.

and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed

“i know you’ll find some way to remember me.” he squeezed your hand. “ do you remember the first time we danced at the winter formal? you were the first girl i ever danced with.”

you had gone together as friends, despite everyone knowing you had crushes on each other.

“remember how we started dating that summer.”

“the summer before junior year.” you nodded.

“yeah.” he stroked your cheek, wiping away a tear. “that was the best summer of my life.”

you chuckled. “mine too.”

“remember all those sleepovers we’ve had. remember when we’ve fought. remember every time we’ve kissed, or…” he paused and just stared you in the eyes.

the interior of the car was silent, but the wind blew violently outside.

“just remember i love you, okay?” he kissed your hand. “please just remember that. i need you to.”

then he was pulled from the car. the wind stopped and he was gone.

it hits me in the car

you sat there, curled into a ball in the passenger seat, sobbing.

you muttered over and over. “i remember. just remember. i promise.”

you hated the silence, and you hated that he was gone. you didn’t even notice that he had started to slip from your mind.

not until you walked into school the next day, anxiety overwhelming you as your brain tried to remember why it felt like you were forgetting something.

why it felt like a whole piece of you was missing.

just then, remembering what it was like when he was taken, every single memory of yours that included stiles came rushing back.

memories from when you were friends as kids, up until high school. memories from after scott was bitten, back when stiles had his buzzcut.

memories from when he was possessed by the nogitsune. memories from all the times both of you had almost died.

memories of the two of you before and after you started dating. memories with scott and the pack, memories with his dad, memories alone.

all of it.

and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before

you opened your eyes and looked around. you weren’t in your bedroom anymore, you were back in argent’s underground bunker with lydia, scott and malia.

“y/n.”

lydia had tried to get your attention, but stiles’ voice played over and over in your mind.

you could see bright lights coming from outside the room, and you rushed out. the three of your friends who were still there ran after you.

you stopped in the corridor, the lights so bright you couldn’t see anything.

then you could see him.

not his face, or any defining qualities at all, but you knew it was him.

he was more like a silhouette, but you could recognize stiles stilinski anywhere.

“stiles.” you breathed out, a smile breaking out onto your face.

you were finally going to have him back. after months of the awful anxiety and feeling that something was missing.

he was like the last piece of your puzzle, and you were going to be complete.

then the light faded.

before

a/n: first post on tumblr help this is scary

967 notes · View notes

jmvore · 6 months

Text

forbidden (1) ➻ jjk

‹ previous | next › ↳ SYNOPSIS › You never intended for any of this to happen! Thriving from the attention your step-daughter's boyfriend, you never meant for anything to go past the innocent flirting and soft-spoken comments. Jungkook, however, didn't think anything of it when he first met you but the more he got to know you, the more he knew he was falling. He knows this is wrong. You two shouldn't be sneaking around like this but once he finally gets a taste of what he truly desires, there was no turning back. › masterlist ‹

1 › SUGAR BUDDY » RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut, angst » AU › infidelity, (sort of) college, daughter's bf » PAIRING(S) › jeon jungkook x f!reader » SIDE PAIRING(S) › jeon jungkook x min yoonji, reader x (no name)male!oc » TYPE › SERIES | 5 chapter(s) » WORD(S) › 6.6k+ » CH. SYNOPSIS › You fall into bed with Jungkook. A mistake you will ultimately regret. » SMUT WARNING(S) › sub!jungkook, domme!reader, noona!reader, college!jk (doesn't matter tbh), cheating [on both sides cause 🤷🏽], reader has nipple piercings cause 🤷🏽, dub-con, premature ejaculation, somnophilia, possessive behavior, pussy fingering, dirty talk, sexual coercion, orgasm denial, male masturbation, unprotected s*x, reader has a tattoo, & fingering [I believe that's everything]. » ORIGINAL POST DATE › 06/30/2019 » RE-POSTED DATE › 11/05/23 » A/N › Thank you @/saradika for the divider(s)! Pictures are from Pinterest!

It was a mistake for Jungkook to fall into this rabbit hole.

The gentle smiles, the sincerity of your constant worrying, and the fact that you were someone he shouldn’t have found himself falling for.

Even your little ticks became engraved in his mind. It was a way for him to pinpoint how you were feeling in the moment. The way you’d pick at your arm when you were anxious to the way your giggles grew into fits of laughter the funnier you thought something was.

Over time his infatuation grew deeper and stronger and with that came the depravity. The desperation to be near you became almost unbearable.

To touch you.

To feel you.

He could go on and on but the truth is he has become obsessed with everything you did and the sad part?

You’re not even his. He’s ‘dating’ your step-daughter. He doesn't care about her. To him, she was disposable. The only really he's still here is because she's the only way to get to you. And you?

You have a… husband. A shitty one but you have one, nonetheless. He didn’t matter. The guy was a disposable piece of shit who did not deserve you.

Like his daughter.

Jungkook knew from the moment she introduced him to you that your husband does not deserve your kind soul. Your husband doesn’t deserve your love.

To fuck you.

Make love to you.

He doesn’t fucking deserve you.

From the outside looking in, your husband doesn't seem to be treating you right and based on what he has heard from Yoonji. And if he’s being honest, Jungkook thinks he’s cheating too BUT that’s a discussion for another time. He notices the way you cringe away from that… filth .

Did his touch feel tainted to you as well? Did it feel foreign? Or do you hate it as much as he hates him touching you?

Before meeting you, Jungkook had no idea what people meant when they said they were fated to meet someone.

You weren’t the woman of his dreams or anything but there was the certain pull he had toward you. Your kindness, your unfiltered loving nature.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to give that love away.

You shouldn’t because that should belong to him. Right?

If your husband knew the true reason why he was hanging around so much there would be so many issues.

Good thing he doesn’t.

He tried to fight his ever growing feelings but it all came to a head the moment he stopped fighting his feelings. He saw you in a distinctive light because you were no longer just Yoonji’s stepmother. You were you. A woman he knew he would do anything and everything for.

It’s another reason why he’s in your room kneeling by your marital bed without a care in the world.

If anyone were to see him here in this moment, they would swear he had floating hearts swarming around his head as he gaze lovingly at your exhausted figure.

Jungkook caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand and trails his fingers toward your dainty lips (which are currently in a pout).

He goes soft in the way you subconsciously snuggle into his hand.

He grins fondly.

He wants nothing more but to kiss you breathless. Show you how much better he is than that man.

But alas…

All he can do is admire.

Admire how beautiful you look dreaming away and currently unaware of how he’s eagerly admiring everything that is you in front of him. Your body, your face- nothing goes unnoticed.

It’s when he yanks the cover down, he groans. Almost a little too loud.

Your body shudders from the sudden chill that runs through your body as you instinctively turn from laying on your side to your stomach.

It’s then the clothes you're wearing catch his attention.

It’s not your usual sleepwear (he knows because he’s seen you walking around in clothes that are much tighter and scandalous )but Jungkook can appreciate it all the same.

Ironically, you have a sleeping panda on your shirt with the words ‘ don’t bother me ’ stitched above it. A tiny crop top shirt you made into an off-the-shoulder shirt.

The new position also gives him a very nice view of your ass. The gray booty shorts are riding up your ass because you move so much in your sleep.

It also gives him a view of the pretty lotus flower on the back of your thigh that he’s come to love. The words ‘Always a lover, Never a fighter ’ are in cursive underneath it.

He was amazed when you told him how and why you got it. The contrast of colors looks so pretty on your skin.

He runs his finger over it only to see your leg jerk in response. You’re so damn sensitive and loves it though, he knows he has to be careful.

The last thing he wants is to wake you up. At least, not yet.

The more he watches you, the more his mouth waters.

He wants to taste you but that would have to wait until your husband isn’t present.

He probably wouldn’t be allowed in the house ever again if the two of you were caught and that’s something he doesn’t want to happen.

Right now?

Patience is a virtue.

Jungkook settles for your step-daughter for now. Despite the differences, he knows that if he holds out long enough, he will have his chance. He’ll make sure of it.

It doesn’t help that when he’s fucking her, he’s thinking of you.

Your beautiful body. She doesn’t have breasts like yours. Your full lips. Your incredibly long, worshipable legs. Everything about you is to be worshiped like the Queen… the Goddess you are.

He could go on and on about how he would take you apart piece by piece. He would make you feel and love him. He would make you want him.

It will all happen in due time.

For now, he’ll sit and wait for his chance to unravel everything.

Just then Jungkook the moment the bed creaks under your husband's weight.

One opportunity occurs when your husband heads downstairs to get water.

He knows he should be in the guest room where you and Yoonji left him and he knows there’s no excuse for him to be in here but he couldn’t miss the chance to be next to you.

He gently moves you so you’re laid on your side and facing him. He climbs into your side of the bed, coming face to face as your breath tickles his neck.

Looking at your face, you deserve so much better. You deserve him.

…And he’s prepared to give you all of him. He wants you to know that he’s right here and he’s not going anywhere. He would never do that to you.

He shifts your leg over his hip and buries his face into your chest as his heart races at the thought of getting caught. Inhaling your natural scent mixed with the perfume you’re wearing, burning it into his memory.

As soon as he hears your husband is back, he shrinks into himself so he doesn’t get caught. Vibrating with the excitement of you being so close, he tries his best to hold still.

All he wants to do, however, is kiss you breathless. Caress your body like it deserves to be worshiped.

Your body is so. fucking. warm. He can still lay with you like this all the time, watching you rest peacefully in his arms is a treat in itself.

You look so stunning under the moonlight, he could have kissed you right then and there if every time he moved the bed didn’t squeak.

He goes to kiss the top of your breast as the door creaks from your husband trying to quietly shut the door (albeit poorly).

Jungkook hopes he rolls over, falls back asleep and ignores the very visible lump next to his wife but instead, he feels a hand (that clearly isn’t yours or his) jerk you so your back is laid against your husband's chest.

He even had the audacity to wrap his arm around your waist.

‘Fucking Dumb Ass…’ Jungkook grunts, hand twitching to peel his slimy hands off of you. Your hu- no, that filth doesn’t deserve to hold you.

He doesn’t know if your husband has fallen asleep or not but he’s missing your warmth.

Maybe if he knocks him out, it’ll get him to leave the two of you alone.

(Just a thought). Jungkook shakes his head though the thought still lingers.

Trust, if he could do it and get away with it, he would.

He doesn’t want to rouse the man so he waits in hopes to hear his snoring soon.

Growing impatient the more he has to wait because this could be his only chance to get to touch you like he wants to. And… this ass hole is ruining it.

It’s like he knows.

Maybe he does.

After waiting for damn near fifteen minutes, Jungkook takes another ten minutes to ensure dumb ass is asleep.

He tears you away from your husband, wanting to push him completely off the bed but that would, more than likely, startle him awake.

Instead, he replaces your husband’s arm with his own though he realizes he can’t move as much as he would like. As long as he can move his hand and arm, he’s fine.

He starts to reach inside your shorts only to realize you're not wearing underwear.

He entertains the thought of you knowing he was coming to bed with you and that you were readying yourself for him.

Because you want him too… right?

He starts rubbing circles into your clit, hearing you gasp at the slight coldness of his touch. Your hips buck into his as if you know. Even so, he knows you don't realize it's him touching you.

For all you know, your body thinks it’s your husband.

Oh, what he would give to be able to fuck you silly.

“Why couldn’t I have found you before you married him?” He ponders the ‘what if’, bypassing the fact that you were older than him.

It didn’t matter though. He would still love you all the same.

“I want you so bad I can taste it…” He picks up his pace, listening to you pant out moan after moan.

You're clueless, unknowing of the boy who’s currently taking advantage of you.

“So fucking hot…” He gently presses his lips to yours to test and see if you'll respond.

His body shivers at how soft they were against him.

He yanks the right side of your shirt down to expose your breast before gently taking your nipple into his mouth.

You let out a faded whimper. Your mind thinks it’s your husband but in reality…

“So sweet, Noona.”

You blink awake, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a minute to realize it.

As you try to wake up, your mind is in a state of disarray.

You don’t realize who you’re looking at until you take in his wide eyes and boyish grin. Something is amiss.

You flinch but he’s quick to shush you with a kiss. The metal in his lip is cold against yours and for a second you fight with the idea of fighting him off of you.

Remember he’s stronger than you are.

And the fact that you’re sure you would wake him up if you keep moving so much.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You grit through your teeth but he’s quick to place his hand over your mouth.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Wha-”

“I promise I won’t. Please don’t be scared, Noona.”

He’s hesitant to lean into you but when you stop fighting, he starts to nuzzle his nose against your jaw.

“I just want to lay with you.”

He can sense the panic written all over your face and the fact that your husband is behind you, doesn’t help either.

“W-Why?” You ask, head tilting as you’re completely bewildered at this.

You don’t remember him ever showing you interest and even if he did. He’s dating Yoonji and you’re fucking married.

“Jun-”

“It’s you.” You wither at his answer, unsure of what he means.

“Why?” You speak so softly, you’re unsure if Jungkook heard you.

Jungkook, on the other hand, shakes his head and you know he’s not going to tell you what you want to know.

At least, not right now. (Even if he’s elated at the turn of events) because to have a taste of you would be the sweetest treat anyone can grant him.

He leans closer to peck you on the lips again before smiling wider.

“We can save that talk for another time though. You were close to cumming, no?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why? I wanna make you feel good. Please let me! I know he’s not taking care of you.” Your breath hitches the moment you feel his lips against your pulse point, a chill running straight through your spine.

“Fuck-” You gasp, feeling his hand move over your stomach and down to the band of your shorts. He smiles at your resistance but he knows you won’t last much longer. “Jungkook… Wait.”

“Please don’t make me. I want you so fucking bad.”

“But what about-”

Jungkook moves away from you as if your words scorched the air around you. It’s only when you bring your hand to touch his cheek that you feel his jaw clench and unclench.

“He doesn’t matter. I can make you feel so much better.”

“Jungkook. You have to realize how ridiculous this is? You’re dating my daughter.”

“And?”

“What-”

As you glare into his eyes, you realize you should have seen this coming.

The little touches when your husband wasn’t looking.

How he’d hold you by your waist when you were alone (which was rare).

The kiss your cheek (something you’re sure someone wouldn’t do unless they felt something for said person).

The little remarks he made about how he would treat you if you were his. How he would love you, please you.

You chose to ignore all of this, thinking it was an innocent crush. He wouldn’t dare do anything.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You weren’t going to lie, Jungkook was a handsome young man but that’s what he was. A young man. You felt wrong. As if you were taking advantage of him but that’s not the case. Right?

“He doesn’t touch you like this anymore. Does he?”

You clasp your lips together to contain the whine threatening to release, knowing you can’t move around too much if you don’t want to alert your husband to what's going on.

Eyes closed, you take a deep breath.

Not wanting to think about much of anything as he toys with you by playing with the hem of your shorts.

He wants to dip his fingers inside. Your pussy was so warm as he felt you getting wetter the more he played with your clit.

He can’t wait to fill you the way you deserve, your pretty walls stretching around his cock like it should.

He hums, pulling your leg over his hip again. He’s loving this.

Your eyes well up with unshed tears and your irritation running rampant because what the fuck? Why were you on the verge of crying?

You don’t have to cheat but God, your body is screaming for you to let him take care of you like he wants to.

“You cry, Noona. I just wanna take care of you,” He mutters, placing his hand on your cheek to wipe the strays away. “I want to take care of you. I want you.” He bites his bottom lip before pulling you closer by your chin. “I know you want me too.”

“Jungkook…”

“Please?”

Fuck! Why did he look so damn fine begging for it?

You take a soft breath to calm your nerves as the weight of his words hit you. It makes you feel sick to your stomach.

“Jungkook. We can’t. You know we can’t… What about Yoonji?”

“Yoonji…” Jungkook scoffs the moment you frown, heart slamming against your chest as you want to know what the hell is going through his brain. You want to know what he’s thinking and why he’s being so damn bold all of a sudden.

When you search his face for a crack in his facade, you don’t find one.

“What about her?”

“She’s your girlfriend. You should be with her. N-”

“I can’t even think about being with her when you exist.”

He presses his lips to yours again as your brain is processing what's currently happening.

More like short circuiting.

The sensation of melting in his arms makes you pliant as he moves his lips against yours. It's hard to pinpoint your feelings.

The sensation of melting in his arms makes you pliant as he moves his lips against yours. It's hard to pinpoint your feelings

Your only awareness is the sensation of his lips against yours. You know you shouldn't kiss him back.

You should technically shove him off the bed but...

They feel so good against your own. He feels good. That you can't even deny your body the love it deserves.

A small spark grows the more you indulge in this fantasy.

While you know it's definitely not right, the fact that he’s expressed how much he wants you makes you feel something you shouldn’t.

“Jungkook…”

“Don’t fight it.”

He gazes into your eyes, enchanted with the way you hold back the whine within your throat.

He wants to satisfy you but also obey your every word.

He was willing to wait for the right time, wanting to make your first time with him special.

A simple date or two.

Getting you alone in his place or here in your home.

Telling you everything you want to hear and more and getting you to dump your loser husband.

The more he saw you with him, the more he grew impatient.

“You make this so hard for me,” He whispers against your lips, brushing away your tears before grasping your hand and bringing it down to his hardening cock. It’s straining against his sweats, begging to be let free. “In more ways than one.”

“J-”

“You do this to me, Noona. I can’t even fuck her without thinking about being buried in you. It's hard not to scream your name while I’m cumming in her.”

He ruts against your hand but you haven’t moved away either and you don’t even know why.

And why were you getting so turned on by this?

You’re supposed to be the adult here.

You’re supposed to be the one to push him away, tell him no.

Tell him how wrong this is. How fucked up it would be if either Yoonji or your husband found out.

B U T…

The thought of being touched by him and touching him was slowly clouding your judgment.

It’s not as if you didn’t find him attractive. The moment he walked through the front door you found yourself eyeing him but you didn’t think he saw you.

And at the end of the day, he was Yoonji’s boyfriend and you weren’t about to break up someone else's relationship.

Even if you wanted a good fuck.

You don’t even remember the last time you came while fucking your husband. He was losing his touch and well, you’ve been craving scratch that itch and you knew Jungkook was willing to give your body what it needed.

When Jungkook's hand travels underneath your shirt, his fingers caress your underbust and your brain completely malfunctions.

Your husband and Yoonji are long gone as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at it.

“I can make you feel so good, Noona. I’ll be your good boy.” He whispers his promises against your lips before pressing his lips against yours again. “I can make you cum so good.”

Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t felt wanted in a while, especially by your husband in a very long time that made you want to give it.

Or maybe it was the fact that you had this man in your bed claiming you were the one for him and that he didn’t need anyone else.

You don’t know what it was that had you giving into his advances, you only knew that your resolve was breaking.

And the crazy part?

You should feel… something? Right?

Anger. Remorse. Guilt at the fact you would be blatantly cheating on your husband while you’re lying in bed with him but right now, you feel nothing.

And you don’t know if you would ever feel anything about it.

Once you’re actively thinking about it you realize that maybe you have fallen out of love. But were you even in love in the first place?

Your husband barely looks at you anymore.

You’ve tried everything you could think of to get that spark back but nothing has worked.

You came to the conclusion that he wasn’t physically attracted to you anymore but understanding that fact hurts more than you let on.

“Please let me touch you more, Noona?” It comes off as a question, pleading with you to give in. And you do, nodding as he’s quick to grab your waist to pull you on top of him. He caresses your bare thighs, his eyes twinkling at the sight of you straddling his hips.

He’s dreamed of this moment and to have it come true, his heart is about to burst from the excitement.

He reaches up to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him with a finger to his lips.

He groans.

A little too loud for your liking but you know you have to be cautious.

You don’t want to wake the grinch.

Though you can’t believe you’re even doing this but you allow yourself to forget. Even if it’s just for a moment.

You forget the fact that this is your step-daughter’s boyfriend and the fact that they’ve been together for almost a year.

You forget that you have a husband and that he’s currently present in your bed until-

“Honey?”

“Y-Yeah? Yes, baby…?” Choking out a response, you get Jungkook to get out of the bed as you watch him blindly reach for you. You’re quicker to reach behind you to grab his hand, hoping he doesn’t wake in his quest to find you.

“Why’re you awake?”

“Bathroom.” You chuckle, not to give away how nervous you are but he doesn’t seem to notice. He hums, pulling you to turn you around to face him so he can nuzzle his face into your breast.

“Go to sleep.”

“You too.” You clear your throat, feeling the bed dip knowing Jungkook is crawling back into it after you told him not to. You can hear your husband soft snoring, knowing he’s settling into his new position.

(You were always amazed at how he was able to fall straight asleep).

You peel your body away from him to replace it with a pillow and wait, hoping to God he doesn’t reach over to figure out what the hell the two of you are getting up to.

With a sigh of relief, he doesn't.

You can breathe once he stops moving, taking the moment to shoo Jungkook out of the room. Only he doesn’t move.

“You need to go back to the guest room.” You push him toward the door but he still doesn’t budge, holding on to you tighter to prove his point.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

You sigh in frustration, knowing he is telling the truth. Nothing will stop him from having you, he's so close.

“Jungkook.”

He matches your energy and calling your name the same way but you’re unamused and irritated.

“Go!”

“No!”

You hadn't realized he switched spots, backing you into the bedroom door and squatting to pick you up. He wraps your legs around his waist and squishes you against the door with a loud thud.

You chastise him, harshly whispering for him to put you down but he doesn’t listen.

Instead, he’s quick to open the do and carry you kicking and screaming out of the room.

Not literally, of course. Although you realize that you've played right into his hands.

You can feel the tension between the two of you as you bury your face into his neck.

He knows you need some type of relief from the teasing he subjected you to earlier and he’s going to give it to you. His patience has run thin and so has yours.

Besides, you could do without your husband's mediocre performance.

“Jungkook…” You glance down but a heavy noise startles the both of you out of your reverie. He looks to see the light shining from Yoonji’s door.

Of course, she would be awake. It’s like they’re doing everything in their power to make sure he doesn’t get his way.

“Ju-” He cuts you off with a kiss, pushing you to hide in the bathroom as he tells you once he closes the door to make your way to the guest room. As you nod, you wonder if it really is worth the trouble but you are sopping wet and you need relief.

Even if it's self-help.

Jungkook is growing impatient as he watches Yoonji from the door. He watches her move about in her room, making a mental note to give her something to help her sleep next time. He cracks the door enough for him to hear you walk by before getting to work to get her to go to bed.

You know you shouldn’t be listening but you can hear the desperation in her voice when she whines for him to stay.

She even begs him to kiss her and for a second, you feel awful for what you’re literally about to do.

You stop in your tracks, pausing at the guest bedroom as you contemplate going back to your bedroom and just masturbating. Sighing your resolve, you turn to head back only to run right into Jungkook.

“Are you okay?” It literally took him close to ten minutes to get her to stop complaining. What happened within that time frame? “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Um-”

“What?” Jungkook panics, frantically reaching for your wrist to grasp. “Stay. Please stay, Noona. C’mon”

He’s quick to pull you toward the guest room and shut the door, spin around to pick you up before laying you down on the bed.

His hands caress everywhere he can as he worships your body. Particularly your thighs. He wouldn’t mind his head being crushed by them while he’s eating you out.

And your legs…

God, what he wouldn’t do to keep them wrapped tight along his waist.

“You can’t leave. We were just getting started. Can I?”

Despite your protests, he’s already yanked your shorts down your legs and started climbing between them with a groan.

He can’t wait to taste you but that will have to wait for another time.

You on your back and spread out like a full-course meal, his brain turns to mush instantly.

“Noona…” He mewls the instant he sinks into your warmth, nails digging into the bed as your walls tighten around his cock. God, why are you so damn tight? “So sweet. So perfect for me,” He whines.

Moments after he bottoms out, you moan, biting against your knuckle to remain silent. The last thing you need is for them to figure out where you are, what you’re doing, and who you’re doing it with.

Jungkook, however, holds onto you for dear life as he can feel you squeeze his cock, knowing if he moves…

He’s going to cum and he doesn’t want to do that. Not yet.

He wonders if you can feel the difference between him and your husband. Is he bigger? Thicker? Longer? He wants to know but he doesn’t want to seem insecure. (In which, he’s not. He just wants the validation).

“Fuck me...”

Instantly, Jungkook begins to curse when you run your fingers through his hair as he meets your gaze.

You can see the lust coursing through his eyes, knowing that this gaze was for you.

He wanted you. And right here at this moment, he has you.

“If I had known you’d feel this amazing I would have fucked you sooner. So fucking hot.”

“Yeah? You wanna move, baby boy? We don’t have much time.” Jungkook groans at the nickname as you glance toward the door worried one of them might waltz right in.

You don’t feel like explaining why you’re tangled up with him and you definitely don't feel like getting yourself off.

Call it selfish.

You don’t care because right now you’re focused on the now and that’s cumming your brains out.

“L-Let me savor this,” he complains but you know you don't have the time.

As he grasps the sheets around your head to ground himself, you roll your hips back into his. He wasn’t ready for you to take charge though he can’t deny that he likes it. In the end, he subconsciously goes with the rhythm.

“You can do that another time. C’mon.” You shove against his chest as Jungkook’s heart leaps against his chest at the thought of there being a next time. “Make me feel good, baby.”

“O-Okay.”

Jungkook starts off slow, watching as his cock enters in and then out. His brain breaks into a frenzy as after a few minutes, his soft thrusts turn into harsh pounding. It’s almost unnatural with how his hips move.

“Slow down, baby…”

Jungkook whines his distaste. However, from the way your nose is scrunched, he knows you’re not feeling as good as he knows he can make you feel.

You look as if you were in more pain than pleasure.

And we can’t have that, now can we?

He reaches down to stroke your clit, seeing you squirm in his hold. The way you moan his name is one of the sexiest things he’s heard.

Not even Yoonji can compare.

He wonders if you’ll let him record them for later.

“D-Does it feel good, now?” He’s apologetic but nervous to ask because well, he doesn’t want to disappoint on his first time.

“Angle your hips.”

He does as he’s told, holding onto your waist as he rocks harder. Going deeper than before. It makes you gasp, covering your mouth with your hands when he hits that spot that makes your toes curl.

A soft mewl releases as he starts to fuck you good.

“You’re so big.”

Jungkook’s hips stutter at the praise and only takes you seconds to realize the power your praises hold over him.

You bite your lip as you hold his gaze, finger underneath his chin.

For the life of him, he doesn’t know when the power dynamic changed but he’s so turned on, he doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it.

It’s so different from the sex that he has with Yoonji but it doesn’t change how he feels. If anything, it enhances it.

“Noona…” He tries to bury his face into your neck as you grip him by his hair to yank him back. “Fuck!”

“You like that?” You ask, pussy squeezing his cock as his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Hm?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Shhh.” You smirk at his desperation. “Quiet now. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

“N-No. Oh, f-”

You stick your fingers in his mouth to feel him sucking on them, listening to him whimper in pleasure.

As much as you want to continue, you know if you go too long your husband will get suspicious and there’s no doubt Yoonji will be looking for him once she wakes again.

Plus if anyone were to walk by, they would think Jungkook was masturbating or something. They wouldn’t know that it was with you but wouldn’t that would be the surprise of the century.

“So good, baby. Fucking good…” He whines, pressing his lips to your neck as he continues to fuck you harder.

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yes. I want you all the time, Noona.”

“Mmm, that sounds like a treat.” You moan, head falling back as you rock your hips up for him to go deeper. “That’s it, baby.” You chuckle, your walls giving him a soft squeeze. He whines at the feeling, begging you to let him cum as he grips the sheets next to your head. His eyes closed, panting in an almost feverishly feral way. “Tell me… How long have you been wanting me?”

“Since she first introduced me to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you, Noona.”

Jungkook's hips grow sloppier as time goes on and with the way you’re pushing back, he knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” He gasps, massaging your belly. He wants to knock you up so bad but… He knows he can’t, not until your stupid husband is out of the picture but just thinking about you walking around, pregnant with his child. Turns him on…

so.

fucking.

Much.

“You’re so good for Noona, baby. You’re doing so well. Feels so good.” You grip Jungkook’s chin to stare him right in the eyes. “Cum for me, baby.”

It’s the lust filled fire that takes over your eyes, the way your pussy grips his cock and the way whisper some of the dirtiest shit he’s ever heard into his ear with that low, seductive voice of yours.

To be honest, you don't even have to try.

You don’t know what you do to him.

“Fuck!” Jungkook stops before he can, “No. No… Wait…”

Jungkook’s firm in his answer, hooking his arms underneath your legs to bend them back further. He leans over your body, leaving you face to face as he grinds into you.

You softly gasp, feeling him go deeper than he was before.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Jungkook groans when your nails drag down his back.

No doubt leaving red streaks in its wake.

“Mark me, Noona.” Jungkook whines, “Let everyone know I’m yours.”

He’s panting against your neck as he tries to hold on for much longer once you start to squeeze his dick harder.

“I wanna make you cum first.”

“You think you deserve to make me cum?” You’re even sassier than before and he fucking loves it.

“I do. P-Please let me! I can show you, Noona.”

In a fit of giggles, you stroke your thumb against his lips and in return, he sucks it into his mouth. The sensation is incredibly hot and Jungkook can feel his cock throb at the feeling.

“Ride me.” He says, blushing at the thought of watching in a very intimate state. “I-I can make you cum faster.”

You push Jungkook onto his back, allowing him to pull you into his lap.

To him, the view is unimaginable. The way you breast hangs out of your top to the way your pussy sucks him right in as you lower yourself onto it. You toss your head back with a groan, hands stationed on his chest as his hands travel from your thighs to your ass.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

“G-God you feels so fucking deep, baby.”

He holds his hand out to intertwine with yours and when you accept it, it makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine. Making love to you instead of a quick fuck that he just so happened to initiate.

“Use me.”

You smirk, moving your hips with a newfound purpose. You want to give him what he wants.

“Is that what you want?”

“Fucking yes! Please!” At this point, you’re sure the both of you can be heard but Jungkook seems to not care. It’s only when you hear a couple of timid knocks against the door that your eyes grow wide.

You’re quick to place your hand over Jungkook’s mouth as he mirrors your expression. You can feel his heart drumming against his chest, whimpering when you try to get comfortable.

“Jungkook?”

Of course, it’s Yoonji. You roll your eyes before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“Answer her.”

“Yes?”

“Are you awake?”

“I-um…” Jungkook had planned to play as if he was asleep but you forced him to answer. “I was falling asleep, actually.”

“Can I come in?”

You snarl, “Did you lock the door?”

“I t-think so.” Jungkook can’t remember. “I don’t remember. I’m so sorry.”

Usually, you would find him being shy so fucking adorable but right now, you can feel your orgasm simmering in the pit of your stomach and all you want to do is cum but you also want to strangle him too.

The doorknob rattle and both of you release the breath you were holding.

“Fuck me.” You mouth to him as he widens his eyes.

You're glad he understands quickly. You can’t help but love how desperate he is as he rocks his hips into you. God, he's so desperate for you.

“If you can stay quiet, I’ll let you cum.” You say in his ear and he’s quick to nod. He can feel you as you swivel your hips and lean in to whisper, “If you’re quiet enough she’ll go away.”

Jungkook holds you tight by the waist, his nails digging into your bare skin. Your pussy feels warm and wet. His cock fits perfectly inside and he doesn’t want to move.

You snap your fingers next to his ear as he blinks, coming back to his reality.

“Focus,” You grunt, going back to rolling your hips again. You set the pace for him to get the both of you off quicker. He even helps by licking his finger and playing with your clit.

You moan a little too loud but catch yourself before it gets louder.

You don’t know if your step daughter is still standing outside and waiting. All you know is your body feels like it’s on fire and you’re so close.

So, so close.

And by the way Jungkook’s cock is twitching, he’s ready too. With the shuffling of feet indicating that she’s gone back to her room, you keep riding him as he bites down on the blanket on the bed to control his moans.

Anything to take his mind off of what is going to come next.

“I’m about to cum… “ He warns and all it takes is more praise, a weak clench of your walls, and a hand full of breasts to get him to fall over the edge.

“Did you-”

Jungkook groans, “I-I didn’t mean to! You feel so… I- fuck… I’m sorry.” His chest heaves, glancing at you like a puppy who's been kicked. Puppy eyes on a hundred, he goes to grab your hand to hold but you shake him off to get up. “Just let me-”

“It’s alright, Jungkook.”

“But…” He pouts, “Y-You haven’t cum.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” You lean over to kiss the corner of his lips but he soon turns his head to capture yours. The kiss is softer than it should be for the situation you’ve found yourself in and when you pull away, he frowns. You chuckle at his attitude. “Get some rest. I need to get back before he wakes up.”

“Please Noona? Let me finish you off. I promise I can. I ju-”

“Maybe next time.” Those are the last words you say before you get dressed and try to sneak back to your room.

As Jungkook lies back against the pillows, his brain goes into overdrive. He wonders when the next time will be.

“I’ll be ready next time.” Jungkook smiles as his thoughts swirl in a dream world.

Next time can’t come fast enough.