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padfootastic · 1 year

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Saudade

You can also read it on Ao3

Remus knew he was a coward.

It’s why he always preferred to blend in. He couldn’t afford not to. It’s also why, to his eternal shame and regret, he’d never bothered to even question the circumstances of Sirius’s imprisonment. His betrayal.

Because he knew if he looked even slightly below the surface, it’d shatter.

(He’d shatter)

Because he wasn’t just a coward, was he. He was also helpless.

No.

Powerless.

He was powerless.

It didn’t matter if he knew Sirius was innocent, if not of the murders then definitely the betrayal (because he knew, didn't he, that Sirius Black would never—as long as he had breath in his body, magic in his veins, life in his heart—do anything to hurt James Potter. It was a fundamental truth of life. There were five exceptions to Gamp’s law of elemental transformation, the sun set in the west, and Sirius was unfailingly loyal to James. Isn’t that how it's always been?)

Because even if the truth was not what it seemed, he couldn’t do anything about it.

So he lived his lie. Didn't bother to look past the newspapers blaring the inevitability of a Black turning to the dark side. It validated his own feelings, his mistrust, his circumstances.

It was a profoundly selfish act, but it was all Remus could do.

x-x-x-x

There was…one moment when he tried, just the bare minimum, really, in hindsight but it was enough to, if not soothe, then push down the constant guilt gnawing at him.

“Mr. Lupin.” Dumbledore looked down at him through his half moon glasses. “What can I do for you?”

Remus didn’t know whether to appreciate the even tone or not. In the past month, his entire life had collapsed around him. He’d gone from being part of a whole, one of four, to completely alone. Even putting one step in front of the other was getting too much for him and on some days, he forewent even that small action. Laying in bed, contemplating his entire life and how it went so wrong in less time than it took to blink—that was all he had the energy for these days.

So to hear Professor Dumbledore refer to him like that, almost pleasantly, as if they were still back in school and Remus had just bumped into him in the corridor—it was equal parts relieving and maddening.

He chose to ignore that for now, though. He had enough going on without discovering new things to be bothered about. Not like he had the energy for it, either.

“Headmaster, I—“ Remus gulped nervously. Now that he was here, it felt much more daunting than he could have imagined. What would he even say?

“Yes?”

Remus took a shaky breath and tried again. “Professor, are you—is it completely without doubt that Sirius—“ He couldn’t finish the sentence but he knew the other man understood what he was trying to say.

“Mr. Lupin…Remus,” Dumbledore started gently, and already Remus was regretting this little excursion. “I know the past month can’t have been easy for you. I wouldn’t even presume to understand how bad it must’ve been. None of us thought that Mr. Black could…” He trailed off, eyes staring at a door behind Remus. He didn’t think he’d imagined the sadness that flashed in his eyes, a meagre reflection of his own agony.

It was only a momentary slip, though, as his eyes hardened and steel coated his next words. “But what’s done is done, despite the tragedy of it all. Mr. Black made his choice, and now it is time for you to do the same.” He gave a sad smile, a damning one that spoke of his finality in the matter. “It is always harder to be the one left behind, Mr. Lupin, and your fate is one I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. I can only hope that you find the strength I know you have in you, and use it to move on from this episode.”

Remus could only sit there, stunned and numb and feeling like his skin was tearing itself apart from the inside, the way it did on full moons except worse.

An episode, Dumbledore said, as if he wasn’t talking about his family, his entire life. As if this was a schoolyard skirmish, an encore of that horrid ‘prank’ in fifth year, one he could forget if he so wished to. As if it was that easy to carve away the parts of himself that were entwined with the rest of his brothers (which made up most of him— mind, body, soul, and magic). As if he would even want to.

Remus didn’t try again after that, not with Dumbledore and definitely not with anyone else. If the man who was their leader seemed so sure, then who was Remus to go against his word?

(He’d never regretted anything more in his life, perhaps with the exception of the belief that caused this in the first place)

x-x-x-x

They didn’t talk about it.

At first, there was the whole thing with Pettigrew and being on the run and everything that came with it. Once that got sorted, though, there was no excuse other than it was easy.

Easy to ignore the ache in his heart when the distance between them reared it’s ugly head.

Easy to turn away when he saw the way Molly and Dumbledore treated Sirius in his own house, because isn’t that what he’d been doing so far?

Easy to stay away, altogether.

Sirius never brought it up either. Perhaps on purpose, too, because the pain in his eyes never lessened. Remus could pick out multiple instances where he opened his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting down.

That was another difference. Pre-azkaban Sirius wouldn’t have hesitated like that, not with Remus.

It only drove the knife further in. But did he have anyone to blame but himself?

It was just after Hogwarts had closed. Harry, who’d finished his fifth year, had gone back to the Dursleys but not for long because in a turn of events no one could have predicted, Sirius’ case had completely upended itself in the aftermath of the DoM debacle. Remus still didn’t like to think about it, how close he—they’d come to losing Sirius (again) and how it was only sheer dumb luck—a rock that made him stumble sideways instead of back—that saved him from falling into the Veil.

Perhaps the only positive of the evening was the Minister seeing Sirius Black fighting unequivocally for the Light and against the Death Eaters. In Remus’ opinion, it would be quite some time before anyone forgot the image of escaped inmate Sirius Black laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange in a strange parody of his actions fifteen years ago. The cold laughter juxtaposed with the deadly spells he’d been aiming at his cousin was enough to stun everyone not in the know and that was how an enquiry had been conducted into the case, leading to where they were today.

Remus, however, had spent every minute he could hiding away, even more than before. He couldn’t bear to show his face at Grimmauld Place—the idea of seeing Sirius actually sent a wave of shivers down his spine.

But, as he’d always known, his time did run out.

x-x-x-x

“So are we talking about this then?” Sirius’ voice is tired, perpetually exhausted as it seems to be these days.

They were sitting at the dining table, cups of tea long gone cold in their hands. It was the first time in months Remus has allowed himself to be in the same room as Sirius (it shouldn’t be like this. it never was before. how did it all go so wrong) and the other man wasn’t stupid. Even if Remus hadn’t initiated the conversation, he knew they’d have it. Of course it was Sirius who poked the sleeping dragon. He had always been the braver of the two. Of course, if it was a competition, then James Potter would’ve come leagues ahead of either of them, his passion and intensity unmatched.

(But James isn’t here right now and that’s really the cause of half their problems, is it not?)

Sirius was…quieter, more focused, but plenty brave enough. If Remus allowed himself to think about it, it’s no surprise he brought it up first. In fact, it’s more surprising that he hadn’t so far.

Still. “Talk about what?” he regrets the words almost as soon as they slip out of his mouth. Sirius only looks at him steadily.

Of course he knows what this is about but it’s easier to cling to what you’ve been hiding behind all this while, is it not? But is it fair, to him? More importantly, is it fair to Sirius? Does he not deserve an honest answer, an honest friend?

It’s that which pushes him to try again.

“I-I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you did, Remus.”

“Alright,” he amended. “I shouldn’t have meant that.” And that at least is true. It gets a wry smile out of Sirius.

“There’s a lot I shouldn’t have done,” he continued, which neatly drives the mirth away. Remus looked down, at his fingers, the bitten down nails and ink stains, so he didn’t have to stare into the consequences of his actions.

‘I should—apologise.”

“Do you want to?”

His head snapped up, the sting of the comment settling under his skin like an itch. How could he think—? One look at Sirius’ face, however, devoid of any malice or cruelty, and the indignant feeling in him dies out as quickly as it rose.

It was a fair question. He hated the fact but couldn’t deny it.

How would Sirius know about the hundreds of hours he’d spent screaming and crying and begging someone, anyone to turn back time, to make things better, to give him a second chance?

Sirius couldn’t know about the time Remus hadn’t been able to get out of his house for seven months, two weeks, sixteen days straight, surviving only on dry crackers and tepid tea and stale bread and feeling guilty for doing so. He’d spent the entire time staring blankly at the sickly green wall of his bedroom, living in a haunting loop of his memories and wishing he was back in them.

Sirius hadn’t seen any of that.

(Would it have made a difference, if he had, Remus thinks. They weren’t indicative of anything but his own guilt, certainly didn’t stem from any moral conviction in Sirius—and what value did it have for someone who was being tortured day and night? living with the knowledge that he’d been left behind without so much as a second thought?)

It’s not something he’s thought about before—in those fantasies where everything is as it was before. Sirius apologises, Remus apologises, they hug it out and it’ll all be better again—but now, now he can’t help but wonder about the efficacy of platitudes.

He hated Sirius’ matter of fact resignation even more, like there was no other way for Remus to react except defensively. (It wasn’t always like this. The Marauders, James & Sirius, they’d always been his biggest believers. They’d made him capable of touching the sky and the stars and everything in between and Remus has been untethered ever since that fateful halloween. There was a time, when anyone expecting any less of Remus—even himself—than they should would’ve gotten all of Sirius’ hackles raised—‘our Moony’s worth a dozen of you and you should only be so lucky to get to see that’—so it stung particularly bitterly when it was the same man expressing this apathy.

The juxtaposition of the two Sirius’ in his head was enough to give Remus a headache at the best of times, let alone now.

So he takes a deep breath, lets the feeling wash away, and nods.

“You don’t have any reason to believe me, and I don’t blame you for it, but I do. Want to, that is.”

Sirius didn’t reply but Remus continued, undeterred.

“I didn’t for a long time. I didn’t want to, not at all. Because it would be my fault, you know? And I was so tired, Sirius, god. I was exhausted trying to keep up this pretense. I just needed to get the burden off.”

Sirius just looked at him, silent. Remus could see the way his eyes flick around the room, however, and how his fingers trembled ever so slightly. He might’ve been out of Azkaban but the signs would last a long time.

“What made you change your mind, then?” There's a note of curiosity in Sirius’ voice and Remus cannot articulate the relief that fills him at hearing it. Anything, even anger or blame, was better than that bland apathy that made his skin itch.

The question itself makes him pause, however. Because he’s guilty, nay, he’s ashamed of the answer he’s about to give. He contemplated shutting up, or perhaps leaving the room altogether, and it takes longer than it should for him to banish the thought.

“Remus?” Sirius asked again and it’s the knowing look in his eyes that made him close his eyes in defeat. He should’ve known he couldn’t have avoided this. This was a man who knew him better than anyone else who’s alive right now—how could he ever have thought he’d be able to hide things from him?

So he takes a deep, fortifying breath. Releases it slowly, grounding himself in the process.

“When I came to Hogwarts.”

“The time I broke out?

Remus tilts his head in the barest hint of confirmation. Sirius nods like he’d expected that.

Again, Remus wanted to be offended—but how could he?

“How’d you—“

—know?” Sirius finished. Remus nodded, a sharp, jagged thing that’s barely an answer.

Sirius smiled ruefully. It looked wrong on him, like a shirt stretched out and shrunk back down with a charm. “Because I know you, Remus. And though it hurt, I always knew you didn’t believe in me, at least not at the end there.

I’ve had nothing but time all this while. Time to think, to wonder where it all went wrong, what I could’ve done—time even to curse James out,” he lets out a hollow chuckle at that, one that Remus echoes because just the idea of Sirius cursing at James is so absurd, there’s nothing you can do but laugh at it, morbid though it may be in the moment.

“And the only thing I can think of is how bad we messed up. I don’t— you know the worst part about this, Remus?” Sirius asks, in his tired, broken voice. Just hearing it makes him want to flinch and hide away. Instead, he brings himself to give another shaky nod.

“I wouldn’t have cared one bit if you’d thought I was a mass murderer. Hell, even being a Death Eater could be believable under the right circumstances and you were away so long, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d entertained the thought.”

Remus waited for the ‘but’ with his heart in his mouth, tasting ash and regret and guilt. He knew what was about to come, had wondered the same thing hundreds of times, going round and round in circles with no relief to be found.

“But how could you ever, even just for a second let alone 12 years, think I could do that to Ja—“ here, his voice broke, unable to even finish the name. Sirius’ trembling hands clenched into fists, hard enough that he could see the knuckles losing color. The words were just as devastating as he could have imagined, if not more. Coming from another’s mouth and not just whirling in his thoughts, it seemed even more damning in the light of day.

And that was just it, wasn’t it. It was this that confirmed what Remus had known from the moment he’d been made aware of Sirius’ innocence.

There would be no forgiveness here. The most he could hope for was closure, perhaps a chance to clear the air, as it were, and that was only if Sirius was feeling merciful. Which, when it came to James, he seldom did. Remus would know; he’d seen the aftermath of what happened to those who dared touch James Potter.

And Remus? Ne hadn’t just hurt Sirius—that was almost inconsequential in the larger scheme of things—no, Remus’ biggest mistake was besmirching the legacy, the honor of James Potter.

Sirius had destroyed people for far less.

It was this realisation that weighed heavy on him, head bowing until his chin touched his chest, unable to hold it up anymore, not knowing what to say and unsure whether he should.

“I can forgive you almost anything, Remus, you know that. I wouldn’t have cared one whit about anything else but that you could think that—that anyone who knew us could—it was that, more than the dementors, more than the crazed prisoners, more than the taunts and insults and torture, that’s what almost broke me in Azkaban.”

A sob broke out from Remus’ chest, ugly and desperate and entirely unfair on his part. Sirius didn’t need his guilt, nor his despair. Remus didn't deserve to be unhappy in front of him. He had made his own bed and now he was to lie in it. He couldn’t even be happy about the hint of steel he could hear underlying Sirius’ words, a faint echo of his past self. Because the implications it held for him were devastating. Remus knew he wouldn’t lose Sirius completely—they had too much history for that, but he’d lose everything that made Sirius him. He’d been spoiled, allowed into the small, small circle of people Sirius truly let in, and he knew there would be no going back. There would be perfect civility, and amicable conversations, but he’d never have his Sirius back. He’d get the Sirius Black the rest of the world saw, the one with the impeccable masks, who was always in control—but not Padfoot, never Padfoot anymore.

And that was to be his penance.

“I am—I truly am sorry, Sirius. You’d never know how much. I just—I couldn’t—I don’t think I’ve taken one full breath since that night, everything was too fast and I couldn’t think and I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t used to being alone anymore,” he said, leaning forward desperately, wanting to explain (not justify, never justify), not wanting Sirius to leave thinking this was—this was what Remus wanted. because he didn't, never could’ve imagined things ending up like this.

It was almost humbling, this ignoble end of the Marauders. They’d considered themselves untouchable, rulers of the world, sitting atop a throne only they could see. So many promises, a seemingly unbreakable bond, the best of the best.

And look at them now.

All of them in varying stages of decay, dead and dying.

“And I know, dammit I know that doesn’t count for shite. But please, I just—you have to know—“ his hands pressed together, pleading, as the words came out in a defeated plea, “I never meant for it to be like this.”

“The worst part of that,” Sirius smiled, small and broken and not even worth a shadow of his usual brilliance. “is that I know you mean that, Remus. I believe it too.”

A second passed, then two, before he delivered the final blow.

“I just wish you’d fought for us the way we had for you.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #he’s not here in person but he’s mentioned enough to be an imo character #but then when is he not when it comes to me #i edited the whole thing and added punctuation + capitalisation and lowkey prefer the og raw unedited one lol #it felt more fitting to this style of writing #but idk if that’s even readable to people lol #so we gotsa make lil creative sacrifices #please read and tell me what u think!!!#very desperate here. basically biting off the last of my fingernails #gonna be anxiously looking at all my notifs lmao #gimme feedback ok?#i wanna know what remus fans think tbh #yes yes im being v annoying and v greedy but. let me have this. pls.#i have—so many thoughts about this that i’ve held myself back from adding #bc i didn’t wanna tell too much #or add unnecessary shit just bc my brian wouldn’t stop #but i don’t think i can stop talking about this if anyone wants to lol #ok that’s enough of me now have fun!#pen’s writing

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beepsparks · 2 days

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Fun fact I have never been actually acknowledged by an actor or voice actor for a character I like before, noticed MAYBE because Andy Poland mentioned he looks at the fanart channels in the official Jackbox server sometimes but a few of my friends have gotten direct acknowledgment from actors of characters in media we like before (and tbh its funny because usually its OUT OF NOWHERE and completely unexpected)

On that note istg if my “baby’s first acknowledgement from an actor/va of a character they like” moment is from Tom or Phil my brain will implode

#PLZ be nice i am very shy about posting about vas of characters I like bc I don’t wanna come off as weird lol #anyway may or may not have posted this because of an incident a month ago where—#—i may or may not have accidentally sent a follow request to phil’s instagram and got scared and took it back #and i dont know if instagram deletes notifs if someone takes back a follow request #so part of me is nervous as hell that instagram DIDNT delete that notif and HE MIGHTVE SEEN MY ART 😭#all my art on insta is very normal tho idk why im so nervous #i do get very VERY shy tho about talking about vas of characters I like bc again I don’t wanna come off as weird!!#despite everything that i say is usually just normal ‘I think they’re cool and they voice a character i like :3’ stuff lol #IN GENERAL I THINK IM JUST SHY ABOUT PEOPLE I FIND COOL OOF #okay okay sorry for long tags. lol.#random #eh maybe im also nervous because i get sleepy at the voice of schmitty and master mentalist #which means phil’s voice makes me sleepy #AND THATS KINDA EMBARRASSING IDK UHHH

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lesbiacnh · 9 days

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third date PLANNED. we cut this date a little short bc her stomach hurt

#text #i deleted hinge a few days ago LOL #idk if that’s like. a red flag or not #but idk i felt bad abt still having my profile on there.#also on the first date when we were sitting in her appt i saw a hinge like notification on her phone go off while we were together HAHAHHAHA

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fyrewalks · 1 year

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ready to snooze and a little stressed out by the dash melting down over a glitch i'm not sure actually exists so i'll be around tomorrow!

#ooc #tbd #i guess im gonna try to figure out threadtracker to be on the safe side #but like if the collective rpc could chill out a little and stop acting like tumblr is out to get us that'd be great #reading the post makes it clear the goal was just to eliminate notfics from self reblogs #im not entirely convinced all reblog notifs have been silenced #cause it's impossible to tell lmao #but if anything it was a side affect and will be fixed #like tumblr needs it's notifs to function #they're gonna fix it if is indeed broken #it's def not targeted to rp blogs though lol #idk why #but seeing posts like that flooding the dash just stresses me out #so hiding in drafts or just staying off till things calm lol #but hopefully tomorrow i'll be around #cause i need a good pj writing day #man if you read all this pls have a cookie or something

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vincent-sinclair-deserved-better · 2 years

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#I'm so chronically online + have the date posts where made on and notifs for loads of ppl that I notice when someone's been around less #or not at all #and considering that i usually still reblog tons of stuff even when i personally feel I'm barely one plus being in a different timezone #yo many of my moots they probably don't really see my posting stuff live anyway #so i wonder if anyone even notices a difference #or if anyone would notice if i was away for a few days #like when i used to visit grandma or during that event in august #/neg #negative #negativity #just really barrelling down the 'no one would notice if i disappeared' trail #while also feeling annoying. and like I'm doing depression wrong cause like everyone I know isolates themselves or doesnt have energy for #social interactions and social media so they don't respond to chats and kinda disappear #and I'm just. a nuisance always lmao. can't get rid of me.#UNLESS i repeatedly witness someone brushing me off cause no energy but then regularly interact/chat with other people #cause im a jealous bitch lol #something something don't put more energy into relationships than the other person #and then it turns out if i don't make the effort and am proactive there'll be barely any talking at all #even when ive known someone longer #idk if its something about me or i just miss the stage where you become best friends or what #but yeah im disposable lmao #the one no one notices is missing and is always forgotten #maybe ive spent too much of my life trying to be invisible that its now just become some intrinsic part of my being #im just nothing special

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hearts1ckness · 2 years

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atp idk if my anger is about the fact that *those* audios are such a rampant problem in asmr spaces & no matter how much victims beg for people to stop making them, no one listens OR if it’s the dismissal of the audio being dddne/part of dark & spooky month, so it’s apparently perfectly okay

#i’m also pretty sure i’m just having a shit time rn bc that notif triggered the fuck outta me but hey🤷‍♀️#my personal bullshit has made me extremely sensitive to this type of content so that’s probably the real reason why #idk im just sick & tired of those types of audios getting made #& no i don’t care how properly tagged they are. it’s appreciated but it’s the equivalent of slapping a bandaid on a stab wound #i’m sleeping this shit off i’ll be more coherent in the afternoon lol #lord talks controversies

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kuiinncedes · 2 years

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redbubble rly said GET MORE STICKERS

#just yesterday i was randomly thinking about the person i saw at the student org fair last yr who had a few ja/tp stickers on their water #bottle and then i went to my dorm and ordered stickers to cover my entire water bottle And laptop in (mostly) j/atp stickers XD #and now i want to get more stickers and for some other fandoms (even tho i dont rly have anywhere to put them lmfao i'll fit them somewhere #>:) lol) so i've been fucking around on redbubbIe a little bit looking for stickers and then it tells me today that theres a 25% off sale #on stickers......... and already they have a discount when you go like above 10 stickers lmfaooooo #i have rebubble email notifs for some reason idk why i haven't turned them off but i mean in this case i was interested XD #guess who might be getting more stickers XD maybe i should get another one of my own stickers lmao 🤪#this is what i'm gonna do instead of work/packing/anything is look at stickers even tho i do not need more stickers lmao <3 #jeanne talks

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peachypinkygloss · 7 months

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high on love — pjm

Jimin has once again won a race and he takes you out on a ride for the night, taking dangerous but very exciting risks. He should have expected that the rush of adrenaline in your body always turns you into a horny mess.

⚡︎ pairing: racer!jimin x fem!reader

⚡︎ genre: established relationship, smut

⚡︎ word count: 6.4k

⚡︎ warnings: unrealistic depiction of motor sports, jimin likes cars & oc is a bimbo lol, lots of cute nasty shit, disrespect of speed limits (jimin's breaking the law ‼️🙀), if this isn't the perfect representation of how deprived i am idk what is, sexting, nudes exchange, dom jimin/sub reader, unprotected sex, public/car sex, praising & degradation, brief anal play, blowjob, cum eating.

a.n.: it's jimin's special day 🤭 so i'm giving myself a gift lol. how generous of me to share it with you 🫶🏻 i finished this with a headache so y'all better hype this up (it deserves it, give it a read 😉)

"Minnie!"

"Hey, baby girl. Did you enjoy the race?"

"Yes!" You squeal excitedly, sticking your phone to your ear, happy Jimin decided to call you after his awesome performance. "You were so great," you say dreamily, "Couldn't take my eyes off of you."

You hear Jimin chuckling through the phone as you throw yourself on your bed, landing on your stomach. You bite down on your lip and start kicking your legs while listening to his husky voice, sending chills down your spine.

"I believe you," he laughs and you can't help but smile. "Won that one just for you, babe," he flirts, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You bring a finger up to your mouth and chew on your nail, practically mewling at the flattery.

Your boyfriend always manages to make you shy, teasing and flirting with you like the very first time. You imagine his plump, pink lips moving slowly to form the words, coming out of his mouth like pure and sweet honey.

"What wouldn't you do for me, hm?" You question, flirting back with him and hearing him laugh at that. "I'm so proud of you, Minnie," you purr into the telephone, an undying smile plastered on your face.

"You know me, princess," he begins and you picture the little grin he's surely sporting right now, "I never come second," he smugly snickers.

Even though you always tell him to not be too cocky — karma will come bite your ass, you usually repeat to him — you find it extremely hot at the moment. You love when a man is confident and isn't afraid to fight for what's his.

You recognize the sound of a door opening and closing on Jimin's other end of the phone, hearing him walk and rummage through his things.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Picking out an outfit for this evening," he replies, phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he takes out pieces of clothes from his suitcase. "Hopping in the shower in a minute."

"I see..." You hang on the last syllable, drawing invisible forms on the bed covers underneath you. You hear him stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. "You must be so sweaty right now," you wonder, a naughty image of a sweaty Jimin appearing in your head, skin all sticky and glistening, a delicious, manly odour emanating from him.

"You bet I am," he confirms. "Talk later, yeah? I'll be at yours in four hours, babe."

You and your boyfriend are supposed to hang out later in the evening today. It was planned before the race, agreeing to see each other no matter if he wins or loses, but Jimin never comes second, does he?

You nod your head, though you remember he can't see you. "'Kay, see ya later, Minnie," you sing in response, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your open palm.

"See ya, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hang up on Jimin, sighing contentedly before throwing your iPhone on the bed and rolling on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You stay silent for a few seconds until you start humming a lullaby, improvising a random tune.

The 'ding' of your phone interrupts you and you turn your head around to look at your new notification.

💬 Jimin 💓 sent an attachment.

This immediately catches your intention so you open the chat, biting down on your lip in anticipation, belly bubbling in excitement. Your brows raise up when your eyes lay on the photo Jimin's sent you. You feel your face and core heating up, blood rushing to your poor little clit.

You click on the picture to have a closer view, and gosh, your boyfriend is fucking hot. Your mouth waters and you cannot believe how handsome he is. He has the body of an angel and the personality of the devil for sharing that pic with you.

You see his veiny cock fully hard from the underside, standing tall over his stomach, a patch of dark hair crowning his pubis. You rub your thighs together to relieve the ache between your legs, unable to look away from your phone.

You can't see his face, but you have a beautiful sight of his abdomen, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You have the insatiable need to touch him, feel his heavy length weighing down on your tongue and have your small palm wrapped around the base of it.

You want Jimin to slap your face with his cock, tease you by swiping his wet tip over your lips, letting out a disapproval 'nuh-uh' when you try to put it in your mouth out of eagerness.

He took the picture just before going into the shower. He's such a tease.

You start to type out your response, thumbs quickly pressing down on the keyboard.

You: aww minnie :( wanna put my tongue on you wanna lick all that sweat off your abs and take you so deep in my throat

Jimin 💓: yeah? wanna cry like a little bitch around my dick?

Real bad, you think, heat pooling in your panties. You feel your clit aching, but you don't want to ease the pain, don't really want to play with yourself — maybe just out of pure laziness, though you know edging yourself before seeing Jimin makes things ten times more intense. And needy.

You open the camera app and lift your crop top over your breasts, taking a quick picture of your boobs for Jimin. You go back to your conversation with him and add the nude you've just captured to the chat.

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: yes your cock's too big for me, always make my eyes sting ;( want you to cum on my tits, minnie, please make a mess of me i'm your cumslut x

Jimin 💓: love those tits but you're right, baby my good, little cumslut. god, you're so gross, you realize that?

You: not gross! just passionately wanting you to mark me as yours but i can be a lil gross while sucking your cock :p

Jimin 💓: you always eat that cock like a stupid mess anyway drooling like a dog for it

You: can't help myself when you feel so good in my mouth <3 when your cum feels so warm and creamy on my breasts gosh i wanna be with you so bad right now miss you so much minnie

Jimin 💓: you fucking minx i'll be there in a few. i've told you, didn't i, needy girl?

You: you did! but i feel so lonely without my minnie my pussy's so so wet just thinking about you :(

Jimin 💓: fuck i know coming soon. wait for me, princess

You: okie-dokie x

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: oops sorry, miss-clicked :D

Jimin 💓: you know you didn't gonna fuck those tits bite those cute perky nipples

You: they're too small for it, i fear :/

Jimin 💓: shut up you know i can fuck every part of your body if i want to you're gonna push them on your chest and make a tight little entrance for me

You: if that's what mister wants >:(

Jimin 💓: yes. i'm gonna go in the shower now, you've distracted me enough

You: good shower x

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You're happy to see Jimin parked in front of your apartment building as you walk down the stairs, getting in the passenger side of his Porsche. You don't know which model it is — not that you have registered that information when he first told you — but you know it's in a beautiful grey colour.

After closing the door, you perch yourself over the centre console and lean in toward Jimin, pursing your lips to kiss him. "Hi," you softly greet him with a smile, smooching his full lips then every part of his face.

"Hey, baby," he chuckles, letting himself be pampered in your wet and warm kisses. The wet feeling isn't really what he likes the most, but he'll never stop you from showing your affection to him. He secretly loves it.

You eventually back away with a giggle, catching the smirk Jimin tries to hide. "You have a bit of lipstick here..." You giggle again, even though you should feel guilty for staining his cheeks with the marks of your lips, but he looks too cute this way.

"Where?" he questions, brows frowning a little, "Here?" he points to his right cheek. He got it right, but it's not the only place where he has lipstick.

"Yeah, here, too." You poke his left cheek. "And some here," you whisper, talking about his jaw and tracing it, "Definitely here..." You swipe your index over his plump lips. "Oh, and more here!" You exclaim, rapidly diving in to leave a kiss to his forehead, but before you can sit back up in your seat, Jimin holds you by the waist.

You squeal, flinching when he smacks your ass with his free hand, gripping the flesh by slipping a palm under your jean skirt. "You little tease... You like making fun of me, don't you?" He sensually growls in your ear, pussy clenching around nothing.

You whine, shaking your head from side to side, holding eye-contact with him. Your hands are laying flat against his chest, leaning on him to keep yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

"No! Just like how you look with my lips all over you," you purr, grinning when Jimin quirks an eyebrow. "Gotta show everybody that you're taken..."

"I see, little miss possessive," he says, giving small taps to your butt.

"Yes, you're mine," you affirm. "Mine, mine, mine," you repeat the word over again, kissing once more Jimin's pretty face.

He shuts you up by crashing his mouth on yours, gripping you by the jaw and keeping you in place. When he breaks your exchange, he instructs you to sit in your seat. "Put your seatbelt on, princess."

You reluctantly let go of Jimin's lips and do what he told you to. Even though he scolded you for ruining his smooth face, he doesn't do anything to wipe the lipstick's stains off, which makes you smile. There aren't that many anyway, you were lying earlier, but you love it when it doesn't bother him to wear your marks like you always wear his proudly — he's the kind to bite your inner thighs while eating you out and leave the trace of his teeth on you.

"Okay, let's go!" You announce loudly, not sure where you're going — probably to his since he lives on the other side of the city — but you're still very excited nonetheless. Car rides with Jimin are always a lot of fun.

"Let's go," he repeats with a nod of his head, sending you a wink as he puts the car into drive. You giggle once again, just genuinely happy to be with your boyfriend — your favourite person on this planet.

You look outside, watching the city lights at night and the other cars with you on the road. Jimin sometimes — often — judges which car people are driving, saying this model isn't worth anything or that the brand is just shitty. You don't understand the justification, but it has no importance to you, to be quite honest. And anyway, he sounds really hot when he's talking about a subject he's an expert in.

There's the occasional asshole who accelerates at red lights, this time being a BMW, surely intimidated or jealous by the expensive Porsche next to them. You find these people super annoying, especially when they do that when they see a woman standing on the sidewalk. How little their dick has to be.

Though Jimin doesn't feel the need to do that because he's not a pathetic man, he still has to crush that guy's ego. You notice him going faster next to the other car as you enter the highway, having a bit more space and freedom.

"Minnie," you say his nickname kind of as a warning, but you know he won't listen to you. You pretend to not support this improvised car race even though you already feel the adrenaline rushing through your body.

"Hold on to the handle, baby," he commands, looking through his rear mirror to see what the other car is doing, and to his satisfaction, they're participating in the race with Jimin. "We're gonna show this guy what it is really like to race," he smirks cheekily, adjusting better his rear mirror to a better angle.

So you execute yourself, gripping the handle placed just upside the door passenger — gripping it tightly, feeling your heart start beating faster.

The feeling is pleasantly familiar, remembering the numerous times Jimin made you hop in his Mustang during his practices, going super fast and trying to impress you. You've always been really impressed.

You recall the time he went to Bordeaux, trying out the famous circuit just for fun, just because it's Jimin. You've accompanied him there and watched him race with other professionals. It was truly amazing, really thrilling.

Jimin goes up to 140 km/h really fast in a 90 km/h zone. He dodges vehicles easily, though it's tight and fucking dangerous. There are three lanes for one way of the traffic and for the other, so he has to analyze his surroundings every time he needs to change lanes.

His opponent is catching up behind, also dodging cars and trying to pass Jimin. But your boyfriend is prepared; he handles the steering wheel better. His vision is sharp, shifting between his mirror and in front of him quickly. He's an expert, a professional — the BMW has zero chance.

If it was daytime, you're sure an improvised race like this wouldn't even be conceivable, considering how packed the highway usually is, but during nighttime there are way less car on the road. It allows them to drive more freely and fluidly. It's still very risky, but you love the adrenaline rushing through your body, love how intoxicating it is.

Jimin's grip tightens around the wheel, veins popping out along his strong arms. He looks so good with jewelry, wearing a few silver rings on his fingers and a watch around his wrist. You catch a glimpse of the thirteen tattoo inked on his skin, being the date of his birthday and also the number he races with.

"Jimin... what if there's a cop?" You say worryingly.

He grins, as if this can't be a problem at all. "Then this jackass gonna chicken out," he snickers, pressing down on the accelerator with his right foot. "Look at this," he says, holding the steering wheel with a lot of force so the car doesn't drive off the road. You look forward, seeing the BMW getting ahead.

Jimin puts on the turn signal to the right as they're getting closer to an industry truck and a van. There's a small gap separating them as they're both on different lanes, a gap just big enough for the Porsche.

Your eyes widen, pulse racing faster, hearing your heartbeat in your head. It's like your heart is going to explode or come out of your chest at how intense everything feels. It's addicting.

Jimin accelerates and passes by his opponent, sneaking between the too big vehicles, keeping the turn signal on as he maneuvers his way through the small gap. Your breath is caught in your throat as he does so, holding the handle tighter and tighter, scrunching your eyes shut, believing deeply in Jimin's skills...

"Oh my fucking god," he exhales heavily as if he was also holding in his breath. This is your cue to open your eyes again, nothing in front of you, meaning Jimin has succeeded. You hear him laugh, smiling with his full set of teeth. "Fucking loser!"

You glance at him, stars in your eyes and glinting in pure admiration. You find him extremely attractive, even more than he already is. You burst out in laughter too, incapable of keeping it in, finally stressing down.

You look over your shoulder and the BMW is stuck behind the truck and the van, the space now too small to pass through. Jimin won.

He has a big arrogant smirk on his face, one hand on the wheel as he licks his lips, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth after. You know he's proud of himself, and you have to admit that you are impressed.

"That was sick!" You squeal and giggle, your heart still pounding in your chest, but eventually slowing down to a normal pace. "Minnie, it was- I... Oh, God! Awesome, it was awesome!"

He chuckles as you struggle to get the words out, absolutely surprised, but in a really good way. You lack the words to describe how you're feeling and how the whole thing was just so thrilling. The adrenaline is such a strong hormone that you still haven't recovered from the race. You'll remember this one for a very long time, that's for sure.

"It was like a rollercoaster!" You say with a lot of excitement, looking at Jimin while he has his eyes settled in front of him, soon reaching your destination.

"I knew you'd like this," he flashes you a smile, glancing in your direction for a short second. "You're a little rebel, aren't you?"

"My boyfriend's a bad boy, of course I like a bit of danger..." You flirt, making Jimin laugh again.

When the car comes to a halt, you immediately unbuckle your seatbelt and jump on Jimin, not caring if you're in the parking lot of his apartment building. You straddle his lap and your entire body is on fire. You didn't realize the race made you that horny to the point you can't even wait to be in his apartment to start fucking him.

You kiss him and he reciprocates it right away, moving his mouth over yours hungrily. You cup his cheeks and begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding down on Jimin. He bites your lip which makes you whine softly, pulling on his dark locks at the nape of his neck.

His hands lay on your hips, guiding you over his lap, pushing your bottom down on him to intensify the grinding motion. The steering wheel sometimes pokes you in the back, but you don't pay it any attention, kissing every patch of skin on Jimin's face, descending to his sharp jaw.

You're both breathing heavily, the small binnacle of the luxury car beginning to be really restricted in air. Though, it doesn't stop you, not at all.

You smooch the side of his throat, sensing his Adam's apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want to lick and kiss every part of his body, you need it — you need to feel his smooth skin under your tongue.

Jimin smells like his favourite body wash, a scent so manly and tingly it turns you feral on its own. He's a bit sweaty now so you have the salty taste of his natural essence on your tongue, feeling how warm his body is just after an eventful race.

You slightly chew on his flesh and suck on it, wanting to mark him even more in beautiful purple love bites, adding on with the traces of your lipstick. He groans under you, tilting his head back so you have better access to his neck.

He palms your butt under your short skirt, making you grind on him more avidly. Your panties start to get wet, the material sticking to your pussy lips because of your arousal gushing out of your cunt. You're so turned on it has your brain all mushy, no thoughts other than ones about Jimin and how good he's going to feel inside of you.

Then he pulls you back by your hair, your lips leaving the crook of Jimin's neck, eyes strained down on him since he forces your head back. Your hands clasp around his t-shirt, crumpling it between your little fists.

"What's that, baby, hm?" He questions, squinting his eyes at you. You think he's referring to your eagerness, taking control without really realizing it.

"Sorry, but please..."

"That cunt's too fucking greedy, is that it?" He lifts a brow, cupping your pussy through your panties with the hand not gripping your hair. "What a little slut you are... Soaking through your underwear already?" He mocks, gliding the tip of his finger over your core, feeling how damp the material is.

You decide you better be honest, knowing a little begging always makes Jimin fold. "Yes, want you so bad, Minnie," you breathe out while humping his hand as he keeps his palm over your crotch and he enjoys how you're so desperate to the point of chasing his touch. "Need you in my pussy, need your cock to feel me up, please," you beg sweetly, clawing at his t-shirt. "Please, Minnie, please."

He observes you for a while, frowning a bit as his pretty head is reflecting, maybe asking himself if he should give you what you want or not. You let out a whine — a pathetic one — and you know that's what finally convinces him.

"Want my cock?" He asks and you nod repeatedly, still holding on his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you from falling miserably into the depth of lust. "Then fucking take it, baby," he growls lowly, biting down on his plump bottom lip, pupils blown out.

You sigh in relief, babbling out a little grateful 'thank you' as you lower your hands to his pants. He looks down at your shaky hands, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. His hand that was previously on your cunt has shifted to your thighs, caressing your curves, admiring your body that looks so frail and easy to break.

Oh, he does know how simple it is to turn you into a slutty mess, drooling and crying like a baby to have his dick, not caring in which hole it goes as long as it's nestled in you.

You yank the zipper down and work on getting his baggy jeans down his thighs. Jimin's still watching you, not bothering to give you a helping hand, quite finding it adorable how you struggle so much.

When you free his cock out of his Armani boxer briefs, you gasp softly at the sight of his semi-hard lying against his toned stomach. "Always so big, Minnie," you tease, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

And it's true. He's average, just the right length for you, but the thickness, gosh it makes you salivate. The girth isn't talked about enough because that's the thing that has you crying tears of joy when his cock splits you open, the burning sensation always a plus to your pleasure.

You love it that he doesn't shave, seeing him in all his glory, dark pubic hair decorating his pelvis. His mushroom tip peeks out from under his foreskin, your mouth watering at the thought of having it in your mouth and twirling your pink muscle around it, tasting the little beads of pre-cum on your warm tongue.

"Stop kissing my ass," he laughs, smacking one of your ass cheeks. You giggle, though you're really being honest. He's stupidly girthy, not to mention the size of his balls that never miss to slap the skin of your butt whenever he fucks you in missionary.

"I love kissing your ass, though. You deserve it, Minnie," you flatter, showing him how much you love him and his pretty cock.

"Shut up," he suddenly rasps out, taking a hold of your jaw with one hand, deft fingers poking into your chubby cheeks and making your lips purse out. "Wanna fuck that cock or not?" You mumble a 'yes' through your squished face. "Get to work, then."

He lets go of you as you grip his cock, small hand barely fitting around the girth, giving him a few lazy pumps to get him completely hard. You hum when you feel him stiff under your palm, a bit of pre-cum leaking from the slit over his swollen tip.

You smear it with your thumb, twisting your wrist as you run your hand up and down his length languidly. You spit in your hand and bring it back down to his cock, coating him in your saliva.

You slip your panties down, wiggling in every direction to get them out of the way and finally throw them away on the back seats. You smile at the thought of Jimin finding them later, remembering this filthy night, dick swelling at the dirty images of you riding him in his car.

"Want it on my pussy..." You sweetly purr, directing the head of his cock to your cunt, pressing it down on your clit. You steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the other circling your bud of nerves with his leaky tip. "Want your hot cum on my dirty little pussy," you tease again, using the same words he likes telling you in his sultry voice, so deep and raspy, making shivers run down your spine.

His dark eyes lift up from your hand guiding his cock in smooth circles over your puffy, aching clit and looks at you, catching the way you trap your bottom lip between your teeth. You see that he loves the idea you've just planted in his brain, wanting to cover your nasty cunt in his cum so bad.

"Fucking whore," he says under his breath, jaw hanging open. His hands roam over your body, often groping your ass cheeks or sneaking under your crop top, touching the underside of your breasts.

You move your hips in circle motions as well, stimulating your sensitive clit with the head of his cock, so warm and pleasant against your pussy.

"Am I your favourite one, though?" You pout.

He grins, letting out a low chuckle, "Of course, and the only one." At that, a lewd moan escapes your mouth and you start humping Jimin's dick, wet pussy lips gliding over his erection. "Hmm, that's it, baby," he encourages, hands on your hips as you move more frantically over him, covering him in your slicks.

Your breath is irregular, chasing your high with fervour, moaning obscenely above Jimin. "Gonna cum," you announce hastily, the rub of your clit against his cock driving you over the edge really quickly. Plus, you were already turned on, so your orgasm isn't far away, the knot in your stomach unraveling.

"Go ahead, cum on my cock, baby girl," he softly commands as if his permission was the only thing you needed to finally see stars. He grips your hips as you open your mouth, silent whimpers and moans coming out.

"Yes, yes, Minnie," you chant as you hump his cock, thighs and hands shaking. Your clitoral orgasm passes through you, bucking your hips forward while you slowly drive off your high. "Fuck, fuck..." You cry, letting go of his member and hiding your face in the crook of his neck for comfort.

He gently caresses your back in circles, helping you calm down and come back to earth. "Good job," he coos in your ear. "What a big girl. Rubbing your pussy all over my cock and cumming without my help," Jimin praises, patting your ass that peeks out from under your short skirt.

You only whimper in response, coming back to reality. You push yourself off Jimin's chest, looking at him with a pout on your lips. He knows it's fake, just to persuade him to do whatever you're going to ask him.

"Put it in, please," you beg in a whiny voice, "Need your big cock in me, Jimin." You sweetly pamper his face in warm kisses, knowing he never resists them. "Please, please, please."

He sighs, feeling your lips pressing down on his smooth skin, leaving his face all red and damp from your teasing little kisses. He gropes your thighs, slapping one of them as you arch your back like a slut.

"Take it then," he growls, gripping his cock and directing the head toward your dripping entrance. "Show me how bad you want it, my stupid girl," he purrs in your ear, cock head swiping between your pussy lips.

You eagerly bob your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you look down where you slowly sink down Jimin's thick length. You gasp softly when the head of his cock stretches out your cunt, expending it to his large size.

You continue to sink further down, hearing the groans and moans of your boyfriend, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your flesh. You love the familiar burning sensation, reminding you that his cock is pushing into you, connecting both of your bodies and souls.

When you're finally sitting on his lap, dick nestled in the comfort of your warmth, clit touching his pubes, it feels exhilarating, almost too good to be true. Despite having been in you so many times before, neither one of you are getting used to the incredible sensation of being so close to each other, so connected.

"So big, Jimin," you moan softly, slowly moving your hips back and forth, doing grinding motions. "Love it so much," you mewl, holding onto his shoulders.

He looks down, too, and sees a shiny dew coating his pubic hair, your arousal leaking down his balls and pelvis. It's beautiful, a strong odour of sex invading the interior of the car.

"Yeah, baby?" He questions, voice a little breathy. "Love having my cock in you? Splitting your tight little cunt open?" He now gropes your ass, liking how the two small globes of flesh fit in his calloused palms.

"Uh-huh," you agree and drag your hips up, cock slipping out of your wet pussy, his meaty length glistening in your sweet juices. You yank them back down, creating a new motion, bouncing up and down his stiff erection.

You ride his cock in his car, steering wheel sometimes knocking your back as you vividly jump on his dick, but it isn't a major bother to you, not at all. Nothing's more important to you now than to fuck Jimin and feel his cock deep into you.

"It's so thick," you babble out, mouth staying open as little moans escape you. It makes Jimin groan hearing you say how his girthy cock destroys your tiny pussy, seeing it with his own eyes, pussy enveloping his shaft.

He loves knowing you like a bit of pain, willing to go through it to after reach a high level of pleasure. "Cock whore," he grunts, smacking your ass, the skin stinging because of the rings adorning his fingers.

You keep bouncing on him, wanting to make this as pleasurable as possible for him, but you know your legs will soon be tired. Though, you don't give up, and ride Jimin like your life depends on it.

You sense his fingers dancing on your butt, reaching your tight hole under your skirt. It surprises you, a little high-pitched moan leaving your mouth, but you don't say no — never would you.

He teases your rim, deft fingers circling it, making you arch your back and lean into his warm touch. You start grinding over his lap again, desperate to reach your high and feel his cock head brushing against your sweet spot inside you.

Jimin pushes his thumb at your hole while you roll your hips over his with vigour, literally using him for your pleasure. He doesn't mind, though, and penetrates your other entrance with his finger. You let out a loud moan, always loving it when Jimin fills you up everywhere.

"Gosh, I'm so close, Minnie..." You announce, rutting your hips against his and crumpling his t-shirt between your small fists.

"Keep going, baby, keep going," he encourages, holding the fat of your hips and guiding them over his hard cock. "Cum for me, my sweet girl."

"Yes, yes," you chant, his dick repeatedly nudging your sensitive spot, making the knot in your stomach tighten. "For you... Gonna cum for you, Minnie," you say before finally feeling it explode in your belly, millions of tingles passing through your entire body.

Your thighs shake beside his, rolling your hips fast over his lap to drive off your intense high. With trembling limbs, you slowly lift up your butt, discovering his length coating in your milky and shiny release.

Jimin groans in satisfaction, staring at his dick with adoration in his eyes. He slaps your ass, praising you for your good job a second time.

"What about you clean that mess off, hm?" He proposes, raising his gaze up to your glossy eyes. You bite down on your lip, the idea eliciting another wave of arousal in you. "Gonna lick it off and make me cum with that pretty mouth of yours, baby?"

With a nod of your head, you get out of the car, stepping on the cement of the indoor parking lot. Jimin lets the driver's door open as he leans his back against the car, telling you to come over with a tilt of his head.

You kneel in front of him, your naked knees lying on the cold ground, thighs sticky with your cum and pussy completely bare, feeling the air hitting it. You grip his pants, looking up at him with puppy eyes, silently asking for permission to touch his pretty cock, shining in your natural essence.

"Lift up your top," he orders, holding his thick length in his right hand. You do so and it seems to satisfy Jimin, a little appreciative growl leaving his throat. "Perfect, you can touch it, baby," he sends you the green light and you happily comply.

You replace his hand with yours, your fingers barely wrapping all the way around the base. You stroke it gently, feeling your slick slipping between your fingers, and look up at Jimin, making sure you're doing this alright.

Jimin sees that you're seeking compliments, a smile tugging on his pretty, plump pink lips. "Doing great, princess. Don't be shy, put your tongue on it," he instructs, your head bobbing to show your agreement.

You stick out your pink muscle and lean down to put it on his swollen tip, swallowing his bulbous head in after. Your lips wrap around him, tasting yourself on your tongue.

You sat prettily on your knees, wearing your white sneakers as your little ass peeks out from underneath your jean skirt, taking more of his length into your greedy mouth. You scoot yourself closer, wanting the tip of your nose to touch the patch of dark hair crowning his pelvis.

Jimin moans above you, gripping your hair in a tight hold as you sink down on him. Your wish is granted, having the entirety of his cock in your mouth, his tip teasing the back of your throat.

"Fuck, play with your tits for me, baby," he breathily commands, hooded eyes staring down at you. You flutter your eyes at him, executing yourself and rolling your nipples under your palms. You much prefer it when it's Jimin's hands, but you'll do without them this time.

You pull your head back, him watching his cock reappear between your lips, then disappear when you sink back down. You pinch your nipples, making them even harder, the cold air turning them extra stiffer.

You bounce your head over his engorged cock, hearing him moan and groan, an erotic melody to your ears. You choke a bit around him, Jimin delighted to see spit dripping down from the corners of your mouth, greedily taking him in your warmth.

"That's it, baby. Shit, such a good girl for me," he moans, voice husky and sultry. "Make me cum with that slutty little mouth," he insists, lust dancing in his dark orbs, looking at you like you're the very own object of his deepest desires. And you are.

You hum around him, groping your breasts while sucking him off, his strong hand gripping your hair at the roots, making your scalp itch. It sends delicious vibrations through the entirety of Jimin's body, a shiver running up his spine as you take him deep into your throat.

You hollow your cheeks and swallow around his length like you know he loves, hearing his little moans of approval above you. "Christ, baby... Gonna cum, keep going," he warns you and you're pleased to know you're making him feel really good.

You flatten your tongue under his heavy cock, bobbing your head over his stiff erection, pulling and pinching on your hard nipples. Jimin doesn't look away from you once, so turned on by your little fingers playing with your tits and your kneeling form sucking him off.

Suddenly, he keeps your head in place over his cock, forcing you down on him, nose pressed down against his hairy pelvis. You look up at him with teary eyes, feeling them sting. A crease appears between his soft eyebrows, mouth opening as he looks out deep and soft moans.

Jimin cums down your throat, cock twitching and shooting his release in thick, long ropes inside your mouth. You whine around him, wiggling your ass, happy to finally taste him.

"Fuuck," he breathes out, the muscles of his thighs tensing. He pulls out quickly, stroking his cock fast, angling it down toward your naked boobs.

You gasp softly, swallowing thickly to ease your poor throat, feeling his hot and creamy cum landing on your chest. He milks himself dry, moaning as small white beads spurt out his tip and fall on your beautiful tits.

Jimin exhales heavily, his head lolling back on his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, catching his breath. He holds his hand out for you to take and pull you up from the ground. He tucks himself back in his briefs and zips his jeans back up as you lean down to kiss him on the lips, giggling joyfully after.

Jimin helps you clean up the mess he made on you with the spare box of tissues he keeps in his car. You pull down your top, covering your breasts.

The vehicle beeps and the front lights flashes as he clicks twice on the button to lock the doors. You walk to the elevator hand in hand, ready to go back into Jimin's apartment with a cute afterglow shining on both your faces.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenarios #jimin smut #jimin x reader

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fullycompletely · 2 years

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man i cant sleep and i got fuckin therapy tomorrow this s u c k s

#idk what i can even talk about after the emergency sessions now like #bro i got nothin else for ya we already tackled everything when my parents flipped out #it ok. one more session and then i re integrate into society #actually wildly enough it is nice having all notifications off i like being off the grid it is peaceful #i think i would be a healthier person if i lived in a time where the internet did not exist #anyways. yarg.#i cant sleep bc i didnt eat today thats whats up lol #i needed to control today somehow and food was the only variable

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roturo · 7 months

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹ CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI

₊˚⊹♡ I WANNA SEE IT IN MOTION! IN 3D! gojo satotu, geto suguru, nanami kento, yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

tags: sexting, degradation, some of them have sub/dom dynamics, semi public arousal (?), sex videos (do not practice this irl), friends with benefits, established relationships, and more idk.

A/N: such a weird combination of jjk men lol

gojo satoru

he was tired and annoyed once he got to the hotel after killing some stupid curses that easily a grade 2 sorcerer could do the work– but oh how they have been insisting on him to continue doing missions this days. he swears it’s utahime’s fault to finally take control over the tokyo students and make them move to kyoto.

but the true thing is that he was also so pent up after spending a long time without you beside him, he would call it a day after taking a shower and lay in bed– but a notification on his phone stopped him before doing so.

1 attachment sent

i bought this new pair, it reminded me of your eyes, i miss you:(

and holy fuck- he swears if he wasn’t in just a pair of black briefs his cock would suffocate because of how fast he got hard– his hand immediately traveling trough and start working nicely to release the feeling. the pre-cum being more than enough to lubricate his cock and make it easier to jerk off– with one hand he opened up the camera and took a video before sending it to you.

sounds of whines and whimpers coming out of the video, making you immediately wet– a visible wet patch forming in your panties, he sounded so pretty– pretty enough to reply to him with another video of you coming –still with your panties on– by just rubbing yourself in the pillow.

“ah fuck it– someone else can take care of this mission”

geto suguru

he’s not a fan of it– he prefers having it in real motion in 3D– and he knows that because when you do send him some risky text or picture is just to piss him off– or maybe he likes to think you’re just a horny slut for him.

but fuck it, why he couldn’t be the horny slut just for once this time? just one time –that’s what he promised himself– the idea of you going out with your friends today, the dress you were wearing being a lil bit too much short for his liking –not wanting to be the type of boyfriend he wouldn’t let you wear whatever you want– and he knows other men will be seeing you and get hard just at the thought of you, so that’s why he needed you like right now.

1 attachment sent

wouldn’t u be so nice to come back home and help me relieve some stress? pls baby, i need you.

and this was surprising as fuck because geto was always so dominant, making you the needy one in the relationship, so this wasn’t an opportunity to waste.

send a video of yourself to show me how much you want me.

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fuck, i’m typing with just one hand rn, all i can think of is your pretty lips around my cock.

you were in the restroom of the bar you decided to go out with your friends, core pulsing, surely there was a wetness coming out of you, trying to release some tension, you tried to find some friction by rubbing your thighs together.

i’m going back home baby, do not cum.

nanami kento

“you fucking horny needy slut.”

he exhaled, the words barely hearable– he had to re-adjust in the chair he was sitting on, pants suddenly too tight, tie not letting him breathe and time going lower this time.

“Nanami-san, are you feeling okay?”

he wouldn’t admit it outloud but he’s a fan of the risky texts you send him, edging him and make him eager to go back home as soon as possible– but right now, it would be nice if you didn’t send this in the middle of a fucking reunion he had with some clients. this time you wouldn’t be the only one playing silly games– he would take a quick photo of his growing erection in his pants, with no text, no emoji, no nothing. and the reunion was stressing him out, he was so pent up that he’s a millimeter from standing and leaving.

you knew that, you fucking knew he was in a reunion, but you still decided to desobey him and be a needy brat just to be fucked stupid. and ohh he wouldn’t fall for your silly games, he’s not angry, he’s actually pretty excited to get back home and just edge you till you fall apart in his arms begging for release.

he couldn’t wait.

yuta okkotsu

he’s BRIGHT RED. he was supposed to be focusing on whatever gojo-sensei was talking about, but the moment he opened up your message he expected everything else but this.

and he thinks this was an accident, but no way– the way your body looks, how good your tits looked, damn.

1 attachment sent.

why won’t you come and play with me instead yuta~ ;(

shit, he felt his cock throb and start growing inside his pants– it was so painful to see you like that and can’t have the real thing in 3D to touch, he swears he could just cum if you showed up in front of him like that-

“Are you okay Yuta?” Maki’s voice brought him back to reality, the sudden pain of his cock searching for release becoming a little bit too much to bear– he needed to do something right now.

He excused himself to the restroom, clear erection showing on his pants– praying to god no one saw it, a wet patch forming in it thanks to the amount of pre-cum he was leaking right now.

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lewd sounds came from the video; panting, whimpers, and moans saying your name– you never thought he would answer back, fuck- you even thought this was going to ruin your relationship with yuta, but holy fuck.

there he was, fucking his fist in the bathroom at the image of you, sudden cum painting the mirror, loud whimpers came out of him, telling you how much he needed your little pussy wrapped around his cock–

I’m going to your dorm rn, cant wait anymore

megumi fushiguro

okay. you were supposed to be only friends but god damn. he swears it was the time– suddenly the texts turned more risky and now you’re sending him a video of rubbing yourself with your pillow with his shirt.

and he was never this eager to cum, biting the lower part of his shirt so he could keep his moans back and not wake up Yuuji in the other group (plus he was way too needy to take his shirt off), phone on the other hand on a video call with you while he shows the lewd image of himself fucking at your own movements between a screen.

fuck gojo-sensei, why did he had to send him on a mission? he needs to see you like that but instead of a pillow being the thing you’re rubbing your pussy into, it needs to be his cock instead.

“Ah- ffuck…” small sounds calling out your name came from megumi’s mouth, almost audible thanks to the shirt preventing him from moaning out loud, “sshit, i just wanna be back to see you and touch you baby, i know you won’t regret this.” strips of cum coming out of him, the view making you dizzy and helping you reach your own high too.

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #yuta okkotsu smut #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #megumi fushiguro #yuta okkotsu #megumi smut

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katiexpunk · 6 months

Text

Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again.

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes.

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now.

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over.

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat.

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place.

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response.

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads.

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response.

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”

“Kk! C u soon <3”

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup.

Lots and lots of fucking syrup.

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning.

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty.

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning.

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee.

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words.

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more.

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues.

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear.

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup.

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?”

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes.

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.”

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment.

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun.

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode.

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree.

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy?

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand.

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought.

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why.

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds.

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close.

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap.

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now.

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name.

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious.

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day.

So there were four remedies to your situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel.

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl.

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk.

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees?

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day.

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?”

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good."

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes.

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core.

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware.

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery.

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond.

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.”

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–”

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?”

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.”

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort.

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel.

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night.

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths.

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him.

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney.

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay.

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks.

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it.

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it.

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you.

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?"

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh.

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles.

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might.

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending.

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire.

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether.

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him.

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty.

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly.

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet.

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact.

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically.

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory.

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss.

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago.

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you.

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still.

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him.

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg.

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone.

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging.

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you.

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.”

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine.

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up.

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry.

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands.

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care.

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below.

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says.

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table.

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.”

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you.

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him.

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth.

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin.

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth.

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.”

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release.

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck.

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him.

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride.

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says. He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.”

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked.

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners.

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him.

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup.

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

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