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#this is my only post of the night and you know what
starlightomatic · 2 days
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hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.
a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.
a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.
a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.
once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.
another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.
another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.
in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.
all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.
i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.
we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.
so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.
i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.
and.
people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.
and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.
i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:
remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:
i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.
and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.
we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?
who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.
who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.
israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.
my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?
what do we need to dismantle and destroy?
let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.
and who do we need to fight?
let's start with who we don't: the children.
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aethelwyneleigh27 · 2 days
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"your girl?" "My girl.."
Simon "Ghost" Riley x FEM!AFAB!Reader
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Synopsis: Your ex finds himself at your doorstep ready to beg you to take him back after he cheated on you, unfortunate for him, your "best friend" Simon was there on the look out for you..
Reader's body type was described as somewhat plump so yeah she's on the plus size/chubbier side but not specific, don't like that body type? Tf are you doing on my page then? This page is safe space for all body types (everyone for that matter) and I won't take discrimination against me or anyone else.
Hi lovelies! Lia here, is it just me or do drabbles do better than actual full length fics? I still cannot get over my last scenarios post not being recognized because it's been published but on private for more than three weeks, @connorsui lovie, I know you're there. I have both food for you here and on this post. Did I speed run this is 5 hours? Yes. This is coming out before the next scenarios fic 😭
If I told you guys this was inspired by a milkman bot session I had on c.ai, would you believe me? And yes it's the milkman, Francis from the game "that's not my neighbor", HE LOOKS TOO GOOD LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING??
Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam
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Is it any different to have a label? You always thought of that question, with your ex and now with Simon. Sure there was a label but he never made you feel as if you are who he calls you but with Simon it's different, it felt more than what you both labeled yourselves to each other.
Yet you've felt everything from guilt to grieve, having doubts wasn't uncommon for such a high risk exchange. Risking your friendship for something more like the eliminated boundaries set for people who are just friends are now set to the standards of those of a couple.
"Friends with benefits" is what it's called, not exactly the kind of commitment you dreamed of but it was mutually beneficial. You agreed not to catch feelings, well.. you were fucked to begin with, why would you agree to have no romantic connection to someone you already had feelings for?
What happens, happens I guess. You don't feel low after a high like you always did, Simon next to you, in your bed, your sheets and just surrounded by all the items that were both of his possession and yours. Too domestic for it's own good, for yourself.
Getting up felt like a crime, you shouldn't have to pull away from the warmth and comfort of his arms right? As much as you wanted to stay, you have to make breakfast, you promised him the night before.
You hauled yourself out of bed and to the kitchen, after picking up his and your clothes from the night before and into the wash cycle anyway. Making yourself your favorite morning drink before getting started on Simon's request.
Little did you know that Simon just woke up, panicking a little when he first gained his consciousness when he saw that you weren't around. His rationality set it, feeling stupid, pathetic and like a lost child for how he overreacted.
Walls were thin, muffled shouting and rapid knocking from outside your door alarmed him. The clicks of the locks as he walked out your room, he found you talking to the bastard who made you cry in the lieutenant's arms more times than he can count on both hands.
Simon couldn't help himself, his blood running cold as he saw where the bastard's eyes were.. that son of a bitch was staring at your chest that was peeking from your silk nightdress while you were berating him for even showing his face to your apartment in the first place.
Your Simon could only do what he's wanted to do for a long time now..
You felt stiff and ridgid arms wrap around your plump waist and hips from behind, you know that musky cologne anywhere. Simon moved the strap of your silk nightdress just a bit off your shoulder to kiss the center, you felt his kisses slowly making it's way to your neck.
Your face felt the hottest it's ever been, it took everything in your body to not shudder or close your eyes at his touch. You let out the softest sigh but your bliss was interrupted by your ex who was currently failing to find the right words.
Simon stops his kisses but keeps his lips right on that spot just at the gap between your neck and shoulder, he stares up to the man he called bastard, prick, twat, fucker and all kinds of other things, gave him a look that may as well tell him that Simon was about to commit murder.
"You..!" The "mangled looking mutt" (Simon's previous description of your ex) said that almost in a threatening tone however he bites his tongue as soon as Simon raises a brow, daring him to continue. Your ex tried to step forward into your apartment but Simon beat him to it, quickly slamming the door to his face.
You bite your urge to laugh as you heard your ex's face actually hit the door with a thud and crack as it was closed on him accompanied by a loud curse, with his angry stomps fading you felt a sense of relief.
That was short lived when those same two arms that kept you warm and grounded spun you around, you stopped yourself from whining because of the sudden distance of your back on his warm bare chest to now facing him. He didn't pull you closer but your eyes begged him to.
"I didn't know we were broadcasting it now, thought you said we looked like friends in the eyes of the world?" You managed to say so boldly despite how much effect his touch has on you.
"M'sorry love, I couldn't help it.. he was— I can't let him continue to upset and borderline harrass my girl then continue to look at you as if you're.."
Everything started to be muffled.. did he just say what you think he said...? Brush it off, just brush it off, it's probably just a mistake or a caught in the moment thing right?
"Your girl?" You said almost in a whisper to test the waters, seeing as he had no problem putting your ex in his place and claiming you.
Simon's eyes widened.
Oh.
Oh..
It dawned on him how much it meant that he actually said those two words, those same two words he's been avoiding like the plague. The same two words that would make him lose all his sense of control and mindfulness of the agreement you two made together.
Your breath hitched, shit what if he says it was a mistake? Would that hurt you? Simon knew it wasn't something unintentional. Going back, he had held it back for so long, in his head you were his and he was yours to do what you pleased with.
Simon did the only thing he could think of.
"My girl" he pulls you in, closer than he has ever had, holding you like today was the last day you two would ever be together. He's wanted to hold you like that forever, he will.
You cupped his face, looking him in the eyes with that look, he knew that look of doubt, essentially asking him if he meant it. It hurt but he knew that it wasn't your intention to and you needed to know if he was serious.
He managed to calm your nerves and give you reassurance with just the way he nods with his warm lips finding your neck again. You felt enough adrenaline to kiss him, like actually kiss him on his lips.
Romantic, soft and sweet yet passionate, Simon couldn't help himself, guiding and backing you up on the kitchen countertop. He took it as an opportunity to hoist you up on it by your waist, squirming a bit as the marble was like ice underneath your thighs, your legs propped open with him comfortably in between.
Of all the things, the grey sweatpants and refusal to even come close to wearing a shirt, it surely didn't help to calm where your mind is running.
He pressed his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of this with you, his breath on your skin felt different now...
Part Two: "your girl?" "My girl" (NSFW)
Part two is in @blingblong55's hands now because this is a collab and yes it's nsfw, I'll place the link here at the top when she graces us with her work and presence.
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hispg · 3 days
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Love can't wait
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Pairings: r2! Leon X Fem! Reader
Summary: Someone's horny in the middle of the night, and you'll have to take care of his 'problem'.
Wc: 2.2k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, making out, oral (f receiving), sloppy sex, whiny Leon.
An: Last week was a real mess. My birthday, I ended up being sick all week, I'm slowly recovering. And to make matters worse, I'm in my exam week💀
My brain is melting😭 Tomorrow I promise to answer the comments and asks🤝
I've only just managed to post, I had this draft ready and thought I should post it so I wouldn't run out of things to post. I didn't read it, so sorry for any mistakes.
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"Baby, please..." Leon whimpered in your ear, hugging you from behind, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your neck.
He was grabbing you by the hips, his erection bumping against your ass as you tried to sleep, which was impossible with you being humped by the man behind you.
He'd been awake for a while, desperate to fuck you, who knows why he woke up with his cock hard in the middle of the night. Jerking off wasn't enough, he needed you.
"Leon.... Tomorrow..." You mumble, trying to bury your head in the pillow.
You heard him protest in a whimper, pressing his erection hard against you, making you moan softly into the pillow, and he grunted at the contact. He wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Love...." He pleaded, giving your jaw a light bite, not wasting a second and promptly sliding his hand under your clothes, caressing your belly, feeling your skin slide under his fingers.
His other hand went behind your neck, up to the back of your head where he began to massage, bringing his lips to your cheeks, giving wet kisses all over your face.
"Please..." He whispered, not caring if he sounded desperate or not, he just wanted you, it was the only thing on his mind.
You didn't even have time to answer, he was quick enough to move his hand down to your ass, opening your ass cheeks and pressing his erection in the middle, rubbing back and forth.
He was so needy that you could already feel him leaking through his underwear, his hoarse, whimpering voice echoing in your ears. Just by the state he was in, you were already starting to feel wet.
"You feel so good..." He whispered, moving against you harder, eliciting several low moans from you.
You could feel his nails digging into your soft flesh, holding your ass open for him to rub against you.
He was drooling on you, his kisses on your neck becoming more and more desperate, his tongue coming out of his mouth to lick the whole length of your skin, his body shaking with precipitation.
If you didn't let him do what he wanted to you, he'd certainly be able to cum in his pants.
"I need you so much..." He whispers, bringing his hand up to your breasts, gently caressing them up until then.
"Leon... Mhm..." You murmured in a somewhat sleepy voice, shifting a little in bed.
He whimpered in your ear, pushing you down a little further, grinding against you with a little more vigor, and it wasn't long before he had your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his digits.
"I need to fuck you... I want it so bad it hurts." He purred, giving your nipple a vicious tug, and the unexpected action made you gasp.
Seeing that he wouldn't get any response from you at this point, he quickly turned you over on the bed, laying you on your back.
Before you could protest, he captured your lips in a languid kiss, his lips crashing against yours in a primal way, as if he couldn't help himself.
He kissed you so hard that at one point you could feel his teeth chattering against yours, he kissed you in such a sloppy, desperate way. Just as he began to press his erection into the mattress, wanting to relieve himself in some way.
You were so trapped at this point that at some point you just started moaning against each other, as if the kissing session was all you needed to go over the edge.
Almost painfully, the two of you broke apart, breathing heavily and quickly, almost out of breath from the intensity of your kisses.
When he looked at you, seeing your cheeks so red, the way your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took. Oh, and those lips, the way you looked at him so slyly like that.
At the same moment he felt his cock throbbing inside the confines of his pants. As if it were a last desperate act, he stuck his face between your breasts, sticking his tongue out in a clumsy way, sucking on your nipple as if it were the last thing he was going to do.
You moaned against the pillow, pushing his head against your breast. He grunted at the sudden contact, sucking on you desperately.
Despite not wanting it at first, you found yourself soaking wet now, grinding your pussy against his thigh that was between your legs, and he grinned like a bastard when he saw the state you were in.
"Mhm.... I want to fuck you..." He whispers, taking his mouth off your breast, searching for air, and he could already see the imprint of his lips around your breast.
You smiled slyly, rubbing your wetness against him hard, and in response he put a wide palm on your chest, lowering his face so that he could kiss you, leaving no part of your face untouched.
"Can I taste you? Please, please." He pleaded in a sly voice, tugging on your nipples once more, his mouth kissing you wetly and incessantly all over your face.
Fuck, how could you say no when he was asking so nicely?
When he saw you nod, Leon gave you a sly smile, turning you over so that you lay on your back properly, lifting your clothes to gain access to your thighs.
Once he had your legs open, he licked his lips, looking at your pussy which was already wet and waiting for him. In the blink of an eye he buried his face in your folds, sticking his tongue out and licking the entire length of your flesh, lapping at your skin like a hungry man, making loud, impure slurping sounds.
You could feel his nose hitting your clit every time he stuck his tongue into your needy hole, his hot muscle moving in and out in an incessant manner. His hands gripped your thighs in a firm way, leaving red marks from his fingers, from how hard he was holding you.
"So good, mhmm, you're so hot..." He murmurs against your slit, giving you an awkward smile, then going back to licking you all over again.
You were so red, your cheeks burning as you squirmed on the bed, your lips parted as you moaned, your hips moving back and forth, searching for more friction. Leon groaned when he felt your hand on his blond strands, which you took advantage of to push him against you, making him sink into your heat.
"Fuck-" You whimper, tugging at his hair, and he lets out a low murmur in response, giving your clit a hard suck, then sinking his tongue into your hole once more.
His cock was aching and throbbing in his pants, and he couldn't help himself, unconsciously humping the bed, eating you out desperately, wanting to taste your sweetness again and again.
You soon began to feel that warm sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind becoming more and more blurred with each caress of his tongue. Your furrows running down his chin, his mouth completely moist from the result of your arousal.
"Cum, cum, baby, cum on my tongue." He whispers, working tirelessly on your cunt, with no intention of stopping.
And there you went, unable to hold back the orgasm that washed over you when he licked and caressed you like that. You gushed out your juices, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once you felt the hot liquid being squirted out of you.
"Fuck Leon!" You let out a moan mixed with a sigh, your face all red with pleasure.
Faced with the scene, Leon didn't have much to do, his cock, which was throbbing painfully in the constraints of his pants, no longer hurt, he just felt the warmth forming in his body. Only to feel the thick ropes of cum spilling out, staining all his clothes. He didn't even realize it, he couldn't even hold back his own urges.
Leon couldn't even hide the blush that appeared fiercely on his cheeks, he felt so ashamed that he hadn't been able to hold back. But you couldn't blame him, every time he stared at your wet folds he couldn't help it, he felt all his blood pulsing to his lower body.
"I love the taste of you." He says in a sweet voice, as if he hadn't just eaten you out like a starving man.
When you regained your senses, you focused your gaze on him, and watched as he licked up all the rest of your fluids, licking his lips when he'd finished, then getting down on his knees.
"I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise." He says in a purr, soon putting his pants down, along with his underpants.
You saw a part of his cock, the pink tip that was dripping, not only that, but it was all sticky with his cum. At that moment you felt your pussy get even wetter.
Your legs remained open as you watched him, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock.
When he started masturbating, dirty, erotic moans came out of his mouth, whimpers so sly that you could spend the night watching him.
Leon could feel his cock getting harder and harder in his hand, with every movement, a little trail of pre-cum running down his pink tip.
"Mhm.... I'm going to fuck you. You're going to feel so good." He said, so sweetly, but at the same time looking at you in such a naughty way.
Once again he positioned himself on top of you, his tip resting lightly against your entrance. His cum mixing with yours, your fluids mixing with his, making a slippery mess.
You gripped the sheets tightly, biting your lower lip, your body moving involuntarily against him, begging for any other movement.
"You're so beautiful..." Leon purrs, giving you a little distraction, because right after that line he thrust hard against you.
He entered you at once, completely, without even letting you breathe. You went to heaven when you felt all that stretching once again, your walls stretching to accommodate him, your tight pussy wrapping itself tightly around him, making him grunt in response.
"Fucking tight-" he growls, placing his hands on your hips, letting his fingers sink into your skin.
He slowly put his body up against yours, letting his weight rest on you a little. His hips jerked against yours, his fingers leaving red marks on your hips.
Your mouth opened to let out a silent whimper, while your eyes closed tightly as he thrust all the way in and hit that spongy spot that made you see stars every time.
You swore you couldn't even hear yourself anymore, or know whatever inarticulate sounds you were letting out. The only sensation that was in your body was the sloppy thrusts, his tip reaching deep points, touching your cervix from time to time.
" Tight little pussy, so fucking good." Leon purrs, his hips moving against yours in an almost involuntary way, as if he no longer had any control.
Just as he could no longer hold back all the noises he let out every time you squeezed around him, your walls wrapped around his cock so tightly that he was trying not to roll his eyes every time it happened.
You could already feel your body heating up once again, you could even see the bodily signs that it wouldn't be long before you went over the edge once more. And Leon would be lying if he didn't say the same thing.
In a failed and desperate attempt to drown out his sounds, he put his mouth on yours, kissing you passionately and hotly, increasing the speed with which he thrust into you. In and out, in sync with the roll of your hips.
You felt your body shiver when he put his tongue inside your mouth, exploring everything he could, wanting to feel everything you could offer him.
It was the last straw for you to come, creaming all over his cock, making another mess of the sheets. The sensation of you moaning against his mouth, or the way he felt you cumming for him so easily, was a spark of electricity in his body.
All you understood was some cursing that came out of him, then his hot cum inside you. He was going to pull out, hell, he knew he shouldn't cum inside you. But how could he take his cock out of you when you nestled so perfectly?
The two of you were a mess, barely able to breathe, his forehead resting under yours as he tried to catch his breath.
And then he smiled innocently, whispering, "Round two?"
You rolled your eyes, he wasn't serious.
"No, it's two in the morning. We should be asleep." You retorted, and he nodded with a displeased pout.
He promptly got off you, rolling onto his side and hugging you from behind once again, keeping you close. He seemed quite relaxed now.
It's a long night, although he's satisfied now, maybe he just needs a little more love throughout the evening.
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alphabetboyluvr · 16 hours
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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk
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pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
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It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
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21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed. 
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
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It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
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The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung. 
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?" 
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too. 
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips. 
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
"Sorry, what the fuck?!"
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lowkeyerror · 3 days
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The Family Business Ch.6
WandaNat x Raeder
Word Count: 2.4k
Ch. Notes: Rising tensions
Summary: The after math of the fallout between Wanda and her family leads to an all too important business meeting the next day.
An: haha I didn't almost forget to post today... And don't hate me for the next chapter please
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
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“What um… what number are you guys staying in? Do you know?”  You ask, finally breaking the silence as you arrived at the building.
“220,” Natasha answers for them.
You nod, “I’m in 216, we’ll be right across from each other.”
The ride in the elevator was as silent as the car ride. The anger that was permeating off of Wanda had slightly reduced, but not by much. When the elevator opens, you escort the women to their apartment.
You point across the hall then say, “Well this is you and that is me if you need anything you can always knock."
You attempt to walk away, but a soft grip around your wrist stops you.  Your gaze slowly rises to meet Wanda’s. She pulls you into her and the warmth of her embrace let’s you know that she’ll be alright.
“Goodnight little krolik,” she kisses the top of your head before making her way into her new home.
“She’s going to be ok right?” You ask Natasha and she smiles softly at you.
“I’ll make sure of it lisichka. Go rest, you've had an eventful day. “
Its like her words trigger a yawn from your lips. Exhaustion is finally catching up to you properly.
“Goodnight, Nat.”
Once you go into your condo you sigh. The quiet finally getting the best of you. Though you were exhausted your mind was racing. Car chase, Wanda, Natasha, dinner, it all hit you at once.  Despite your thoughts you attempt to get ready for bed.
Your phone buzzes on the nightstand as soon as your head hits the pillow. It’s a text from Dragos calling for a meeting tomorrow at 9am. You put the phone back down and shut your eyes. This would all feel easier to deal with in the morning.
When your alarm rings at 7 am, you are quick to shut it off. Your sleep had been restless, and you feel the previous nights events weighing heavily on your shoulders. Nonetheless you stumble out of your bed.
After you brush your teeth, you throw on a pair of sweats to get your morning run in before the meeting. Usually, you’d do a run followed by a more rigorous workout, but you were short on time.
Your mind is clear as you begin to run away from the condo. Your only thoughts are focusing on your breathing.
Gloom hadn’t yet left the city. Though it wasn’t raining yet you wouldn’t be surprised if it started up later. Traffic seemed light, not a lot of cars were passing you on the road. The cool air was welcomed against your face as your body temperature slowly rose with each stride.
For a small moment in time, you were at peace. Part of you wished to skip the meeting and just take a lazy day. However, that wasn’t an option because you didn’t work in a regular job field. The non-negotiables of your profession were few but harsh. While you knew the Maximoff’s were lenient with you, you never craved to take advantage of that.
When you arrive back to your building, you quickly shower and dress. You had just finished doing your hair when your doorbell rang. Opening the door, you are met by a familiar red head, who seems to be in a better mood than last night.
“Morning little krolik, I come with coffee and a bagel.”
You smile, “The occasion?”
“I was hoping we’d carpool to work.”
You nod a few times, “Of course, just let me grab my coat and we can head out.”
Quickly you grab your belongings and follow Wanda to her car. You quietly munch on the bagel during the car ride.
“No Natasha today?”
She shakes her head, “Papa is still unsure of her role in the company, so he doesn't want her at the meeting.”
“Speaking of Dragos, are you feeling any better from… yesterday?”
Wanda takes a deep breath. You see her hands clench around the wheel and her demeanor shifts slightly.
“I assume the meeting will further address what happened last night,” she speaks flatly.
“Wanda, you have to keep calm.”
You see her jaw clench, “I will reflect whatever mood is brought unto me.”
You shake your head, “You and I both know that nothing gets solved with that kind of behavior.”
“So, what, you want me to bow down and apologize?” The irritation in her voice doesn’t phase you.
“That’s not what I said. I’m saying you can’t get into a yelling match, and you can’t put your hands on anyone.”
“If they were honest with me from the beginning I wouldn’t have-"
You cut her off, “I didn’t ask for an explanation Wanda. I’m telling you something that I know you are already aware of. If you want to head this organization, you have to keep your emotions in check.”
She mumbles underneath her breath. You raise an eyebrow at her childish antics, “What was that?”
“I said, it’s easier to keep my emotions in check when the lies aren’t about you.”
You fumble with your words briefly before speaking, “Well I told you truth, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but- “
“Well, there you have it. If you want to know something about me, it’s best to ask me. However, if I tell you, and you don’t like what you hear you have to deal with that on your own time,” you glance at her.
She chuckles softly to herself, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to how much you’ve grown.”
You smile, but then it falters as you recall the argument from last night. Wanda had made Pietro and Dragos retreat instantly when mentioning something that revolved around you. You want to know what it is.
“Wanda, what are they hiding from me?”
You can visibly see the woman pale, “Do you trust me Y/n?”
You nod slowly.
She sighs, “When it’s the right time, I’ll tell you.”
You want to argue more, but you don’t. You trust Wanda, you know she has your best interests in mind. So, you fight the urge to be upset for the rest of the car ride.
When you get to the office, the two of you ride straight to the top floor. Dragos, Pietro, and Flora were already there. The room is tense as you both sit across from them. Usually you’d sit by Pietro’s side, but you weren’t going to let Wanda feel alone in this.
“You can disagree with me if you want, but your actions yesterday proved why keeping you in the dark about the situation with Y/n was the right thing to do. You’re hot-headed now, but back then you were even worse,” Dragos looks his daughter in the eye when he speaks.
You can feel the anger radiating off of Wanda’s body and for a moment you think she is going to have an outburst. Instead, she puts her elbows on the table and leans forward, never breaking eye contact with her father.
“We are a family and I thought that we agreed on having no secrets from each other. In this business a secret is the most dangerous weapon that could be used against us. My potential reaction aside, keeping this secret from me is breaking the rules you set in place. Or do the rules only apply to me?”
Wanda’s response was damn good in your opinion. Although she was angry you saw her hands clasping each other for dear life as a sign of restraint.
“Can we just move on from this? It was 5 years ago, and Y/n is fine now,” Pietro tries to defuse the tension.
Wanda shakes her head, “As much as this is about Y/n, it’s also about not respecting me enough to keep me properly informed about our family and our business. It’s unfair for you all to sit here and claim that I’m solely in the wrong. We can’t move on until all parties take responsibility for their part in this,” Wanda holds firm.
It's weird being in a meeting about yourself, but almost having nothing to do with anything being discussed.
“Have you ever considered the possibility that Y/n didn’t want us to tell you?” Dragos states and your body tenses.
“No,” Wanda says nonchalantly, as if his question was unimportant.
“What if she…”
Wanda’s glare hits her father like an ice pick to the back, “This isn’t a hypothetical, papa. If in some universe out their Y/n wanted you to keep it a secret from me, then that would be fine. However, this isn’t that universe, now is it Y/n?”
She doesn’t look at you, but you answer her question firmly, “No, it isn’t.”
“The best way to move forward from this is an apology from both sides. Wanda has just returned and we’ve dwelled on this matter for too long,” Flora stops the argument in it’s track.
You thought it was a civil solution. It would be for the best, but just by taking a quick glance at Wanda you can tell that she doesn’t want to apologize. It was her rigid posture and her hardened eyes. She felt like she did nothing wrong, but you were hoping she would stand down for the greater good.
“Wanda, I’m sorry we intentionally kept this from you. It is not the way we do things around here. Forgive me, docha,” Dragos speaks sincerely as he looks at Wanda.
She doesn’t seem to be budging. You make the judgment call by discreetly placing your hand on her thigh. This causes her to look in your direction and you speak to her with your eyes. Your features are telling her to apologize. You see her posture relaxes and her eyes soften a bit.
“I’m sorry for the way that I acted last night. It was uncalled for, regardless of my feelings,” she speaks with an equal amount of sincerity.
“Good, now that we’ve settled that I’m going to cut to the chase. Natasha, what assets does she bring to the table?” Dragos moves on to business fairly quickly.
Wanda follows his suit, speaking highly of her wife, “Natasha is a hands on kind of employee. She thrives being where the action is and that doesn’t just mean in a fight. She’s a highly trained assassin, her accolades are insurmountable, and there’s quite literally nothing that she can’t do.”
“She can start as head of security, and we can see what she can do from there,” Dragos offers, but even you think the role is undercutting Natasha’s abilities.
Wanda seems frustrated, but she is going to agree to these terms.
You speak up, “I think she should be in charge of field operations.”
“You and Pietro handle the field operations just fine, why add a third?” Dragos questions with curiosity not animosity.
“To avoid things like what happened yesterday with Mr. H. Right now, the way we operate is that Piet comes and gets me when needed and we just go from there. It’s not strategic at all, I’m usually in the car before I know what exactly it is that we’re doing,” you argue your position.
“It always works out,” Pietro fires back.
Your eyes lock on his, “But it could work better. With me running numbers for the company and for our business, I don’t always have the time to sit and plan out these operations. We all know that Piet doesn’t believe in planning. It’s field operations, it shouldn’t always just be Piet and me. We should have men out there with us incase things go south, but there’s never a plan for that.”
“And you think the addition of Ms. Romanoff will add…” Dragos leads off his sentence.
“She’s going to add structure and power by organizing this department into an actual department rather than just Piet and I doing deliveries in car. She’s experienced and we should be using that to our advantage, especially with us potentially being undercut at the moment.”
Dragos ponders, which is a good thing. It means he believes there is something to everything you’re saying.
“Give her a week on field operations and if you don’t see any type of benefit, she can be head of security,” Wanda offers a compromise.
“Only a week?” His disbelief is hidden in his voice, but you know it’s there.
“It’s all she needs,” Wanda says with confidence.
“Alright, that’s everything for today- “
“We’re not going to address the Kingpin situation?” You stay planted firmly in your chair.
Dragos sighs, “I will deal with Kingpin personally.  I had Kate set up a meeting at neutral territory.”
You shook your head knowing what Dragos was insinuating, “You’re trying to have a one-on-one meeting with this bastard? Everyone in this room knows that idea sounds like shit.”
“It’s not an idea, it’s happening in a few hours,” Dragos counters.
“Papa you’re going to have someone tailing you right? You don’t trust him to keep true to his word,” Pietro looks at his father in disbelief.
Dragos’s hand trails through his thick gray hair, “I’ve dealt with Kingpin before. I’ve known him for a long time, and I will be prepared for whatever he has coming.”
“Papa you can’t be serious?” Wanda has features akin to Pietro.
The arguing is about to continue, but then Flora speaks up, “Your father knows what he’s doing kids. Have some faith in him, he’s got a lot of experience for all of you. If he thinks this is the right call, then it has to be. Now, you’re dismissed.”
Suddenly there was no room for arguing with her. You try to keep calm but your feelings on the matter aren’t well hidden as you storm out of the room. Wanda and Pietro leave after you, both with the goal of trying to comfort you. However, their moods weren’t much better than yours.
When it was just the husband and wife in the office Flora let her nerves show. She was unsure about this plan. The lack of support from the group only heightened her anxiety for her husband’s well-being.
“You better prove them wrong Dragos. If anything were to happen to you I-"
The older man is gentle as he reaches for his wife’s hand, in the way he is always gentle with her. He places a kiss to the back of her palm, “Nothing is going to happen to me, moya lybov. I’m going to take car of this business and this family like I always have.”
Dragos wasn’t going to show his nerves. He never did, but to think they didn’t exist would’ve been ignorant. There wasn’t a reality that Dragos saw where the meeting went sideways. It had to go well, or a war would tear across the city. That thought protected him like a bullet proof vest. He was going to protect the industry he worked to build because that was the only option.
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Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 day
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How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …
Dick: a solid 8.5/10.
A very clingy bean.
Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.
In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’
And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀
‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.
‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.
So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.
Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.
The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.
He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.
At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.
Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.
For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.
Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.
He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.
Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.
However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.
This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.
‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.
‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.
You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.
You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’
Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10
He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.
Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.
He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.
It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.
It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…
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roosterforme · 1 day
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Covering the Classics Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: Anna was afraid to face her new friends after the night out at the bar. Admitting she was attracted to Bob was easier to do than explain why she couldn't have him. When she finally sends him some book recommendations, she finds his taste in books familiar in an all too intimate way. 
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)
Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!
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Anna spent the rest of her weekend working on lesson plans and looking at Bob's number saved in her phone. She had compiled a mental list of titles she thought he would like, and she'd even pulled a few dog-eared books from her own collection and stacked them up on her narrow counter. She would absolutely love to have Bob borrow them from her, but she'd completely messed everything up.
Why, when confronted with a decent man, did she shut everything down and destroy all hope? Because of Kevin. That's why. She knew this crush on Bob was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, but she still caught herself looking at his contact information on Sunday evening with longing in her heart.
She made herself a sad sandwich for dinner and packed herself a second sad sandwich for lunch the next day and then she settled in with her computer. The idea of taking her sad sandwich to the quad and eating with her friends was making her anxious. What if they didn't even want her around now that she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of their friend? What if they looked up at her as she approached them sitting on the bench with their perfect, beautiful lunches and scowled with their perfect, beautiful faces? 
"Oh no," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. She really liked them, but they probably hated her now. And she really liked Bob, but he probably went home with that better looking woman who was at the Navy bar and hadn't thought about Anna one time since. 
She forced her attention to her computer screen which was prompting her for a password. She entered Kev1n1s@t00L and watched as the website she'd had open on her browser came to life. She sighed as she scrolled through her saved favorites on PoetsAmongUs. It was kind of pitiful that she knew what she was going to end up reading before she could actually admit it to herself. Longing whispers in the shadows of my heart, Desire ignites a flame that burns so deep, Devotion woven into every breath I take, Love that knows no boundaries, no end. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river, Binding me to you in a dance of fire, In this symphony of emotions, we find our truth, A love that transcends time, space, and doubt.
Anna whined from her bed in her sad little apartment as she looked at the pen name of her favorite poet before clicking on it. He either never finished filling out his profile or he was being purposely vague. Male, 30s, United States. 
"Sky Writing. The only man I would trust with my heart ever again." She read the poem once more. That was her favorite passage, but she knew everything he posted by heart and got excited every time something new from him popped up every few months. 
It was late enough that she could probably just go to sleep without acknowledging that she hadn't texted Bob and probably never would. She couldn't set foot back in that bar ever again. Maybe that other place that Jessica loved so much would be somewhere she could check out next time she had nothing better to do. Chippy's or something? She started to doze off.
When her alarm started blaring, it was almost like she had slept too well. She'd dreamed about a faceless man with beautiful hands reading poetry to her while he ran his fingers slowly up and down her bare thigh. She couldn't shake the delicious feeling even as her alarm got louder. When she managed to turn it off, she lay there wishing she had time to go on the poetry website and masturbate before work. 
"Stop it," she whispered as she got up and started getting herself ready for the day. 
At least she got to teach English 522 this afternoon. Feminist Literature was becoming one of her favorite classes, as evidenced by her well worn copy of Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu which was in her bag. When she stood in her kitchen and ate a peanut butter granola bar and drank some coffee, she looked at the books she had pulled out as options for Bob, but she shook her head and left for the day without dwelling on how disappointing her life truly was.
Relying solely on public transportation meant leaving a lot earlier than you wanted to, but Anna still barely made it to her office in time to grab her notebook and teach her first lecture of the week. Half of the students still looked like they were asleep while the other half were looking at her like she was a literary messiah. It was almost comical, and when lunchtime rolled around, she was in a pretty great mood. Until she realized she was still on the fence about going to the quad. 
"Just do a vibe check," she muttered as she grabbed her lunch from her office. "If they look pissed off, you can come right back here and never talk to anyone else again for the rest of your life." She could subside on sandwiches and online poetry and only speak when she was giving lectures. That sounded simultaneously amazing and also terrifying.
The college campus was bustling today. There were some guys skateboarding through the quad, and she recognized a few other faculty members from the English department who waved to her. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her heart from thudding in a sickening rhythm that Edgar Alan Poe would think was beautiful. When she spotted the two women on the bench in front of the weird tree, Anna was shocked to see them waving to her with smiles on their faces. 
"Anna!" called Jessica. "You'll never believe it! The vending machine just gave me my bottle of Pepsi and a bonus bottle of ginger ale! Like it knew I was about to see you!"
"Chaos Theory at its finest," said the other woman before she bit into her carrot stick and hummus. 
"It's really more of the Butterfly Effect," Jessica replied. Anna had no idea what they were talking about, but they scooted away from each other on the bench to make room, so she decided to stay.
Anna swallowed hard as she sat and opened her pack of peanuts. "How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked the two of them, and soon her nerves calmed down. 
"Excellent. Bradley and I took a tour of the library yesterday."
"Pretty good. I helped Jake make waffles for breakfast. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. What did you do with the rest of your weekend? After the Hard Deck?"
Anna accepted the bottle of ginger ale that Jessica handed to her as she said, "Um, well I did my lesson plans for the next few weeks. And I started writing my midterm exams. Nothing exciting."
She was met with a bit of awkward silence, and she could feel the two women sharing a look behind her head. "Did you happen to text Bob?" Advanced Calculus asked cautiously, and Anna knew this was the part where it was all over. The dramatic climax, except she was actually the villain in this story.
"No, actually. I think that ship has sailed," she replied softly. 
"Why?" Jessica asked, not unkindly. "When we figured out that you and he already met at the bookstore in North Park, we were ecstatic. He's the mystery guy you were losing your mind over, Anna! The handsome one with glasses who smells so good!"
"He really does smell good," Advanced Calculus muttered as she dipped another carrot into the hummus which was probably unfairly homemade. "Are you no longer attracted to him? Was it his nerdy tee shirt? Or were all the guys so obnoxious you couldn't wait to leave?"
Anna held onto the cold bottle of ginger ale a little tighter as she said, "It's not that at all. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to Bob? And I thought his shirt was kind of charming. And the rest of the guys were welcoming in a slightly intense way."
Now Jessica was turned to face her, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Bob thinks you ran away from him twice now because he's unappealing and boring."
Anna jolted and the pack of peanuts went flying to the ground, nuts rolling in every direction. "He does?" she asked, palms beginning to sweat again.
"Yeah. Big time. But he's quite attracted to you. Apparently the red hair is a thing."
"Oh my god," Anna moaned in embarrassment. Bob liked her red hair? "Oh no. No. No. He's just.... he's so.... and he's also.... I can't even." She took a deep breath as she kicked at the lost peanuts. "Bob is so handsome. It's hard to look into his eyes for too long, because you start to feel like you're going to break out into song. And I don't think I've ever been around a man who smells quite that nice. And he's funny and just a touch nerdy, but that's a good thing." 
There was another beat of silence before Advanced Calculus said, "I'm not really understanding what the problem is."
Anna shook her head and unwrapped her sandwich to keep her hands busy. "Listen, none of my weirdness is because of him. It's all because of me. I can't have a crush on him. I can't be interested in him. I can't be interested in any men whatsoever."
Jessica nudged her shoulder and said, "Maybe you could just text him? Maybe making another new friend wouldn't be so bad?"
--------------------------
"Well if you can't find a girlfriend, I hope you're at least getting your rocks off with an attractive lady."
Bob was cradling his forehead in his hand and trying to escape from Suzanne's house without having this conversation. Whenever he stopped to pick up dinner instead of cooking something at home, he always brought something for her, too. It was the neighborly thing to do, especially when your neighbor was decades older than you, but right now he just wanted to vanish. 
"I wouldn't tell you even if I was," he replied, earning a laugh as she opened up the container of soup at her kitchen table. 
"Sit down and stay for a while," she told him, pointing to the empty chair. "I'll pay you back for dinner with my charm and witticism since you won't accept any money."
His phone started to vibrate in his uniform pocket, and he dug it out thinking it was probably Jessica having finished mocking up her barbarian character for their campaign, but it was a text from an unknown number. He was about to pocket his phone again, but then he saw the words book recommendations and paused. He quickly unlocked the phone and started reading the texts that were coming through.
I have some book recommendations for you if you still want them. I'm sorry I didn't send them over the weekend.
This is Anna, by the way.
I should have started with that information.
Wow. This is already embarrassing.
Bob laughed and started to type back immediately, and then Suzanne's voice cut across his thoughts. "Are you sure you don't have a special lady? You're smiling an awful lot at your phone."
He looked at her and shook his head. "I'm sure. I like this girl, but she doesn't return my feelings that way. She's just sending me some recommendations." He started to back away as he added, "Enjoy your soup. I'll see you later, Suzanne."
"Good night, Robert."
Bob ended up standing just inside his front door as he saved Anna's number and typed back a message to her. He thought keeping it simple would be his best move. Anything more than that and he'd embarrass himself once again by getting ahead of himself with his feelings. 
I would love some more recommendations from you. You're the expert.
He only had to wait about a minute for her response, which was just a list of book after book after book that he'd never even heard of. The first were the ones she'd given to him verbally on Friday night, but the rest were just as foreign to him.
Anna Webber: Persuasion by Austen. Northanger Abbey by Austen, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, and The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas (because you like poetry so much)
Bob quickly ate his own container of soup while he read the list over and over again. Then without changing out of his uniform, he grabbed the keys to his beat up truck and headed to the bookstore in North Park to see if he could find any of these titles before they closed.
The store was virtually empty, and when he climbed the stairs up to the slightly dusty loft he could practically picture Anna's pretty hands and painted nails gliding along all of the spines. He could imagine her pretty, wide eyes looking up at him before she figured out he was boring. He could hear her laugh as he made his way to the spot where they had been standing together.
That horrible Vonnegut book was still there which made him chuckle. "Figures nobody else would want to read it," he muttered as he reached for it. Then he backtracked a little bit to start collecting everything from Anna's list. He referenced his text messages several times, hunting all over the Classics section until he had almost everything in order. Then he spread them out along the shelf and took a photo. He texted it to her before he could second guess himself after he added a short caption. 
Did I miss anything?
He was walking back down to the poetry section when his phone vibrated.
Anna Webber: You're at the bookstore right now? The one in North Park?
Bob froze in the middle of the stairs. He embarrassed himself without even knowing it. He must seem desperate right now. Running out to the store as soon as she sent him the list. "Shit," he groaned softly. When he got another message, he was almost afraid to look at it.
Anna Webber: I LOVE that store. I wish I were there right now, too.
Bob thought that sounded perfect, actually. Maybe if she were here now, she wouldn't run away this time. He'd been playing those kinds of scenarios over and over in his head, ones where she liked him back the way he liked her. Ones where they left the bookstore holding hands.
He continued downstairs to look for the book of poems she suggested for him, which he found quickly, along with Votive by Keiran Goddard. Would Anna like a copy of his favorite book of poetry? Did he even want to ask her? At this point, he had nothing to lose. She wasn't going to suddenly want him, but that shouldn't stop him from sharing a recommendation of his own. Especially when she might really enjoy something he found so spectacular. 
Bob held the book up and snapped a quick selfie, sending it away into the universe before dwelling on it too much.
--------------------
Anna was preparing a piece of toast with jelly for herself or dinner, desperately wishing she were back at the bookstore. Bob was there, probably smelling so nice and luring everyone else who was shopping closer to him. Perhaps he was wearing another Dungeons & Dragons shirt like he'd worn to the Navy bar. Perhaps his biceps were straining against it.
She didn't have to use her vivid imagination for very long, because suddenly Bob was staring at her through her phone screen with his crooked little smile and his beautiful eyes. And his uniform. 
"Oh my god." The toast slipped from her fingers and landed jelly side down on her plate as she took in every single detail. Navy uniforms were khaki? Why had she assumed they were all navy blue? Why didn't she know more about the Navy? She was going to take the time to learn everything she could about the United States Navy. 
When she realized her mouth was dry, she reached for her glass of water and downed it. She was in a daze. A Bob Floyd induced daze. Even all the little pins on his shirt were distracting. She wanted to count all of them. She wanted to touch them. She wondered what they would feel like if she pressed her lips to them. 
"Stop," she gasped. But she couldn't. Now her eyes drifted up to his face again, and she thought she'd only really ever seen the exact color of his eyes in a Kandinsky painting at the Guggenheim. She couldn't look away. "No. No. No!" she moaned. And then she finally read the actual message he'd typed out after gawking at his photo for five whole minutes. 
Bob Floyd: Have you ever read Votive by Keiran Goddard? It's my favorite collection of poetry. 
Anna laughed a little hysterically. She hadn't even noticed he was holding up a book at all. His graceful fingers were wrapped around the damn thing, but she'd been too distracted by him to actually look at the book. But now the fact that she'd never read Goddard before had her flushed and flustered, because Bob had sent a book recommendation to her. Nobody ever did that, and all she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get her hands on a copy and devour the whole entire thing if it was something he liked. 
Very calmly and rationally, she typed back to him.
I have not read it yet, but I'll add it to my list of things to check out of the library. 
When she set her phone down and realized her toast had become a casualty to this text conversation, she moaned and flipped it back over. Her heart was still beating a little erratically from looking at Bob's photo for too long, and she didn't think she could even eat. There was no way she could waste any food in her current financial state though, so she took a bite anyway as he texted her back.
Bob Floyd: I'll just pick it up for you while I'm here. I hope you'll like it, but if you hate it, that's okay too. It's a bit of an acquired taste.
Oh no. She couldn't let him buy it, because she didn't have any extra spending money at the moment to be able to pay him back. But admitting that to him would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and she didn't even think she could do it. Perhaps she could scrape together twenty dollars if she skipped a few meals, but then she wouldn't be able to join the girls in the quad at lunchtime. They'd notice her lack of food right away. 
"Why are you such a disaster?" she asked herself as she scarfed down the rest of her toast and typed back to him.
Thank you. I can pay you back for it later.
She would figure it out. She always did. Even when she didn't want to, she managed to find a way to solve her problems. Even when it hurt.
Bob Floyd: It's my treat. I can give it to Bradley or Jake at work tomorrow. I'm sure either of the ladies wouldn't mind getting it to you when they see you. Or if you feel like it, we could meet for coffee one day and I could give it to you in person. Just let me know.
"Oh, Anna," she whispered, already typing out a response before she could think better of it.
--------------------------
Bob was surprised Anna took him up on his offer to meet for coffee, but he found himself looking forward to it in spite of the fact that he was still pining a bit. He'd get over it in time. He'd find someone new to crush on, or maybe he'd meet another girl that he was interested in, and maybe she would be interested back. But none of that stopped him from being excited at the prospect of being around her again. And none of that prepared him for the way he felt when Anna pushed through the door of the coffee shop on Wednesday evening and looked around tentatively. Her red hair was in another loose braid, and her freckles were so endearing.
As soon as her eyes landed on him, she looked less apprehensive but also more resigned. When she approached the table where he was sitting with three books, he stood. "Hey. Anna. How are you?"
"Hi, Bob." Even her voice was soft and sweet as her eyes swept along his face and body. She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she said, "Thanks for the book. Will you let me buy you something to drink?"
He didn't respond beyond nodding and leading the way toward the counter. He listened to her order a small coffee before he ordered a large hot tea, and when she reached for her wallet, he was already handing over a twenty. When she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes, he just smiled. "You don't have to buy me a drink."
She watched the money leave his hand as she said, "Well, you don't have to buy me one either."
"Too late."
She was quiet as they returned to the small table with their hot beverages, but as soon as she sat, she said, "You'll have to let me pay next time."
Bob slid two of the books across the table as he asked, "Next time?" But she didn't respond as she let her fingers brush along Votive before she picked it up to reveal the one underneath it.
Anna's laughter filled the small space as her eyes darted back up to meet his. "You bought Cat's Cradle? I didn't think that was the kind of thing you were looking for?"
He glanced down into his tea. "Uh, it's not. I got it for you."
"Bob," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine now. He liked her nail polish and wanted to touch her hands. "You did not have to get me two books."
"Yes I did," he said with a smile. "Vonnegut sounds horrible. I felt bad for it because nobody else was ever going to buy it. I couldn't just leave it to rot on the shelf when I know the only person who would be willing to give it a nice home."
When she laughed again, she seemed resigned to the fact that the books were both hers. "Thanks. Money is a little tight for me right now. You know how it is when you first move," she told him while she fidgeted a bit. "But next time, I'll buy your drink. Or your book. Or something."
"You keep saying 'next time'."
Anna poked at her coffee cup and said, "I thought maybe.... we could be friends."
"Friends." His voice felt and sounded stale. The word made him feel sadder than it should have. "Of course."
She looked even more relieved now as she took a sip of her coffee, but Bob was busy trying not to memorize the pretty pattern of her freckles across her nose and the way her lips were pursed. He wouldn't look at a friend that way. 
"Which book is that?" she asked, nodding toward the last one in front of him. 
He flipped it over so she could see the cover, and he said, "Oh, it's The Age of Innocence. I'm almost done reading it, and I was just hoping to get your opinions on a few things."
Anna's eyes went wider. "You're almost done reading it? Already?"
"Yeah." His voice sounded like a groan, and he knew he should be embarrassed since she recommended it two days ago, but he said, "Once I start a new book, I can't put it down if it's good."
"So you like it?" she asked, leaning a little closer to him as a smile played along her lips. 
"It's fantastic," he replied, and her foot brushed his softly beneath the table.
Anna licked her lips and shifted in her seat as she made a soft sound that just made Bob want to get closer to her. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and cleared her throat before she blurted out. "You're really handsome." His lips parted wordlessly, unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to as she immediately said, "And you're not boring. Not at all. I could have stayed in that dusty bookstore all afternoon, tucked away in the loft, talking to you about book after book."
"Oh," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"
"Yes. Really," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I didn't disappear because of you. I disappeared because of me. And I'm really sorry about that."
Then he realized what was going on. His friends got to her already. He'd told Jessica on Saturday night that he was sure Anna ditched him because he's probably not as handsome or interesting as she's used to. And now he was going to have to text her and tell her to lay off. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without having to hear Anna pity him like this.
"Don't worry about it," he told her softly with his best attempt at a smile. "We can be friends."
When he got home, she texted him to thank him again for the books and the coffee. But he was still thinking about her freckles and how far down her neck they might go. Maybe they made a pretty pattern across her shoulders, too. Maybe they would disappear into her bra, a perfect treasure for another man to find. But not Bob. Bob and Anna were just friends.
------------------------
When Anna finally got home after taking two buses, it was so late, she knew she should go right to bed. But she was wishing for another cheap bottle of wine to try to take her mind off of Bob. He was perfect, and she couldn't let herself have him. They could be friends, but nothing more. She could send him texts, but they couldn't flirt. 
She already missed his soft voice and the way he gave her his entire focus when they were together. He bought her two books! Nobody else ever bought her books! And he read the ones she recommended to him! Maybe Kevin was to blame for most things that had gone wrong in her life, but literally no man she'd ever known was as kind and thoughtful as Bob.
She collapsed back onto her bed in her sad apartment were she could look at her kitchen and her bathroom at the same time, and she opened the book of poetry. Bob's favorite poetry. Withing minutes of reading the first few pages, she felt warmer and maybe a little flustered. The passages were romantic and insightful in such a familiar way. Something was tickling at her brain, trying to trigger a memory. She kept reading, making it fifteen pages in before she gasped and realized what it was. 
"Sky Writing," she murmured, reaching for her computer in favor of the book. She was reminded of her favorite novice poet from her favorite website. The poetry in the book sounded a bit like the poems written by Sky Writing, and now Anna was even more of a mess knowing that this was the kind of intimate literature Bob preferred to read. 
She wanted him. She wanted to know what his big, sturdy hands would feel like on her body. What his lips tasted like. She wanted to erase that pinch of doubt she saw on his face when she tried to reassure him that even though they were going to be just friends, she definitely found him attractive. 
The next time she went shopping, she was going to need to stock up on some more bottles of cheap wine.
-------------------------
Just friends. Okay, Anna. Sure, babe. Let's see how long that lasts. Bob's wingwomen are powerful. Thank you @lauratang for the book/reading list! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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covetyou · 1 day
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ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: oral sex (m! receiving), balls, questionable use of sex toys, semi-public blowjobs, eggs, Joel is a giant bunny, feelings, misunderstandings leading to angst. word count: 5.9k summary: Catching Joel dressed as a giant rabbit in your backyard wasn't on your bingo card for things to happen to you this year. But, what lies for you beneath the bunny suit, and in his basket, aren't the only surprises you'll have tonight.
A/N: truth be told I find eggs genuinely, criminally funny in every possible way, as well as disgusting, so happy Easter!
These egg things are hilarious, but also not nearly as fun as they seem, though if I'd had the genius idea to stick 'em on some balls I imagine I would've had a much better time tbh.
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You almost don't notice, too busy shoving your cup harshly against the ice dispenser before taking a long, deep, gulp of the cold liquid. But then you see it, and it's not the shock of cold to your esophagus that makes your eyes widen, spluttering icy water before sucking in a desperate breath.
No. It's the ghostly white figure rummaging around in your backyard on all fours.
You duck down just as it stands, holding on tightly to the counter edge with both hands, before crawling to the backdoor to check it's locked, keeping you safely inside away from whatever this thing was. But, just as you reach for the latch, the creature stands on two legs, stretching back with two thick arms on its waist.
The figure is broad, and tall, and... dressed in what appears to be a giant bunny onesie. Even with it's head covered in a white hood, bunny ears flapping as the creature bends and moves, you know what it is. Who it is. You'd recognize those shoulders just about anywhere, and no one else would pull something like this at 9pm on a Sunday.
It had been weeks since you last saw him, but you can't say that was a surprise - what you had wasn't exactly a regular thing, if it could be called a thing at all. That doesn't mean you hadn't been hoping for it, counting down the days to the next holiday in hopes you'd see him again - There was no denying your disappointment St. Patrick's day came and went with no sign of a leprechaun and a pot of gold. Now, he was finally here, dressed head to toe in a bunny suit, doing fuck knows what to your lawn.
"The fucker..."
Unlocking the door, you slink out into the night, sliding it closed behind you before creeping across the yard. This was new, getting to be the one to surprise him. He may have been in your yard, but with each soft step of your foot on the grass it looked like you were finally going to one up him.
But then he turns around, looking toward the house and seemingly straight through you for a moment...
Before his eyes focus on you in the dark, and everything in his hands goes tumbling to the ground as he practically leaps out of his bunny suit.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ."
"We've got to stop meeting like this," you say watching Joel's giant bunny ears flap in the air with his movement as he bends, reaching down to the grass to pick up the basket he dropped.
"You half scared the shit outta me, what're you doin' out here?" he grumbles as he rights himself.
"What are you doing out here? It's my yard. You Bunny Joel this time?" you joke, crossing your arms over your chest in a not-so-smooth attempt to cover yourself. Getting properly dressed had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled down the stairs, legs still jelly and head still fuzzy from post-orgasm bliss. The only thought that registered was how damn thirsty you were as you tugged a worn, old shirt over your head and made your way to the kitchen. It wasn't cool enough to blame the temperature shift on your quickly puckering nipples, and you didn't feel like explaining where your panties were or why your thighs were simultaneously sticky and slippery. You're just grateful you put on anything at all, and at the very least it was long enough to cover your ass.
Joel smirks, your fruitless attempt at modesty not going unnoticed. "Ain't no regular bunny, darlin'. I'm the Easter Bunny."
"And the difference is...?"
"Eggs."
You laugh, folding yourself over a little as you giggle into the night. The whole get up really is ridiculous enough on its own, yet here you are discussing the nuances of being a giant bunny with a man more fond of playing dress up than anyone else you'd ever met.
"Eggs?"
You spot them as soon as the word leaves your mouth - four colorful eggs sat neatly in his basket, and another nestled into your flowerbed. Only, they don't look like normal eggs at all. Squinting in the dark, the yard lit only by shitty solar lights you'd bought online last summer, you can make out the neat patterns swirled all over them. This was not the handiwork of some enthusiastic child dying eggs for Easter - they looked professionally painted. Joel shakes the basket at you as you continue to squint at it, and you realise not a single one has cracked or broken, even after being dropped on the floor.
"What are they? Egg shaped bouncy balls?"
"Got some balls right here if you're really that interested," he jokes, looking obscene as he waggles his eyebrows at you beneath the hood of the bunny onesie. "Here, they're just these... things. My brother got 'em for me as a joke, it's a long story."
He passes you one of the eggs, the surface smooth and cool in your hand. There's writing on it that you can just about make out, but you still have no clue what you're holding as you turn it around in your palm.
Sensing your confusion, Joel offers a choice gesture, as he explains that they're for "Y'know."
It clicks. Well, sort of. You know for sure then that they're not something you could sneak away for some solo playtime, like with the plug he dutifully left on by your bedside so many weeks ago but maybe, like the contraptions Joel had strapped over his balls your last two encounters, you could enjoy them together.
"Wait, so... you're giving me a thing for anatomy I don't even have?"
"No it's not like that, I just thought - I, well, shit."
"I'm just fuckin' with you, Bunny Joel. Though giving me a gift that's really a gift for yourself is a bit of a dick move."
"Ain't a dick move if you like 'em, sweetheart. And it's Easter Bunny Joel," he corrects with a wink, smiling at you as he drops the basket on the ground to pull at his neck tie. The man looks good in pink, you think, as he fiddles with the floppy satin.
"Y'know, Easter Bunny Joel doesn't quite roll off the tongue."
"Don't it?"
"Nope," you say with a pop, pinching the material of Joel's Bunny onesie to feel the fabric between your finger tips as your roll the egg across the palm of your other hand. "Think you need a better name than that."
"Okay, I'll bite. What you got in mind?"
You're walking your fingers down his chest now, dancing them in a criss-cross pattern across the fastenings at the front of the suit until you reach his hip and slowly you drag the tips of your fingers closer to his crotch until you're cupping his bulge. You wouldn't say he's entirely flaccid, there's certainly something there, but the length of him still feels pliable beneath your hand as you stroke over the front of his costume.
"I was thinking... Flopsy," you say with a squeeze of your palm against his cock, biting back a laugh when you hear him hiss a breath of night air through his teeth.
"Real funny."
"What? If you're committed to the bit, I can be too," and before he can protest you slip the fingers of your free hand between the fastenings on the front of his suit. You can feel his skin underneath, hot and sticky, trapped beneath the synthetic fabric of the bunny costume. At the very least, he's topless under there, and eager to find out more, you quickly yank at the front, grinning devilishly at Joel as the fabric pops open slightly.
"You really wanna be gettin' into this out here?"
"You scared, Flopsy?" you say, with another squeeze to his now much harder cock. "That side is up for sale, and Janet is out of town until Tuesday. No one's seeing anything. Unless you're scared someone might hear something... but I guess you'll just have to keep quiet."
"F- you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he mutters, pulling at his pink tie so it hangs loosely around his neck, giving him better movement to look down at your hand where it strokes his cock over the soft plush of the rabbit costume.
You tug again at the suit and with a rapid pop pop pop, the remaining fastenings hiding his chest from you pull open, revealing him to you and... he's a mess. From the neck down he's covered in streaks of paint, multicolored blooms splattered across him, dusting his ribs like a rainbow of bruises.
"Kid had some powder paint stuff - y'know that festival of color thing? Well, kid had some left after a party with a friend from school... had a little fight in the yard earlier before I dropped her back with her mom for the week," he explains quickly, rubbing a hand nervously against his chest and smearing the splattered rainbow there. You make a mental note, adding has a kid to the very short list of confirmed facts you know about Joel. It's not exactly a surprise revelation, all things considered - the costumes had to come from somewhere, and most grown men don't just have fairy wings and toy bows and arrows lying around.
"Well, Flopsy, you make a mighty fine canvas, but I think I might need a hand with this."
The egg you'd been turning in your hand is deposited back into his grasp just as you tug him forward giving him a peck on the chin as you look at him expectantly. Joel knows he shouldn't pull you toward him and kiss you out here, he thinks he knows that the expectant look is nothing to do with kissing him and everything to do with the egg in his hand, but he does anyway. Slotting his mouth against yours, he pulls you into his chest, the sweat of his skin transfering blotches of paint from his chest to your old shirt. But you don't care, holding yourself tighter to him, pushing your fingers underneath his hood to card them through his hair. Joel groans into your mouth when your fingertips rub at his scalp. You're in half a mind to call him such a good bunny but the air, and the thought, is knocked out of you the next second when he presses a hand against your ass, pulling you further into him so he can grind his hardened length against your lower belly.
It's been far too long since someone held you against them like this, and far too long since Joel had had someone like you in his arms. As he kisses and kisses you, you're starting to feel more and more insane, and maybe you are - maybe accepting this man into your home with such regularity is the mark of insanity, some kind of as-of-yet undiscovered syndrome that's going to be named after you.
Eventually, you muster the strength to pull away, slapping a hand gently to his chest and nodding down to the egg gripped in his fist. You're eager to see it in action, even if you still can't quite picture what it is.
"C'mon, open it for me. Gotta properly thank the Easter Bunny for bringing me Easter eggs."
Joel slips the wrapper of the egg, something you never could've figured out on your own without decent lighting to guide your way, and presses a thumb into the side of it, popping the top off the egg in one smooth movement.
Before he can hand it to you, you slip down to your knees, bare shins resting against the cool, damp grass. It's a beautiful clear night, not trace of the moon in sight just yet, but the glimmer of stars sparkling relentlessly overhead regardless. You hadn't noticed how hot you'd gotten, but being around Joel always seemed to do this to you. Your cheeks felt hot, your heart beat faster, and your head felt slightly dizzy - the result of it emptying itself of all thoughts except the ones that made you make questionable decisions it seemed. Of course, this time the heat wasn't just from proximity, but from that damned fabric of his costume, the synthetic fibers making you feel sweaty as you held onto him. The grass beneath you is a welcome relief against your warm skin, sending the fine hairs on your body prickling at the sensation.
"This how you say thank you to everyone? On your knees?"
"It's how I say thank you to giant bunnies, Joel," you quip back, pressing a kiss to the softness of his belly. You litter a string of kisses down the trail of hair until you reach the boundary of the bunny suit. Whether he's commando or you have another layer to get through, you don't yet know, but you waste no time finding out. With the hook of your finger and a final swift pull, the last fastenings bursts open, revealing Joel's heavy length straining against the front of his boxers. Where his tip tents the fabric, a darker patch blooms, turning the gray practically black with precum.
In your dreams, and there had been many of them, it didn't go like this. Dream you rarely went three rounds with themselves before Joel popped up to come fuck her brains out. Dream you was clever. And, as good as your solo session this evening was, you can't help but have a little regret for ruining yourself before the surprise main event. It was like eating a big meal right before someone suggested getting pizza. You could (and damn well would) eat pizza, but you couldn't enjoy it the same way. Pizza or Joel, you were going to savor it as best you could.
"Such a tease, Flopsy," you murmur as you kiss across his covered cock, nuzzling your face into it and watching in glee as his hand grips the opened egg that little bit tighter. Your fingers are pulling again, this time tugging down at his waistband. Joel is in half a mind to rid the egg of its shell and use the damn thing as a stress ball. It had been too long since last time, and since he last came two fucking days ago, to be seeing you on your knees for him in that flimsy t-shirt. It felt like a gift from the heavens and divine retribution wrapped up in one you shaped package.
As you pull his cock from the confines of his boxers, feeling the deep pulse of the blood in his veins as you wrap your fingers around him, you can't believe your luck at getting to see it in the flesh again. As brilliantly as your mind can concoct the image of it, the reality of it is so much better than any fantasy. Before you let yourself get lost in it, you reach for Joel's hand, grabbing the egg back from him and watching the top fall to the ground and roll across your lawn.
"It stretches. Goes over and you just - uh - stroke with it I guess."
The inside is far from what you expected. You almost find it gross, the translucent white interior far squishier than you expected that it'd be bordering on slimey if it was wet too. Joel laughs down at you, seeing your face as you try to work out what the fuck you're holding, pulling it free from the rest of the shell and seeing a hole stuffed with a plastic tube. You can see what he means now, and you let a soft oh fall from your lips as you tug the tube filled with a sachet of lube from the middle of the toy. You feel inside, running your fingers over soft ridges, and you can only imagine how nice it must feel sliding wetly up and down a cock and, not for the first time in your life, you wish you could experience it yourself. But, the next best thing is right in front of you, and that'll have to do.
"These feel good?" you ask, his eyes turning glassy as you examine the inside of the stroker while your hand still tugs slowly up and down his cock.
Joel sighs deeply, nodding down at you, the obscene bunny ears still flopping on his head with each movement. "S'good. Nothin' like the real deal but, yeah. Feel nice."
Gripping Joel's cock in your fist, you begin to stroke gently up and down, sliding his foreskin back and forth over his cock until he's steely hard beneath your palm. The solar lights are starting to dim, their charge from the day already running out, but you can still see the dusky red tip, and the blue of the vein that runs down his shaft. You squish the toy in your other hand, the temptation to taste too strong to just leave all the fun to the squishy silicone. So, you press a delicate kiss right to the tip.
"Oh fuck," Joel hisses.
"Missed it," you confess on your knees with another kiss.
"Yeah? Well, s'all yours." Mine.
"Really? Your bunny wife not going to chase me out of my own yard?"
"Know damn well I ain't got a wife, I ain't the cheatin' kind, darlin', don't you worry."
And that admission alone sends your aching cunt throbbing between your legs, wishing even more desperately now that you weren't completely wrecked and oversensitive from your ill-timed playtime upstairs.
"Good," is all you say before taking his head in your mouth with a swirl of your tongue, a satisfied moan vibrating against his tip as you taste him properly for the first time in 4 months. "I've been thinking about doing this."
"Yeah? Been thinking about sucking my cock?"
"Mhm."
"Shit."
A simple continuous swirl of your tongue and small bob of your head was apparently enough to have him gripping his hands into tight fists, clearly fighting some internal demons to keep himself from coming so soon. Your mind absolutely fizzes with it, that this man wants you, likes what you do to him so much that you can have such an affect on him. And when you suck lightly, his head tips back so far the hood slides back off his head. All you can see is the underside of his jaw from where you look up from your knees, and when looks back down at you with heavy eyes, he looks the most normal you've ever seen him. He's not Santa, nor Cupid, and the costume that had rendered him Bunny Joel just a second ago instead drapes around him like nothing more than a soft, white coat.
"Thought about you tasting you," you mutter between mouthing at his cock, slicking his entire length with your saliva. "Having you come in my mouth. On my face."
Joel groans again, much louder this time and you can't help but laugh, mouth pressed to his balls, at his feeble attempt at silence. You press the tip of your finger, egg still clutched in your fist, to his dribbling slit, and drag a tooth grazing kiss across his sensitive ball skin as you silence him with a whisper.
"Shh, Flopsy. You don't want us to get caught."
"Fuckin' Flopsy, I should -"
But you don't hear what he should do, because you engulf his tip with your mouth once again and Joel finds himself speechless as you immediately slide your lips further down his slicked length with ease. You work him in your mouth, sucking him as you move up and down. He can't stop moaning, he doesn't even try. He should, he thinks. You deserve better than getting caught in your backyard doing something like this, but all he can think about each time you move your tongue just like that is how fucking good your mouth feels.
He feels like he's going to come. Your hand is massaging gently over his balls, your mouth working his cock to a near frenzy, and he is absolutely, one hundred percent sure he's going to come. You know he's almost there. If the groaning wasn't enough, the tightening in his balls and the twitching of his cock were a clear sign he was about to blow.
Then you stop.
Just like that, your mouth is gone. Your hands too. And he's having to force himself to look down at you where you stare in awe at the stroker in your hands, glistening with lube you'd poured into it as he bit his lip and fought off coming, untouched, into the breeze.
You want to use it on him, to listen to him groan as you stroke him with the soft silicone, and watch his every move as you work him over the edge. And his cock, as if calling to you like some kind of siren of the sea, beckons you in, accepting an offering of one last kiss before you raise the stroker.
"It's so stretchy," you gasp, as you slide the toy over the tip of Joel's cock. You can pull it almost all the way down the length of him. You make a few experimental twists and jerks, before settling into a slow rhythm, teasing him just as you'd teased yourself and dragged out your own orgasm upstairs.
It's interesting. Slipperier than your own hand, easier than your own mouth, but not quite the same as either. You can't feel him like this, and you certainly can't taste him.
"Do you like it?" you ask, and Joel doesn't quite know what to answer. He does like it - he likes having your hands on him any way he can get it, but he can't feel you in the same way like this. And it's definitely not as good as your mouth, or any other hole of yours he's fucked.
There's just enough light to see his face give a noncommittal twitch and you're peeling the toy off of him, sucking his tip back into your mouth quickly, moaning as the taste of him hits your tongue.
"Good, because I prefer it like this too."
"Fuck, yeah."
Now though, you have a lubed up, saggy egg in your hand and nowhere to put it. Until an absolutely inspired idea hits you square in the face and you're grinning with Joel's cock in your mouth.
He barely sees the fiendish look in your eye, just notices as you pull off him again, and he could scream. Then, something smooth and cold coats his balls. Your fingers are cradling him delicately, thumb and forefinger stretching open the toy until with a gentle wiggle, his balls are encased in the squishy silicone. And holy fuck, is it like nothing he's ever felt.
"Don't think that's how you use it, darlin'. But, shit, it's good," he gasps as you gently massage his balls through the toy. It's like having a soft cool mouth encasing his entire ballsack, while your actual mouth kisses delicately all over his cock. "C'mon now, stop your teasin', gotta come in the pretty fuckin' mouth."
He's back in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence, your mouth sounding wet an obscene as you work him up and up and up all over again. You draw him in deeper, his cock meeting the back of your throat, over and over, his hand coming to cup your face and delicately wipe away a tear from your watering eyes. Fuck, you're wishing more than ever that you could just jump on him, that your cunt wasn't wrecked, or that it didn't matter, that you could go infinite rounds and still want to be touched again and again. But that wasn't you. You had a limit and, even though you'd reached it, the want in you didn't go away and neither did the slick feeling between your legs or the deep throb of your pulse beating away in your clit.
Joel's fingers grip tighter on the side of your face, a soft thrust of his hips meeting every movement of your head. Catching his eye almost kills you then and there with his cock wedged at the back of your throat. He looks as wrecked as you feel, dark eyes shining down like black holes from space now that the light from your solar lamps has all but fucked off. The paint and rabbit ears almost fade away into the background as you hold yourself down on his cock, making yourself whine around him. You're starting to think if you sucked his cock for long enough you could make yourself come totally untouched, but you don't want to think about it. You can't.
He takes over then. Each slip of your lips down his cock met with a gentle hold, until you both do it all over again. It's easier to hold for longer each time, almost feeling deeper with each slide of his cock across your tongue, the taste of his precum making you salivate as much as having your mouth filled and occupied is.
Then, he presses you down, holding your head as you moan and whine and try desperately to swallow around him, to take more of him as he only seems to get harder.
"Not so Flopsy now, huh?" he asks, releasing you and pushing your head down on his cock once more.
He's fucking into your mouth now, small shallow thrusts hitting the back of your throat, your hand working the toy slickly across his balls as he moans more desperately than you've ever heard him moan before. Despite your teasing and edging, he's the one holding back now, the feel of your mouth on his cock, your nails scratching at his belly, and that damned toy sliding across his balls far too much for him to want to let go of any time soon.
But fuck is he close, and if he's not careful he's going to ruin it for himself by holding back and exploding without warning. He's waited too long for that to happen.
"I'm gonna -"
"Mhm!" you groan around his dick, nodding as much as you can with it in your mouth. You steady your hand against his waist, taking over all movement as he stills the slow gyration of his hips, bobbing your head faster as you suck him down. The swirl and flick of your tongue is positively relentless, and everything feels so wet and warm and fucking perfect that he knows he's a goner.
"Hn-uhhhhh, fuck. Ah, fuck, don't stop, don't stop, fuck, ugh!"
He bursts, salty in your mouth, filling your throat as you swallow around him, massaging and gripping his heavy balls as they twitch in your palm through the thick silicone.
You're only a bit of a mess when you pull off of him. Your lips are swollen and tingly, your hand slippery with lube, but you are totally, utterly content. The slick feeling between your legs is still there, so is the throb, but you're as satisfied as you could possibly be.
Pulling yourself to your feet is another story. Your legs have gone a bit numb from sitting on your knees for so long, and you stumble as you fight to right yourself, Joel catching you just before you tumble into the flowerbed. You laugh in his arms, his mouth pressed to yours as he swallows the sound, consumes it, wills it to make home in his body so he never forgets it.
Joel's fingers work their way under your thin shirt. He'd been looking between your face and your nipples the entire time you were on your knees for him, and he suspects you're entirely naked under there. When his fingers meet your sticky thighs, he thinks he's hit the jackpot, and is ready to return the favor through the haze of his own orgasm, when you stop him.
"I, uh... sorted myself out not too long ago. A few times."
"Damn, if I'd known I woulda come right up and helped you out myself. Thought you were sleepin', house was dark. Jus' playing with this sweet thing all along, huh?"
If he had known, he would have known how much you thought about him as you fucked yourself on your fingers. He would have known how you used the plug he left on your bedside table more than any of the others, crying his name out into the lonely expanse of your bedroom as you came quicker, and harder, than you had any right to. If he had known, he'd know how well and truly fucked you were over a man you still knew practically nothing about.
Of course, you knew some physical things. You knew what he looked like naked, how broad he was and how sweaty he got when he fucked you. You knew what he sounded like groaning into your mouth or laughing at a silly quip you'd thrown at him. You knew what he tasted like, and what you tasted like off of his tongue. But that was where your knowledge of him ended. You didn't know what he did for work, or if he even liked his job. You didn't know his favorite food or color. You didn't know what he sang in the car. You didn't know where he lived or what he drove - you didn't even know his full name, and you knew exactly why.
You were scared. Terrified, actually. Terrified to really get to know him, to break that blissful illusion of the tall, dark stranger who rocked your world on a seasonal basis, only to find you didn't like him at all. Or worse - that he didn't like you.
So, when you walk him through your house, egg disposed of and hands washed, listening to the soft snap of his suit being closed up around his bare body, you desperately try to ignore the longing ache in your chest, stopping any request for him to stay, to take you out for coffee in the morning before it stupidly tumbles out of your mouth. That's not what this is.
Instead, you wordlessly reach for your keys, smiling sweetly to him as if you hadn't just been waging war against yourself inside your head.
"What're you doing," he says, pointing to the keys held in your hand. "Goin' somewhere, or comin' home with me?"
"No, smart ass, this is a key, it locks doors. Just gonna lock up after you leave."
Joel's smile drops from his face. And you don't know why, but it has alarm bells immediately blaring in your head.
"What?" you ask nervously, eyes darting around his face as if you're trying to read his mind as he takes a slow step toward you, a frown slowly pulling his brow down as he pieces some mystery together.
"The door locks when it closes, then you the take the key and lock it again after?"
"... Maybe? Yes?"
"Wait. And you're tellin' me you do that every night."
"Yes, I lock my door every night Joel, what's wrong with that." Obviously your lock was no match for his lock picking skills, but you didn't consider that Joel perhaps didn't know how locks worked at all.
"What's wrong with that is you're unlocking your door every night and leaving it unlocked all night."
Your blood turns cold. You don't know why. You could just not believe him, or test for yourself, but something about his reaction, and his seemingly easy ability to get into your house, tells you that what he says is exactly right. It's your turn for your smile to drop, and you can feel it slip off your face just as your heart starts rapidly hopping in your chest.
"Oh. I - I thought..."
"It ain't that kind of lock, sweetheart. You never checked it after lockin' it?"
"No. No I - My last place, the lock, I had to - oh my god." There's dread now. A sickening cocktail of feelings swirling through your body, turning you red hot and cold over and over as you think of all the things that could've happened, how lucky you were they didn't, after all this time. Damn near a year, and you hadn't figured out how to properly work your own fucking door.
"How d'you think I been gettin' in? Didn't exactly climb down the chimney or fly in through the window the last two times. Maybe shouldn'ta done it that first time, but your tree was driving me mad, seein' it bare like that every time I drove past. You weren't in and the door was open, was only gonna be quick and then..."
You're not listening. Your heart has just stopped like it's been hurtled into a brick wall at 100mph. "Wait, you drive past my house?"
"Where else am I gonna fuckin' drive?!"
A thousand million volts straight to your chest, and your heart is beating again, racing, your voice raising with it, brandishing the pointy end of your key at him like it could save you now. "Have you been stalking me?"
"What? No! I live down the fuckin' street, I drive by to get to my house, I thought you knew that."
"Down the street?"
"Yes. I'm hardly gonna come from outta town just to fix your lights and your sink and fuck off again. I was just... bein' neighborly, I guess."
"You've been in my house fixing my shit without me here?"
It's just revelation after revelation. You can't believe it. You can't believe yourself for one, but you can't believe him either. Only you can. You very much believe him, and you hate that you do and you hate that, deep down, you know he's right and you're exactly the kind of idiot he's undoubtedly thinking you are.
"You ain't fuckin' noticed?! You had a light out in here, your kitchen faucet was drippin', your railin' in your hall closet was bust... you didn't notice anythin'? Are you even fuckin' in that pretty head o' yours?"
Suddenly you're feeling very stupid. The door is one thing, the minor home repairs another, but you'd been under the impression you were both on the same page this entire time. That it was some silly game you played, two strangers who had next to no clue about each other. All this time he knew who you were, but you were too fucking preoccupied and distracted and stupid to see that he was right there.
The heat in your checks crackles in your ears, misting over your eyes and making your entire body feel fuzzy. That fight or flight you'd been wondering about for the last few months has suddenly decided to make an appearance, settling on both as you fight back tears with a quivering lip.
"Get out." It's silent fury, building white hot as the seconds tick by with him standing, staring at you like you're the one dressed as a giant rabbit and not him.
"What? Darlin', c'mon, it's okay -"
"Get. Out." You wrench the door open, pushing him and his stupid fucking bunny costume out, shoving the basket of eggs into his arms once he crosses the doorway.
"Bye." You slam the door, the stupid fucking self locking door, and slide down it, head in your hands. You have never felt so fucking stupid.
taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr
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eddie x reader ; a very light hint of steve x reader
a follow up to this which is a follow up of this
tw 18+ content, tied up, temperature play, steve is baby girl himbo in this very s3 coded, eddie is jealous + mean.
“that tickles, wow, cold— ow, very very cold— shit, shit!”
You slap a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into yours as if he is scared beyond belief.
“Shhhhh..” you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. 
Your body was pressed in his, an ice cube held limply in your fingers as you traced it along his veiny shaft. Leaving goosebumps on his summer tanned skin. 
“Eddie is home, do you want him to know that we’re fooling around? Cause I prefer to keep my bedroom adventures private.”
“No, no! You’re right, it’s just— really cold, when you said you wanted to get freaky I thought maybe you had a friend or something to go up my ass? I don’t know!” 
You stare at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding but it never came. You sit up, the ice melting on your fingers dripping onto his sack, little whimpers from his mouth. 
“Alright… King Steve is curious about assplay, noted. We can unpack that another time— for now, it’s either the ice or nothing, you choose.” 
You kiss his chest, waiting for him to decide. He’s mumbling to himself, and you work your fingers in between the tufts of hair, eyes on him, your nipples skimming over his hot skin. 
“…okay! Okay fine! Can I kiss you maybe?” 
Steve was stretched like a voodoo doll across your bed, large hands tied to each bed post, unable to reach you, his lip in a pout as he attempted to wiggle his wrists free. 
“Keep trying to get out of your restraints and you won’t be kissing me anywhere.”
He huffed, a strand of caramel hair tousling into his forehead, “I mean they’re tight— like really tight, you sure this is normal?”
You rolled your eyes and sat up again to examine the human ken doll that was played by Steve Harrington for the evening. 
His wrists were red, fingers pale… fuck. 
You tug at the knots, trying to wedge your fingers beneath them, and after five minutes of you trying you could see Steve’s hands looking worse.
“Alright— don’t panic!” you announced, sliding from the bed and pushing your arms through the red silk robe hanging from your closet, “and don’t move…. I’ll be…” scissors! “yeah, I’ll be right back!”
“What!? You can’t just leave me like th—!” he hollers your name and you try to muffle his calls of distress by shutting your door quickly.
Eddie was in his room, you could hear him playing his guitar— and he prayed he didn’t hear the muffled pleas from Steve. 
Rifling through the kitchen junk drawer you find everything but the scissors. Chopsticks from too many late night orders of chinese takeout, ketchup packets, pens, a pack of markers, Eddie’s fake ID he had in high school, Wayne’s expired ID he tried to use at the gas station when you were sixteen and more rope. 
The pair of you didn’t own a knife set, never having cooked anything that required culinary skills— you were at a loss— the only option left was to ask Eddie for his pocket knife. Goddamnit.
The walk to his room felt like miles long, and honestly you would have preferred if you never got there. His door was open, the low times of his acoustic guitar filled the air along with a haze of smoke. 
A quick rap on his door and Eddie was looking up at you, cigarette limp from his lips, as he motions to the other side of his room with a nod of his head. 
“…ham & pineapple no pepperonis, cash on the dresser.” 
“What? Oh yeah, sure— forgot it’s Friday. Hey, ummm. I need a favor.” 
Eddie smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not loaning you anymore bud, you already owe you twenty.” 
“No— I’m not here for free weed, I need your knife.” 
His eyebrows quirk and he waits for you to ask his silent “why?”
“It’s an emergency.” 
“Your boss sucks sweetheart, 100%— but you can’t kill him.” 
“Eddie shut up,” you whine, stomping your foot, “I just need to borrow it—I'll give it right back!”
He rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab his knife from his back pocket, “tell me what you need it for.” 
You stare at him, mouth open, “I…can’t.” 
“Okay? and why not?”
Your name is heard in a wail from your room and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 
“is someone in there?”
Scrubbing your hands down your face you finally admit it, “Yes! Jesus fuck! Now will you please either help me or give me the knife, he’s stuck!”
It takes everything in Eddie to try not to laugh, but he simple hides his lips and nods, thinking to himself what kid. of shit you’d gotten into now, and with who?
He follows you into your room, watching your form move beneath the silk robe, trying to keep his eyes from staring too long or imagining what lie beneath the thin fabric. 
Your eyes are covered when you open the door so you miss the shock on Steve’s face to see his best friend walk into your room. His dick is still out, laying against his hairy thigh, and the only thing he can do is an awkward jock head nod followed by a “sup?”
Thankful that he has a good poker face, Eddie nods back, ears crimson in anger, biting his tongue as he flips the blade out with flare. Behind his dark eyes He was fuming. 
Steve? 
STEVE HARRINGTON?
Of all people you could have tied up in here in some makeshift attempt at whatever you thought you were doing— it had to be him.
Heads would fucking roll when this was over and him and Steve were alone. 
Slicing through the ropes like they were nothing, Eddie simply raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, leaving with his mind grinding like gears on how to stop this from happening again. 
“Thanks for calling Family Video. Our hours are 10-10 Sunday through Saturday, stop in to rent our latest releases, this is St—”
“Harrington.”
“Hey man, hey— thanks for uh, helping me out the other night. I really o—”
“Yeah, you do,” the cord bounces on the floor as Eddie turns the corner, looking back at you in the living room asleep on the couch— walking to his room,  “that’s why whenever she calls… you are going to make up whatever excuse that big hair of yours can..”
“Wait..?”
Eddie grits your name out through clenched teeth. 
“If she calls to hang out, you will find a reason not to, y’ catch my drift, pal?” 
“Ye-yeah, sure thing… what should I say?”
“I don’t care Harrington, make something up… tell her you have a girlfriend, you have the measles, I really don’t give a fuck what it is, as long as I never have to walk into her room and see your dick again.”
Steve narrows his eyes, blurring the neon lights in the video store, “dude, what the hell?” 
“Sarah is single— I’ll give you her numb—”
“Okay? But so is she, why are you acting like an asshole right now?”
You. He was being a dick because of you. Sick and tired of you not willing to admit you both had feelings for eachother, and he was ready to pull out the big guns in order to make it happen. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r
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httpdwaekki · 2 days
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sleepy cramps | b.c.
summary: your cramps wake you up but channie is there to help.
wc: 1.1k
warnings: i tried to keep it gender neutral, however!! periods and cramps are mentions so read at your own risk.
a/n: omg ash knows how to post at a normal time when she's not sleep deprived *gasp* crazy right? you guys know the drill not proof read too many pet names blah blah. i have realized that i apparently need alot of comfort in my life because that is all i write LMAO. anyway! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3
p.s. pls send me some requests i really wanna try and branch out but i have no ideas, okay love u bye. <3
my library
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(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)
“baby?” you hear a familiar aussie voice call out. “i’m home!” you hear him take off his shoes and set his bag down. “baby?” he yells once more, keys jingling as he places them on a hook by the door.
you let out a grunt, hoping to signal to him where you were. you were currently bundled up half asleep in your shared bed, facing the door. you were exhausted from the day and your period, and barely keeping your eyes open. 
the hall light flicks on before a figure appears in the doorway. you lift up your head a bit, giving him a sleepy smile before settling back into your warm cocoon of soft blankets and plushies.
he smiles before making his way to the side of bed, squatting down to eye level with you. he lifts his hand, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “hi pretty.” your cheeks warm.
“hi bub.” you mumble. “you sleepy bug?” he asks softly. you nod, a yawn escaping you as if emphasizing your drowsiness.
he smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “alright bub, give me 10 minutes to get ready for bed then i’ll come lay down okay?” you nod once more, sleepy smile still present on your face.
he moves,  placing a kiss on your lips before standing to his full height. “i’ll be right back!” he yelled, running into your en-suite. you giggle before relaxing into your cocoon, sleep welcoming you quickly.
once chan finished in the bathroom, he came out to find you curled up, now facing his side of the bed, soft even breathes escaping you.
he coos before making his way to his side of the bed. he lifted the sheets, sliding under them before gently pulling you to him, body melting into his.
he wraps his arms around you, “good night my sleepy baby, i love you.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your temple, before relaxing, letting sleep take over.
this didn’t last long however, chan lightly awoke maybe an hour later, to you stirring in your sleep, light whimpers escaping you. after hearing the first whimpers leave your mouth, he was very alert. he quickly looks over your body trying to determine what’s bringing you distress.
he catches a glimpse of your face, which is contorted in discomfort. he places a hand on your cheek once more, trying to gently wake you. “baby wake up.” he whispers, lightly tapping and stroking your cheek.
after a few seconds you finally wake, only to let out a yelp in pain, curling into the body beside you. “hey hey, baby, what’s going on?” he said kissing your head, rubbing your back.
“period.” you managed to get out, trying to curl further into yourself. one arm wrapped around your lower abdomen, the other one clenched into a fist against your forehead.
you start holding your breath unconsciously, praying the pain will subside. chan notices and gently taking your fist in his.
“breathe baby, breathe,” he says calmly, opening your fist to slot your fingers through his. you let out a jagged breath leaning your forehead against your joined hands, “squeeze my hand if you need to jagi but, you gotta breathe baby.” his thumb stroking the back of your hand.
you take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything over than the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “doing so good bug, just breathe.”  his other hand coming up to smooth the crease between your eyebrows. 
your breathing evens out slightly as the pain lessen a bit. a moment of silence passes before you sit up, hands still entwined. chan follows you, rubbing small circles on your back. “did you take medicine earlier?” you nod your head. “right before you got home.”  he hummed, understanding.
 “i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispers, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. you nod slightly, focusing on your breathing. he leans over, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.
you grab a pillow behind you hugging it as you wait for him to return. a few moments passed before he reemerges with your heating pad in hand. he rounds the bed, plugging in the pad before sitting next to you.
“i’m gonna move this quick, okay?” you nod, moving your arms. he grabs the pillow, placing the heating pad in it’s place. “thank you.” you mumble, leaning on him, placing your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome bug.” he kisses the top of your head before placing his there.
you sit there for a moment before you feel the guilt slowly creep up, the lump forming in the back of your throat. you turn your head into his shoulder as tears start to stream down your face.
“hey, hey, jagiya, do you want more medicine? what can i do?” he asks, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. you shake your head, before moving to put your hand in your hands.
“i’m sorry channie,” you cried. “i know you’re probably exhausted, and shouldn’t have to deal with this.” you feel him move in front of you before placing his hands on your face, lifting it. “i am your boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you when you need me. and right now you’re in pain because of something you can’t control.” he pauses, looking into your eyes, gently wiping the tears running down your cheeks.
“i will always take care of you, doesn’t matter, time, place, if i’m tired or not, i will always help you. understand?” you nod, moving into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, shoving your face into his neck.
he wraps his arms around your torso pulling you impossibly closer. “i love so much, jagiya. okay?” you nod your head quickly. “i love you too, more than you know.” you say into his neck, placing a kiss on his skin. 
you both stay like that for a moment before chan pulls away slightly. he wipes your tears once more before placing a kiss on your lips. “let’s get you to sleep, hm?” you agree, moving back into the mattress.
you watch him make his way to his side, getting comfortable under the duvet. once settled, he opens his arms for you to lay down. you giggle before quickly laying on him, making sure your heating pad was still in the correct position.
you place a kiss to his jaw before settling into his chest, duvet pulled to cover both of you. “thank you, i love you so much.” he places one last kiss to your head. “ you don’t have to thank me, i love you so much, good night my sleepy baby.” you smile, feeling at peace. “goodnight, channie.” you place a kiss over his heart before both of drift off once more.
do not repost
*feedback is always appreciated as are likes/reblogs!*
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bigfatbimbo · 2 days
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saw u we're thinking about the vees again 😇 anyways heres some rambles
spitroasting vox w velvette- ur pegging him while she rides his face and yall can makeout in the middle (val may or may not be watching)
humiliating any of them in front of the others
not punishing them for once and maybe having a night of just gentle fucking? like your all taking care of eachother just like softer sex
THEY GIVE WONDERFUL AFTERCARE FIGHT ME
this one is pretty sfw but imagine going to like a fancy event/gala with the three of them and they're all fighting for your attention/over who ur plus one is
The Vees with a dom!reader headcanons [pt3]
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a/n — On my Vees shit again, because i’m fucking crazy. Also I swear i’m working on actual fics like I swear on my life they won’t be messy headcanons for ever.
summary — further continuation of the post where the reader was basically the Vees collective fuck, specifically with a dominant reader.
warning — smut, unorganized headcanons, dom reader, sub… everyone else, NOT PROOFREAD!! kind of long too
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Rose, You’ve literally never let me down when sending in requests. I love this and you. I’m going to actually try to make this one coherent and organized! So i’ll break everything you said down into categories.
Spitrosting w/Vox and Velvette
No because imagine this as a punishment for Val and Vox but a reward for Velvette. Like maybe she has been nicer than usual, well, in a general way (snarky comments aside). Say she was being thoughtful and made you a nice homemade shirt that suits your fashion sense perfectly. How sweet!
However, while the other two weren’t exactly worse than usual, they certainly weren’t better. Valentino was just as depraved and perverted as usual, and Vox was just as annoying with his facade dominance and quick temper.
Valentinos part of the punishment is obvious; he’s tied to the other side of the bed, both sets of hands bonded together, prohibiting him from moving and leaving him to watch. That is clearly torture for him.
But Vox is a little more confused about his punishment. He gets pegged, and gets to eat pussy. Why is that bad? Vox fully thinks he knows what’s happening, and he thinks he has it better than Val, too.
But he’s wrong. Because not only is he overwhelmed to the point of struggling to breathe, he’s also getting virtually none of you or Velvettes attention. Because that’s Velvettes reward; she gets all of the praise and full, undivided, attention.
In fact, you didn’t even gag Valentino, so you can hear his whiny complaints as clear as day. And even then, you ignore him and go back to passionately kissing Velvette.
Her hands are clinging to your shoulders as you two make out, and every now and then she lets a moan out into your mouth. Although your hips are roughly ramming into Vox, who’s crying like bitch if you can believe it, you’re more concerned with Velvettes perfect lips, and marking up her smooth neck.
And the part that really infuriates Vox and Val, is how kind and gentle your being, despite how much of an attitude Velvettes had this week! Seriously, it was only that stupid gift that warranted all of that praise? AND their terrible punishment! That wasn’t fair.
“So pretty baby, so good for me,” you’d mumble into her neck as you begin to suck on her delicate skin. Velvette is biting her lip to stop herself from making any unwarranted comments, and so instead she’s just shooting smug looks at Val inbetween whines and occasionally pushing her pussy further into Vox’s tongue.
And then you make your way back up to her lips, “Look to perfect, my sweet girl. So proud of you, so well behaved.” Boy, that fucked with Vox, whose tongue is getting increasingly tired, and who’s already crying from the rough sensation of you fucking into his ass. Let alone the emptiness of his attention deprived dick.
And even though the sound is muffled, you can still hear every sound he makes because that’s how fucking loud he is. He’s whining for a break, and sobbing uncontrollably. Valentino on the other hand, is yet to break down into tears, but is tiring from complaining. His bratty attitude is obviously faltering, being overcome by a longing to be taken care of, to have your attention again.
But you refuse to give in to either of your brats. At least, not before your angel, Velvette, has the chance to cum again for the countless time tonight.
Humiliation in front of the other Vees
With Vox, this would be very easy. He has an incredibly fragile ego and gets defensive and embarrassed fast. Like any small comment about his submissive behavior in bed would get him absolutely pissed. Because you know that he’d be made fun of relentlessly. He’d be yelling at the other Vees to do something and they’d be like “Or what? Are you gonna tell your [mommy/daddy] on us?” and his screen would heat up and turn a shade of pink, and his voice would glitch out when he yells “FUCK YOU!” at the top of his lungs.
With Velvette, I don’t think it would be hard, but definitely not as easy as Vox. It definitely would have to be more than just making a few offhanded comments, that’s for sure. Like maybe actually fucking her close to a public space, specifically where the other two Vees would be able to hear her if she was too loud. And of course she’d do okay for a while but she’d let a few loud moans slip. And Vox or Val would be snickering at her when you two got back like, “Did you have a good time? Sure sounded like it..”
With Valentino…. yeah good luck. He’s not normally, or at all, embarrassed when it comes to sex things. I think the only thing that would actually get him would be like his power bottom facade being revealed to be a whiny little bitch in secret. Like maybe a picture of him crying his eyes out on bed slips into the Vees group chat… oops! See that would bother him. He’d be spam texting you to “Delete that right now or I swear to FUCK—“ but the damage is done and you’ve successfully humiliated that dumb slut of an overlord.
Gentle sex with the Vees
So when I say RARE CIRCUMSTANCE, I mean it. Because they are such fucking shits all the time, relentlessly. But on occasion, everyone needs a nice, tender fuck. Including you.
Like I could all see them kinda taking turns with your attention, getting you off semi-selflessly so you’d be nice with them in return. I’m going to be real though, I don’t have a lot of ideas for this one, because I haven’t put much thought into it.
Basically, if you have any ideas for dom reader and gentle sex with the Vees, send them in. I’m lost.
BONUS*** Fancy gala idea
Drawing attention to this idea because it is GENUINELY SO SILLY AND REALISTIC.
You’d arrive at the fancy gala and they’d all be all over you. Velvette holding onto your arm with her hand on her hip as she surveys the area, Valentino sanding directly behind you with his hands resting on your shoulders, and Vox hovering close by, making sure he’s just a little bit in front of you but talking at you so obviously everyone in the room thinks you’ve arrived together.
Because then absolutely they would be telling everyone they talk to, like just slipping in the idea that you’re their plus one. And they’d even talk to some of the same people and have to clarify like “Oh those two have no idea what they’re talking about, y/n arrived with me, let’s get that straight.”
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a/n — I actually have nothing to say for once in my life! Hope you enjoyed.
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hauntedchoso · 2 days
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GROUPIE LOVE *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
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It’s so sweet swingin’ to the beat when I know that you’re doin’ it all for me…  How the JJK men fuck you after a show ft. [gojo, geto, toji, choso, & nanami] x [fem reader] nsfw warning. minors do not interact. cw: breeding in gojo’s, daddy kink, semi-exhibitionism, choking, degradation, name calling. established relationships in all despite the title! a/n: idk if I’m happy with this lol. i am certainly no writer and have NO plans to write regularly or even keep posting but this fic was born from my mini head cannon that choso looks like vinny mauro from motionless in white….the way vinny does his makeup for shows specifically reminds me of Choso’s blood marks and baggy red eyelids lol. mann I’m upset bc the header I made is shit :(
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Gojo is the singer. His icy white hair and electric blue eyes are quick to capture the hearts of his screaming fans—but those eyes only search for one person in the crowd. Your heart skipped a beat the moment he stepped onto the stage, and when he finally sees you, he flashes you that award-winning smile, bringing the mic up to his perfect lips. “How are we doing tonight, everyone? We’re going to play a song we’ve never performed live before…”
His presence was magnetic, attracting the attention of hundreds of screaming girls as he sang romantic melodies into the mic. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with each word and the way the veins on his hand stuck out as he clutched the mic tightly. Every lyric he sang told a story, and you knew better than all the other girls in the room—he was telling your story. The story of your sweet nights together, the nights you spent gazing into a sea of cerulean blue behind white eyelashes while basking in Gojo’s presence and the beauty of his voice. It was absolutely beautiful, the sweet vibrato’s and clear pitches that escaped his lips as he serenaded his crowd—but it didn’t compare to the beauty of his voice when he was underneath you. 
“Fuck, baby—just like that…haah, god damn. You’re so damn tight,” he moaned, unable to keep up with the way your ass slammed down on his thighs. The harder you rode him, the more undone he became underneath you—such a stark contrast to the confidence he always held when he took the stage. His long, pretty cock stroked against your gummy walls, his mushroom head grazing your g-spot when you raised yourself high enough, driving you crazy. 
“Satoru,” you mewl, absolutely loving the way his hands grip your thighs for dear life. You guys didn’t have much time; it would only be a few minutes before the rest of the guys returned to the tour bus, where you were holding Gojo as your hostage on the bench-couch in the small kitchenette. You ignored the burning in your muscles as you urged yourself to go faster, not giving him a chance to run away as you brought yourself down repeatedly on his warm cock that was throbbing so deliciously inside your clenching cunt. “Cum in me, daddy, I need it—“
“You better fucking watch it,” he moaned through clenched teeth, frustration seeping into his tone, the grip on your left thigh becoming harder. He couldn’t control how his cock throbbed inside you when he heard the word daddy, and it didn’t help that your luscious tits were bouncing so beautifully in his face. If you weren’t moving so fast, he’d have a nipple in his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around it. Quickly becoming overwhelmed by the way your tight cunt clenched around his raw dick, he squeezed his eyes shut, silently willing himself to last longer than he knew he would. He knew you weren’t on birth control, and if you continued to call him daddy in such a slutty tone…well, you’d probably make him a daddy. 
His frustration only egged you on more. “I want your cum in me so bad…haah, please…I’m such a little slut for you, daddy. Don’t you wanna fill me with your seed—“
Before you could process what was happening, Gojo had your back flat against the couch, nudging your thighs back apart as he slid himself inside you again, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “You want my cum, you fucking slut? Want me to breed you like a bitch in heat? Fine, you better lay there and take everything I give you.”
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Geto is the guitarist. The way his gorgeous black hair falls around his face as he slings his guitar strap over his shoulder is mesmerizing. His gauged ears are sporting their usual shiny black plugs, which catch the stage lights with each turn of his head. You watch from the side of the stage, hidden from the view of his fans, as his fingers pluck his lucky guitar pick out from between his perfect teeth, bringing the pick down to play a warm-up riff. He gives you one last sly smile, and a sweet, sexy wink before he starts the opening riff to their first song. 
He played his guitar like it was an extension of himself. You watched as his palm slid up and down the instrument’s neck as he followed along to the score, making hundreds of screaming girls howl as he paused and swung it harshly to his right side, flipping it over his neck and catching it again. There was something different about hearing him play the same riffs on stage that he would practice with in the comforts of your shared bedroom, lounging lazily in your queen-sized bed as you close your eyes to the quiet strumming. No, hearing it on a stage was way more exhilarating—he might have thousands of fans in front of him, but you know he’s only playing for you. Watching his long, beautiful, skilled fingers tap away at the neck of the guitar, eliciting different melodic tones and notes when he strums gently. It almost reminds you of the noises his fingers elicit out of you. 
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Is this all for me?” He purrs into your ear. The same hand that was gently choking you was also keeping your back pinned to the wall as his other hand, shoved deep past the waistband of your skinny jeans, toyed with your weeping folds and rubbed gently against your clit.  He smiles down at his lucky guitar pick resting comfortably in your cleavage, loving the way the lacy shirt he bought you accentuates your beautiful body. 
“You looked so fucking hot on stage tonight….” You manage to whine out. Your heart was racing out of your chest, eyes darting all around the room that today’s venue designated as the band’s dressing room. A music tech, security guard, or even one of Geto’s band mates could barge in at any given moment, but his fingers were relentless as they slipped into your core. 
Your eyes rolled back as you felt your pussy welcome in his digits and clench around them. The hand around your neck slid up to your jaw, gripping your face and turning you to face him again. “Yeah? If I’m so hot, why are you looking away from me, pretty girl? My eyes are right here.”
He emphasized his words by curling his fingers against your g-spot, cutting off your mewls of pleasure with his lips and immediately sliding his tongue inside. You were so drunk, so intoxicated by his lips that you felt your eyes rolling back again before shutting and moaning into the kiss; a kiss that was way too short-lived. “Just one, baby. Cum for me just once, and I’ll dick you down the way your little cunt desperately needs it.”
You complied, reverting all your focus to his fingers until you finally came all over them with a loud, slutty moan. 
He whipped you around almost immediately, pressing your chest to the wall, pulling your hips out, yanking your pants down and unzipping his own before slapping his hard cock on your ass. “Say please, baby,” he whispers in your ear, taking note of the way you press your ass eagerly against him. 
“Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me so bad—!”
And before you could even finish your sentence, Geto was pushing into your warm pussy, using small, gentle thrusts to ease himself in until he was bottomed out. You could feel your walls sucking his hard cock in when his thrusts became deeper; sharp, percussive moans leaving your mouth with each slap of his hips against your ass. His pace was fast and mean, and you were completely enamored with the feeling of his balls slapping your clit. 
“Suguru—!” You could feel your orgasm approaching, your walls contracting and clenching around his pulsing cock, but that only made him go faster. 
“Dirty little slut. You love when I use you like this, don’t you, angel? Taking my cock like the sweet little slut you are…haah. Letting me use my pussy the way I want, wherever I want…”
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Toji is the bassist. The long-necked guitar always looked so small and draped so beautifully across his large, muscular frame whenever he played—so different than the way it looked against your naked body on those nights he was in the mood to snap some photos of both of his beauties. His eyes met yours under the black fringe of his bangs, the scarred side of his mouth curling up into a smirk as his fingers found each string and plucked. 
You watched as his fingers danced across the four strings, mindlessly plucking at the four strings, amazed at the way the colorful stage lights were gracing his face and muscular arms. His bass lines were so effortless; he didn’t even need to look down at his hands while he played. His eyes would instead scan the crowd, casting uninterested glances at all the fans screaming his name, and occasionally coming back to meet your own, always accompanied by the sweetest, sexiest grin that reminded you that he was yours. The deep notes that harmonized with Geto’s guitar reverberated off the walls of the concert hall; they shook the speakers, the shook the barriers, they shook your core. But his deep bass lines were no match for how deep his cock always reached inside you. 
“Toji! Ah—fuck!” You choked out, tears streaming down your face as the tip of his cock repeatedly mashed against your cervix. “I’m gonna cum! Ah—please! Daddy! I’m really gonna cum!” You warned. 
“Yeah? Fucking cum then, slut. I’m not fucking this cunt for nothing.”
When Toji invited you to shower with him after the show, you weren’t expecting him to shove you against the shower wall and fuck you like a wild animal from behind as soon as the water hit your hair. While your showers together always ended in you two fucking, you never thought he’d choose a place so public, a place that puts you both at risk of being heard by your closest friends. This seemed to be the last thing on Toji’s mind as he continues to bully his mean cock into your aching pussy. His eyes remained on your ass, watching his cock pistoning in and out of you while your plump cheeks jiggled with each mean thrust. He knew you got loud when you came, and while it was something you were trying to suppress in order to save face from any of his band mates or techs that might be lingering around outside the bathrooms, it was his one and only goal. 
And you did. As soon as he reached his hand down to rub your sensitive clit, you clenched hard on his throbbing cock. Your back arched deeply against him as you squirted hard against the shower wall, a loud squeal leaving your lips. 
He grabs your wet hair, turning your head to the side so he can silence you with a bruising kiss. “Gonna do it again, mama? Gonna cum all over my cock again?” He whispers evilly against your ear once he pulls away, quickening his pace. His hips slap hard against the globes of your ass, the loud clap clap clap echoing off of the insulated shower walls. 
“Y-yes, daddy, I wanna cum again—“ your words were cut off when he slid two fingers into your mouth, groaning when you bite down on them. 
His thrusts were unforgiving, pulling out far enough so that his fat mushroom head pressed harshly against your g-spot when he thrusted forward and hit your cervix. You were so cockdrunk, Toji could sense your oncoming second orgasm before you could by the way your walls were clenching down so hard on him. Before you knew it, you were squirting again, this time pulling a louder, sluttier squeal from your lungs. 
“Good girl,” he praises, a wide smile spread across his face as he continued to pound you into overstimulation. “Music to my fucking ears.”
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Choso is the drummer. You loved the way those spiked pigtails bounced in the wind as he head banged along to the loud thumping of his drums. His chocolate brown eyes would occasionally meet yours through the band’s set, peaking brightly above the black stripe across his nose, the purple stage lights reflecting across his irises. During the bridge of a particularly romantic song, he cast his gaze towards where you stood side-stage. With a drumstick tipped in your direction, he made sure your eyes were on him as he shot you a wink before his drum solo, as if to say, “this one’s for you.”
Choso pounded on his drums as if he hated them, shaking the stage and speakers so intensely with his mean percussion that you could feel your throat vibrate. You didn’t care what anyone said, Choso controls the show; he counts everyone in, he sets the tempo, he decides how hard his band plays by how he wants to play—and boy, does he play hard. He was often breaking his sticks and putting dents in his drumheads, going through countless numbers of each with every tour he went on. Everything about Choso was hard—the way he plays, his toned muscles, his thick cock, the way he fucks you. 
“Ch-Choso! Haah…h-oh my god, you’re so-!” Your hands clutched at everything they could grab so that you could hold on for dear life—the cymbals, the casings on the side of the drums, the drum stands themselves—but to no avail. “Fuck, you’re so deep!”
Choso snickered at your pathetic attempts to stabilize yourself, the sight only driving his hips against your ass even harder. He had you bent over his drum set, the harsh slaps of your skin-on-skin contact echoing throughout the empty concert hall. He purposely made sure to leave his drums on stage as he helped tear down the rest of the set, waited until his band mates disappeared, and ushered every tech, security guard, and janitor out before he stalked and captured his prey, dragging you back to his den. “Don’t run from my cock now, princess. Isn’t this what you wanted? You were giving me slutty bedroom eyes throughout the whole show.”
He paused his violent thrusts for a moment, driving his hips backward to slowly brush the tip of his cock against your g-spot. He marveled at the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around him as he teased your sopping wet core. 
“Yes, baby…” you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious stimulation. 
His hips jerked forward, meeting your ass with a singular mean thrust. “I’m sorry?”
You yelp at the sudden jolt of pain and pleasure, eyes snapping wide open as his fingers dig deeper into your hips. “Daddy! Yes, daddy! I want you! Please!” you babble desperately. 
Choso gave your ass one harsh smack before pounding into you again, settling on an unforgiving pace. He loved fucking you hard. Your walls always clenched him so tight, and he loved your cute little squeals you’d let out whenever his cock kissed your cervix. He loved how hard you always came from it, too—it only made him want to fuck you impossibly harder and deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, and he admired the way your ass jiggled each time he slammed against it. The sound of him fucking you created its own erotic percussion that you both somehow loved more than the actual sound of his drums. 
“I’ma cum, ohmygod! Ch-Choso…daddy, fuck! I’m cumming!” You whine, unable to focus your gaze as fat tears blur your vision and spill down your face. 
“Good girl. Cum for me, pretty baby,” he moans, rubbing your clit in gentle praise as you spasm all over his throbbing length. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all fucked out and dumb on my cock.”
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Nanami is the manager. His blond hair was always combed into a perfect style, and his soft, brown eyes focused on his surroundings as he effortlessly orchestrated the commotion around him. There was a certain calmness that surrounded him as he guided the band through every moment of post-concert teardown. Every once in a while, his eyes would land on you, where you sat quietly on one of the speaker cases backstage, ignoring his gaze with a small pout across your lips. 
The guys in the band would sometimes get a little too crazy after shows or on days off, and they have proved time and time again that they needed someone to keep them in check. Whether it’s passing out drunk outside of local bars, damaging and losing their gear, showing up late to sound checks, or simply being divas with attitude, Nanami swore that he was in charge of a bunch of children, and that you—his perfect girl—were the only one who could do no wrong. Even on nights like tonight, when you were upset with him for reasons that were beyond him, he was happy to pull you aside and get you in check as well.
His lips were on yours, tongue swirling around your mouth as he drank in your moans with fervor. His fingers laced through your hair, resting against the back of your head and using that placement to press your lips more firmly against his as his other hand pressed you against his body. He breaks the kiss for a moment to suck small hickies into your neck. 
“What’s got you so worked up tonight, my angel?” He murmurs against your neck, his hot breath sending goosebumps down the length of your spine. “I let you ignore me all evening, but you can’t hide from me now.”
“Kento…what-what about the guys?” You ask innocently, a small gasp leaving your lips as his teeth nip the skin over your pulse point rather hard. 
“Let’s see; Suguru’s in the dressing room, Toji and his woman are putting on a second concert in the shower, pretty sure I saw Satoru sneak onto the bus…” Nanami uses a finger to tilt your chin up, your eyes meeting his, “and Choso’s slutting himself out on stage. Where does that leave me to take my girl, hmm?”
Before you could even answer, he’s kissing you again, whisking you through a side door that exits outside behind the concert venue. Your eyes snap open as you feel a sudden breeze hit your skin, causing you to break the kiss. 
“Out here? But-“
He silences you with a hand to your throat. “Yes, pretty girl. Out here. Now tell me what you need, okay?”
Your eyebrows pinched in frustration. His strong hand choking you only aroused your needy cunt. You were supposed to be upset with him for being too busy for you that day, but the sultry tone in his voice was making you horny. 
“I need you…please, daddy. I missed you so much today. I need you to fuck me so bad.”
And before you know it, he has your feet off the ground, legs wrapped around his hips and your back against the hard brick wall as he bullies his cock into your cunt relentlessly. Your moans echo into the night sky, surely being heard by anyone lingering outside the nearby bars and restaurants as Nanami’s balls make harsh contact with your ass with each unforgiving thrust. “You like being a brat? Hm? Knowing daddy will fuck you nice and hard? I didn’t know my perfect girl was such a needy little slut.”
“Yes—yes! Right there, daddy!” You cry, pure ecstasy making your legs shake as his fat, veiny cock brushes the inside of your walls. “Haah—nnggh fuck, I’ma cum…” you slur, drool escaping from the corner of your lips as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 
“That’s right, princess—give it to me. Give me everything. You like when I fuck you dumb, don’t you, baby? You’re so cute when you’re being a brat. Next time, though, I won’t be as gentle.”
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BONUS FOR MY METALCORE GIRLIES
gojo's vocals / geto's riffs / toji's basslines / choso's drumming
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a/n: i probably won’t post again lol. 
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Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader
Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.
Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, smut, unprotected sex, alternative universe (no curses), daddy kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)
A/N: hello! this is my first time posting anything here. if anyone reads this, i hope you enjoy. if you do, i might continue it :)
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You were uncertain how you ended up with your legs on each side of your head as this beast of a man you didn’t even know thrust deeply into you. You weren’t even aware you were this flexible before this. However, you weren’t complaining as you felt the tip of his thick, hard member collide with your g-spot repeatedly. He had made you reach your peak three times by now and it was evident that stopping wasn’t in his plans. His grunts and moans only fueled your horniness, hearing a man make some noise during intimacy could rile any woman up.
“This tight lil’ pussy is driving me crazy, sweetheart. Fuck— you gonna let me feel you come on me again? Lemme feel you flutter around my cock, baby, please.” He begged into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending waves of pleasure all over your body. This man knew what he was doing to you.
You moaned loudly, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “I need it, Toji! Don’t fucking stop!”
“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” You thought this to be impossible, but he started drilling you harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull and forcing you to succumb into the delightful sensation that his large prick brought you. The room was filled with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, your juices pooling on the sheets of the bed. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his dick, announcing the arrival of your orgasm.
“Oh fuck! I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna come, Toji!” You gasped as you squeezed his cock, making him shudder. You were forcing him to come.
“Holy s-shit.” He cursed as you milked his cock. Long, thick spurts of semen started painting your walls white, making your combined juices overflow from your abused hole. He stilled inside your pussy as he finished riding his high, laying his head on your breasts once he was done.
You thought it was over, until you felt him starting to suckled on your nipples.
“Lemme take you again, sweetheart.” He groaned, his voice muffled by your breasts. Jesus, does this man have unlimited energy? He flipped you over onto your stomach on a swift motion, as if you weighed nothing to him. Somehow, you still had enough strength to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. He spread your ass cheeks open and watched as his seed dripped out of your cunt slowly, like it was seducing him into sliding himself inside you once more. He hissed, feeling his dick get painfully hard again.
“Gods, what a beautiful sight.” Toji grasped his shaft, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance, forcing a moan out of you. “You want it, you slut? Wanna feel daddy’s dick splitting you open again?”
You weren’t experienced with men.
In fact, this was your very first one night stand. You wanted to experience for once in your life what it meant to be free and to have control over your own body, so when you saw Toji looking directly at you from across the bar, you knew he was going to be the one fucking your brains out tonight.
You had decided to go out with your girl friends to decompress from work when one of them pointed out the dark haired, exquisite looking man that had been staring at you the entire night. You didn’t know if it was the fact that a man that looked like that had been eyeing you up this whole time or if you were just tipsy, but you got a sudden burst of confidence that pushed you to go talk to him.
He seemed extremely pleased you approached him, excited even. He was noticeably older than you, but not old enough to be your father. You had never paid much attention to men his age, but something about this absolute hunk of a man pulled you to him. Looking at him up close made you nervous, the confidence you felt earlier, slowly turning into shyness. This man was definitely the most handsome man you’ve laid your eyes on. Judging by the smirk on his face he enjoyed your shyness. He thought it was cute.
To your surprise you had a very fluid, enjoyable conversation. He knew how to have a good time. You could feel a sincere interest coming from him, he wanted to get to truly know you, asking you questions about yourself, your likes, your hobbies and your life in general.
It was a shame you only wanted to fuck him.
At this point of your life you weren’t looking for a relationship. You had just gotten out of a five year relationship with your first ever boyfriend a few months ago and you simply weren’t ready to get into another commitment just yet. You had been with you first boyfriend since you were teenagers and you never got to explore what it felt like to be young and single. You wanted to learn how to be alone.
So you cut Toji short politely inviting him over to your place and he didn’t even hesitate to agree.
This is how to ended up with this man pounding you sore pussy from behind like a madman.
You moaned wantonly as he spanked your ass red, your ass jiggled with each harsh thrust. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. The bes’ one I’ve ever felt.” Toji was so pussy drunk, he could barely form words.
You looked over your shoulder wanting to see his expression and god was the sight gorgeous. His mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed, his body dripping with sweat. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours. You both had the same expression.
“Oh, don’t you give me that slutty face. I’m not gonna last.” Toji grunted, delivering another slap to your ass. You smirked and let out a moan as you started pushing your ass towards him, trying to meet his thrusts. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.
“You fuckin’ whore. You want me to fill you up with my cum again don’t you?” He said between a moan and a chuckle. “Tell me you want it, baby.”
“I want it so bad, daddy. Please empty your balls inside me!” Your fifth orgasm was approaching as well.
“Take it!” He bottomed out releasing his seed straight into your womb, making you scream as your own orgasm took over squirting all over his crotch and thighs. Your legs finally giving up as you crashed onto the bed.
Toji pulled out slowly, groaning at the sensitivity. He laid down besides you, admiring your sweaty, red face. He thought you looked the most beautiful like this. “How about we take a shower together, sweetheart?”
So you did and you let him spend the night.
After all, how bad could it be?
The next morning you woke up with a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You almost got scared until you remembered what happened last night, you could not believe you actually had sex with a stranger. You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly in disbelief. You knew this wasn’t going to become something frequent, you weren’t the type to sleep around, but you had to admit it had been a great experience and you were glad it had been with a man as experienced as Toji. It probably wouldn’t have worked out as well if it wasn’t for him, so you had to give him some credit.
Speaking of which, you could feel Toji stirring awake. You turned around to look at him and you were received with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”
“Morning.” You replied back feeling your shyness take over.
“Don’t get shy with me now, I saw your entire being last night.” He joked, giving your cheek a sweet kiss. Are men usually this affectionate after causal sex?
You blushed from embarrassment, he really did see your entire being. You started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. “Where you going so early, baby? Let me keep you warm for a little longer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Toji. If I don’t get up now, I’m gonna be late for work!” You answered giving him a courteous smile. You weren’t certain why he was being so doting, you didn’t know if this was normal behavior after a one night stand. What you did know was that, that’s all you wanted it to be. Simply a night of good, casual sex with a hot guy you met at a bar. A man you would never have to see again and to you it was safe to assume that Toji was the type of man looking for the same thing as you.
“I see. Well, maybe we could grab some coffee and I can drop you off at work. How does that sound?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Lunch?” He insisted.
“Toji—“ He cuts you off by pressing his scarred lips to yours, tangling his fingers with your hair.
He pulled away, his finger still holding your hair. “Baby, don’t worry. Just give me your number and we can schedule something for when you’re available.”
You felt odd. How can you get out of this situation? You hated this, you’ve never been in a position like this before. You felt helpless as you hesitantly agreed to give him your number. The weirdest part being that he never let go of your hair until you entered you contact information into his phone. It felt threatening in a way, even if his grip on you was loose.
He let go of your hair when you handed him his phone back. “Perfect. Let me just call you real quick so you can save my number.” Good thing you didn’t give him a fake number. “I’ll get going then. I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” Toji smirked, pecking your lips before walking out of them room.
You let out a sigh of relief once you heard your front door slam closed. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until now. You were feeling exasperated, you were already praying he never contacted you.
Maybe last night was a mistake.
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Toji was a troubled man. He knew it. The people around him knew it.
They say no one is born evil, but from the moment he gained conscious he doesn’t remember a moment when he was truly good and quite frankly, he preferred it stayed that way. He had been raised around pain and suffering. He was brought into this world to become an assassin from a young age. He was brought to inflict nothing but agony and that’s all he knew how to do. He doesn’t remember a single moment of happiness from his early childhood to his adult life. He was made to believe he didn’t deserved love and he believe it because he never did anything worthy of it. He knew he wasn’t a good man.
He knew he wasn’t a good man and that’s why he didn’t feel guilty about all the times he followed you as you walked back to your place from work.
The moment he laid his eyes on you, something changed deep within him. There was a feeling he’d never felt before and it felt… good?
You first saw Toji at that bar, but Toji?
Oh, Toji first saw you at least two months before that.
Rain was pouring over him, but he could care less because what he was witnessing right now was perhaps the most breathtaking, heart-bursting sight in his entire existence. It was you. The answer to all his problems just walked past him in the torrential rain. He was amazed that not even the rain could conceal your beautiful face, he could see it perfectly clear. You were wearing some type of uniform that clung to your body thanks to the weather. Toji couldn’t help but admire the shape of your body, instantly getting hard at the sight of your nipples hardening from the cold rain under your white shirt. You had only walked by him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like an eternity. It was almost as if you were walking in slow motion. In spite of being distracted by your beauty, he was still an extremely observant man and was able to descry the name of the company you worked for on the logo planted on your shirt.
Toji wasn’t a good man. That’s why he stalks you any time he can, to him he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s why loves breaking into your place and stealing your clothes and anything he can get his hands on that will make him feel closer to you. He particularly loves laying on your bed and smelling your sheets, your scent was simply divine. That’s why he tugs on his cock any time he caught sight of you. That’s why he would drag any man that dared approach you —hell, even look at you— to an empty alley and beat them to a pulp without a care for their sorry lives. He was an assassin, it’s all he knew how to do.
Toji wasn’t a good man, but he wanted to be for you.
He couldn’t stand hiding behind your shadow any longer, he was growing desperate. He felt pathetic, this feeling was alien to him and he hated it. He needed you to notice him.
Imagine his luck when he saw you walk into the bar that night. Toji was over the moon. Both of you were finally at the same place at the same time and he didn’t even need to fake a scenario for it to occur.
Toji was having an internal battle with himself, trying to find a way to approach you where you wouldn’t find him creepy. You were with your friends which made it harder for him to come up with a way to swoop you away. He never had trouble getting any woman to bed him, but you weren’t just any woman. You were special to him. He wanted to keep you, provide for you, protect you, love you.
He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you until he noticed one of your friends point him out. He freaked out internally until he saw you move your gaze towards him and he swore his heart could come out through his mouth at any moment. This was the first time he ever made eye contact with you and he couldn’t wait to hold your gaze for the rest of your lives. To his surprise, you smiled at him.
He observed as you whispered something to your friend before standing up.
You were walking towards him.
All this time thinking about how to approach you and now you were coming to him.
That night he had the best time he’s had in his life. Getting to talk to you, look at you up close was indescribable to him. Although he wished he could’ve spoken to you more, he didn’t mind how the night ended at all. Getting to enjoy your delicious little body was the best part of it. He gave you his all. He wanted to make sure you were ruined for any other man, he wanted you to only think of him from that night forward.
He really thought he had achieved that.
But the next morning you were so cold to him it broke his heart to a million pieces.
But that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll win your heart over. ♥︎
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cameronspecial · 2 days
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I saw you were looking for some angst ideas lmao
So rafe and reader are together. Loves her more than life but his addiction gets in the way of that. One night they have a fuming argument and she doesn’t talk to him for a few days. He then makes a plan for them to talk about it somewhere private at nighttime, but when she shows up he’s not there. She waits for him for a while then she gets attacked by the rafes dealers because he owes them money and she was the next bet. Rafe finds her and he’s freaking out but she won’t let him near her and she blames him. You can choose how this ending goes or if you even want to write this but this has been on my mind
You Deserve Better
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Stabbing, Blood, and Death
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.1K
Masterlist
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The centre of Rafe’s life wasn’t always the white powder that tumbled around the little Ziploc bag that lined his pockets. His centre is supposed to snort or wheeze a little whenever she laughs, refusing to use her inhaler because she doesn’t want to embarrass him. It will stay up past her bedtime because she is in a flow with her work. His sun crosses her eyeballs whenever he presses a kiss on her nose because she knows it would make him chuckle. Y/N Y/L/N used to be his rock and now, all because of an accident, she isn’t anymore. That is something not a lot of people know. They assume his addiction started because he was a bored rich kid who had the money to spare. However, in reality, it began with a torn ACL. One wrong shift of his leg and his football career was over. At first, the oxycodone was only to manage the pain from the ACL surgery. He had the hope that he could recover the way he needed to get back on the field, but then the news came that he wasn’t progressing the way his doctor wanted… That was when the problem started, suddenly the drug he was taking to help ease his physical pain became the one to take away his mental pain too. The pain of not being able to play football. The pain of missing out. The pain of not knowing where his life was going.
Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was by his side the whole time, except a person can’t be everything to someone else and he needed a therapist. He just wasn’t ready to admit that. It was only when he stopped being prescribed oxycodone that he turned to cocaine to fill the mental hole the prescription used to be for.
———
Rafe’s blown pupils are hidden by his eyelids as he lies back on the couch. Y/N is still out with her friends, so he isn’t sleeping. Not when she is not at home. The front door opening and closing makes him jerk forward. His eyelids are just a sliver because the light from the ceiling is too bright for him. Her footsteps approach the living room and the large sigh she lets out makes her arrival known. “You didn’t do the dishes,” she states, her hand resting on her jut-out hip. “And the hole in the hallway is still there.” Yesterday, Rafe, in a high state, accidentally made a hole in the wall when trying to put up a picture frame for her. He promised her before she left for work this morning that he would get what he needed to fix it this morning and in the afternoon, he would fix it. However, before he could get himself to the store, he saw a post from one of his old football teammates, who went pro and he spiralled. 
He doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, yet it happens and this causes her to let out another huff. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the store,” he grumbles like he didn’t care. He really did though. He wanted to be able to do something that simple for the girl who meant everything to him, except his mind seemed to disagree with his heart. It is easier to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Her eyes narrow in on the residue of powder on their coffee table, “Let me guess, you got your nose caught up in some business. Rafe, you promised me you wouldn’t do that shit at home.” He can’t keep looking at the way tears start to appear because he knows how worried she gets when he does drugs, always scared he might overdose. He looks anywhere but at her. “Don’t get on my ass about this again Y/N. You don’t know what I am dealing with,” he argues.
“I don’t and that’s the problem. You need to talk to someone about how you are feeling because you are going to put yourself in an early grave if you keep doing what you are doing now.”
“Seriously, we are going to argue about this again because I didn’t do the dishes or fix a little hole in the wall.”
“No, we are going to argue about it because you aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore and I don’t think if I can do this anymore. I want to be by your side to help you get better but if you don’t want to, then I don’t know if I can be here forever.”
Her words hit his ears at the same intensity as they would if he were sitting next to an airplane engine. They had arguments about his sobriety so many times before, yet those fights always had the underlying understanding that she would be there to help him. She never once mentioned the possibility of her leaving him because she truly did want to help him find his sobriety. His mouth falls open to talk. No words come out. How can he possibly swear that he wants to get better when he isn’t at the self-realization point in his journey? She takes the silence as an admittance that getting clean isn’t on his mind. “I need some time apart. I’m going to sleep at Deliah’s place tonight,” she informs, turning to leave. He doesn’t stop her; he wants to give her the space she needs in hopes that she realizes she can hold on for a little bit longer. The only word he can respond with is “Okay”, right before she closes the door behind her. 
———
She hasn’t answered any of his texts and calls. Her night of taking some space turned into a week and it is driving him crazy. Her non-existence return may have to do with his unwillingness to agree to go to a therapist. After the thousandth attempt at calling her, she finally answers the call. “Normally, when a person doesn’t pick up the call, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” He lets out an internal sigh, “I know, I just need to talk to you. Please, can we meet at our spot, Sunshine?” She could never resist the usage of his nickname for her. “Okay, meet me there in an hour,” she agrees. The call drops right after her response and he gives himself a small smile. Not only does he get to see her again, he gets to try to get her back. 
———
By the time she realizes she is being followed, she is alone under the bleachers, where she and Rafe used to spend their time in high school. It was where they found themselves when they didn’t feel like going to class or they needed to get away from the chaos after his team won a game. It was the place she fell in love with him in because even before they were dating when they were just friends, it was their spot. She spins around at the sound of grass being pressed down by a set of feet, ready to scold him for being late. It isn’t Rafe as she expected; instead, an average-height man with a dangerous air that scares her. The gleam behind his eyes tells her the bald man is up to no good, which is confirmed when he pulls out the hunting knife from his hoodie pocket. She steps back in an attempt to get away from him, but her back hits against a metal beam. The man rushes toward her and presses the sharp edge against the soft skin of her neck. “Your boy owes me money and since he is taking too long to get it back to me, I thought I would hold onto something precious to him until I get what I want,” the man explains with a wicked grin. She refuses to show him fear and looks him dead in the eyes, “Rafe’s dealer is Barry so I have no idea what you are talking about.” “He stopped going to Barry because Barry started getting on his case about how much he is using,” the male growled, not enjoying the bite to her bark. She chuckles like a maniac, “When Rafe comes, he is going to beat your ass.” “Shut up, Bitch.” Angered by his words, her knees find their target between his legs. 
He lets out a howl and doubles over in pain. She uses this as her opportunity to attempt an escape, trying to run past him. Unfortunately, he reaches out to stop her and this results in the blade driving into her abdomen. A gasp passes her lips, causing the dealer to look in her direction. “Shit.” His eyes bloom open and immediately begins to pull it out. “No. Don’t pu-,” she warns, except it is too late. The weapon is already out and he is running toward the exit. She hunches forward and stumbles back against the beam, pressing her hand to her stomach to keep from bleeding out, feeling as though she has been punched. Calling 911 seems to be the logical answer; however, when she goes for her phone, she finds it broken on the floor. She thinks about going to her car and is stopped by the feeling of even more blood gushing out of the wound as she tries to push off the beam. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. 
“Sunshine,” rings through her ears. Her dizziness makes it difficult to focus on the speaker, yet she knows who it is based on the nickname. She slides down the beam because her legs lose all their strength. Rafe rushes to her side and kneels beside her. “Shit, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call the police. They are going to fix everything,” his voice breaks as his hand joins hers to stop the flow of his blood. She can hear him relaying the information to the dispatcher, but her body is telling her something Rafe isn’t going to be ready to hear. He places his phone on the floor so both of his hands can press on her abdomen. “They’re coming, Sunshine, just hold on. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.” Her handshakes as she raises to his cheek, staining it with her blood. Her tears water at the edge of her bottom eyelid, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” His head shakes vigorously. “Don’t say tha-.” She cuts him off, “Can you please just listen to me?” He nods to let her continue. “It was your dealer. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Just to make sure he gets arrested. But I need you to know that you are more than just your addiction and football. I know you don’t think so, but you are and if you just realize that, then you will see the man that I fell in love with.” “I don’t deserve that though. Look at all the shit I put you through. You deserve more than a druggie as a boyfriend,” he cries, holding her hand against his skin.
She smiles up at him, “You deserve more too. You deserve to be truly happy. You deserve to try to find a new purpose in life. I want that for you.” “How can I find all of that if you are gone?” he questions. Her breathing begins to become laboured, “You’ll find yourself and once you grieve, you’ll find someone who can help heal your broken heart. That’s how.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please, don’t go. Will you please stay if I promise to get sober?” 
“I will be with you every step of the way.”
The words tear his heart in two. He knows what it means. She truly doesn’t think she is coming out of this alive. “I want you to see me get better though. Please. Just hang on a little longer.” His tears cloud his vision. When he doesn’t hear a response, he wipes his eyes to get a closer look at her. The world goes dark at the sight of her glassy eyes only reflecting back his face with no recognition or life behind them. The rise and fall of her chest have stopped. The universe decides to answer his calls for help at a cruel moment as he hears the siren finally approach. There is no use in their hurry if the person who needs saving is the one to do it because Rafe isn’t going to let her last words die with her. He is going to get better, not only for her but for him too. He deserves more than a life of chasing his pain away with drugs and he is determined to achieve that.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura
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mystellenia · 22 hours
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giving ellie a hoodie full of kisses ୨ৎ
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summary: you paint a hoodie with kisses for ellie, and the gesture flusters her.
content: nothing much, just ellie being shy
notes: answer to this req!! i'm trying a new format of posts. sometimes i see people do not quite hcs but also not quite a normal, paragraph-formatted fic. its like this in between of bullet points????? idk let me know if yall like it
(wc 0.6 k)
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after spending an hour on painting your lips and pressing them to the cloth of the hoodie you'd gotten for ellie, you sat back and examined your work
you had to admit: the hoodie looked beautiful. but! you did not!!!! your lips were stained red from the paint, your back hurt from hunching over to kiss the hoodie, and you'd probably ingested about an ounce of red40!!! (i know red 40 is in food but let me be silly)
after washing the paint that had gotten on your skin off in the sink, you ironed the sweatshirt to seal the paint in (don't ask me how that works bc idk i just saw it on tiktok like 10 mins ago)
and now we wait for ellie to come home!!
when she finally comes in, she throws her keys on the table near the door and toes her dusty, disintegrating, been-to-bethlehem-and-back converse, bc have you seen them. one day she's gonna take a step and they're gonna turn into a cloud of dust i swear
anyway you're sitting on the couch with your phone in your lap, the painted sweatshirt folded into a square with the kisses hidden inside. she walks towards you and gives you a lil kissy kiss on the forehead like hiiii
you get all smiley because you're excited for her to see the sweatshirt and she gets all suspish.... like what's so funny....
sooooooo.... you tell her you made her something and unfold the hoodie and hold it up to your body so she can see the full thing. and she would soooo get all beet red, like, "...you made this for me?"
and you're like "yes of course do you like it queen" then she gets over the like flusteredness (????(actually i revoke my ???? bc i just made that a word)) and gets so happi like yayyy!!!!
then she looks all confused at your lips and is like "is that why your lips look so severely chapped and red?"
and you get mad so you take away kiss privileges so she does the only reasonable thing which is putting you in a headlock to force kiss you
would definitely immediately put it on and go look in the mirror at her with it on. she'll start geeking and thank you and all that jazz
she would wear that shit 24/7. sleeping working showering shitting ANYWHERE best believe she has that hoodie on. and you tell her its been like 2 weeks of her wearing it nonstop so she needs to wash it but she refuses bc she doesn't want the kisses to start fading. u wash it anyway bc its dirty and she cold shoulders you for about 30 mins before she sees some dumb reel she just has to show you (me fr).
i feel like she's a hot sleeper--like she gets too hot at night to wear the hoodie but she still wants it so she'll just hold it as a baby blanket of sorts and Whatnot.
wait very unrelated but does anyone have a baby blanket that they've had for so long its like basically just threads thats so funny
but overall she loves it. she likes to kiss the kiss prints you made on the sweatshirt bc it's "like kissing you."
there was one time she couldn't find it for like 2 days (because you'd washed it since she never does) and she tried to act all nonchalant and unaffected like she wasn't about to start tweaking and like twitching
then you gave it to her all calm because it was literally just in the wash and she was like "what😨😨😨 where did you find it😨😨😨" and you just tell her it was in the wash and shes like "oh that makes sense"
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pls im so sorry. before i say anything i would like to formally apologize to the anon who submitted the ask for this bc this is so shit. you ask me for a product and this is how i repay you!! shame on me. please dilly dally on over to my asks and ask me something else so i can actually, i don't know, do a good job!! this ask was cute tho u ate with that
@picklesarenice69
i hate this i hate this i hate this! wow i hate this format so much this is the first and last time i will be doing this!!! i’m only posting this bc its been like a week since i last posted and the citizens will soon revolt, which the city's defenses cannot afford!! we're about to run out of wheat like times are getting tough. maybe i should just try just headcanons 🤔
can you tell i was fighting demons to not make this my normal vocab and format. like just look at this sentence and how it progresses: "when she finally comes in, she throws her keys on the table near the door and toes her dusty, disintegrating, been-to-bethlehem-and-back converse, bc have you seen them." the way that sentence progresses is just the silly demons taking over and also my coping mechanism for grimacing at how much i hate this format
like i just couldnt take myself seriously. "yes of course do you like it queen" HELLO??? WHY DID I TYPE THAT but i will not be fixing and/or deleting it bc its making me giggle
dont get me wrong some of you ladies chew it up but i am made for unreasonably long and time consuming fics!!! i’m getting heated too bc not only is this so short and quick to do but it also takes less focus and brain power and ofc i had to make things hard for myself and hate it!!! i’m soooooooooooo silly
edit: wait i would like to clarify that i just hate this because perhaps i’m not used to it. if you guys like this maybe i'll do more bc i follow the clout always 💯
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koolades-world · 2 days
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this was originally a request and i accidently got rid of it i think? i'm not really sure what i did but it's gone im literally so upset
so basically i posted sunday's post by accident, and only realized after i clicked on the next request so in a panic, i clicked off without thinking about it to do I wasn't sure at the time. i eventually resolved to just let that be and move sunday's original post to monday, but when i came back looking for the thing i had tried to start it was gone :(((
I'm so sorry to this anon they said some very sweet things about how visiting my blog was comforting and that they liked how i penned the characters and i just wanted to say thank you for that and hope you're reading <333
please enjoy!
Mc with burnout symptoms
Lucifer
when he notices you exhibiting the symptoms he knew from experience, he's quick to check up on you
he immediately talks to you about it and works with you to walk you through what he does in hopes of helping
his method of coping is meditation and yoga
if you're up for trying it, you can make this a thing you do together
Mammon
lately, he's been running into you more and more awake at three in the morning on RAD nights
he's awake just because he has a bad sleep schedule, but you're not like this at the frequency he's been seeing you at
one night, he prepares a cup noodles for both of you so you can chat over something you both love
he deeply cares about you since he feels as you're the first person to express how much you love him, so anything he can do, he will do
Levi
it's scary to him to being to see you echo the negativity he knows so well
he notices you begin to lose passion for the things that you loved before
he felt lost at first, but he knew that you needed his support so he stepped up for you
he lets you know he's willing to chat about it and will help you out however he can
Satan
while he doesn't catch on right away, he does notice your change in behavior
he does frantic research until he thinks he's figured out why you're acting different
he tries his best to subtly make changes in your life, such as making an effort to get to bed early with you and taking the scenic route home to enjoy the nature
when you inevitably notice, he lets you in on what he did, and how even after you overcome the burnout, you can keep up these habits if it makes you happy
Asmo
he noticed your newfound irritability before you did
when he came to talk to you about it, it was then you realized you had burnout
while he knows pampering you can't solve every problem, he loves to make you feel special and to help you relax
the two of you can go talk to solomon about it as soon as possible to ask for his help
Beel
when he notices the burnout symptoms, he didn't know what is was at the time
but he did know that sometimes he saw the same things in lucifer
so, he did what he does with lucifer: do some fun exercise together!
not only do the two of you get more time together, he just wants to help you and is doing it how he knows best
Belphie
watching you slowly being to just lay around like him was almost scary
the onset of creeping negativity wasn't like you
he resolved to help you find a way to work through it together
anything that you tried, he would do too to give you a little extra motivation, even if it's something he would never normally do
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