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gimmeurtmi · 7 months

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kinktober day five — hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

tags: friends to lovers (kinda), kinktober series, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, nude drawings, fingering, masturbation, use of “pretty”, lmk if i forgot anything!

inspo: uni student hyunjin but make it art

kink: exhibitionism

{ wc: 2522 }

It was a strange thing to be offered, but it was also flattering to be seen as a suitable candidate. The art department had reached out to a number of students to act as models for their sketch class—and you were one of them. It probably helped that your best friend, Hyunjin, was taking that class and you were sure he was the one to mention your name first.

He had asked you a few times to model for him and the only time you said yes was when you found a thrilling show to watch while you modelled; it was easier to stay still with your mind so occupied.

So you said yes.

And only then did the teacher tell you there was a catch.

“Nude?” You all but screamed.

“I know you and Mr. Hwang are close so I can pair you two together—but if you’re more comfortable modelling for a female student that’s fine too. Either way, you won’t be able to participate until you sign the forms.”

You looked at the consent forms in your hand, mulling it over for a few moments still. Modelling for a girl would be more comfortable, but you didn’t know anyone that took Art and being naked in front of a stranger was far more nerve wracking to you.

You called Hyunjin right away. He assured you he’d make sure you’re comfortable and that you didn’t have to agree at all and that he would buy you lunch for a week. He needed a good score on this assignment and he, too, didn’t feel all that comfortable sketching a stranger under those circumstances.

So you signed the forms.

You decided to use your room for the assignment, for privacy reasons and to help you feel more at ease. Nothing could be too scary with your supportive plushies in the same room as you.

Hyunjin walked in with his iced Americano (a second one for you, too) and started setting up his station.

He put all his pens and pencils in order, three huge erasers, two sharpeners, and his giant sketchbook. It was so big you guessed the sketch would end up being life sized.

As he set everything up, you fiddled nervously with the string of your robe. It was just your bathrobe, nothing too special, but the whole situation made your heart race and there was sweat gathering on your forehead.

You weren’t so sure if you could do this after all.

“Hyune,” you start, “does it have to be completely nude?”

He looked up at you from where he was straightening his pencils, eyes boring into you. You swallowed.

“Those are the requirements,” he caught his bottom lip between his teeth before he adds, “do you wanna put on some underwear as a warm-up?”

“Do you need sketches of me in my underwear?” You purse your lips.

“Not really,” he says, bashfully, “but if it’ll be an easier start for you?”

You inhale deeply. Untie your bathrobe. Exhale.

You let the fabric fall off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, before you settle on your bed.

Hyunjin nods at you with a small smile, encouraging.

“You got this,” he tries, putting a fist up in the air in solidarity.

“Can I put on a podcast so I don’t get bored?” You say, conscious to not move your legs too far apart.

“Sure, it’ll probably take me a while,” he chuckles, “I need to do like five.”

“Oh, dear god,” you roll your eyes and Hyunjin laughs at you. The nerves you were feeling have all disappeared already—it actually isn’t too weird being naked in front of him.

He’s your closest friend, has seen you being sick after drinking too much, has seen all your embarrassing childhood photos, has seen you with bed head and delirious from no sleep. He’s seen it all—so it shouldn’t be too weird for him to see your tits, too.

Hyunjin directs your poses, the first one casual as you lay on your back. He’s only sketching your upper body, he says, from the neck to your bellybutton, so he lets you cover up your bottom half with a blanket so you aren’t too cold. The first pose is fun since you don’t have to do anything too strenuous.

Once he flips the page on his sketchbook to a new one he changes your pose. This time your profile is facing him, the leg closer to him bent to hide most of your body. You don’t get the privilege of warmth this time, and your butt starts hurting after ten minutes in this position. But you focus on the podcast that’s still playing in the background instead, trying to be a good model for Hyunjin.

For the third pose he gets up and moves the table to the very edge of your bed. You look at him questioningly as he does so, before you let out a small, “why?”

“It’s just that, well, I need a close up,” he whispered the last part, eyes focused on rearranging his pencils neatly.

“Of….?” You think you know the answer.

“Of you,” he says, pointedly, and so you understand.

You can’t help but think he was going too easy on you until now, that this was the real assignment and he didn’t want to scare you away. And perhaps it worked, because the thought of Hyunjin staring at your pussy with that amount of concentration doesn’t scare you as much as it would’ve twenty minutes ago.

It actually… excites you. You feel a tingle all around your stomach, and your heartbeat feels louder all of a sudden.

It was one thing to just be naked in front of Hyunjin, but having him look right at you, with his face frowned in concentration made your core flutter.

You nod timidly at Hyunjin’s questioning look before he smiles. He sits back down on his chair, grabbing his pencil, and getting to the task at hand.

You feel yourself getting wet at the amount of attention he’s giving your body—even if it’s just with his eyes—and you hope he doesn’t notice it. But you do, and with your legs spread the way he asked them to be, you can even smell your own arousal. You hope he isn’t close enough to notice it as well, but you have a feeling that hope is futile. He can definitely tell.

“I read a lot about this once we were given the assignment,” he starts, focusing solely on his sketchbook as he talks, “and sometimes models feel.. you know. So don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m…” you wanted to defend yourself, because you weren’t even that embarrassed. Just surprisingly turned on. “Okay.”

“It would be more embarrassing for you if you were a guy, guys can’t hide it,” he says, as if to make you feel better.

“I don’t think I can hide anything from you right now,” you scoff at him. Hyunjin giggles in response.

He lets another five minutes or so go by before he takes a look at his drawing. You can’t be too sure because you’ve never seen yourself so close before but it looks like a good sketch. A really good one. You’re flattered at the attention to detail and it doesn’t make you feel shy anymore. You’re almost proud.

“When I was reading,” he coughs, “there was someone who said it’s nicer to sketch those body parts after.. a.. well,”

“You’ve just stared at my vagina for twenty minutes straight, Hyune, surely you can get some words out.”

He looks up at you, eyes round and glossy. His plush bottom lip is slightly red from where he’s been sucking on it as he draws.

“Female genitalia is a beautiful subject to draw after the model has experienced sexual gratification.”

You burst out laughing. “Who talks like that?”

“That’s a direct quote from the article!” He defends.

“So you want me to sexually gratify myself?”

He blushes deeply at that, shaking his hands quickly. “Not if that’s weird! Just if you wanted to. I have enough to probably pass I was just curious if she was right about it and—“

The words die on his tongue when you bring your hand between your legs. Your actions are fuelled by a strange bravery you aren’t familiar with, and the insane amount of arousel that’s coursing through you.

He quickly gets up, turning his eyes away from you.

“Wait, I can leave and you can call me back in when you’re d—“

“—don’t,” you say, running your fingers up and down your wetness, “maybe you can draw the process, too?”

His eyes go wide, so wide he almost looks like a cartoon, before he’s fumbling around to find the chair again. He sits down, quickly grabbing his pencils but they all fall onto the floor in his clumsy urge to get drawing right away.

He recovers them quickly, setting them aside but not at all bothering to arrange them in his neat order like before.

“Yeah, good idea,” he finally says, trying his best to look and draw and breathe at the same time.

He doesn’t have time to draw you teasing yourself before you slip two of your fingers inside you.

The sight is so pretty, so beautiful, and Hyunjin freezes for a moment. He blinks once then twice before he quickly starts putting pencil to paper and sketching out the sight before him.

He knows he won’t be able to do any of it justice but he has to try.

“Can you, move a little less?” He asks after a moment or two.

“I won’t reach sexual gratification if I don’t move,” you explain with a chuckle. If you’re honest, having Hyunjin watching you touch yourself might be enough to get you to cum without much movement at all—but you aren’t sure he should know about all that.

“Yeah, but it’s fucking beautiful and I want to get the details right,” he says.

You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said. You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.

“Pull them out a little bit, just so I can see better,” he directs, so simply, as if he isn’t talking about your fingers deep inside your cunt.

You follow his directions dutifully, as you’ve done all afternoon.

It’s just half of your fingers now, which isn’t much, but you can still feel the stretch. Still, with no friction available to you it makes you needy. So needy.

You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more.

“Hyune,” you say, softly.

“Yeah?” He asks, still concentrating on his task.

“Wanna move now,”

“Just a few final details, okay?” He adds in a whisper, “you’re so beautiful,”

“Hyunjin, please,” you let out, because his compliment isn’t helping your patience at all.

“Would it help if you moved for a bit and then went back to the same pose?” He offers, eyes swimming in sympathy.

“It would, yes,” you nod quickly.

“Go on, then, just for a bit,” he smiles, supportive, before his gaze goes back to his sketch. He takes an eraser, fixing up a few details in an attempt to give you some privacy. But you don’t want that at all.

“Hyunie,” you whine out, and his head snaps up in a second. “It’s no fun if you look away.”

“I, I’m trying not to,” his eyes jump between your face and your exposed pussy, then back to the page. “You should have some privacy.”

“Don’t want it,” you say quickly, fingers moving slowly in and out as he gives you a bit more attention, “want you to see this.”

“I wanna see it too,” he says quietly, “it’s so beautiful.”

“Then look at me,” your fingers move quicker now, your palm resting against your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, “watch me fuck myself.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin all but moans, head falling backwards before he quickly zeros in on your cunt.

You let your eyes scan down to his crotch, see the bulge he’s so clearly been trying to hide.

“Come here,” you ask him, patting the space next to you, “want you to really see me.”

Hyunjin almost flips the table over and runs to you, but instead he just trips over one of the legs, letting all the pencils fall again, before he’s climbing onto the bed.

He settles right in front of you, his knee touching your ankle, and lets himself fully gape at the sight in front of him.

“I looked through a lot of portraits you know,” he starts softly, his voice lower than usual, “and I think your pussy is the prettiest one.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the artist,” you smirk at him, mostly to try and hide how much you like him complimenting you.

“Not my sketch,” he’s quick to correct you, “the one here.”

As he says it, he brings his big hand on top of yours, pushing against your hand until your fingers go as deep as they can.

You moan loudly at that, jaw hanging open.

“That’s what you wanted, deep,” he confirmed to himself, looking at your knuckles disappearing into you. “Looks so nice like this, too.”

He grabs your wrist, lifting and pushing your hand in an impossible pace. Your fingers are sore from it after only a few seconds, but Hyunjin’s beautiful face is looking right at you and so you don’t do anything but moan.

“So pretty like this, too,” he says, slightly strained.

You grip his bicep, needing something to ground you as the pleasure starts building and building. It’s much more solid than he lets on, his arms big and strong and his grip on your hand tightening as your whines grow higher and higher until— “I’m gonna…”

“Want me to see it? Should I watch as you cum all over your fingers, pretty?”

And that’s all it takes for it to hit you at full force, your eyes shutting tightly as the pleasure takes over.

Hyunjin giggles at you, small dimples appearing by his cheeks as he averts his gaze away from you. He’s so beautiful even with his head turned away, looking for something.

He quickly finds it and grabs the tissues by your bed to hand you one. You quickly clean off your fingers as you giggle.

“Should you get back to drawing now?” You ask, breathless.

“Yes,” he nods, getting up with a very obvious tent in his pants. He adjusts himself as discreetly as he can, but a sense of pride takes over you knowing you’ve made him hard in the first place.

He gathers the pencils off the floor.

“Next I think I wanna draw your face when you cum, it’s really fucking gorgeous,” he says offhanded as he sketched out the outline of your cunt.

“I’ll have to cum again, no?” You mumble.

“That can be arranged,” he doesn’t even look up.

Your breathe catches in your throat.

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rageserenity · 1 month

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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astermath · 8 months

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my muse.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a short oneshot of steve's girlfriend painting him, and him being able to see his own beauty through your eyes.

word count: 1.1K

notes: got this cute idea out of nowhere, thought maybe steve would like to know how beautiful others think he is.

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

“Is it done yet?”

Steve sits on a stool in front of the window in your atelier. The slowly dimming light of the sun setting illuminates him from the back, the lamp you have set up besides you letting you see him from the front.

“Almost Stevie, be patient.”

He’s been sitting perfectly still for over an hour. An admirable feat, to be honest. He’s not usually one for sitting idly at all, always fidgeting one way or another or wanting to move about.

But he’s been doing quite well. He wants to do well. For you. So you can do your thing.

He’s been secretly wanting to do this ever since he’s seen your paintings. You’re incredibly talented, something between a Monet and a Renoir. An incredible eye for colour and composition, but most of all, you like to paint people.

You do a hell of a job at capturing someone’s likeness, even through the lens of an impressionistic art style. Steve is sure you’ll make it big with your art one day. You told him most painters only get famous after they die, and that didn’t exactly sit well with him. He'd rather have you alive and famous, but mostly the first part.

You’d been going through a bit of an art block, and so you’ve went through your old sketchbooks. You realised there is a surprising, almost embarrassing, amount of drawings of your boyfriend in there. Like… Pages, upon pages. You’ve always thought he has this effortless, beautiful air about him that just made every pose look like it should be captured onto paper forever.

When you asked him if he wanted to model for your next painting, Steve's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He's always adored your art, supporting you and your passion every step of the way, so to be immortalised on one of your canvases is a huge honour to him.

He was a bit nervous though. He knows you think he's the prettiest boy alive, and though he does think he's serviceable, he's not sure if he's painting worthy.

Still, who is he to deny his sweet girl of using him as a reference?

At first, it was hard. How in god's name do you capture someone as beautiful and complex as Steve Harrington onto something as simple as a blank canvas? You want it to be perfect. You want it to reflect the type of person he is. You want the adoring glint in those gorgeous brown eyes to come through, the dimple in his cheek when he smiles, the constellations of freckles and moles gracing his skin. In a sense, it has to be your best piece yet.

"Alright," you lean back for what feels like the hundredth time already, getting a good look at your work. You take a moment, deciding not to let your nerves get the best of you and not overthink it. The urge is there, but you'd feel awful about letting your boyfriend sit there for yet another hour.

"I think... I think I'm done." you put down your brush, clasping your paint clad hands together in your lap.

Steve perks up in that adorable way he tends to do when he's curious. "Really? Can I come see?"

You bite your lip, unsure once again if the painting truly reflects the beauty of its subject. You sigh, knowing nothing probably ever will. You nod, lifting your hand so you can beckon him over.

He can barely contain his excitement, breaking into a little jog as he makes his way over to you. His arm drapes over your shoulders as he positions himself besides you.

"Woah..." His eyes widen as he takes it all in. The entire artwork exudes warmth. A mix of yellows, oranges and pinks surround him in the way a beautiful sunset would, and his smile looks as if it could cure anything. The brush strokes are a bit experimental, but not messy. Nothing is accidental, every placement and detail has a reason. A purpose.

You nibble on the back of your finger, anxiously awaiting his approval. You find that the longer you look at your art, the more flaws you notice. Now you're conflicted. You just want to do Steve's pretty face justice.

"D'you like it?" You look at him, all nervous.

But Steve looks like he has stars in his eyes. And tears. Yeah, he's definitely about to cry.

"Stevie? You okay?"

He blinks a few times, a stray tear rolling over his cheek as he clears his throat. "Yeah, I, uhm-- wow, it's-- it's beautiful." He looks at you, those pretty eyes he loves, all confused at him.

"Are you sure?" you smile a little sheepishly.

"Peach..." He leans in and presses a kiss to your head. "I love it. It's beautiful. It's just, I... I'm amazed you think I'm so beautiful too."

"I just painted what I saw. 'N what you make me feel."

Steve feels like he's going to melt, your words fulfilling every bit of his loving fantasies. You don't even mean to, and yet you know exactly what to say to pull on his heartstrings.

"Makes me feel so appreciated. Thank you baby, I love it." He grins, all boyish excitement.

"Yeah, I love it too... I think this one's my favourite, actually." You look up and capture Steve's lips in yours in a chaste kiss. "Might have to frame it, hm?"

"I have a better idea."

"I'm listenin'."

"Could you paint the two of us? Like on that polaroid in my wallet?"

He's referring to the polaroid you took when you first met. It was a party, and you were both fairly inebriated. Somehow, you'd started talking, and you hadn't left each other's side all night, leaving the dancing to the others and instead opting to entertain each other. Robin captured the moment the two of you were stuck in a laughing fit together, and Steve has kept it in his wallet ever since. It warms your heart to know he's kept you with him even far before you two got together.

"Yeah, I can do that. What do I get in return?" You smile, faces so close your noses are still rubbing together.

"One million kisses."

"Hmm..."

"Two million kisses."

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington."

"Three?"

"Sold."

"Good." you peck his lips, "better start that down payment now."

tag list ₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

@inkluvs @palmtreesx3

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doodledrawsthings · 9 months

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I'm sorry if this is of any inconvenience but I was wondering how do you have the courage to post your art online cause iwant to do it to someday but I just can't find the right drawing though I've tried I can't figure it out like how do you do this wonderful stuff without worrying about hate or anything?

The main advice I can really give you is just. Don’t. worry about that.

People online will be mean, sometimes. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes with an understandable criticism, sometimes just for the sake of getting a response. Take it all with a grain of salt and curate who you follow and who you see on your dash and in tags if you’re that worried about it. I think when you post your art or anything you do online, that’s just something that has a possibility of happening no matter what you do.

Also I just really think it’s unlikely that anyone’s gonna just send you anon hate because you posted some drawings, unless they’re, like, objectively offensive for the sake of being offensive, or something.

Just try not to take social media too seriously, IMO. When I started posting here I posted grainy iPhone camera doodles of Transistor fan art from my school notebook cuz I liked the game and wanted to see if other people liked it, too. I wanted a place to put the things I drew and a place where I could track my progress as I posted my art over the years, and maybe even meet people. If that’s what you want your eventual art blog to be, then that’s all it really needs to be.

If it’s something more practical you’re looking for: when I was starting out, I would load up the post I wanted to make, hover over the post button, and count down from ten. When I hit one, I just post it, no matter what. If I really didn’t like the post, I could just delete it.

#I don’t mean to sound blunt or make it sound like it’s so easy #like I get it #I’ve gone through stuff like this as well #I still have my highs and lows of managing anxiety depresssive episodes burnout etc #it’s hard. especially if you use Twitter or something and are constantly seeing people yelling at eachother for whatever reason #but if I were you I’d weigh out the pros and cons:#is showing off your work worth the risk of having to deal with the possibility of people being mean to you online?#it’s ok if it is or if it isn’t but no one else can decide that for you #ALSO ALSO #like I said: posting REALLY REALLY does NOT have to be a big deal #post whatever #post a scribble you did of a dog you saw at a park #just make sure it’s what YOU want to post

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lunarfleur · 10 months

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Earth 42! Miles Morales General Hcs

Tagging: @juneberrie @hiyaitssans @sluggmuffin

Warnings:Mention of death, fighting, insecurity, smoking weed

A/N: I love my silly little guy

I see a lot of people view this Miles as like this scary tough go who one crosses

But I respectfully disagree

Miles is probably a dork in every universe. He’s quiet, reserved, and put together. Ganke’s is really his only friend, but they don’t hang out. He prefers to be alone.

He doesn’t start fights, because he knows his mom wouldn’t like it, but trust he will finish them ☝🏻

He’s actually really silly. Like he makes funny comments when he’s comfortable and jokes around a lot. And his laugh is contagious, it’s adorable.

People don’t like him, but they don’t hate him. Teachers like him cause he’s a good student. Students are able to like him because he’s not hard to work with. He’s smart and quiet and nerdy.

He has a lot of built up anger. He just doesn’t show it because he doesn’t want to make his mother worry.

He loves his mother more than anything. She always comes first.

He saves up his prowler money for her. Birthday gifts, Mother’s Day gifts, Christmas gifts, etc…

He never argues with. She works so hard to support him and he knows that. She tells him to do the dishes even when he’s tired and doesn’t want to? He does it.

He tells her he loves her. Every day. Because he does.

Miles’s anger comes from his frustration with himself about his mother. She overworks herself, but he can’t do more than just be there? How is he supposed to be okay with that?

When he’s at home and Rio’s working late, he always stays up to make sure she comes home. And when she falls asleep on the couch? He’s walking out of his room, slipping off her shoes is she didn’t get to it, and tucking her in tightly.

He always kisses her goodnight.

best bet he HAS slow danced with her in the living roo

Okay okay moving on from the sappy stuff 😭

The difference between him and his 1610! Counterpart is that his music was heavily influenced by Aaron.

He listens to some modern rap, but a very large majority of it is 90’s hip-hop and rnb.

Also some of his mother’s favorite songs

He has a pretty large record collection

And prefers airpods to any other kind of headphone

Literally has a plain black phone case 😭

I hate to say it but bro’s short 💀

Idc what is or isn’t cannon, bro’s tiny

But has abnormally large hands

Was one of those kids with GINORMOUS ears until he grew into them 🧍‍♀️

Bro has literally nothing on his bed, except for like a thousand pillows and one blanket

He used to play piano (still does at school but no one has to know)

And likes art just as much as 1610! Miles.

Except he mainly draws what he sees?

His mother, the sky, flowers, that kind of thing…

His inspiration comes from the world around him versus in his head

He’s a giggly bitch at heart

If he wasn’t so stubborn, he’d laugh at everything

42! Miles was one of those guys blessed with clear skin. I just know it.

AND the prettiest freckles (every version of Miles has this)

Only ever cries in front of his mother or at night when he’s supposed to be sleeping

He’s not actually afraid of being vulnerable? Like he doesn’t like doing it in front of other people but he doesn’t try to stop it?

Bros eyes are majestic

This is going off topic but I love his nose 🧍‍♀️

He’s really skinny for some reason

And he’s got one of those really pretty waists for some reason

Loves cargo pants

He’s actually got really good style 😭

Miles has a pull up bar in his room I just know it

Works out consistently

Is a sucker for rom com movies (and is very ashamed of it)

Hates going to the pool (he hates the smell of chlorine)

But likes going on walks?

Loves the smell of rain and smoke from like blown-out candles and bonfires

Hates the smell of lavender

Also loves the smell of vanilla because it makes him think of his mom

Uses Old Spice Bearglove deodorant

And semi-nice cologne? Like not expensive but not cheap?

Bro smells gooooooood

Purple is his favorite color

But he also quite likes pink because it goes well with purple

This Miles has lips that are not chapped (1610! Miles does)

Uses lotion multiple times a day so his hands are soft asf

Is a straight A student

And this boy was raised right so he’s not one of the guys girls worry about?

Like he’s chillin

If someone asks him out and he’s not interested? He’s cool about it

“I’m sorry, I don’t see you like that.”

One of the few situations where he says “I’m sorry” instead of “my bad.”

He doesn’t want to be viewed as a bad guy. He actually really cares about it.

Bros locker is boring asf 😭

Really likes cats and stops to pet (and sometimes feed) strays

Is surprisingly alright with kids? He’s got baby cousins and stuff

He’s one of the few guys who’s confident in his masculinity

Would paint his nails black if he didn’t hate the smell

One of those early to bed and early to rise mfs

He’s got a good sleep schedule

He has gotten high before like off a cart (for anyone who doesn’t know what that is, it’s basically weed in liquid form)

He doesn’t do it consistently or often, so he’s not addicted, but he’ll do it if it’s there

Has a lot of one sided friends (??)

Like he’s a friend to them but they’re not friends to him?

A lot of those are guys who are dicks to girl and doesn’t fuck with that

Cause his mother always taught him to ask himself, “would I want someone to do that to my mother?”

He doesn’t go out of his way to correct them, cause (A) it’s probably just gonna start a fight and (B) chances are, they won’t listen anyway

He’s an honest boy, you know?

He’s pretty craft with like machinery and stuff

He’d make a good mechanic

His least favorite class is English, but he’s a pretty good reader

He’s a math, science kind of smart

There’s pictures of him and certain family members around his room, as well as like 2 of him and Ganke

He thinks of his dad every

And talks to him sometimes, too.

After his dad’s death he kind of pushed his mother away?

But he ended up alright.

Likes buying flowers to keep in vases around the house because his mom likes plants and color

He takes care of them for her

He loves the Rush Hour movies

Actually considered joining the basketball team

Snuggles with blankets and pillows at night

And really likes the tight shirt and baggy pants look

He’s got a nice build

His phone’s wallpaper is a picture of him with his parents

He’d never change it.

He really loves The Boondocks

Miles has a collection of small pieces of memorabilia?

Like movie tickets, dried flower petals, polaroid pictures…

His room is always terrifyingly organized

Like more than a normal person’s

He doesn’t even know how he does

Overall, he’s a chill guy.

#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #atsv #across the spiderverse

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bonezone44 · 9 months

Text

Muddy Waters, pt 3. (18+)

'Lateralus'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You and Joel spend an evening together. It's romantic. And awkward. The next morning, you and Ezra have 'quality time.' It's filthy.

Word Count: 8,8k

part 1, part 2 ----- part 4

tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.

This Chapter: Pet names: baby, darlin, 'shy girl'. Oral (f receiving), fingering, objectification (maybe?), rough/painful P in V, bicurious!Ezra, dirty talk re: anal, threesome, double penetration, math, activities involving a hairbrush, cuckolding.

Warnings: Country music, slow dancing, romance.

Author's Note: I feel like I'm fresh from the trenches. My body hurts from sitting at the computer and ruminating! I suffer for my art!

----

That night, once Joel had finally peeled himself off of you, you got up from the kitchen table and started talking to him like nothing had happened. He tried to grab a rag to help clean you up, but you waved him off and grabbed it yourself. You washed the glasses and put away the liquor. You even made sure the table was in its right spot and the chairs were back underneath it. You made it look as if you had never been there to begin with. No remnants of you at all.

Something about it made him feel used.

Then Ellie walked back in the house.

And you looked just as shocked as he did.

“Joel!” Ellie whined.

You were able to compose yourself faster than he was, hands held carefully in front of the cum stains on your clothes.

“Jesse?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ugh!” Ellie groaned and stomped. “Is it that obvious?”

You offered a sympathetic smile.

“Joel. Jesse is ruining me and Dina’s house plans!”

Joel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you. Utterly befuddled.

“I’ll let you handle this,” you whispered. You waved good-bye the same way you did after your first visit. All nice and friendly-like as you stepped out the front door.

What the hell?

Now he was really confused by you.

“Joel! Are you listening?” Ellie waved her hand in his face.

“What?”

“Dina showed Jesse our house plans and now he wants to make ALL these changes and they’re bullshit, okay?”

“Wait, what houseplans?” Joel tried to orient himself.

“You said I have to follow your rules as long as I’m under your roof.”

“Okay?”

“So we’re gonna build us a new roof!” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And put a house underneath it! But look!” She slammed a piece of paper down on the table. Right where you had been sitting only minutes before.

Joel’s stomach turned.

“Look at the bathroom!” She pointed to the drawing, pencil lines drawn and erased several times. “Anytime I tell Jesse anything, he has to do the opposite. He wants to put the toilet and the shower and the sink on all different walls—”

“Well, Ellie,” Joel cleared his throat, trying to focus himself. “Y-you really wanna have all your water in a line on one wall–”

“That’s what I told him!”

Joel looked one last time out the front door, but you were long gone.

There was no way–absolutely–no–way that you knew that Ellie would come back home instead of staying at Dina’s overnight like she had said she would. And yet you got up and cleaned the place as if you did.

Joel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the burning it made him feel in his chest, like a fresh wound stinging in the open air.

And, once more, you got away without him learning where you lived.

And now he really couldn’t ask someone in town. They would know there was something between the two of you for sure. It would be written in red all over his face. And he wasn’t ready for that.

He would have to wait again. Wait until the two of you happened to cross paths in town or by the stables. Or, if Lady Luck was favoring him, you would walk by his house, and he could invite you in again.

Joel didn’t like waiting. Especially when he had already had a taste of what he wanted. Not even a real taste at that. His hands never crept under your shit. His mouth never went lower than your neck. He didn’t see your bellybutton–your pants were pulled up too high. He can’t remember if he even held your hands.

It was like getting the scent of coffee wafting by and not being able to take a sip. He couldn’t find where the goddamn coffeepot lived, for Christ’s sake.

But at least you were out and about again. That was something to look forward to–aching every day for the sight of your smiling face, walking in the sunshine, and knowing you were aching for him right back.

‘Poor Ezra,’ Joel thought. ‘That man’s not gonna know what hit him.’

+++++

The next time you visited Joel, it was Friday night after dinner. He had found you in town to invite you–said something about Ellie staying out ‘for real this time.’ And before you parted ways, you made sure to tease him for ‘looking for you.’

But once you got home to get ready, you became an anxious mess.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ezra,” you said as you stood naked in your shared bedroom, digging through your clothes dresser. “Is-is this okay? I mean, am I being selfish?”

“Selfish?” Ezra smirked with furrowed brows. “You think anyone else in this town wants to fuck that old man?”

“Ezra!” You turned to him with a gasp and slapped him hard on the arm. You couldn’t fight back your smile.

He chuckled. “I would like to point out that you did not answer the question.” He raised his brows, lines drawn on his forehead. “And it is certainly a fair one. Shit, baby.” He placed his hand on his chest with his fingers splayed. “The way I see it–” His eyes were wide and serious. “--You’re doing this town a favor. You fuckin him is a goddamn public service. Maybe while you’re over there you can pull that giant stick out of his ass.”

“Ezra.” You groaned. “You’re not helpin me.”

“Well,” he held his palm out. “I am supplyin you with my perspective of the matter. I suppose it is up to you, then, to determine how you feel about the whole situation.”

Part of you wished that Ezra could read your mind and figure it all out for you, but he clearly wasn’t even gonna try. You sighed. “... I want it, you know?” You stared down at the top of your dresser, covered in clothes and books. “But I don’t understand why. I don’t–I mean–shouldn’t–” you huffed and faced Ezra. “Should you be enough? Why do I want this?”

“You are an evolved woman.” He held your hands within his own and looked into your eyes. “And you are precious to me. And if you believe that this will make you happy, then why are you worried about whether it is something you should or should not do?”

You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose. “I just… I need it to make sense.”

Ezra stood from the bed. He released your hands and slid his fingers up your arms, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You opened your eyes again when he cradled your cheeks. “Not everything is going to fit into a pretty little box for you to define and decipher. Embrace the random,” he said with a grin. “Ride the spiral to the end.”

You fought back a smile. “It may just go where no one’s been.”

“That’s right, baby,” he muttered and kissed you softly on your lips. “Now c’mon. You need to get dressed.” He smacked your bare hip with the flat of his hand, causing you to yelp.

How was Ezra so sweet and so perfect to you? You rested your forehead in your palm, smiling and shaking your head. “I-I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wear the blue number,” Ezra suggested with a wink. He was sitting on the bed again with his left ankle crossed on his right knee. His right knee jumped up and down.

Your lips curled in. The blue number–named affectionately by Ezra himself. It was a bra and panties from two completely different lingerie sets whose shades of blue vaguely matched. They weren’t even the same material. The panties were a simple cotton and the bra was a dull satin–the wire long gone. He enjoyed it, though. Not that it ever stayed on for long.

“No,” you shook your head resolutely. “That’s for you. I don’t wanna wear it for him.”

Ezra leaned back on his elbows with a thoughtful look. “Well, then wear whatever makes you comfortable, baby.”

Now that was the right idea. Comfort. That’s what you really needed.

You didn’t want to spend the whole evening tugging on your clothes and worrying about your appearance. You wanted to focus on Joel. Focus on yourself. Focus on whatever the hell was bringing you two together.

Turned out, Joel had dressed up for you. Your chest warmed when he opened his front door. His hair was brushed neat and his beard was freshly trimmed. You swore he even ironed his button-up shirt; deep clay red with tortoise shell-looking buttons.

“You look amazing,” you blurted out after your quiet hello’s.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“I feel so underdressed,” you said quickly, watching him close the door behind you. “I was so nervous about someone seein me walk over here all dolled up so I just put this on. I hope that’s okay.” You wore your favorite long sleeve shirt and jeans. The comfort of it wasn’t make you feel as confident as you had hoped. Not with Joel looking sharp and smelling crisp with cologne.

He walked to your front, placed both hands on your lower back, and gently pulled you close. “I think you look beautiful,” he spoke softly.

You wanted to wave him off, part of you unconvinced, but he leaned forward a little more and pressed his lips into yours. There was no tug or pull, no beginning or end. It was light and playful the way your mouths met. His facial hair tickling your skin.

It made your cheeks burn. Your hands slid up his arms, resting on his broad shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was smooth and felt almost new.

He stepped backwards and you stepped with him–his hands guiding you further into the living room, lit warmly by table lamps. Excitement was already heating you within. The house was quiet and still.

“So, no Ellie tonight?” you asked.

“Some kinda campin trip for the older kids.” He huffed and shook his head. “I can’t figure why they wanna sleep outside.”

You grimaced. “Campin stopped bein fun a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.” He leaned forward for another kiss. As light and teasing as the one before. It felt good. Comfortable. You were a little embarrassed, though, by how quickly he could turn you on and how easily you let him pull you in. Ezra had to do the work, sometimes, to get you to relax.

“What did you uhh… have planned for us?” you asked in an attempt to slow things down a bit.

He nosed your cheek. “We can do whatever you want, darlin.”

You scoffed with a smile. “You invited me over.” Your hands slid down to his arms and squeezed. They were warm and firm beneath your fingers. “I’m not here to just fool around.”

He stood tall, his hands rising to your waist, thumbs sliding back and forth. “You’re not?” he smirked.

You laughed. “I am your guest, Joel.” You smirked right back. “Entertain me.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a sparkle in his eye. “Alright.” He let you go and walked over to the corner of the room, fiddling with something on the end table while you fiddled with your too-casual outfit.

Shit, you felt silly. You felt out of place and out of time. He looked beautiful over there with his shirt tucked into his dark denim. Long fingers messing around with an old stereo. He looked mature. Sturdy. Put together. In fact, his whole house was nice and clean and organized. Nothing appearing out of place. His presence felt like a towering mountain and you–you felt like a street puddle in comparison.

Soft country music began pouring from the speakers, only a little warped. You didn’t recognize the singer’s baritone voice, but you were never much for country music anyway (It wasn't angry enough for your taste).

“It’s not the best, but it’ll do,” Joel said as he returned to you. “Alright.” One hand circled your waist while the other grasped your hand and raised it in the air. It made your stomach sink. You knew what was coming. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Your eyes went wide. Your free hand clenched his bicep. “I-I don’t know how to dance.”

“What?” he huffed, amused and confused. “Everybody knows how to dance.” He shrugged. “It’s easy.”

“I’ve never… danced,” you said, feeling like sweat was about to start dripping down the side of your forehead.

His brows furrowed with a smirk. “You never went to a school dance even?” He shook his head. “Homecoming? Prom?”

“Not really.” You squirmed. “I’d go with friends, but I wasn’t the type to really dance. I never dated anybody to-to-to dance with.”

“Really?” He grinned wide with surprise. “You’re too pretty to not been asked.” He raised his chin. “Were you one of those shy girls or something?” Clearly implying that he was not one of the shy ones in school.

You had to look away, suddenly feeling even smaller than a street puddle–you felt like a bead of condensation falling off the corner of a window unit mid-summer.

“I wasn’t that shy,” you mumbled in defense of your younger self. “Boys just wanted sex in high school and I was not about to have sex with any of them.”

“Yeah, we were trouble, weren’t we?”

“Y’all were awful.” You forced a smile, though you felt anything but happy about those years. “I was terrified.”

He laughed. “Alright, shy girl.”

You shrank even smaller.

He bit his lip. “Lemme show you how to dance.” He pointed with his chin. “Put that hand on my shoulder.”

You brought the uncertain hand that had been resting on his bicep back up to his shoulder. Your thumb toyed with the collar of his shirt as you held your breath in your chest. You prayed he didn’t enjoy this ‘shy girl’ thing too much. You weren’t exactly here to relive your teenage years.

Though you two did get off last time like teenagers.

And boy, if you knew then what you knew now–

He took a tentative step forward and you fumbled.

Your face went cold. Your body froze.

“Just relax.” He spoke gently. His smile, soft and kind. “We were dancin when you came in.” He brought his lips to your neck. “Just move with me, darlin,” he whispered beneath your ear. “I gotchu.”

You swallowed. His mouth felt so good and his smoky voice washed away all the anxious thoughts that were icing up your mind. You could finally feel his hand, too, the one holding yours. It was both soft and calloused, strong and tender. His sturdiness comforted all the frightened little nerve endings that had spread throughout your limbs. He was a mountain–grounding you and giving you a stable surface to stand upon.

Maybe you weren’t condensation.

Maybe you weren’t a street puddle, either.

Your bodies came together once more and he swayed you both from side-to-side, meandering to a song of love and longing. Your footsteps creaked along the wooden floors, but you felt like you were floating.

He pulled his head back as you two glided. “Ezra never dance with you?”

“Ha!” You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’d find the whole concept ridiculous.”

“Damn shame,” he said with a smirk, bringing your bodies even closer. “You got a good way of movin.”

His compliment gave you butterflies. Though you weren’t really doing much of the moving–you were just following him.

But maybe that was what he liked about it.

Maybe he wanted someone flowing along with him, wherever he guided. Like a stream running down and around the crevices of his stony surface, following along whatever path he carved out.

“Did you dance with a lot of girls in high school?” you asked. “You seem to know what you’re doing pretty well.”

“Yeeaah, I dance with a few.” He nodded. “Danced a lot more after high school, though. Used to go to this bar back in Texas called Howler’s.” His mouth widened to a grin. “My friends and I would go on Saturday nights. Get all dressed up to meet women.” His brows went high into his forehead. “Women. Not girls. Women,” he clarified with a laugh. “We somehow got it in our heads that we were too mature for the girls our own age and we belonged with real, sophisticated ladies.” He started shaking his head with a flustered smile, cheeks turning red. “They taught us a thing or two, I tell ya. Laid us out flat.”

You laughed. “I… I honestly can’t even picture that.”

“Oh yeah,” he assured you. “They were havin none of us, I can tell you that much.” He smirked. “It was fine with me, though.” He shrugged. “Got real good at dancin and got real good at women.”

You wished you could see a photo of young Joel Miller. Wished you could see him trying to hit on older women at bars and get turned down or laughed off. What a riot it must have been.

It ached, though. You never got to have that experience. You were only eighteen when everything happened. You had just started taking classes at a community college and feeling like you were in thirteenth grade. You hadn’t even been to a club, yet, let alone a bar. You were in a new town with a new home, new job, surrounded by new people. All alone–

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You quickly wiped the tear from your eye, only recognizing it when Joel spoke up. “I just… I like this.” Because you did. “I like gettin to dance.” It was healing something in you that you had forgotten even hurt.

“‘M happy I get to share it with you.”

It was hypnotizing the way he was looking at you. His smile was steady as he searched your face, moving you around without looking where he was going. There was so much affection in his sweet brown eyes. You had to close your own to stop your cheeks from burning and instead, chose to rest your head on his chest. He was so warm. So tender. And you were so present that you could hear his heart beating over the music.

As Joel continued to lead you around the furniture in the living room and kitchen, you suddenly thought of the other night, when you were grinding against him and he countered your rhythm so perfectly. The carnality of the memory brought your stomach to the floor and fire to your cheeks. You opened your eyes, wanting to kiss him again. Wanting to feel the poke and scratch of his mustache.

And there was Joel, still staring right back down at you with stars in his eyes. You couldn’t help but lean forward and press your lips into his–finding a way to dance and kiss and melt all at once. The kiss was slow. Languid. Dragging on and on without breaking.

And then Joel stopped dancing–stopped following the flow of the music.

The abrupt change of momentum set your heart racing, running laps in your chest. You wanted to keep dancing, keep moving, but you didn’t know how to express it with your lips tangled as they were.

You felt his broad hands slide up and down your back and it made your breaths grow shallow. You tried to push past it and adapt to the new direction. You didn’t realize how much you had been focusing on the music. The movement of your mouths felt so disparate to the tune coming out the speakers.

You heard a weighty thud and realized Joel had backed into the wall. He pulled you into the space between his legs, his growing hardness pressing against you. Part of you wanted to pull back.

One of his hands tugged your shirt by the hem before slipping beneath.

As soon as his warm fingers touched your flesh, you gasped.

Your body flinched and your hand came down and clutched his wrist.

“Shit.” You bit your lip. “I-I’m sorry.” You weren’t though. You were grateful that your body spoke up when you didn’t know how to. Your eyes squeezed shut. You took a breath and let go of his hand.

He rested it lightly on your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so embarrassed.” You gave him the most apologetic look you could muster. “I-I don’t think I can do anything tonight.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “We don’t have to.” He stood tall, separating your bodies. The hand on your hip dropped away while his other found rest on your shoulder. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just–” you briefly closed your eyes again and sighed. “I suddenly feel like a–like a scared teenager.”

A sheepish smile bloomed on his face and you weren’t sure why. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wandering the room. “Let’s go sit down,” he said and pointed to the couch with his chin.

Fuck, you felt awkward–loud footsteps bringing you back to Earth after a brief stroll through the heavens. This whole thing was going very differently than last time and very differently than all the scenarios you had been imagining all week in your head with your hand between your legs. You wondered if this was even going to work or if your previous visit had just been fueled by too much alcohol in your systems.

Shit.

It felt so weird and confusing to be alive sometimes.

You sat on the couch feeling so much colder than you had only moments before. Like a bucket of water had been poured over you–wet clothes clinging to your skin.

Joel turned the music down low before joining you on the couch, the cushions sinking deep to the weight of his body. “I haven’t done my due diligence,” he said as he angled himself toward you.

“What do you mean?” You turned to him as well. You were close enough to each other that your knees could touch if you wanted.

He reached forward and grabbed one of your hands, holding it and grazing the top of it with his thumb. It was nice. Sweet, even.

He looked into your eyes, working his jaw, words on the edge of his lips. A smile flashed on his face–arriving and disappearing in seconds. He looked down and sighed.

The anticipation only made you more curious. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly something difficult. You always considered yourself easy for others to talk to–you tried your best to be open and accepting. It was why you were so good at visiting people.

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I noticed you for a long time.”

You blinked. “...what?” you whispered, shocked. Some unknown emotion started twisting itself in your throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he said so matter-of-factly. So clean cut and dry. “And you always look so happy, but I–” He released a hot breath from his nostrils. “--But I never had a reason to talk to you.”

“Joel…” You had no idea. Not a clue. His words caressed your heart.

He gave a playful smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Then you noticed my shutters.”

A laugh burst from your chest and your free hand flew to your mouth, trying to quiet down. “I was pissed,” you said, grinning beneath your fingers. “I see everything that goes on in this little town but I never saw you workin on those things.”

“‘M glad for it.” He chuckled. “I am.” He looked down at his hand holding yours. “And you got me feelin like a teenager, too.” He smirked up at you. “Got me movin fast and makin assumptions. Thinkin I know everything.”

It felt good to hear him say it. It felt good to hear him admit to something. But he wasn’t the only one moving fast.

“You know, you were right the other night about…” You steadied yourself through your stuttered words, unable to look at him as you spoke. “About you callin for me and I just came runnin.” You stared at the woven threads of cotton spanning your knee. “People tug on me everyday.” Your free hand moved to your stomach. “I can feel them wantin my help or wantin my attention. It’s like they got a lasso around my waist and I gotta dig my heels in to-to-to make ‘em leave me alone. But with you–” You threw your hand up and met his eyes. “When you tugged on me, I didn’t question whether I should or shouldn’t.” You shrugged, but that unknown emotion was snaking around your throat again. “I-I came runnin like it was nothin.” You shook your head, eyes back to your knee. “I don’t know what that means–”

“I don’t think it means anythin bad,” Joel said with a laugh.

“Yeah,” you smiled and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

What was that from before? If you knew then what you knew now–and now, there was nothing in your gut telling you to stay away. Not yet had Joel given you any kind of warning sign that he had any particularly nefarious intentions.

Your body wasn’t so cold anymore. The music no longer felt so disparate. You felt comfortable with Joel again. You felt at ease. You felt tired, too. The excitement. The dancing. The talking. It wore you out. You had had a long day on top of it all.

“I don’t wanna leave, yet.” Because you didn’t. “Can I stay over?” You placed your hand on top of his. “Just to sleep,” you clarified with a wide grin.

“Of course.” He mirrored your expression. “I want whatever you want.”

That phrase he kept saying… He was giving you something with it, but you weren’t sure what exactly. He couldn’t possibly want what you wanted when you didn’t know what you wanted. You tried not to think about it too much.

You made it to bed about an hour later, after more conversation. You were content to sleep in your own shirt. Joel stared at you from the other side of the bed as you undid your jeans and slid them down your legs. His expression made you laugh.

“Sorry. I’m not sleepin in these,” you said as you stepped out of them.

“That’s fine,” he muttered and looked away–fingers scratching the back of his neck. He wore a plain white t-shirt and navy blue sleep pants.

If you were at home, you would have left your jeans in a little ring on the floor, but Joel’s house was too clean. You picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the dresser next to the bed. You hated to do it, but you kept your bra on, knowing your back would ache in the morning. It felt too exposing. Even under your shirt.

Climbing into bed with him had your body warming up all over again. But it had your heart racing, too, just like before. It felt so strange to share a bed with someone other than Ezra. You hadn’t even shared a room with anyone else since you two first arrived in Jackson a couple years previous.

“I’ll stick to my side of the bed,” said Joel as he got situated under the covers.

You laughed. “Thank you, Joel.” You reached over from under the blanket and grabbed his hand. You pulled it close and kissed his knuckles. “Good night.”

He rolled toward you–watching and making sure you weren’t gonna pull away. He placed his palm on your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. “Good night,” he said into your lips. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back, showing you the grin on his face.

He turned away to face the window and–-there was that mountain again. His broad shoulders high above the low dip of his waist. You felt like gravity was pulling you in, bringing your body closer to his. You slid your hand along his ribs, fingers splayed to hold him.

“Is this alright?” you asked with your neck tilting your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “It’s alright.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you tighter.

You kissed the back of his neck and nuzzled into him before falling asleep.

+++++++

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel.

Not one bit.

Not even a little.

Okay, well, maybe a little.

But only in the way that kept him on his toes–kept him from taking advantage of the partnership you two shared.

You were right to say that Ezra didn’t keep you on a leash. You were your own woman. Always had been. Always would be.

Ezra was just along for the ride–doing everything he could to love you and see you happy. He made sure to protect you and take care of you.

Because not only did you understand him–you indulged him. You let him indulge in you. You let him express parts of himself he hadn’t known existed until you came along and found a way to reel it right on out of him.

He couldn’t remember how it started between the two of you all those years ago. Just that it did. It was while you and Ezra were still working alongside his cousins.

Seemingly outta nowhere, you two had slowly gravitated towards one another on a level deeper than survival and then—SMACK! You were like two magnets clacking together; lips, hands, groins, in constant contact. And then there were times when you would be so repelled from each other it was like one of you went flying off into the sky, getting lost in the clouds, til the inevitable pull of gravity brought you right back down again.

You two had good times and bad, but Jackson was good. Very good. And he was keen to let the good times keep rolling.

It just so happened that Joel Miller became a part of these good times.

Now…

Ezra was a man.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to want another man making love to his woman. It was insulting to his physical prowess. Humiliating to his ego. Downright derogatory to his dignity.

Which made the situation all the more appealing to him–being as contrary a person as he was.

Ezra was overwhelmed by the thought of Joel fucking you. Couldn’t stop fantasizing. Couldn’t stop touching himself. There was no need to savor the orgasms, either. Ezra was rubbing them out, one right after the other as he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, muttering to himself. He didn’t feel like some aging man hitting 40 anymore, with libido and desire in decline. He felt like some pubescent kid who newly discovered what his dick was for and was aching to get some practice in.

Ezra loved you. Loved you more than his extensive vocabulary could possibly define. And the thought of someone else loving you? Doing things to you that had hadn’t and maybe in ways that he couldn’t?

And the fact that it was Joel Miller of all people? Ol’ Gruff ‘n’ Tuff with the stick up his ass?

Sheeeeiit.

(For how explicit Ezra could be with his thoughts and feelings, there was a certain piece of all this that had him speechless. A forgotten memory had been unearthed. An old fantasy. An unrealized dream from decades ago that Ezra had put out of his mind for reasons he could not yet approach for fear of rapture. It came to him in flashes and dick twitches. It set his mouth watering and his heart racing. It had him sweaty and confused. It was the thought, the idea, the implication of himself being sexual with another man.)

Ezra had been aching for you to come home–had been aching for you all night, in fact, while he was out on patrol. He had been uncharacteristically quiet with his patrol partner as they circled their way around the outskirts of Jackson. He was too busy wondering what Joel might be doing to you and how he was doing it and what kind of noises that old man might make and how loud he would be when he made them.

It didn’t matter how many times he had just jerked off in the shower, he was ready and eager for more–his leg bouncing impatiently while he sat on the bed.

He sighed in relief when you met him in the bedroom. He rubbed his palms on his pajama-clad thighs.

“There’s my little slut,” he said with a sly grin.

You laughed and waved him off. “I am not dealing with you right now.” You walked over to the dresser and started taking off your clothes.

“Why not?” He asked, all offended.

“Because nothing happened!”

“What?”

“Nothing happened.” You repeated. “We didn’t have sex.” You laughed again. “He didn’t even get to second base.”

“Not even second base?” Ezra was aching and pained. “Baby.” He gave you a compassionate look. “Could he not… perform?”

“Ezra!” you shouted. You picked up one of your notebooks from the top of your dresser and threw it directly at his face.

He caught it. “It was an honest question,” he mumbled and tossed the book on the bedside table.

You took your time to explain it all and Ezra did his best to understand.

He thought it was the sweetest thing in the world that Joel danced with you. He had no idea you were a dancing kind of woman. He tried to picture himself dancing with you and–no. It was wrong. All wrong. Ezra just wasn’t a dancing kind of man.

Maybe dancing was for you and Joel.

Like the ‘blue number’ was for you and him.

He liked that. He could work with it.

All you had changed into was a loose t-shirt and a pair of underwear before lying down next to him on the bed. You clearly had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. So he decided to feel you out. Poke at you a little bit to see how you responded.

He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. “I think you’re beautiful, too, you know.” He grazed your arm with his finger.

“I know, Ezra.” You smiled and turned your head away.

“It is unfortunate that your body reacted the way that it did.” He caressed your cheek with the scarred-up knuckle of his right index finger. “Your love is the most precious experience there is.”

“Stop.” Your embarrassed grin grew wider as you squirmed and turned away again.

Ezra crawled over you and you made space for him between your legs. “It’s been a while.”

You covered your face with your hand. “I know–” You looked up at Ezra with urgency. “--and it has nothing to do with Joel, okay?”

Ezra’s cheeks warmed and he felt a lightness grow in his chest. “I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know.” It soothed him to hear you say it aloud. He mouthed at your breast through your shirt with his eyes up.

Your worry disappeared–replaced with a soft smile as you looked at him affectionately. You wove your fingers through his hair.

He palmed your breast and found your nipple. He sucked on it through the fabric, increasing the intensity over time. Harder and harder.

Your breath hitched and your mouth opened.

The hand around your breast tightened as he pulled his mouth away.

You released the tiniest whimper.

“Lemme play with you, baby,” he said with his chin tucked in and his eyes wide and serious.

Your expression changed once his suggestion registered. Your jaw went slack. Your breaths shortened.

You swallowed.

He waited.

“Okay,” you whispered and started to nod before stopping yourself. “Wait. But… but…”

“But? But?” He mocked you. He already knew your answer. He knew whatever excuse you had wasn’t worth a damn. He knew you were already getting wet for him. “But what, baby?” he smirked.

“I should shower first,” you whispered.

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Baby. Have you met me?” He shook his head at you, bewildered by your protest. “If that’s your best appeal, then we shall proceed.” He scooted down the bed and tugged your underwear roughly down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

He tapped your knee with an amused sigh. “Alright, show me what’s good.” He said it with his eyes locked tight on your lower half, mouth watering like some cartoon wolf about to eat a Thanksgiving feast.

With slow breaths, you slowly pulled your knees up and lifted your feet into the air. You grabbed the backs of your thighs and spread them apart. Exposing yourself.

Ezra moaned. “Been far too long,” he muttered to himself. He licked one strong stripe up your seam, causing you to twitch. “Baby,” he began with nothing but endearment in his eyes. “You are like sour candy the way you make my mouth water.”

You threw your head back against the pillows in an attempt to hide the burning shame on your face.

He wasted no time in spreading your pussy part with both of his hands. He applied pressure with his forearms on your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. You yelped and cursed when dove straight into your clit, laving it with languid strokes and teasing it with the tip of his wet tongue.

“I am a disgrace to every man on this planet, baby, and I apologize sincerely for that.” When he pulled away to speak, he’d reach out with one of his long fingers to toy with your bud, watching it puff and swell. “No time like the present, I suppose,” he murmured against your lips, rubbing his mouth up and down your spread folds, tickling you with unkempt facial hair. He gave it a chaste little kiss. “I should be eating this pussy every day.” He looked up at you tenderly. “Lord knows you deserve it.”

He slipped his finger inside of you to collect your wetness. His eyes glittered as you gasped from the sudden intrusion. He pulled it back out and swirled the tip around your entrance. “Fuckin’ ambrosial.”

Next, he used his tongue and finger at the same time. He lapped and sucked at your clit, lazily moving his finger in and out of you.

“C’mon, Ezra. I need more!”

He pulled back, pulled his finger out, and slapped you hard on the meat of your hip. He pointed at you–with the same fucking finger that was just inside you. It was shining in the dull light of the room along with everything surrounding his mouth. “You take what I give you and you fuckin like it.” His words rolled out of him low and heavy.

This was the only time Ezra was allowed to speak to you like that–all angry and mean. It was rare for him to speak to anyone like that since living in Jackson. He knew how much you loved it–how much you loved this fun, chatty man turning cruel and denying you.

“Here I am, providin you a fuckin service,” he muttered to himself. You had become someone in the background, again. His mind focused solely on your pussy. Like it was a mystery of the universe he was so close to solving if he could just fiddle with it the right way. He licked into you with the flat of his tongue and moved his head up and down. He tried to keep at least one forearm on your thigh, his fingers spread across your folds as he splayed you apart. “Fuck, I missed this,” he spoke into the hair on your mound before giving it a loving kiss.

“Me, too,” you sighed.

Ezra grinned. “I haven’t fucked your asshole in a while, either.” He felt sweet victory when you moaned. “That was the one good thing about Memphis, huh? That big jar of Vaseline.”

“Uh-huh,” you answered.

“Yeah?” His fingertip found your entrance once more. “You liked that, huh?” He spread your slick around your lips.

You moaned out a ‘yes’ and rolled your ankles.

He stared between your legs at your wet cunt, at the spit and moisture that leaked down to your other hole. “You took that hurt so good, baby. So fuckin good.”

“Mhmm.”

“Strongest woman alive.” He slid the broad side of his index finger up and down your folds, lost in a distant memory. “Remember that hairbrush?” he smirked.

“Ezra.” You whined and adjusted the grip you had on your legs.

“It’s just me and you, baby. There is no reason to feel any sense of shame.” His finger dipped inside you, all the way. “Nothing wrong with using what you have on hand.” He wiggled it around, teasing you without any significant stretch or pressure. “Or are you worried about Joel uncovering your avaricious and sordid history?”

Your eyes and brows were squeezed tight. You huffed. “Ez.”

“What?” he pulled his finger back out, all wet and glistening before sliding it around your folds again. “He seems like the kinda man to appreciate our ingenuity, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect an answer. His mind already somewhere new. “How big did you say his dick was?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” you spoke between frustrated breaths.

Ezra grunted in disappointment. “I was trying to visualize my fat cock stuffing your ass full and him in your tight little cunt instead of that hairbrush.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned and started rolling your hips.

Ezra’s tongue was back on you, digging deep into your entrance.

You were crying out his name and whimpering.

“C’mon, baby,” Ezra said low with his mouth still buried close. “Gimme one.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You were shaking your head and writhing. “I need more.”

He burst into cruel laughter. “No, you don’t.” He leaned back and replaced his tongue with his finger. “I've seen you get off with less than this.” He shook his hand side-to-side, finger sliding back and forth across your wet clit at a rapid speed. “You want me and Joel to fuck you at the same time, don’t you?

“Mhmm!” you answered through hitched breaths. Your right leg jolted.

“Well, now let’s examine the options, baby. Two men for three different holes.” He grinned. “What’s the math on that, you think?” Your whimpering desperation spurred him on. “It’s called variation.” He raised his brows. His lone finger continued its unforgiving pace across your clit. “And I believe it adds up to six, but that just sounds wrong and limited, don’t it?” He tilted his head to the side. “If I’m in your ass and he fucks your mouth, that’s one. If I’m in your ass and he’s in your cunt, that’s two.”

You started bouncing on the bed, trying to grind yourself into Ezra’s hand.

“Stay still!” he groused and placed both hands on the backs of your thighs.

“Nonononono,” you whined and kicked at him with your feet.

He held you tighter and snarled. “I am trying to work out the specifics of this equation with you and you are not helping my concentration.”

“Fuck, Ezra. Why are you like this?” you cried.

“If you are unhappy, then you are free to leave,” he said.

You whimpered. Sighed. Resigned. “I’ll stay.”

He huffed with a smile. “Fuckin predictable.” He slapped the back of your thighs with both hands. He hummed, fingers squeezing into your skin. “If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fuckin your ass, that’s three. If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fillin your mouth, then that’s four.” He looked up at the ceiling, murmuring to himself. He rocked back and forth, using his palms on your thighs as leverage. “Actually in this situation, it would be six variations for myself as well as six variations for Joel. But if we include using the same hole at the same time, then it would be nine variations per.” He looked at your dazed expression with a grin. “Doesn’t that sound nice?"

“Yes, Ezra. It sounds very nice.”

“I thought so, too.” He collected the growing moisture in his mouth and spit on your entrance, causing your body to shudder. He slipped his finger back inside. “Do you think you could fit two cocks in here, baby?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned.

He shook his head, slowly pulling his pruning finger in and out. “I’m sure with enough lubrication and determination that Joel and I could find a way.” He swallowed, overcome with an image in his mind. “Or maybe I fuck you and make him watch.” He stared at your sopping wet center, finger gently circling its edges. “Make him sit in the corner like a bad little boy and jerk off without gettin to touch you at all.”

You moaned and Ezra grinned.

“Think about it, baby.” His voice grew deeper. “Think about Joel Miller wantin you down to the depths of his soul but I won’t let him touch you.” He grunted, wiggling his finger around inside of you. “I would likely have to cuff his hands together. Otherwise I am sure he would simply pull me out of you and replace my cock with his own inside this wet little hole.” He started grinding his erection against the mattress. “Think about it. Think about the chains of his handcuffs jinglin while he’s jerkin off, wishin he could fuck this tight, chokin pussy.” He curled his finger, finally pressing against the tender spot of your inner wall. He sucked your clit in a strong, steady rhythm–slurping and lapping at your wet flesh.

And there you were, shaking beneath his mouth, breaths short and high in your chest. You groaned deep and loud as if your orgasm had been punched straight from your diaphragm. You reached down with frantic fingers on his head and face to push him away.

“Too much. Too much,” you panted.

“From not enough to too much.” He grinned and relented.

“Holy shit, Ezra.” Your legs fell and you stretched them out, curling your toes. “Oh my god,” you sighed. You shifted your hips around and rolled your shoulders.

Ezra waited for your breaths to become slow and even before he asked, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, my hip almost started cramping,” you answered in a daze. Your whole body appeared limp and sinking into the bed.

“Good.” Ezra stood up and ripped his shirt off over his head. He shucked his pajama pants off, too, before crawling back between your legs. “I’m not stretching you out.” He hovered above you. His hard, wide cock was warm and moist against your thigh. He looked down at you, wide-eyed and serious. “You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna like it.”

You nodded with your eyes barely open. You licked your lips. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna tear you up, alright?”

Your eyelids fell shut. “Yes,” you whispered with your brows furrowed deep.

“You like that, huh? When I tear you up?” Asking these questions and hearing your answers made his whole chest heat up. His cheeks burned and his hips rolled into you–the pressure relieving some of the ache he felt in his cock.

“Yes, Ezra,” you whimpered desperately. “Tear me up.”

He huffed. “Alright.” He guided his cock to your entrance, breaching it only just so. Then with his other hand, he covered your mouth. “Fuckin masochist,” he muttered. He locked eyes with you. His hand muffled your pained groan as he swiftly pierced your tight wet cunt.

“Shit, that’s beautiful, baby.” He didn’t wait for your body to adjust before pistoning in and out of you. He moved his hand from your mouth to the back of your head, holding it in place so he could maintain eye contact as your warm hole swallowed his cock. “This pussy takes it so good for me. So beautifully.”

You nodded and groaned.

He palmed the backs of your thighs and pushed them upward, in the same way he had you positioned before. “Old man doesn’t know what he’s missin,” he laughed as you shouted in pleasure–his cock thrashing against your g-spot. “Maybe you should inform him of the ways I pleasure you. Maybe then he’d have something to fantasize about while fuckin his own hand in the shower.”

You were nodding and groaning, dazed and slack-jawed beneath him. Face twisted in anguished pleasure. His hips snapped harder, deeper and deeper.

“I can’t wait,” he spoke through panting breaths. “I can’t wait for him to fuck you. Want that dirty old man to fuck you so bad.” One hand released your thigh and grabbed your cheeks. He got real close, his lips touched yours as he spoke, as he pistoned in and out of you. “I want you chokin on his cock, baby.”

“Uh huh?” you cried.

“Let him fill up that pretty mouth of yours with his cum.”

“Mhmm! Mhmm!” you nodded. Your voice was breathy and shaken.

“You gotta let me know how it tastes, okay?”

You nodded again. Frantically.

“Yeah?” You’d do that for me, baby?” He let go of your face and leaned back, clenching his teeth. All angry and focused. “You’d let that old man fuck your pretty mouth? Let me taste that cum inside you?”

You whimpered. “Yes! Yes!”

“Fuckin filthy,” he spat, chasing his own high, using your pussy to get him there. He wasn’t worried about you coming again. It was his turn now. “Fuckin filthy.” He repeated, shaking his head.

He wished Joel could see you like this–split wide open on his cock–lost in a warm vortex of pleasure and speaking in tongues.

Ezra continued to snap his hips into you until a warmth tingled through him and a white hot light overtook his vision. He spilled into you with a pained groan. He rolled his hips again and again as your cunt milked him dry–his whole world coming to a quiet standstill.

He fell forward on his palms over you.

Ezra was wide eyed and clear-headed, but a little unstable, as blood pulsed in waves through his body. The whole room seemed to jut out at him–all the shapes and colors suddenly becoming three-dimensional objects. His mind reeled. His face and body stung sharp from those words he said toward the end.

‘Let me taste that cum inside you.’

He replayed those words again and again.

All with a clear vision in the back of his mind of Joel’s cock–well, the way he was imagining it, anyways–making his mouth water and making his dick fire into the heavens.

But you were there beneath him with chewed up lips and glazed eyes and tears running down the sides of your face.

“I love you. I love you.” You said again and again, sniffling and pulling him close with trembling hands. “I love you so fuckin much.”

You.

You made everything so easy. You took Ezra. You took everything he gave you. You weren’t doing it because you were forced to. It wasn’t an obligation. He wasn’t a chore.

You did it because you wanted to. Because you both had an overwhelming desire to hurt and be hurt. To love and be loved.

He pressed his forehead into yours. “I love you, too, baby.” He let you kiss him soft and slow with your tongue. “I love you.” You had no idea how much you made everything okay–how much you allowed him to allow himself to think and experience.

Ezra’s tenderness returned in full force as he cleaned you up and cradled you. He showered you in kisses and caressed your skin.

“My angel,” he said and he meant it. He felt like you were some divine entity sent to Earth to heal him and love him. To save him from a life of plasma-hot anger and pain.

“Born bad,” his daddy would say. Ezra had spent most of his childhood in juvenile detention. He had just gotten out of jail for the first time, in fact, when it all …happened.

And then you came along and told him he was ‘too smart for his own good.’ Though, because you two were arguing at the time, there were a lot more curse words involved in the sentiment. But it had given him so much peace to be recognized as something more. Something other than the ‘stupid fuck-up’ he had been taught his whole life that he was by his daddy and his cousins and the government bodies that had shuffled him around.

There were so many times over the years that you soothed him, altered his perspective, guided his hand toward more cooperative choices.

He worshiped you. He worshiped every inch of your skin and every ounce of your soul.

He loved you so much.

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel Miller.

He only worried about your happiness.

+++++++

tag list: @toxicanonymity @jksprincess10 @walkintotheriveranddisappear @shotgun-shelby @alwaysdjarin @longlongtime2023

Author's Note: I hope that smut at the end was okay. I've overthought it for the past 72 hours. I don't know who's cucking who at this point. 🙏 god bless.

+++++++

Part 4

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

#joel miller #ezra prospect #joel miller x f!reader #ezra x reader x joel miller #my writing #muddy waters series

120 notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 2 years

Note

Missing our plm couple extra today. Wonder what they’re doing 🫶🏼

I’ve had this on my drafts for a while and decided to finish it with the image of long-haired and glasses JK in mind. It sort of sets up the stage for the The Fight as well. I hope you enjoy 🥰

Title: Please Love Me Bonus 06 - I tell you everything.

WC: 4,421

Tags/Warnings: suggestive

Series Masterlist

Five minutes. Jungkook’s phone pings.

No 10.

Or maybe 15 sorry hun I’m still packing up but also it’s the last day of class so everyone’s chatting it up oh you can come in if you want! Another ping.

Jungkook laughs at your run-on sentences and knows you’ll be cringing at them later. But he’s also imagining you looking a little stressed, trying to multitask between fixing your tools and saying your goodbyes to your classmates.

He turns off the engine and exits the car. It’s when he gets another message - Kook, can you come? I need help with my things 🥺 - that he jogs the block to the art studio and makes a left to the hallway where your class is.

He looks around, in awe of how the decor at the west wing quickly changes. In the half year that you’ve been enrolled in your drawing class, he’s visited you a few times and each time, the art pieces hanging on the wall have been different. He’d spied a few of yours, too, and he’d spent too much time just admiring your work and imagining what inspired you or what you were thinking, something he always asked you about later on.

But one other thing he likes to do when he picks you up is peek through the half-wall window and not-so-creepily watch you work on your piece - focused eyes surrounded by your soft features, with only a look of determination mixed with pure passion for the craft. You did say you’ve come to love drawing after all.

It’s through his visits that your classmates have come to know him, too - that first time, one asked if he was the nude art model and another yelled they wished he was. Jungkook didn’t miss your slightly embarrassed and flushed face when you finally claimed him as your husband. The room melted into a puddle, with oohs and ahhs reverberating through the walls when he greeted you with a forehead kiss and picked up your things as he often does.

Jungkook does all those again today. He sees one of your pieces and imagines what you were thinking of as you painted the sky green, then he turns to the room where the sound of applause catches his attention. But then his smile - the one he’s been sporting since this afternoon when he got to free up his evening so he could attend your event with you tonight - fades, his eyebrows furrowing and a pout forming on his face.

He’s familiarized himself with all your classmates and colleagues, and that half-naked man with firm pectorals and large biceps and chiseled jaw and sharp nose is definitely not one of them.

Back inside, you’re busy putting away all your pencils giggling at the light banter between your classmates. You’d asked Jungkook to help you with some of your things and you know he’s probably waiting outside.

Before your gaze wanders outside, you look around the room and meet deep-set, hazelnut eyes - intense and paralyzing as they bore into you. You’re quite surprised, and as you zip up your bag, you accidentally hit your easel. You shut your eyes as reflex, ready for it to make that sound as it hits the floor.

But it doesn’t.

“You nervous or something?”

The man’s voice is deep. It’s familiar, and as you look up, you know why it is.

He’s putting in place the easel that you almost knocked over. He’s got a smirk on, and you wonder if your flushed form has anything to do with it. You didn’t really expect that the man whose backside you were drawing just minutes ago would be speaking to you. The models for your nude drawing class don’t exactly interact with the artists - it’s kind of weird to do that when strangers have basically seen every part of you.

But he’s here in front of you with a twinkle in his eyes that have now softened, and you’re only able to shake your head. Sure, he's handsome, but he’s also still half-naked - you’re not exactly sure how to process that outside of your drawing bubble.

“You’re rushing, then?” He asks.

“Uh, sort of?” You chuckle, relaxing a little as you try to focus on just his face.

“That’s a shame. I heard that Mrs. Yang’s treating your class to dinner and she invited me. I was really hoping I’d see you there,” he replies.

“Oh? I’ve got an event tonight. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Sort of,” he chuckles now. “I’ve modeled for some of her other classes and no one draws me quite like you do. They seem so real and so intimate. Mrs. Yang said I could personally ask you if I could bring home your drawings of me. I like how you’re able to capture the—”

He’s cut off by the sound of a throat clearing and Jungkook turning you towards him with a deep kiss on your lips, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he lingers on your skin.

“Hey, babe,” he says.

“Kook,” you blink up at him, surprised again by the desperation in his actions. “Hi,” you recover, smiling at his presence despite the scowl on his face.

“You ready to go?” He sounds in a hurry, uninterested.

“Yeah, I was just talking to Samuel. He was asking for my drawings of him.”

“Is he now?” Jungkook arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. He looks up and down the man in question who still has a smirk on his face.

“I am,” Samuel replies, assessing your husband from head to toe just the same. “___ draws me so beautifully. Her pieces make the hours-long process of posing nude all worth it. She’s got an amazing eye, among other things.”

If you didn’t really care much for him earlier, now, you don’t care much for him at all. You want to tell him off for how shameless he’s being, but the selfish and silly part of you wants to know how your husband would react and well, follow up that sudden kiss he gave you to get your attention.

“She does,” Jungkook replies. “She’s obviously talented but she’s also had some practice. I mean, I’m her muse when it comes to this… nude drawing thing and yeah, I know all about posing for so long being worth it.”

Jungkook gives you a naughty smile and you know exactly what he’s thinking about. “It’s quite the gift when you’re married to an artist, you know?”

“Ah, you’re married, I see,” Samuel hums, glancing at your left hand that’s now sporting the ring that you remove every time you draw or paint. “That’s good. For both of you. Not for me but yeah, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he turns to you, chuckling now, realizing at how stupid he seemed. “But can I still keep the artwork, if that’s okay and not weird for your husband?”

“Her work, her choice,” Jungkook responds.

“Sure, if it’s as nice as you say it,” you shrug, not minding much. It’s always a compliment when your model reacts that way to your final output. “You can just ask Mrs. Yang for them.”

“It is, I truly mean it,” Samuel smiles more genuinely this time. “And yes, I’ll choose the best one, although that might be difficult. They’re all great.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” you grin, not interested to keep this on. “I’ll get going now. It was a pleasure.”

“It was. I hope to see you around,” he smirks again, and you don’t miss the scowl that graces your husband’s face once more.

You wave goodbye to your classmates and tell them you’ll catch up with them another time. It’s when you exit the building that you turn to Jungkook, his frowned expression turning into a pout.

“What was that, Mr. Jeon?” You giggle.

“What?” He’s defensive, even as he takes your hand and leads you down the street.

“Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing with that kiss and head-to-toe look and hidden meanings in your words, hmm? Are you threatened?”

You’re teasing, a rarity for you because Jungkook does get quite jealous and you’ve never wanted to push him, but something about him in his work attire, rolled up sleeves with tattoos exposed and all that makes you want to just try. He looks tough like this, especially with his hair that he’s growing out, but the glasses he’s been wearing more frequently just makes him adorable. It’s a kind of sexy that you’ve been enjoying lately.

“Just never seen him before,” he shrugs. “And he was obviously flirting with you. Like, ‘you’ve got a great eye among other things’? What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Yeah, I thought he was just being friendly until that,” you laugh. “He’s modeled just 3 times including today. He’s apparently an artist, too, so he knows a lot about forms and stuff. So that’s kind of nice, being complimented like that.”

“Hmm, probably. You also couldn’t stop looking at him.”

“Hey!” You nudge Jungkook. “It’s only because his body is so overwhelming, you know?”

“And what about mine?” He frowns.

“Perfect - just the way I like it,” you turn towards him, stopping him in his tracks so he could look at you and see the love in your eyes. “You, my dear husband, are the most handsome and sexiest being in this world, with or without clothes, and I absolutely adore every inch of you, every ridge and every dip and every beauty mark and every scar.”

You cup his cheeks and feel them rise to his eyes as he can’t help but smile at your words.

“No need to worry, okay?” You assure. “Classes are over and I’m satisfied with my nude drawing abilities already, especially with the muse I’ve got.” You wink, liking how he blushes. He takes your hand and lovingly kisses it before kissing your forehead.

“Hmm, might want to draw me again soon so that this is the only nude body you’ll remember,” he winks.

“Oh trust me, this is the only nude body I remember,” you respond, resting your palms on his chest.

He takes the opportunity to pull you closer, his warm breath tingling your skin. “Good. I’ll keep reminding you though, maybe tonight? Or right when we get home?” He hums in satisfaction and kisses your lips.

You giggle in his hold. “Kook, we’re in public,” you remind him, as an old woman chuckles as she passes by you both.

“I don’t care,” he huffs.

“I do,” you answer, though your words don’t have a bite in them.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he arches a brow.

“Do I need to?” You tease, tracing his defined pecs underneath his silk polo as you bite your lip.

“Fuck, let’s go.”

You arrive at the grand estate of Mr. Lee that’s right at the edge of the city. It took a while to get here, as you and Jungkook took too much time feeling each other up before you actually got dressed, but it was something you didn’t mind. He gets riled up when he gets jealous, and you’d shyly told him it was quite a turn on. You would’ve passed up on this event if it wasn’t so important to you, and he understood. He promised to continue what you’d both started after, though, and that really got you smiling.

The mansion is buzzing. Clanking sounds of champagne flutes, soft munching of canapés, and laughter and conversations fill the grand room and the hallways nearby. There are many familiar people - and not because you know them from the art world, you know them because of your family and Jungkook’s. Those present in the viewing of Mr. Lee’s private art collection are big names in the business and entertainment industry, after all. But they’re here by personal invitation and their appreciation of art, including you.

It’s a twice a year event, and you’re lucky that one of Mr. Lee’s granddaughters is currently your student in the weekly art class for children that you’ve been teaching for the past few months. Her mother befriended you and was kind enough to invite you tonight, and you couldn’t be happier, especially when Jungkook messaged you earlier that he was able to free up his evening to accompany you here. You’ve been busy with various projects on top of the classes you take and conduct, and you wanted to spend time with your husband, even if half the time you’d be gushing about the pieces anyway, something he said he wouldn’t mind at all.

You find your way to look at a contemporary piece, telling Jungkook about the artist, when someone calls your name. You turn to the side and see a familiar face.

“Chi-won,” you smile. “It’s good to see you here.”

You return the hug that the man gives you and introduce your husband.

“You, too, although I figured you’d be here,” he grins. “You’re why I got invited in the first place. I heard you recommended the tattoo shop to Mr. Lee’s daughter. She came a few weeks ago and found out I collect art, too, and she invited me tonight. So thank you.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful,” you chirp. “She said her friends aren’t into the arts so she gives the invitations to even acquaintances whom she thinks would appreciate it. I’m glad you get to witness this, too. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Jungkook zones out a little once you and your friend start talking about the artists whose works are displayed in the estate. Somehow, art talk is only interesting to him when it’s you who’s talking, so he lets his mind wander a bit until he hears the words that sort of knock him out.

“Loving the tattoo, by the way. It looks really great now that it’s healed,” the man says.

Saying it’s great means he’s looking at it, and looking at it means he’s got his eyes on the colored ink painted on the valley between your breasts. Much as Jungkook adores the low-cut neckline of your wine-colored satin dress, that obviously also means that other people get a peek at it, too. The tattoo is beautiful - it’s his birth flower, after all, and he feels blessed everyday that you got it because of him, and that he gets to marvel at it every single day. He just doesn’t like the thought of others having that opportunity, too.

“Thank you,” you gush. “You’ve got amazing people at the shop, and that’s because of you. I really love it, and so does my husband. Right, Kook?”

You turn to him and Jungkook manages a curt nod and an almost-whisper of “of course.” Is… is he the man who put this on you?

You and Chi-won say your goodbyes as he heads to the other wing, and you turn to Jungkook with his curious look mixed with a tinge of nervousness.

“He’s a tattoo artist at the shop where I got the flower done,” you say, realizing what your statement could imply once Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Oh! He didn’t tattoo me, Kook. He just owns the shop,” you explain, not wanting your husband to worry that another man got to see your bare chest. Jungkook’s face relaxes and you hear his sigh of relief. “I told you I’d get a woman to do it even if you didn’t ask for it. I don’t exactly want to expose my body to another man, you know?”

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook shyly smiles now.

“Of course, honey. No one else.” You kiss his nose and like how his eyes close and how his features soften at the act.

You both continue the tour around the mansion. There’s an entire area dedicated to all the pieces - paintings, sculptures, mixed media art - and you gush at each one. Somehow Jungkook feels like it’s just you and him in your own little bubble. Even with the people you greet every once in a while, you choose to experience the collection with just him, even if you know he doesn’t understand half of the things you’re explaining - he’s said he likes just hearing the tone of your voice and the way your eyes crinkle when you talk about the things that make you happy.

Unfortunately, he has to burst that, as he takes an important work call and excuses himself. It takes 15 minutes but when he returns, there you are with yet another man gushing over you, it seems like, as the tall man with incredibly strong features and perfect hair shows you photos from his phone and laughs along with you.

Jungkook stands there, not wanting to burst the bubble you have with another person who gets you, in that sense - someone who gets your art, your world, your passion, and who gets to respond to you with more than just “ah, that’s cool,” the way he does. So he lets you have your moment, your space. He’ll step in in a while, he tells himself.

“Why is it that every time I see you in one of these things, you’ve always got that look on your face as you watch your wife socialize with another man from afar?”

Jungkook knows the voice before he even turns to the side and finds Kim Namjoon, your brother’s close friend and a staple in these events as an art collector himself. He’s become familiar to Jungkook, too, finding him during the times when he’s stuck on his spot as he chooses to observe you from afar. Because the man’s right - this happens more frequently than Jungkook likes to admit.

“It comes with marrying a talented and beautiful woman, I guess,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, it’s her world and she stands out,” Namjoon responds.

“She stands out anywhere, actually, with anyone,” Jungkook responds, letting the thought settle in before he continues. “The man’s this big shot executive and a single dad. His 5-year old is in her art class and the kid adores her so I don’t blame the guy for admiring my wife. She’s great with kids.”

“Is it really admiration, though? Looks like he’s just showing off his son to her,” Namjoon observes, as the man holds up his phone to show you various photos to both of your delight. You’re laughing along with the man, smiling as he shows more.

“Yeah? I mean, look at the way he looks at her,” Jungkook responds.

He should be used to it by now. You have a comforting charm about you, and if he wasn’t a stuck up teenager, he would’ve realized that very early on. But no; he’d shut you out and only got to see just how good it is to be around you once he’d married you.

Your students in art class are a testament to that - it’s no wonder you were asked to add another schedule because the kids enjoy your sessions that much. Their parents are a testament to that as well. Even strangers are. But it hits differently, as he sees how the man softly watches you laugh and coo at his own son. There’s a certain glow on your face when it comes to children - Jungkook won’t blame anyone for finding that beautiful.

“Hmm, it’s nothing compared to the way she looks at you, though,” Namjoon says. “You’d be laughing or something, or socializing when you’re in your world, and she’d be looking at you with the brightest stars in her eyes.”

Jungkook looks at the older man with questioning eyes.

“I’ve been to some of your family’s galas, Jungkook. She hangs with me sometimes when you’re off to do your duties, and it always made me smile how adoringly she looked at you, whether up close or from afar.”

“That’s, uh… that’s nice to know,” Jungkook hums, feeling his heartbeat quicken.

“And it shouldn’t be news to you anymore. She may be catching a lot of people’s attention but at the end of day, all she wants is you.”

And right on cue, you look around and find him, your soft eyes asking if he’s okay. Jungkook nods - to you and to Namjoon’s suggestion of going over to you.

“Hey, hun,” you take his hand as he gets closer. “This is Woobin, Sunoo’s dad. He was just showing me photos of them painting the new playroom.” You turn to the other man. “This is Jungkook, my husband.”

“Hi,” Jungkook shakes Woobin’s hand. “So you’re the father of the famous Sunoo. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, so she’s talked about him,” Woobin chuckles. “And yes, I am. My son adores your wife, as many of the kids and their parents surely do.”

“___ talks about the kids at her class all the time,” Jungkook smiles, realizing it now. “They just make her so happy.”

Despite your busy schedule full of your own classes and the ones you run, on top of your actual job at the art firm and being an artist yourself, you’re devoid of any stress once you start talking about your students. You know what they like to paint or draw, know how to help them improve, and have so many ideas to make them appreciate art even more. It’s no wonder they love you as much as they do.

“Ah, that’s no surprise. I’m just glad my son got to enroll in her class. I heard it’s tough to get into it now since she’s in demand,” Woobin states. “But it was nice to meet you, Jungkook, and nice to see you again, ___. Sunoo will be happy to know I saw you tonight.”

You and Jungkook bid him goodbye and you turn to your husband, smiling sweetly at him.

“I’ve seen everything tonight,” you inform him. “Another round of desserts and then we can go?”

“Sure, but I’m suddenly craving for churros and ice cream,” he responds.

“Hmm, let’s go to McDonald’s, then.”

“Alright, but uh, are you cold? Do you want to put this on?”

Jungkook removes his coat and offers it to you, and though you know the breeze outside is manageable, you take it, somehow wanting him much closer tonight. You also know that perhaps it’s your low neckline that he’s a bit wary of.

“Sure, Kook. Thank you.”

You lean on Jungkook’s shoulder and hum in satisfaction over the strawberry-flavored sundae. “Hmm, this is almost just as good as the desserts at the event.”

“Babe, McDonald’s is always just as good or better than anything,” Jungkook says with a half-full mouth. “It’s truly amazing.”

“It is. Somehow it cleanses our palette of rich-people stuff, doesn’t it?” You laugh and he joins you. It’s something that sparked your bond in the beginning, after all, and that hasn’t changed.

“Yeah, but it’s also just my happy food, you know? Grease, sweets, unhealthy stuff… delicious.”

“Happy food, huh? Did something upset you tonight? Or maybe someone?” You ask, wanting to know if him stepping away while you spoke with Woobin has something to do with it.

“Not really. Woobin didn’t cross a line,” Jungkook says, an admission that he knows what you’re talking about. “I mean, he was looking at you like a man with a crush, though, and I can’t blame him but he knew his boundaries. Good for him.”

“Of course he does, Kook. He knows I have a husband.”

“Yes, after you told him you couldn’t have coffee with him when he asked you out, which means that he was interested and he probably still is, like that nude model who was definitely into you.”

You turn to look at him who’s busy with his sundae but clearly bothered, but not enough to be angry. You’ve always been honest with him, the way he’d always been honest about the women at the Clubhouse who’d thrown themselves at him after one of his soccer games. You’ve always trusted each other, and you’re just glad that that’s always been enough to not have any miscommunication or arguments because of it.

“Ah, Samuel. Yeah, that was new.”

“Oh? He’s never hinted on a crush? Dude was looking at you like you were all he could see,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“Yeah, then you came in with a kiss and swept me off my feet,” you teasingly roll your eyes. “How romantic.”

“Sorry, it was just reflex,” he explains.

“I know, but you have nothing to worry about, okay? I tell you everything. Maybe not the mundane interactions or insignificant things that I easily forget but the important ones.”

“I know,” he says, smiling at you. “And you know I tell you everything, too.”

“You do,” you smile back. “But thank you for making it tonight. You’ve been so busy and I’m just glad I got to be with you.”

“Anything for you, babe. You’ve been so busy, too, and honestly, I didn’t mind moving the meeting with my father since I wasn’t really ready. Plus, all I had to say was that I was accompanying you to an art event and he let me go. You’re a spoiled daughter-in-law, you know that?”

You laugh at his teasing and the fact that your husband had the gall to ask his own father and boss to move a meeting for you.

“I am, actually. And now it benefits you, too!”

“It benefits both of us,” he corrects. “But tonight was good. I mean, I kinda had to ward off certain men but I didn’t mind. It was still a fun one.”

“It was,” you hum, basking in his boyish smile and the twinkle in his eyes. Something comes alive inside you when he looks at you this way, and amidst the midnight buzzing of a McDonald’s in the city, you move closer and kiss his lips, gentle but wanting, and you feel him smile even wider against you.

“Babe, we’re in public,” he teases, and much as he likes to do that, he also enjoys it when you get a little flustered even when you mouth that you ‘don’t care.’

You peck his cheek and pull him, and as you walk to the car with his coat over your shoulder, as you talk about the art collection all the way home, and as you share a bath and then lie bare underneath the covers with your tangled limbs, Jungkook only knows this - this is your world, and in the one you both share, you’re the only two people who matter.

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