#it was just so insane like holy shit so much happened like all the time
Text
with me + part two
authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!
this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.
i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....
i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!
warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes
song inspo: with me by destiny's child
words: 7.5k
tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot
“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.
He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”
“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.
You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.
It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.
And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.
“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.
“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”
“That sounds annoying.”
“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.
One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”
Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”
He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”
The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.”
His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.”
His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.
You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”
His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.
Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”
“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.”
________
“Mommy!”
You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.
The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”
Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”
You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”
“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?”
“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”
She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”
Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.”
Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.
This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful.
The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband.
All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.
Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.
It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.
Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious.
You were most definitely pregnant.
You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.
So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.
What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.
It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.
What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you.
It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.
“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”
“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”
“Well—“
“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.
“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”
“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.
There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way.
Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.
And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.
He wouldn’t know.
And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother.
She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”
You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”
“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit.
“Pancake time?”
Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”
“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.
“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down.
She probably gets it from–
Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time.
You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”
“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island.
Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”
Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”
Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand.
Well, she is half Pacific Islan—
Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her.
It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.
A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme.
You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset.
So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text.
You free today?
Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response.
Just tell me when and where.
________
Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends.
Business was still business.
The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.
Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.
Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other.
It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.
It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.
“Grandma!”
Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”
That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.
Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”
You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”
“Hey, baby.”
Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position.
“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?”
Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment.
Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”
At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”
You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”
She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself.
You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”
She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”
“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”
Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”
Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl.
On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.
Won’t get his own feelings hurt.
________
“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”
Of course.....of course.
You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around.
Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session.
Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”
It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”
“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.
“Can’t or won’t?”
And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.
Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic.
He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it..
Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.
Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.
Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.
And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing.
But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.
And your rose can only go so far.
“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”
Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”
Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”
“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”
Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.
When hell freezes over.
Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.
________
“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”
“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.”
It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.
“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.
Now…now they have his attention.
“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.”
“Look, Uce—”
“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.
And yet……
Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.
Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.
Five years.
It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess.
But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.
But similar to….similiar to his.
Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.
You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby.
Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:
my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear.
So many things are going through his head right now.
You had a child.
You have a child.
Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.
A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.
It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be.
You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral.
He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind.
It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.
“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking.
“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”
Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”
“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”
Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”
“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”
“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”
“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years.
“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”
“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”
“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.
“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”
Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.
“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”
Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”
________
Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.
Or a wedding ring.
And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him.
You were with him and only him.
So that left him and only him.
And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough.
And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.
That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram.
And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid?
His kid.
________
“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?”
Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.
She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.
You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest.
But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.
“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”
You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.
She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”
Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.
“Does he not love me?”
It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.
“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”
It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for.
And if it was the right one.
Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”
The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”
Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”
“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.
Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have.
You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.”
You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”
It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take.
Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete.
You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.
is this still joe’s number?
You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.
Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems.
What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.
But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.
Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.”
He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.
Or ever, for that matter.
Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”
“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”
That breaks you from your thoughts. A what? “wait—”
“You still at the same place?”
Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.
What in the actual fuck just happened?
#roman reigns x black!oc#roman reigns x black!reader#roman reigns#black writers#roman reigns fic#aris notebook
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
genuinely sat down for 4.5 hours last night and watched tommy's love or host. first off: how. second off: why. thirdly: what the fuck???
#what. even on earth#there is so much to say that i am now speechless#still thinking about it the idea that tommy is 18 adult hmmm. odd and strange but thats a me problem because i do not understand time#like yeah. fucking duh. if he was 16 2 years ago hes 18 now 16+2=18 but also i have not even thought about him since he turned 17#actually thats a lie i was an inniter when tubbo turned 18 but STILL#i am also FORGETFUL and DO NOT HAVE A BRAIN literally what have i done wrong feeling like alli rn fr fr (JOKE)#i think the staying up til 4am with a MAD INSANE migraine watching the stream maybe. did some things to my thought process but w/e#im still mulling it over. rotating it in my mind. how do i procees this. what am i struggling to process#it was just so insane like holy shit so much happened like all the time#even olive. arguably one of the most normal. was getting fucking smited by god himself while she was On The Show#maybe unpopular opinion and llama im so sorry if you hear this but like. i wld have got rid of llama earlier like she seems so nice but -#- no thank you 💀#srry guys. quite a few tags
0 notes
Text
considering faking my death to get out of this project. would still like to get a passing grade for it.
#googles how to get good grades even though you have died#ok this is about be a rant in a half and way too much info so excuse me but#ive been hyperfixating on our flag like crazy all month long#and i knew that and knew that i was going overboard#and i said all last weekend that i was feeling insane about it#but i didnt realize why until last night when i watched eps 6 & 7 and got mildly disappointed by what happened#because up until that point i was just having so much fun so that one small moment of not having fun#felt like a balloon had suddenly been popped and i was like OH FUCK! I HAVE TO DO THIS PROJECT!!!#like girl the reason we were hyperfixating that hard to such insane levels that we made a theory post about when ed and stede would fuck#was because we were avoiding doing/thinking about the project#and now ive just been sitting here still stuck and worried about this damn thing like holy shit when/how am i going to do this???#like holy shit did you know i was insane because i was stressed? i didnt!!#i have not stopped thinking about our flag all month and i just did not have time for all that!#AHHHH#anyway like......help i have to fake my death#personal
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
#vent in the tags idk#i hate my fucking life#i actually fucking hate my life. so much#i havent had something good happen since 2019. not one thing#its just gone downhill#which is insane bc it was already terrible 3 years ago but SURPRISE. IT CAN ALWAYS GET WORSE#fucking hell#im like 90% certain im chronically ill but its not like i can really go to the doctor.#i dont want to risk covid.#so my health just keeps deteriorating#i cant even breathe right at all anymore#the effort it takes to take a full. deep. breath. its so much. and it hurts.#and im so dizzy all the time. i can be laying down totally still and the room will be spinning still#im so isolated due to the pandemic ive genuinely forgotten how to interact with people irl#not that i knew how before. or that i wasnt already isolated before. but its so bad now#and my heart has gotten weaker. i can feel it. it pounds out of my chest and skips beats and shit at random. so much more than it used to#and i keep having panic attacks bc im afraid im dying and i keep having nightmares and holy shit i just want to be ok#is that too much to ask??? to be okay??? for life to get better for once???????#and i dont even wanna get into the mental shit im going through or the highkey abusive situation im in but its bad and i just. jesus christ#god.#idk#i just needed to rant for a minute ill prolly delete this when i get back up. im going to bed.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
He didn’t die!!
#I was so certain kennedy was gonna die#I’m so upset I never saw this show sooner I would have gone INSANE for a sailor with seizures being treated like a human as a kid holy shit#it would’ve been airing just as I realised that I’d probably give my arm to sail lol#if anything happens to archie kennedy I’m taking everyone and myself out#lmao#just kinda surprised. my whole paper was on the archetypes of epileptic characters#and here’s one that just straight up DEFIES all of them jfc#yeah I’m still MAD#was all of the english speaking world keeping this a secret?? my coworker mentioned it like it was common knowledge#wondering if I should try the books#I CRAVE good epilepsy portrayals I’m so starved#living off of scraps#yes I’m enjoying the show overall but let me just have this one#it’s healing#grown ass man smiling like a child lol you lot have no idea how much this means to my stupid heart#so I’m only on episode 3 of hornblower but books maybe??#my reading list is already is long as my leg and I’m rereading monstrous regiment for the nth time (it’s my all time comfort book)#(all about war crimes and gender and this isn’t the blog for discworld sorry
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
trouble, m | jjk
... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic
--
“Oh, I’m in trouble.”
Panic coursed throughout his veins.
“I can’t be here.”
And maybe a little bit of arousal too.
“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”
He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.
Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.
Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.
Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.
Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.
Like he said, he was in trouble.
Tomorrow.
The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.
I hope your friends ask about me.
The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.
The devil was in the details.
“Hello? Did you space out again?”
Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”
Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”
“R… Right.”
He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”
Jungkook choked.
-
That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.
Mind a billion thoughts a minute.
You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.
Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.
Or more savagely.
You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.
Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?
Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.
“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.
You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.
Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.
Hah.
You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.
Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.
You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.
You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.
Thanks, brain.
Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.
Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.
Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.
If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.
Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.
Hah, what a bother.
You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.
Yup.
Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.
The looking glass showed you two ways.
You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.
Hmmmm.
Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.
What the–
You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.
At goddamn McDonald’s?
Is no place sacred?
It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.
-
Your fingers framing your face.
You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.
Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.
Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.
“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”
What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.
You envied their desire for silence.
Because you had to be loud.
You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.
“P-Please…”
His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.
“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”
You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.
-
This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.
Actually.
That sounded very dramatic.
And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.
Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.
And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.
Cut out all that risky business.
It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.
Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.
But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.
She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.
He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.
Holy fuck.
Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.
Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?
And, four.
Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.
He had to cover his ass.
Speaking of.
Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.
Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.
She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.
He gasped and screamed under his breath.
The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.
She swallowed.
Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.
“C… Careful…. P-Please…”
Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.
He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.
He did not.
I’m in trouble.
He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?
Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.
“Ready?” she hummed.
“Y- Yeah…”
In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.
Jungkook didn’t even care.
He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.
“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”
He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.
“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”
She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.
He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.
Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.
Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.
He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.
“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”
She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”
His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.
“I… I usually last longer…”
“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”
Her sex saved his life.
Her next words murdered him on the spot.
“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”
Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.
-
You could admit it.
You shouldn’t have said that.
But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.
Right?
Wrong.
You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.
Aw, shit.
You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.
Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.
You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.
“Gah!”
“Oh!”
And he grabbed your waist.
Of course, he did.
Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.
You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.
“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”
You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.
Didn’t want to know.
Better not to know.
“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.
“You’re not in my way.”
You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.
“Actually… Please be in my way.”
You froze.
Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.
Oh, I’m in trouble.
He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.
You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.
“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.
An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.
“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.
You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.
No.
This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.
“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”
Jimin was stifling his giggles.
You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.
“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”
Oh no.
“Stay right there!”
Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”
But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.
“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.
You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”
Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.
Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.
“Uh…”
You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”
“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”
You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”
Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m the same.”
Your knee touched his.
He looked at you.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.
“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”
“What?”
You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.
“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”
People only get into relationships for shitty sex.
Right?
I want to be around him.
“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”
You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.
Close enough for you to remember.
“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”
His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”
“Yeah, give me your number.”
-
She asked for it like it was easy.
Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.
“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”
“Wait, give me your number.”
She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.
“I want it,” he breathed.
Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.
Like she was trying to hold back.
“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”
“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.
“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”
Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.
-
What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.
Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.
They don’t like you.
You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.
You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.
Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.
Jungkook wanted you.
That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.
He was just waiting for you to start it off.
You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.
I’m in so much trouble, fuck.
You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.
You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.
What is this?
You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.
“I c-can’t…”
His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.
“Can’t t-take it anymore…”
Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.
You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.
He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.
He’s too desperate to be a liar.
You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.
I want you.
He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.
“I w-want you…”
He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.
You saw what Jungkook was saying.
He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.
Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.
Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.
You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…
Until.
“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.
Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.
How could you refuse him?
You just couldn’t.
-
I’m so fucked.
Truly, madly, deeply fucked.
Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.
“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.
Harder?!
Was she trying to kill him?
She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.
He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.
He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.
It wasn’t enough.
Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.
He let his eyes flicker up.
Gasping, baring his depravity.
She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.
“Cum on me, Jungkook.”
Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.
“A-Ah, fuck!”
His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.
Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.
Her cum and her perfume.
He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.
Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.
“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”
Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.
No, know that she really meant what she said.
His heart fluttered. Took flight.
No.
Soared.
They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.
He was sure.
--
masterpost
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
≡;-꒰ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙
── mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO
the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.
he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.
... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.
it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.
the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.
"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."
"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."
sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.
he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.
except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.
"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"
rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.
such as right then.
in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.
and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.
"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"
"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"
"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"
in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.
you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.
but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.
except, you reach down, and he's...
...not hard at all.
even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—
there's no reaction.
he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.
"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."
"...oh..."
over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.
the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!
but...
your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.
he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.
...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.
your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.
zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.
"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"
"....it's staring."
"..."
"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."
⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~
© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.
#love and deepspace smut#love & deepspace smut#love and deepspace#love & deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love & deepspace x reader#l&ds smut#l&ds x reader#l&ds#caleb smut#rafayel smut#xavier smut#zayne smut#love and deepspace caleb#love & deepspace caleb#love and deepspace rafayel#love & deepspace rafayel#love and deepspace xavier#love & deepspace xavier#love and deepspace zayne#love & deepspace zayne#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#caleb x reader#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds#❀˖°. roxiecanon#divider by cafekitsune#divider by mikeykuns#*ੈ♡. rose garden
921 notes
·
View notes
Text
Icarus Falling
(Part 2)
Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader
Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.
Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.
Part one ⬇️:
A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3
———————
Bold is reader’s thoughts.
Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.
The size of the tattoo is in inches.
———————
Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?
Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.
The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.
The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.
“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.
“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.
“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.
“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.
Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.
Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.
“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.
“Why’s that?”
Fuucckkkk.
“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.
“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.
Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.
“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.
Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.
“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.
Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.
To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.
“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”
“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.
“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.
“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.
“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.
“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“
“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.
“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.
“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.
“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”
You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.
He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.
“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.
“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.
“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”
“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.
“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.
“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.
“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.
“I’m good I swear, now go!”
“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.
Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.
James:
Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?
Send me the address to the shop
Now… please
Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.
You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.
James:
See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.
Little shit.
————
You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.
Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.
Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.
Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.
“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.
“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.
Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.
“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.
“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”
“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.
“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.
“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”
His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.
“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.
“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.
“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.
“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”
“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.
“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.
“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.
“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.
“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”
“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.
Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.
“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.
“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”
Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.
Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.
The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.
If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.
He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.
You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.
He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.
“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.
“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”
Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.
“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.
“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.
Christ alive.
“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.
“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.
“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.
“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”
Like I could regret you.
You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.
“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.
You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.
“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.
“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.
I like him. He says okie dokie.
“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.
You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.
“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.
“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”
“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.
“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.
“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.
“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.
————
You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.
“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.
“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.
“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.
God he’s pretty.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.
“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.
“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.
“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.
“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”
“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.
————
The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.
“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”
“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.
He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.
You sat in silence as he started to speak.
“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.
The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”
Silence.
“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”
A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-
“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.
“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.
This should not be turning me on, shit.
“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”
His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?
“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”
Oh Clint sounds fun.
“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”
He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.
“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.
“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.
“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.
“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.
“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.
“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.
Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.
Ok right back to it. Got it boss.
“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.
“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.
Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.
“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.
He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”
“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.
“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.
“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”
“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.
“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.
“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.
Shit.
“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.
“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.
“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.
“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.
“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.
He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.
“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.
“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.
That’s a new one.
“Uh, say $180?” You respond.
“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.
He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”
You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.
They were hundreds.
“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.
“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.
You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”
“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.
“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”
“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.
“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.
“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”
There it is.
“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.
“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.
“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.
“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.
Fuck me running.
“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.
He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.
“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.
“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.
You say nothing.
He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.
“Would you?” He asks softly.
“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.
“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.
“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.
He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.
Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.
His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.
Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.
“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.
“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.
He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.
Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.
————
A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘
I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.
Tags:
@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#mob!bucky#mob!au#tattoo artist!reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
18+ / mdi
content: loser!chan, virgin!chan, sub!chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, etc.
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
wc: 1943
a/n: upon absolutely no demand whatsoever, loser!chan makes a comeback
masterlist
loser!chan who feels like he's about to cum his pants at the sight before him, laying on your bed and mouth agape as his eyes are unable to remove themselves from your figure.
it was like you wanted to kill him. it was already bad enough that you jumped him every single time he crossed the door to your apartment throughout the entirety of the bio project you'd been working on for the past month (his first ever b, a feat due to his lack of ability to concentrate whenever you were sitting in front of him). now, even after the project was done, you kept seeking him out, always giving him insane pleasure with the barest of touches. it was like you got off at the thought of chan cumming with your most minimal effort.
chan couldn't complain, really. he was absolutely obsessed with you. thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night. he couldnt concentrate at school, always looking forward to any time you'd send him a text along the lines of 'miss u channie :c come see me?' you had him at the palm of your hand, and he loved it so bad.
today, you had pulled a new one on him. the two of you arrived at your room, deciding to settle on a movie (that's right! he moved past study buddy to, uh, whatever it was that your relationship was by now). you put on the movie, excusing yourself to go to your restroom really quick. he didnt think too much of it, simply settling on your bed and eating some of the popcorn you had prepared. he had less of a hard time relaxing around you now. it'd been two months since that first time you'd made him cum in his pants when be came over to your place for the first time. now he was able to hold conversations with you, but was still extremely shy when it came to any sexual encounter with you.
his thoughts were unable to progress past that the moment he heard you clear your throat, signaling your return to your room.
holy shit.
the sight before him was one he had only ever pictured in his most intense wet dreams about you (which happened more often that he was willing to admit). you were wearing objectively the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. it was a cute pink lacy set. it was almost completely see-through and with cute little flowers embroidered onto it. it was adorable, but you werent. you were the sexiest thing he had ever seen. he couldve sworn his dick stood right up just at the sight, already leaking with arousal.
"do you like it, channie?", you purred as you crawled on the bed, not bothering with the mess you created upon pushing off the snacks out of your way.
your eyes carried a lust chan had never seen. he felt like prey, and that excited him like crazy.
"y-you .. fuck ..."
"yeah, channie? tell me," you now sat atop his form, which had been him sitting cross-legged on your bed. his hands immediately went to your hips, making you push yourself even closer to him, "tell me what you think. is it pretty? do i look pretty for you, channie?"
he nodded enthusiastically, "yes. you look so ... fuck, so beautiful ... you're perfect."
"aw, thank you, baby. you're so sweet," you had begun pulling off his clothes the moment you sat on him, somehow managing to even get his pants off despite the awkward position (with his help, of course). letting you undress him was second nature to him by now. his body just moved in place to allow you access to his almost completely bare body.
he felt goosebumps form at the way you softly ran your hands throughout the entirety of his skin.
"channie ..."
"yeah?", his eyes couldnt help but stay glued to yours, wide and waiting for whatever command you had for him. he'd do anything you wanted. you were so good and pretty, all for him. it was the least he could do.
"want you ... want you so bad, channie ..." your hips were lightly grinding against his, probably out of second nature by now.
"y-you can have me. i'll give you anything," his hands were running up and down your body, loving how you leaned against his touch.
"anything?"
"yes."
"can i have you, channie? can i ... can i sit on you? fuck. ive been thinking about it nonstop ... just want you so bad, please, channie. can i?"
oh, god. he wasnt going to make it. you were begging for him? all while he was willing to give you anything you wanted. there was no reason to beg, but it was making him lose his mind. the thought of you finally wrapping around him made him moan out loud, digging his head into your neck as his hips instinctively humped against yours.
"baby ... can i? please, please, i'll do anything."
you wanted him dead. there was no other explanation. he was already crying out against your chest, nodding like crazy as he kissed at your skin. he eventually pulled away to look into your eyes, with his own glassy at the insane lust clouding over him.
"yes ... please .. anything. i'll give you anything, just-"
you interrupted him with a kiss, shoving your tongue in his mouth immediately as you pushed him down to lay on his back.
"oh, channie. ive wanted you for so long, you have no idea. i ... can i have it raw, baby? please! just ... ill let you pull out, i promise. im on birth control too. ill take plan b. i dont care. anything, just please, channie ..." you licked at his moaning mouth throughout your entire plea, knowing how much it clouded his mind when you played with his tongue.
he cried against you, begging for you to do whatever you wanted to him. nothing was off-limits. he wanted your cunt more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. he'd do anything for it at this point. lust had completely taken over his mind, making him moan like crazy at any one of your touches.
you made quick work of your lingerie, throwing it off with no care for its state. you had more pressing matters. it seemed like your brain had also been taken over by lust, even showing it in your desperation in ripping off his boxers. the way you wanted him had him throwing his head back. his glasses were completely foggy by now, not allowing him to see you very well. he went to take them off, only to be stopped by you.
"no! baby, keep them on, please. you look so sexy with your glasses, channie. keep them on? for me?" it was impossible to say no to you when your fingers were pulling at his nipples and your bare pussy was grinding against his length.
"y-yeah ... anything you want ..."
"anything? can i sit on you now, then, channie?", yes! you couldve sat on him the moment he first laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester and he would've thanked all the gods for allowing him such pleasure.
"p-please ... need to feel y- shit!", you interrupted him by finally lowering yourself onto him.
"oh, channie ... fuck ... feel so ... so full," you sighed from above him, speeding up almost immediately at the pleasure.
he had no time to process the feeling, immediately losing his mind to the feeling. there were no coherent thoughts left in him. all he could do was cry as you rode him. you went crazy above him, practically humping him while you cried his name. he finally opened his eyes back up, falling further into insanity at the view in front of him.
your head was thrown back, with your eyes closed shut. one of your hands was on his chest for balance, while the other played with one of your breasts. the view literally made him salivate, having never been able to picture such an erotic image of you in his head no matter how hard he tried. this would ruin him. he was so addicted to you already, he knew that this would only make him fall even deeper.
"f-feel good, channie? tell me. wanna make y- fuck ... wanna make you feel so good."
"y-yes. fuck ... you- you're so perfect ... w- want ... shit. please ..." he had no idea what he was begging for, he just knew he wanted more.
"fuck me, baby. need to feel you. yeah? just ... your hips, baby, please."
he was delirious, but he was conscious enough to follow your every direction, digging his feet flat on the bed and beginning to thrust upwards, lacking any rhythm whatsoever. but it was enough to have you leaning over his chest and crying his name. it was also enough for chan to lose all control and begin ramming into you like a madman.
there was no control left in either of you, just humping against each other like animals in heat. he wanted to cum so badly, but not as bad as he wanted you to cum around him. the thought of you creaming against his dick made him throw his head back against the bed, eyes rolling back.
"ch- channie ... so fucking good. such a good b- boy for me. sweetest boy, shit. you're perfect, channie. and all mine. go- gonna use you all the time now. want you to give it to me every day. you will, wont you? give me what i want? let me sit on you every day? please ... need more ..." it was like you knew exactly which words to say to push his buttons. he'd give you anything you wanted. there was no need for you to ask.
he was about to blow his load, suddenly remembering you said you'd pull him out, but having his thought interrupted by you reading his mind once more.
"inside, channie. please ... i know- know it's not safe, but please ... im on birth control, its okay, channie, just- fuck! oh, channie! shit!", you began moaning uncontrollably, suddenly freezing above him as your walls tightened against him. you had finally reached your peak, dragging him right along with you.
he had orgasmed with you before, but never like this. he couldve sworn he blacked out for a few seconds, feeling his head go completely blank as he let the pleasure consume him. his voice went as high as ever, expressing the loudest moans he had ever let out. by the end of it, you were both empty shells of yourselves, landing against each other's bodies as you attempted to catch your breaths.
"baby ... are you okay? did you like it, channie?", the first thing you did was check on him. it truly made his heart soar.
"i love you."
shit. he hadnt meant to say that. he didnt even know he was feeling it? he was half-aware his feelings for you went past just attraction, but what he had just felt only confirmed it for him. he wanted you all to himself, except now he might lose you over his lack of control over his words after you got a hold on him.
"you do? channie ...'" you paused, "i love you too," you sealed your confession with a peck, still sitting on his dick, but ignoring all the juices traveling between the two of you.
he felt insane relief, deciding to further wrap his arms around you and pull you directly into his chest.
"'m gonna keep you now? mkay? you're all mine now, channie."
god, was he more than okay with that.
#seventeen fanfic#seventeen x reader#svt fanfic#seventeen#svt x reader#seventeen imagine#seventeen oneshot#seventeen smut#svt#svt smut#chan smut#chan fanfic#chan x reader#dino smut#dino fanfic#dino x reader#dino scenarios#dino imagines
937 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vox x Reader Headcanons: Fiancé Edition
Fiancé!Vox x gn!Reader
A/N: MY BRAINROT IS BRAINROTTING OKAY I JUST NEEDED TO DUMP THIS STUFF SOMEWHERE AFTER SEEING ALL THE WIFEY ALASTOR AND LUCIFER STUFF- LIKE I LOVE THOSE TWO BUT LEMME YEET IN MY BELOVED SAMSUNG TV NOW YALL- THIS COULD MOST LIKELY BE OOC COMPARED TO CANON BUT LIKE- LET ME DREAM I WANT THIS FLATSCREEN SO BAD P L E A A A S E-
A/N: This little thingy would have both an SFW and NSFW portion, mostly because I'm a depraved little shit and I am downbad for a 7ft bipedal television with issues-
SFW HEADCANONS:
Now first off, y'all probably would've been dating a long long while before this mans would pop the question.
I feel like he'd know that he wants to marry you, but he's so unsure of it plus he's concerned about how that would affect you in all of it.
Like, oh great if this gets out suddenly you've got one of the biggest targets on your back because you're the technology overlord's fiance and soon to be wife/husband.
As if you hadn't already when you both started dating-
Vox is a perfectionist so I'd imagine he would try so so hard to get everything completely flawless for his proposal.
But nothing goes his way that day, none, nada, zilch-
That's just his luck, totally not because it got screwed over by a certain radio demon for shits and giggles.
But he ends up asking you anyway, though a bit indirectly because it slips during his irritated rant.
"I can't believe they managed to spill wine all over me back there! All over one of my best suits as well!"
"Hun, we could always send your suit to the professional cleaners. It's okay! We can always just go someplace else next time too-"
"No! That- ugh! I had all these plans today and they were just ruined! I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for when I was going to propose to you-"
"You were gonna what-"
Vox immediately shut up once he realized his screwup then.
So much for keeping it a surprise!
That's kind of how you ended up with a diamond ring on your finger that night.
And that's how Vox ended that really stressful day with an extremely satisfying night.
He ditched work the next day and just spent it being all over you.
Yes he admires the ring on your hand from time to time, this man just stares.
You can betcho ass that ring is expensive as fuck too.
Like as if this man didn't kiss your hands enough, that new accessory marking a new chapter of your afterlives just makes him do it more.
He's actually kinda housewife material if you squint-
This man can cook and clean, and as a bonus he's filthy stinkin RICH.
Bro I need me one of these holy shit-
If he wasn't clingy enough before, oh boy get ready for this.
He will always have an appendage on you at all times, a hand on your lower back, your hip, in your hand-
Or he'd just have you in his lap while he worked on stuff in his office.
Also, Vox being possessive as all hell if someone so much as just stared at you too long-
Please that goes straight up to 1000% when you agreed to wear that ring.
You guys planning to get hitched doesn't stay secret for too long though.
With Valentino and Velvette sticking their noses in Vox's business as a daily pastime anyhow-
Hence why a lot of sinners started shipping you two.
And oh goodness the ship wars.
Sometimes Vox wishes the internet wasn't really connected to his brain-
The magazines went wild with that one too-
Cuz imagine, the richest and the pride ring's probably most esteemed bachelor-
Aside from Lucifer probably, Vox's marketing and PR team are insanely good at their jobs-
Was now off the market and due to get hitched with you.
I'd imagine even if Vox doesn't post anything on social media, you or Vel would-
Literally like those married couples on TikTok or something with a whole bunch of cute shit.
You can best believe the most cracked out shit happens while you're both engaged though.
"Oh this is Vox, he's my ex-boyfriend."
"... You have got to stop saying that. I'm their fiancé."
You did not stop saying that.
Actually you wouldn't stop saying that even when his title upgraded to husband.
Not that Vox cares, your shenanigans were what caused him to gravitate towards you in the first place.
And until now they're what keep your relationship fun and interesting.
"Hey hubby, ooooh~ you're looking like the hottest thing in all of the pride ring despite having just rolled out of bed."
"Hahaha, good morning to you too doll."
It doesn't register what you called him at first until he's had his coffee and then it clicks.
You play it off attempting to be coy until he replays the video of you greeting and calling him that on his face.
His. Face.
Sneaky little shit that's what-
He doesn't really respond to any other petname now, you've dug your grave.
"Vox."
"Vox."
"Vooooooxxxx-"
"What? What?? What do you want???"
"Can you peel this orange for me?"
"Really? That's it? Why don't you peel it yourself?"
"Because it tastes better when you do it?"
He does it eventually, hell if he's in a particularly good mood he'll even feed you.
That's always kind of how it goes when you ask him for things.
If it's something you want/can buy though?
You're already in possession of his credit card, just get whatever tf you want HAHAHAHA-
He's still a busy bastard though so it's not really much different from how it's like when you guys were dating-
But he genuinely tries to balance his work a little better to spend more time with you.
This man is such a workaholic though you end up having to drag his ass out of his office to rest anyway.
Again, nothing new from when you were just dating.
You guys jokingly throw around your soon to be marital titles in private.
Vox kind of feels like a kid in a candy store when you do, just giddy and excited for what's to come.
Not to mention he now has a partner in crime when he riffs on Alastor!
He'd be over the MOON if you just joined his chaos.
The radio demon probably wouldn't give a shit, he's just built different like that-
You both get so comfortable that you almost forget that you have a wedding to plan and set a date for.
Until Velvette asks about it and you're both just: "Oh. Right."
Your fiancé's schedule is so fucking packed though it was nearly impossible to.
This guy was going to work himself to death before you could tie the knot lmao-
But eventually you both got a date and venue settled, so that was one step closer.
NSFW HEADCANONS:
Okay so like, I know sinners can't actually copulate unless you're Lucifer but that's besides the point-
And Vox isn't really a family man at all-
But boy oh boy if he didn't have it before-
This man would have an insane breeding kink after you both got engaged.
This man wants to see you stuffed.
Literally doesn't matter if you're riding him or he's just impaling you on his cock-
This guy just wants to fill you up so bad.
I'd also think that you guys would be screwing around a lot more often after he popped the question-
Something about emotions constantly running high and dopamine being one hell of a drug.
I think Vox is a switch, so I'd also imagine he'd be more inclined to let you dom him every now and then.
Or when he just wants to be a bratty little shit please go ahead and tame him, he likes it.
You can kind of get away with more stuff when you're both engaged.
Like tease him a whole ton and he just bites hook, line and sinker.
It's already gotten to the point where the power in the tower would die often enough that Velvette herself has gone through some crazy lengths to cockblock her colleague.
Speaking of, Vox would probably use you as a stress reliever after work if you let him-
Like he will just fuck you stupid until all you say is his name because this guy is addicted to hearing it.
Or he'd let you fuck him stupid until he's so far into sub space he forgets about his shitty day.
Cuz if it's rough, it's rough with you two.
But on the gentler side-
It's just as addicting and if not probably a little worse.
Though you would probably be the one taking initiative/domming whenever you both have gentle rounds.
I'm all for Vox being able to switch some of his parts cuz he wanted to/can.
So y'all have fucking choices when it comes to wrecking this idiot.
Like a multiple choice exam, literally shotgun the fuck outta those answers like you deteriorate his mental.
And consequently the entire city's power grid.
"GODDAMNIT! VOX! (Y/N)! NOT AGAIN!!"
#hazbin hotel#vox x reader#vox#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x you#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox headcanons
559 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay so:
the year is 2021. the month is june. the new season of hermitcraft, season 8, has just started, and everything is great! the hermits are all messing around, having fun, building insane things within the first week of the server being active, and generally having a good time. everyone's collected themselves into little factions, pranking each other, and it's all the fun, lighthearted, mostly-vanilla content hermitcraft is known for.
and then the split between minecraft versions 1.18 and 1.19 is announced. the delay of new terrain, and especially of new mobs like the warden, considerably disrupt several of the hermits' plans. but it's fine, they'll figure something out, they're professionals, and it mostly goes unnoticed.
about two weeks later, on november 9th, grian turns to mumbo jumbo in one of his episodes, and asks the famous question that would seal hermitcraft season 8's fate:
"mumbo, is the moon... big?"
suddenly, the fans panic. they search back through videos and streams, and realize that the moon had been abnormally large and stuck in a full-moon phase since october 30th. the Moon Big event has begun.
this is where the roleplay really starts. once the moon's size has been brought up, the hermits start a weird combination of scrambling to figure out why the moon's growing, and how to stop it- but also of ignoring it, hoping it won't be a problem, hoping someone else will deal with it. the moon keeps getting bigger, more hermits start realizing it's going on, and a creeping sense of dread starts to grow. but it's fine. it's fine, right? they do little plotlines like this all the time. they'll figure something out, the moon will go back to normal, and we'll laugh about it when this is all over. it's fine.
and then, blocks start flying away. just floating up out of the ground, and falling right back down! like for a moment, a square meter chunk of dirt has decided it's a ballerina and leaped out of the ground! but it's fine, right? the blocks are coming back. no lasting harm is done. they're going to fix it all... right?
the moon gets bigger. it's growing every day- local hermit weirdguy joe hills measures it every stream. the blocks start flying higher. gravity starts getting... weird, with players getting the slow falling effect at random, and being lifted off of the earth themselves. the players form cults and rituals and whatnot to try and appease the moon, convince it to leave them alone, making plans to escape. nothing works. things keep getting worse, and the moon keeps getting bigger. but it'll be fine. these storylines never leave lasting harm, or at least they never have before. they'll be fine.
and then the blocks stop coming back, just floating into the sky forever. the players have the slow falling effect more than they don't now. the moon is now so big it's visible even during the day, and fills the entire sky at night. they start planning their escapes in earnest, and say their goodbyes. some hermits jump into a void hole in the overworld (it was the centerpiece of their village). some flee to the End, some to the nether, some just fly with elytras and hope they can get far enough away in time. one brave hermit, tango, flies himself to the moon in a futile attempt to blow the whole thing up before it can crash.
but in the end, the moon crashes into the server, and everything they'd built was destroyed. and the whole time, there'd been nothing any of them could've done. season eight was over, a full six months before anyone had expected it to end, and season nine wouldn't start until about three months later. and im still not okay about it.
(here's a cool animatic of the moon's crash! honestly i dont think you need too much hermitcraft knowledge to get the gist)
(also the moon crash happened on the day before my birthday lmao.)
….
holy shit
#ok ok let me see if i have the timeline correctly:#1) s8 begins in June and so does the new update announcement#2) months go by with no issue (that they’re aware of)#3) it’s in November when they realize the moon has been growing#4) does the moon crash in January???#but gawddam#that is one apocalypse story if I’ve heard of one#also fitting bc i think it was 2021 where we were getting a LOT of asteroid/moon fall movies#idk what was in the air (possibly the pandemic that led to unforced isolation & ppl coped with apocalypse stories)#and somehow that bled through to a Minecraft server???? somehow?????#wild#this also reminds me of an apocalypse movie i watched with a friend called ‘3 Días’#very good movie btw#highly recommend (it is a Spanish only film which i don’t think will be an issue bc subtitles)#anyway#asks#smp 101 with gumy#hermitcraft edition!
726 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shhh...Just A Little Bit More
Part Three (Soft Version)
DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)
Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k
CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.
AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!
“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”
“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!”
“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?”
Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”
“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.
You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.
A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more.
“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.”
You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair.
Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me.
As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much.
Got ya, you think to yourself.
He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.”
Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest.
Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you.
“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear.
“No, Joel,” you whine.
His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.”
Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt.
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you.
Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern.
I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her.
“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?”
Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.
Dangerous.
Very very dangerous.
Not to mention stupid.
“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.”
Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now.
“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”
You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.”
His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever.
He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?”
Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby?
Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have?
Can you spank me again?
Can you make me come?
Can I suck your dick?
How do you feel about anal?
“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?”
Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose.
“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart.
Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?”
He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men.
He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors.
He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you.
“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.”
A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open.
To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you.
“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier.
“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place.
“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.”
“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.”
He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear.
With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.”
The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you’re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again.
“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?”
Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open.
“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.”
He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.”
He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….”
He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”
“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission.
“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy.
You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.”
“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.
“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.
“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.
“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out.
“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body.
“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need.
“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?”
“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks.
He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit.
Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt.
“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway.
The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper.
A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?”
“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.”
“Are you going to quit?”
You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.”
The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally.
Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.”
“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.”
“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.”
Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around.
Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much.
That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently.
“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close.
“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.”
You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it.
“Please,” you whisper.
He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?”
“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable.
“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.”
You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.”
A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.
“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out.
Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.”
Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him.
“Please!” You cry between kisses.
His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you.
“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing.
“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible.
“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.”
His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision.
His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?”
You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips.
“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?”
His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice.
Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him.
“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze.
“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.”
You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure.
“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’.
He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.”
Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart.
“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.”
You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop.
“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”
Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows.
He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”
You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time?
“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready.
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.”
There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.”
You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”
Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.”
Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go?
The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?”
You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent.
His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?”
You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.”
“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.”
You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.”
“Your what?”
He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet.
He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing.
“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.”
“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?”
“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little.
“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg.
“What do you want to find?”
His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says.
“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.”
Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.”
You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue.
“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass.
Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating.
He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off.
“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively.
He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.”
When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you.
Fuck. I’m in love.
Taglist:
@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30
#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#daddy joel#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel x y/n#joel x oc#joel x you#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrohub#pedro is daddy#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
352 notes
·
View notes
Text
Apartment 222 ☾
neighbor!jeonghan x fem!reader
Warnings: kissing, cursing, fingering (f.), protected sex (missionary), explict smut, y/n is such a sweetheart bless her soul
Summary: Rule number 1: don't show up drunk at your hot neighbor's apartment if it’s 2am
Word Count: 4k
_______________________________________________
“What the fuck?” You sigh out of frustration. It’s 2am and you are very drunk trying to get into the front door of your apartment. The uber dropped you off and now that you’re home safely, you can’t actually get into your living space.
You’re fiddling with the doorknob, twisting and turning and pushing the door in. But for some reason, your key doesn’t fit in the door.
Your feet hurt from the heels you’ve been wearing all night and it’s making you more frustrated.
Why the hell is your key broken?
Suddenly, the front door opens, completely startling you. A very tired man is on the other side, wiping his eyes and clearly pissed off. Your drunk brain has still not processed what's happening, but all you know is that he's really hot and standing in your apartment?
Are you dreaming right now?
“What the fuck?” he groans.
Oh.
This is not your apartment. This is not your apartment at all and you are such an idiot. You look up at the number on the door, 222-A. Oh fuck, you live in 222-B.
You gasp. “Holy shit I’m so sorry! I thought this was my apartment and I was trying to figure out why my key wouldn’t fit and, I’m so so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
He’s silent, staring at you dumbfounded and somewhat in disbelief. He’s looking you up and down, based on your attire it’s obvious you’ve been out clubbing. He can tell you’re drunk, but sincere.
He sighs. “Yeah whatever.”
There’s a moment of silence. He leans against the door frame, arms crossed. “Do you know where you live?”
“Oh! Yes I do, I’m in 222-B,” you say much louder than intended. “That makes us neighbors!”
He blinks at you. “Uh huh.”
There’s another moment of silence. He’s waiting for you to leave him alone so he can go back to bed but you’re too drunk to pick up on social cues. He is so beyond uninterested and the alcohol is completely clouding your judgement.
Of course you didn’t know this, but despite his cold demeanor he was actually kind of intrigued by you. Granted, you were a very drunk girl who woke him up at 2am. However, you were a very pretty drunk girl that woke him up at 2am. Not to mention the little dress you were wearing looked absolutely stunning on you.
It was simple, yet sexy. All black long sleeve off the shoulder that hugged your body perfectly. He caught himself staring a bit too much through tired eyes.
Your makeup was faded from the night you had, but the smudged eyeliner actually seemed to suit you more. You had a very effortless beauty to you, he liked that.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding again,” you apologize once more before stumbling to your actual apartment.
His door is already closed by the time you unlock yours. You feel so bad for waking him up this late. You’ve only been living here a month and you’ve already pissed off your insanely hot neighbor.
__
It’s been two weeks since your drunk encounter with the hot neighbor and you think you’ve found the perfect way to make it up to him.
You don’t seem to be the only person confusing your apartments because when you went to retrieve your mail this morning, there was an envelope in your mailbox addressed to a Yoon Jeonghan at 222-A.
You take your mail and his before heading up the elevator to your apartment. You make a pit stop, knocking on the door of 222-A.
You wait patiently and sure enough your hot neighbor opens the door again. He’s wearing a plain white tee and some sweatpants and half his hair is styled up into a ponytail.
“It’s you again,” he leans against the door frame.
“Hi, yeah. Your mail was in my mailbox and I figured I’d bring it to you since it got mixed up,” you tell him.
“You could’ve just put it into my mailbox, but thanks,” he replies, taking the envelope out your hand.
“I know, I just felt bad about the other night and I guess I felt a little inclined to do some sort of kind gesture,” you say.
“You’re new here right?” he asks suddenly.
You nod. “Yeah, I just moved in about a month ago. I’m still not fully unpacked yet.”
“Figures,” he mumbles.
He clears his throat. “Thanks for the mail and uh, I’ll see you around.”
He doesn’t even give you time to respond before the door is closed. You’re standing at his door for another 30 seconds dumbfounded and in disbelief.
At least he said thank you?
__
“Dude your neighbor’s hot,” Joshua comments as he exists the elevator, making his way toward his friend's apartment.
Jeonghan follows his friend's eyes, seeing you struggling to fit a large box through your door. He’s in no place to disagree with his friend, anyone could see that you were beautiful.
“Yeah, kind of annoying though,” he shrugs, pulling out his keys.
“Have you talked to her?” Joshua asks.
“Yeah, I don’t know her name or anything, she just moved in like a month ago. She woke me up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago because she thought she lived in my apartment.”
Joshua smiles. "That's adorable."
"No it's not," Jeonghan frowns. "I was trying to sleep and she was pissing me off."
"Yeah but she's hot," Joshua comments. "Besides, you haven't been with anyone in forever, maybe this is your chance."
Jeonghan's jaw clenches. "Don't even think about it. Joshua I swear if you–"
Joshua smirks before disappearing from his friend's side and heading toward you.
“Do you need help?”
You pause what you’re doing, looking up at the handsome stranger in front of you. You can see the hot neighbor, Jeonghan, standing behind him.
“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you smile. “The last of my furniture finally arrived but they couldn’t have someone come and install it for me.”
The handsome stranger nods before helping you move the large box into your apartment.
“I’m Joshua by the way,” he introduces himself.
“Y/n,” you say, giving the box one last push that wedges it between the door frame. “Do you live here too?”
“Practically,” he smiles. “Jeonghan is my best friend so I spend a lot of time here. So I hope to be seeing more of you around here.”
You smile back at him. “Maybe you will.”
_________________
You’ve successfully moved the box into your apartment with Joshua’s help. You talked a bit while he helped you, getting to know him. He's a total sweetheart.
“Do you need help setting it up too?” he asks.
“Uh, only if you want to.” you shrug. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way for me.”
“It’s not a problem,” the boy smiles.
He peaks his head out the open doorway. “Jeonghan! Come here!”
The other boy walks over and stands in front of the open doorway. “What?”
“Help us out will you?” Joshua smirks. “It’s not very neighborly for you to lurk in the hallway while Y/n struggles with her bed.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Didn’t think she’d be struggling if she had you helping her.”
Jeonghan pushes past his friend wordlessly and begins opening the oversized box. Joshua lets out a scoff before closing your front door and joining in on the help.
__________________
Joshua and Jeonghan have been bickering for the last two hours about how to set up your bed frame. They've managed to build somewhat of a structure, but it's hard to say whether or not they've done so correctly.Unfortunately, the instructions were in German.
"Google translate said it means left," Joshua instructs.
"I don't give a fuck about what google translate says," Jeonghan rolls his eyes.
Jeonghan continues against Joshua's will, and moments later the entire structure falls to the ground with a thud.
"See!" Joshua scoffs.
"Screw this," Jeonghan rises to his feet. "It's getting late, I'm going back to my apartment. Joshua, you can go home."
"Jeonghan, you can't just break someone's bed and then storm out," Joshua points out.
Both of the boys shift their gaze to you slowly. You're standing in the middle of your bedroom awkwardly. "Uh.."
Jeonghan rolls his eyes again before reaching into his wallet in his back pocket. He pulls out a bill and extends his hand toward you. "Here's 50 bucks,"
Joshua is quick to swat his friend's hand away. "You asshole!
"I didn't do anything!" Jeonghan exclaims.
You clear your throat. "I'm gonna call the company and see if they can come in tomorrow and set up the bed... properly. Can you guys just clean this up for me?"
You excuse yourself, making the phone call from the living room. You can still hear the boys bickering and scrambling.
After finishing up your phone call, you make your way back to your bedroom. The two boys look to you. "They said someone is going to come by in between 12 and 4 tomorrow. Thanks for the help though."
"But where are you going to sleep tonight?" Joshua asks.
You shrug. "The air mattress in the living room like I have been the past month."
"No, you've been sleeping on that busted ass air mattress for a month already. Just spend a night at Jeonghan's until the professionals come back tomorrow." Joshua suggests.
"Excuse me?" Jeonghan scoffs. "Have you actually lost your mind?"
"Jeonghan don't be rude, she's your neighbor," Joshua points out.
"Just because she's my neighbor that doesn't mean she needs to be sleeping in my apartment."
"Yeah well it's your fault the bed isn't set up, so the least you can do is offer her a place to sleep for one night." Joshua explains.
"Oh yeah, you really don't have to–"
"Nonsense," Joshua cuts you off and begins pushing you toward the front door. He grabs your phone and keys for you and continues pushing you out the room. "Jeonghan's a good guy and great company, it's the least he can do."
Jeonghan groans before trailing behind as the three of you head toward 222-A. When you arrive, Joshua leaves as quickly as he enters, leaving just you and Jeonghan.
It's painfully and awkwardly silent between the two of you. The only noise filling the room is the sound of rain from outside.
Jeonghan finally breaks the silence after what feels like an eternity. "Okay, I'll take the couch and you can sleep in my bed. Bedroom is right there to the left. Bathroom is connected to my room, it's the door on the right so you can take a shower." he states plainly.
"Thank you."
Without another word, he makes his way to the couch and plops down, turning on the television for himself. You stand there for a moment, blinking and dumbfounded before venturing into his bedroom.
His room is nice. Everything is kept neat and organized, much like the rest of his apartment. What really caught your attention however, was the large trophy cabinet pressed against the wall and filled with different lego sets.
Holy shit.
You stood in front of the cabinet, admiring the different lego sets. There were castles, spaceships, helicopters, bridges, trees, ships, and more.
Your attention soon shifted to the lego sets on his dresser. There were four of them, all built into cars. You couldn't begin to imagine how expensive and time consuming this must have been. The cars by far, were the most impressive things in the room.
Who knew your cold neighbor was a lego nerd?
Your eyes are trained on the cars, fingers running along the hard plastic as you admire his work.
"Don't touch those," a voice says from behind you, completely startling you.
You retreat your hands quickly, backing away from the dresser. "Sorry," you apologize sheepishly.
He doesn't acknowledge your apology. "I thought you'd be in the shower, so I was going to come in here and get some clothes for you to wear."
He begins looking through his neatly organized drawers.
"Oh, I can just get stuff from my apartment, it's no bother," you offer.
"It's fine," he says, pulling out a t-shirt. "Just don't stain my clothes or anything."
He leaves one of his shirts and a pair of shorts on the bed for you and exits the room. You shower and dress yourself in his clothes before venturing into the livingroom. He's still seated on the couch, he looks back at you before quickly shifting his attention back to the tv.
"Um," you scratch the back of your neck. "I'm done so... thank you."
"Mhm," he doesn't shift his eyes from the tv.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," you start.
"You think?" he brushes past you.
You sigh. "Sorry... I know me being here is inconveniencing for you, I'll just go back to my place and wash your clothes so you can have them back tomorrow. Thank you though."
You begin making your way toward the door.
"Wait," he sighs. "I'm sorry for being so mean to you." he pauses the tv.
You stop in your tracks.
"You can stay... I'm just a bit tired. I don't mind having you stay here all that much."
Relief washes over you.
"Thank you," you say before venturing back into his bedroom for the night.
_______________
It's funny how history repeats itself. For the second time in just a few weeks, you've woken Jeonghan up in middle of the night. Although this time was very different from the first.
He knocked out on the couch about a while ago, but indistinct mumbling whimpering and what sounded like crying brought him out of his slumber.
"Y/n?" he calls.
Nothing.
It's raining harder outside now. Shocks of lightning flash, illuminating the living room, often followed by loud crashes of thunder. He rises from the couch and makes his way toward the bedroom.
He calls your name again.
You don't respond. He watches the way the blanket jumps as the thunder crashes again. His face softens when he realizes, you're terrified.
"Y/n?" he takes cautious steps toward the bed.
"Jeonghan?" you question in just above a whisper. You pull the covers off your face, looking up at him with glassy eyes.
"I'm sorry," you sob. "I'm so sorry–fuck this is pathetic. I'm sorry."
He sits atop of the covers on to corner of the bed next to you. "Don't worry about it, you're fine. I get it–"
The thunder crashes again, causing your whole body to react. He feels awful.
"Do you... do you want me to sleep here with you tonight?" he asks hesitantly. "Would that make you feel better?"
"But you hate me," you mumble.
"I don't–I don't hate you," he sighs. " I told you already that I was sorry, please believe me. Honestly, I think I acted so coldly toward you because I've been kind of interested in you since you first showed up at my door and I have a bit of a defense mechanism when it comes to stuff like this."
"Are you serious? Because all my friends have been hearing on the phone is me talking about my hot neighbor for the past few weeks," you mumble into the pillow.
He smiles to himself at the thought. "Yes, I'm serious."
Wordlessly, you slide down the bed covers next to you, inviting him in. He accepts your invitation, slipping beneath the soft sheets next to you.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
You nod. "Yeah."
His face is so close. You're mere inches apart, the slightest movement in the right direction and your nose would brush against his.
Your heart is beating so fast, yet you somehow still feel at ease. You feel comfort with him, all feelings of fear wiped from your mind. His soft orbs stare into yours, occasionally drifting down to your lips and back into your eyes.
He's silently asking for permission to kiss you. He really really wants to. Is this even the right time for that?
Fuck it.
Holy shit–
Your eyes are closed before you know it.
You're not entirely sure of what to do with yourself, so instinctively you reach out, allowing your body to act before your mind. You stop fighting the urge that is kissing Yoon Jeonghan and allow an arm to wrap around his neck and the other entangling into his hair.
His hair is so soft.
He smiles against your lips, breaking away for only a moment. "I didn't ask before I did that," he whispers. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."
"Anything but," you say against his lips.
It's all the permission he needs before leaning back in. Your lips are already tingling, burning with heat and excitement from the previous contact. This time, he's relentless, mouth meeting yours with hunger and desperation.
It was as if a fire broke out inside of both of you.
Your breathing changed, growing more shallow as warmth spread across your body. He was pressed so close against you, causing something to flutter in the pit of your stomach.
You were on cloud 9.
Never had you been kissed like that, and never had someone given you that feelings but fuck, it felt so good.
You began tugging lightly at his shirt, signaling that you wanted it off. He got your message quickly, momentarily breaking the heated kiss to slip the fabric off his body.
He tosses is somewhere onto the ground, he'll find it tomorrow morning. It was the least of his concerns right now. The pretty girl in his bed had all his attention.
Soon, other articles of clothing were stripped from both of your bodies, discarded onto the floor without a care. It didn't take long before your naked bodies were pressed against one another, lips still pressed against one another.
His delicate fingers trace along your skin gently. He pushes your body down lightly, pinning you flat onto the bed as he pulls away from the kiss. He climbs on top of you, hovering over your nude figure.
He looks at you with adoration in his eyes. It's dark in the room, but the moonlight shines from his window, illuminating the room just enough that he can see your beautiful body and face.
He begins leaving a trail of kisses down your body. Your jaw, neck, breasts, stomach. He mumbles about how pretty you are with each kiss he leaves on your skin.
You tug at his hair with a whine when he presses a kiss against your lower stomach. "Jeonghan, just touch me... please."
He's happy to oblige.
He brings his head back up, burying in the crook of your neck as his fingers move between your thighs. You let out a soft moan at the initial contact.
He continues to work his fingers on you, focusing on your clit and smiling to himself as you start to soak his fingers. It doesn't take long for you to get wet enough for him to slip a finger in.
"Shit," you breathe out.
He continues pumping his finger before slipping in another. You're panting and moaning softly beneath him as he works his fingers on you. He curls them ever so slightly, creating the perfect angle that has you craving more.
You're pushing your hips into his fingers, fucking yourself on his slim digits. His thumb continues to rub circles on your clit as you completely soak his fingers.
It gets easier for him to pleasure you as he thrusts his fingers into your cunt. You sound so pretty too, whimpering his name as he coaxes you toward your orgasm.
You can feel the pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach as you grow closer to your high. You're pushing your hips into his fingers messily, growing less and less coordinated as you desperately try to get yourself off.
It only takes another curl of his fingers before you're sent over the edge. Relief washes over you as you entire a state of euphoria. You can feel his hard cock twitch as its pressed against your inner thigh. He whispers sweet words against your collarbone as he talks you down from your high.
"Good?"
You nod in response, hands immediately reaching for his hard cock. "Need more... want you inside."
He curses to himself.
"You sure?"
"Yes," you plead. "Want you to feel good too... please fuck me."
He's quick to act, reaching into his nightstand drawer to grab a condom. He rips it open with his teeth and slides it on with ease before lining himself up with your entrance. He drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, teasing you just enough to whine about how you needed more from him.
And he was going to deliver.
Now that he prepped you, you took his length in easily. He slid in, building up to an intense thrusting speed in no time. You were so wet, the sounds of his cock fucking into you echoed throughout the bedroom.
"Fuck," he groans. "Was made for this fucking cunt... you take me so well."
Your head sinks into the pillow as you allow the pleasure to take over your body. The headboard creates a thud with each thrust, pushing against the wall as he fucks you. He fills you up so nicely, thrusting and hitting all your sweet spots.
Your bodies grow sticky and sweaty as he fucks you. "Feels so good," you moan.
Each drag of his cock into your cunt pushes your thoughts around in your brain. All the fear has been fucked out of you and you can hardly think properly. The only thing you know for sure right now is that he feels absolutely incredible inside of you.
You've never had sex like this before. So intimate... yet rough and full of passion. It was rare for your past partners to get you to climax, but you can already feel your second one approaching.
"You gonna give me another one already, pretty girl?" he asks.
All you can do is nod.
Your cunt is clenching around him, walls fluttering as you near your second orgasm of the night. He knows he won't last much longer either, not with the way you're gripping him.
"Oh fuck," you moan.
A few more thrusts are you're done for, allowing your second orgasm to fill you with inexplicable pleasure. You're somehow gripping him tighter when you cum, sending him into his own orgasm.
He fills the condom, pumping his cum into the rubber as your cunt milks him dry. You're both panting heavily as you come down from your highs.
He pulls out of you, discarding of the used rubber before snuggling up against you beneath the sheets. His arms are wrapped around your frame and his fingers entangle themselves into your hair.
"Are you okay?" he asks, running his fingers through your hair.
"Yeah," you respond, snuggling closer into his chest.
"You were so good," he praises, lips brushing against your ear. "So so good."
"I wanted you to feel good," you admit with a yawn.
"You're perfect," he compliments. "You feeling sleepy?"
You nod. "A little."
"Okay," he continues running his fingers through your hair. "Get some rest okay? I'll hold you and make you breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"
You .let out another yawn. "Yeah... thank you neighbor."
You're out like a light in less than five minutes. Jeonghan finds himself smiling as you rest in his arms. He feels better with you in his bed, it helps him sleep better.
Before he knows it, he's drifting off. The storm outside has died down, and he knows when the sun comes up, you'll still be in his arms and he couldn't be happier.
He'll have to thank Joshua later.
_______________________________________________
© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I vote for roommate into spouse John pleeeaaaassseeee I am begging 🙏
holy shit my first ever goddamn ask and it’s about Yandere john price, this is hilarious, I’ll give everyone a little more thought put into that idea than (sorry for using your ask lmao)
It started when you, were kicked out by your shitty ex boyfriend, yeah typical, who would’ve thought not to trust a man who spent his all of his money on his sneaker collection rather than you?
so now, basically, you were homeless, or living at a friends house, which ever was available at the time. And than, you saw an advert, for a roommate, saying he was an older male, didn’t come to the house much but would pay rent on time yada yada.
anyone who wouldn’t accept that advert is insane and needs to be checked into a psych ward, was the thought that was prominent in your mind.
so, things happen, and miraculously, without meeting you, john accepts the deal, and the very next day you move into the house, and low and behold you thought you met a Greek god who turned human just to mess with you.
A tall man with a gruff face, body built like a man who lived in the woods all his life chopping trees, actively holding a cigar as he greets you. Handing you a sheet of what you need to pay and the general house rules, before explaining in a deep smooth tone that he won’t be home a lot due to his job, but to just keep everything nice and tidy sweetheart.
and by god, are you so glad that your boyfriend broke up with you.
here is the masterlist
#yandere drabble#yandere thoughts#yandere writing#yandere x reader#John price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain johnathan price#Johnathan price x reader#john price x you#captain price#john price x male reader#captain price x reader#price x reader#john price#john x reader#yandere john price#john price x chubby reader#chubby reader#male reader#ftm reader#mtf reader#fem reader#Bottom of the barrel really
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
i've been seeing a lot of falsettos posts recently deconstructing the fandoms beliefs and firstly
holy fuck thank you, i try to steer clear of fandom (and fandom-izing thereof) drama but this is getting a lot more visible recently so here's some little tidbits for you
whizzer brown is not an unflawed character!
okay so i haven't seen enough dissecting this but!!! in the chess game!
the whole point of marvin using that game to determine the ending of their relationship is because he suspects whizzer is constantly deceiving him and wants to prove it.
whizzer LITERALLY proves him right!
he asks marvin to help him along (yes i know he says he doesn't want help, hear me out, it's a little more complex than that) and takes advantage of the fact that marvin is- like- infatuated with him.
he draws him into a sense of false security then starts throwing accusations at him ("since you need a man!" "what?" "who's 'brainy'," "or witty, move.") until hes able to win, which he does with ease because he's been using marvin having this idea that he isn't smart against him.
of course, marvin's side of this isn't the best either but honestly, for once the fandom should focus on a different character when they think 'insane asshole'. typically we should also probably change our perspectives a little to be more unbiased cuz fr guys, this is getting really.. annoying.
i understand he's the most visibly flawed but that doesn't excuse constantly picking the worst parts of this musical (without other context, btw) to use against him.
and this post certainly isn't here to excuse anyone either i've just got a lot of opinions that i wanted to share while falsettos is.. trending? right?
2. marvin's (headcanoned but still somewhat researched) autism
this one isn't brought up as much but when i do see it around, it's kind of a skewed viewpoint.
while rewatching bits of the proshot i realized a lot of different neurodivergent traits that he shows-
he's helpless during I Never Wanted to Love You and is childish and regressive when he's upset (not every autistic person is like this either, i know this is a bit of a touchy subject so i just wanted to add that).
usually when people depict it i see it either toned down or joked about which is fine when all in good fun, and when its done respectfully.
not here to attack anyone, just here to point it out and say that yes :) he most likely is neurodivergent, but despite that his actions aren't condoned. he's still kinda a dick who needs to get his shit together
3. ..the lesbians also have shit going on?
just putting this out there- I DON'T SEE ENOUGH FOR THE LESBIANS! OR TRINA!
the girls in this musical are like thoroughly neglected and i think that's kind of shitty just assuming the fact that william finn put them in to demonstrate how gender roles put people in degrading positions (and he even makes it more prevalent by showing marvin as something like a misogynistic character who forces whizzer into more feminine roles to show the audience what woman have to/had to go through in society).
anyways, the lesbians aren't just there guys. they have a plotline too. in Something Bad is Happening, you derive a lot from charlotte singing about the outbreak of HIV/AIDS and realize how she operates on a daily basis (she's passionate about her work and takes every bad day as a hit to her life and career, explaining in a way that as a black, jewish, lesbian, FEMALE doctor in this time, everything that goes wrong is immediately brought down on her so much more than it would as any straight white male pharmacist-).
cordelia on the other hand has to handle the fact that her girlfriend is so adamant about her work ethic that she can't actually be super present in their relationship at times like that.
but either way she still sticks by her and is constantly trying to be supportive and endearing despite feeling like she's not amounting to her gf who's basically a hero in her eyes.
i kinda just wanted to bring that up because they mean a lot to me and they don't get enough love from the fanbase, thank you for listening to my TED talk <3
#why did I spend 20 minutes typing this#rant#whizzer brown#falsettos#marvin falsettos#charlotte falsettos#cordelia falsettos#hhhh
254 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random Hazel Callahan headcanons that have been rotting my brain for the past couple of days:
Pairing: Hazel Callahan x female! reader
Summary: Not needed
Genre(s): a little angsty at first, after that's it's just pure fluff
Warnings: mentions of trauma and maladaptive daydreaming
A/N: I'M GONNA WRITE MORE FOR HER BECAUSE I NEED IT SO STAY TUNED, also I listened to False God by Taylor Swift the entire time I wrote this.
Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk , join tag list here
• She has horrible listening skills, usually her house has been a pretty noisy and chaotic place, even before her parents divorced, so she's learned to mute the outside world.
• It tends to annoy pretty much everyone else outside the fight club, the only exception being PJ, she perhaps got annoyed more than anyone.
• When you first noticed you had to repeat yourself at least five times whenever she was around, you tried to come up with different ways for her to keep up, like texting her as you spoke so she could read it as much as she needed to.
• Later on you found out it wasn't just about losing track of a conversation, as you asked to borrow one of her headphones one time, you were shocked her ears weren't bleeding right then and there.
"Fucking hell, Hazel! Are you trying to break your ears or something?" your ears hurt for a second.
"It's not loud at all" She placed them on her neck.
"Baby, I can hear the music coming out of those things like a concert speaker,"
• You decided to invite her over to your house as often as possible, demanding a no-headphones rule.
"Why not?!" she complained.
"Because you're gonna be completely deaf at the age of 40!"
"And you'll be there to teach me sign language, right?" she hugged your waist.
"You're saying you prefer not hearing my voice for the rest of our lives?" you lifted a brow.
• The realazation dawned on her.
• To this day she hasn't worn headphones a single day in her life.
• Maladaptive daydreaming is also something she struggles with, not as much now as she used to in middle school and the first two years of high school, but it still happens sometimes.
• You found out when you decided to surprise her by coming to her house one day
• Mrs. Callahan said she couldn't get in contact with Hazel, for whatever reason.
• Most likely her phone turned off since it was out of battery.
• So she texted you she was gonna be missing all night, permitted you to stay the night, and told you to take care of Hazel.
• You found her in the kitchen yelling, it sounded as if she was yelling at someone.
"Are you ever gonna choose me over a booty call?! How is it that Jeff's dick is more important than me?! Your daughter! You fucking pushed me out and you still can't even ask me how my grades are doing and shit!"
• Your first thought was —Her mom's plans must've been canceled—
• As you approached the room as quietly as possible, you looked through the rim of the entrance, there was no one.
"Hazel," you spoke quietly through her screams.
A shiver went down her spine, he face turned white, she blinked a couple of times before turnind her head, "How much of that did you hear?" she avoided your eyes.
"I've never heard you like that," was all you could mutter as you approached her slowly and then embraced her in a hug, "I know you're not insane by the way," you whispered in her hair.
She began to cry.
• She didn't want to talk about it for the next few days
• When she did, she stumbled upon her words, talked too fast, and teared up every once in a sentence.
"Call me first," you cupped her face, "I'll never judge you for whatever you have to say,"
• She wanted to kiss you right then and there, but just rested her forehead on yours, an act of ultimate intimacy.
• I could get into the divorced parents' trauma for hours because same
• But for now I'll move on to the happy part
• Physical touch is the absolute most pure form of love she can give
• If she's not hugging your waist at all times, she's holding your hand, resting her head on your chest, shoulders, legs, etc. pretty much everywhere she can
• If you have long or medium hair she'll attempt to braid your hair, keyword attempt
• If you have short hair she'll buy little elastic ponytails to tie them around your head everywhere she can
• Her reasoning behind this is that her favorite plants are cactuses
• That's it, that's all the reasons she needs
• If you happen to be bald she'll rub your head while singing the chorus to Diamonds by Rihanna
• She plays ukelele
• She knows how to make a few origami figures and if she tries a new one, as crumbled and sweaty as it is she gives it to you
• You have a whole shelf in your room dedicated to every piece of folded paper she's ever done for you
• If you're more of a fem! girl, she'll try something of yours whenever she comes over and stare at her reflection for hours
"Good thing, god didn't make me straight, she knew I would be a menace,"
• You can only roll your eyes and laugh at her twirling and pretending to dance ballet in your dresses and skirts
• If she happens to go shopping without you, she'll try something you'll like and send you the photo after
"If it looks this good on me, imagine how AMAZING it'll look on you,"
• She once asked you to put makeup on her, she'll say she was just curious how she'd look
• She wasn't lying, but she also didn't mention she just wanted to recreate this picture:
• If you happen to be more of a masc! girl, you'll trade clothes as often as you can think
• More than once you have arrived at school with something she likes and just drags you to the bathroom to for you to make the exchange
• It's not her clothes and your clothes anymore, everything you own is hers and vice versa
• More often than not you're no longer sure what used to be only yours
• This goes for accessories and shoes as well, even if they don't fit her, she'll fill them up with toilet paper until they fit just fine
• You'll match AT LEAST once a week, as per her request of course
• She tries all kinds of chips (or crisps for my British luvs) she has tried every flavor and seasoning, but her favorites and the flaming hot ones, even if she ends up chugging your waterbottle after finishing the bag
• Although her parents are rich and taught her from a young age to be a precise wine taster, she's a tequila and vodka girl
• She hates gloomy and rainy days because they bring down her mood, but spending the day binge-watching cheesy movies and stuffing her stomach with all the snacks o her house makes it up
• She's ABSOLUTE SHIT at Karaoke, but my god does she have the spirit
• Her go-to song is Lies by Fleetwood Mac, but if she's drunk enough to gain confidence she'll request Easy On Me by Adele
• If she insists for long enough and you decide to sing with her, she 100% will try to recreate the following musical numbers:
• Lay all you love on me -Mamma Mia
• Every duet there is in Teen Beach Movie, her favorite childhood movie
• The cellblock tango -Chicago and Ex-Wives -from Six, if the rest of the fight club joins as well
• Popular from Wicked, strangely enough, she's Glinda
• Seventeen -Heathers
• Candy Store -Heathers featuring Isabel as Heather Mc Namara, Josie as Martha Dunnstock, and PJ as Veronica (She was heavily forced to after Brittany suggested it)
• Smooth Criminal -The Glee cast cover
• If you're a good singer, or at least a decent one, at the end of the song she'll hype you up more than anyone in the crowd, even carry you (this also applies to my plus size! lovelies, DON'T YOU WORRY, she has muscles)
• If you're a bad singer, then you'll be shit together, the worse your voices sound, the better you'll enjoy it
• Onto the kissing and overall more stereotypical relationship stuff, aka the not-so-comfortable part of my asexual-spectrum girlies.
• As previously shown in the original material
• Kissing is slow and passionate, she likes to enjoy your lips as much as possible, taking in every movement, taste, and breath
• Hands on your jaw and neck EVERY FUCKING TIME
• The first few times you offered her some chapstick or lipstick, or lipgloss, or lip oil, or anything, she would kiss you making you chuckle in surprise
• Now you don't even need to ask, she'll just be like
"Hey, your lips look beautiful," and peck you on the lips
• If you're alone it definitely turns into a whole makeout session
• She just claims it tastes too good not to do it
• Every once in a while she'll hug you from behind and aggressively kiss your cheek
• Good luck kisses before every test
• Her favorite kind of dates are picnic dates
• She takes pictures of the sky whenever she feels it matches your vibe
• She takes A LOT of pictures of you ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, she even went as far as to buy a film camera because they make everything more magical
• She reads A LOT
• She obviously knows too much about social injustices and everything regarding that realm, but she likes other things as well
• Avid fantasy reader, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES,
• Going back to this need for escapism, she was heavily raised by George R.R. Martin and Leigh Bardugo
• Definitely screamed, jumped, and overall looked like she was in a sugar rush when both Game of Thrones and Shadow and Bone came out
• She wasn't exactly allowed to watch Game of Thrones at the time it came out, so she watched when she was 16 instead
• Shadow and Bone, however, oh boy, it was whole event
• She cosplayed Sturmhond and made you cosplay as Zoya
.
.
.
That's it for now children, if I come up with anything else I'll do a part two or even better write something more complete
#hazel callahan bottoms movie#hazel callahan x you#hazel callahan#hazel callahan x reader#hazel callahan fanfiction#hazel callahan fluff#hazel callahan angst
523 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alleyoop28-diary
ありう〜ぷ 28th
公開交換日記
siciliatv
Senza titolo
dahliaschickens
Naamloos
heidysartstuff
Heidy's art and stuff!
one1bastard
Downton Abbey
(but mostly Thomas)