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bakugoushotwife · 11 months

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Just Being Neighborly

a/n: y'all gone need the holy water for this one... it was a lovely writing challenge from the one the only @getosbigballsack so if you something with similar themes don't freak out lol. this was super fun and i definitely got carried away LMFAOOO

cw: shew let's see um, threesomes, mfm but the men are involved briefly, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, anal, dirty talk, pet names, slight dacryphilia, size kink maybe? doggy and reverse cowgirl. unedited as usual, i probably missed something im sorry

wc: please im so embarrassed it's 9k

They still remembered the day that you moved in. It was a sunny Tuesday in the middle of the summer, the gentle breeze flowing into their townhouse while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing Fifa. The sounds of car doors shutting and the roll of suitcase wheels on the concrete sidewalk got Satoru’s attention. He pauses the game, and Suguru groans. The lanky young man trips over himself to lean over his best friend and roommate on the couch, peering out of the window.

“Stop being so nosy and I was beating you.” The other man sighed, moving his long dark hair to his other shoulder so his companion didn’t lay on it.

Gojo huffs in defense of himself, keeping his bespectacled eyes trained outside. Finally he sees you. You walk back to the sleek Cadillac in the shortest yellow polka dotted sundress in existence, cute white pumps elongating your bare legs even more so. He was drooling and he hadn’t even seen your face. “There’s a babe moving in!” He rejoices, maybe a bit too loud through the open frame.

Suguru leans over to pull his mouthy friend out of the window, but you too, piqued his interest. The dress was tight, hugging every curve and accentuating your large bust and wide hips. You don’t notice them watching, too busy pulling boxes out of the trunk and setting them on the sidewalk for you to carry in. Satoru wonders what you do for a living. These were expensive townhouses, the two college students only lived there on the account of him being a trust fund baby.

The more built of the two shoved the other male off his lap, but the lanky man saved himself from falling to the floor. “We should go help her, she shouldn’t carry all that herself.” Suguru suggests like the sweetheart he is. Satoru hums mischievously at the idea.

“What a great idea, I’m sure the babe will be relieved to have two strong young men living so close!” He grins, elbowing his partner-in-crime.

“Y/N, are you done yet?” A foreign voice thunders, the sound of dress shoes clack back out to the car, grabbing their attention. Soon a man in a suit comes into view, folding his arms at you.

You sigh softly and paint your smile on. “Almost, dear. This one’s a bit heavy.”

“Well you packed it all in there, so whose fault is that?” Your husband chuckles, though he’s not kidding. Satoru Gojo’s nose scrunches up.

“Blegh, he’s an asshole.” He sneered.

This time, Suguru Geto had to concede to his best friend, the way the man spoke to you was awful, and he was making you carry everything? Disgusting, “Agreed.”

Satoru gently slapped the other’s chest. “Then let’s go help the babe.” He said excitedly, to which his friend chuckled and shook his head at his eagerness, though he can’t wait to introduce himself to you. The two get up from the couch and slip into their shoes, beginning their descent down the lavish stone steps. He feels a pang of guilt, you’re clearly in a relationship of some sort, but the feeling soon subsides when he remembers his treatment of you. Men like that don’t deserve women like you.

As if his closest friend could read his mind, he elbows him in the ribs. He’s got a cunning smile on his face, and Geto knows that he doesn’t care about your relationship either. If there was one thing you could count on Satoru for, it was unabashed boldness.

“I’m thinking we swoop in right, save this pretty damsel in distress.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his glasses down his nose to give his friend a knowing look. He quickly pushes them back up, though Suguru knows that won’t be the last time his companion will pull that stunt. “Or at least offer our strong shoulders to cry on while we carry all her things.”

Suguru sighed. “Be normal, please, for once.” He pleaded, dark eyes narrowing at the smirk decorating his face.

Satoru rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Sometimes Suguru was so annoying, and absolutely zero fun. If he had to seduce you himself so be it, but he wouldn’t let Geto sweep in later if he didn’t help. “I am normal, you’re the weak one.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out and scooting down the rest of the steps, smiling brightly once the sun warmed his skin. They stood on the same sidewalk as you, shyly observing you unpack the car. You seem frustrated with one box in the trunk, perhaps the same one you mentioned to your…heathen earlier.

Gojo smirks, sharing a glance with the ever-stoic Suguru once more. Hands in pockets of his black basketball shorts, he wears that brazen grin all the way to the Cadillac. Suguru walks slowly after him, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. He would have to be the gentleman to make up for Satoru’s lack of shame.

The lanky man clears his throat, the summer sun behind him enshrining him in an ethereal glow. You turn to the stranger, taken aback by his almost unnerving beauty. He hooks his glasses on his tight black tee, grinning teeth shining as white as his shaggy white locks.His gaze is the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, you can see the clouds from above you reflecting in his matching sky colored eyes. You arch your brow, unsure what to make of his approach. Just as he’s about to speak, a second man appears. He’s not quite as tall, but his shoulders are broader and features warmer. He smiles softly, black eyes carefully analyzing you. He folded his arms over his chest, abs clearly defined beneath the opaque wife beater. He jutted his chin out to your boxes, but it’s the first visitor that speaks.

“We noticed you could use some help, miss.” He smiles, icy stare shamelessly raking over your figure. Your cheeks warm under his gaze–no, surely it’s just this summer heat. You’re happily married, moving into these lovely townhomes because of your newlywed husband’s success as a District Attorney. Maybe he wasn’t the most attentive husband–or even the nicest, but he was paying your way and you didn’t have to lift a finger. He did right by you, so you tell yourself. But you must admit, the two young men were right. There was no way you could get that damn box out of the trunk, much less carry it all upstairs to your new dwelling.

“Oh, well, yes actually. Thank you…?” You say, arching a perfect brow at them. Gojo nearly let out a dreamy sigh, your face was just as perfect as the rest of you. Your brows were immaculately manicured, lashes full and framing enchanting doe eyes that looked at them so expectantly. You were so tempting it was hard for even Suguru to be respectful, sweat beading at your chest so deliciously he had to readjust the gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Satoru hummed, amused by the scene.

“I’m Satoru, this is Suguru. We live here!” He shared as if it were a treat just for you.

Suguru stifled a groan. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors. May we ask your name?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. You leaned against the bumper of your car, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They were handsome and not much younger than you if you had to guess. They were certainly capable of helping you carry these last few boxes. There was no harm in introducing yourself. So why did you feel so guilty?

“Oh, I’m Y/N Robertson, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been struggling with this box for a while!” You chuckle nervously, patting the offending weight and stepping out of the way for one of them to grab. The white-haired man nodded, showing no signs of regret, repeating your name aloud.

“Y/N Robertson. Was that jerk your husband?” He asks, the permanent glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eye.

You gasp softly and Suguru’s eyes widen. “I apologize about him, he has issues. I think he was born without a filter.” Suguru apologized, glaring at his counterpart.

Jerk? Is that too far off the mark? It had been such a stressful move, you did mostly everything yourself, your husband working fourteen hour days and refusing to lift a finger when he was around. You were mostly embarrassed that these two had noticed his treatment, not wanting their pity. “He’s…he’s just been busy with work. But yes, he is my husband.”

Satoru clicked his tongue, walking forward to effortlessly lift the burden you had been struggling with for the past twenty minutes. “That’s a shame, Y/N. A princess like you doesn’t need to be carrying something like this. But don’t worry, we got ya.” He winks.

You avert your gaze to the other man, almost seeking solace in his peaceful presence. He’s wearing a faintly smug expression as he lifts the stack of boxes on the sidewalk. Suguru only nods his agreement. “Which one’s yours?”

You think about it, pulling out your phone to look at the paperwork.. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’m pulling it up…” You mutter, taking your lip between your teeth. The men share a look. You were adorable.

“Take your time, we’re fine.” Suguru insisted, giving you another warm smile. It soothes your nerves only slightly and stokes the fire elsewhere.

Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’re super strong. Don’t worry.” He says, admiring your manicured nails tapping away at the screen of your device.

You allow yourself to giggle at this, you could tell they utilized the location’s gym facility a lot. Satoru’s black shirt hugged him tightly, swells of his biceps bulging against the hems. He grins at the gift of your laughter, smirking at his friend. Suguru chuckled through his nose, shaking his head at how easily his roommate flustered you. You hiss in celebration.

“Yes! I found it, sorry. It looks like I’m in…408!” You say without realizing. Your innocent eyes blink up at the tall pillars that were your new neighbors and current assistants. Satoru looked like a kid in a candy shop, and Suguru smirked in silent celebration.

“Right across the way from us. How divine.” Satoru chuckled, turning to make his way up the stairs with the weighty box. “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of us!”

Suguru hummed. “I’m sure we’ll make great friends.” He said, slowly striding after the energetic man. You just padded behind them, watching Suguru’s back muscles glean with sweat, long hair swaying slightly as he trods along the steps. You felt ashamed, eyeing them this way, but it was hard to miss the way Satoru’s shirt rode up to reveal his own toned abdomen and white patch of hair leading to the shorts sliding down his slender hips. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, telling yourself it was just because of the growing wedge in your marriage. You just needed to escape their lingering gazes and deviant smugness.

Later that evening, the men sat on the same couch that they discovered you on, deciding to play the long game. Your husband was a tool, you were practically in heat just from their eyes on you. It was clear he wasn’t giving you any of the things you really needed.

That was a year ago now, the two college boys are more than in your favor by now. You brought them a tupperware of muffins the very next day, and it kind of became your trademark. You took good care of them, bringing them dinner some nights and supposed “leftover” baked goods. They wondered if your husband even noticed that you started cooking for four. They found any and every excuse to visit you during your husband’s long workdays, often spending the entire afternoon with you.

When they weren’t with you, they were thinking of you, talking to each other about what they would do when they could share you. They could hear everything through the thin walls, every fight you had, every tear you shed, every orgasm–though they could tell they were faked. It was painful, biding their time until they could make their move, just hoping that the moment presented itself soon.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. It was another regular day, the two were working on some household chores when a door–your door–slamming caught their attention, followed by crying and two voices screaming at each other.

Satoru dropped the plate he was washing with wide eyes, scrambling for the peep hole. They’ve heard the arguments, but none of them had spilled into the hallway, or had been filled with such emotion on your end. This time it was your husband who cowered in front of you as you screamed and threw his things out of the home.

“Cheating bastard! You cried, face reddened from all the stress, no doubt. Suguru turns the washing machine on and makes for the door too, fighting with Satoru to see.

“Honey please–it was a one time—”

“Oh don’t bother. She sent me everything! This is on the fucking news, you absolute ass!” You huff, shoving a suitcase into the hall. At that, Satoru scrambled to the couch, flipping on the television and pilfering through the channels until the news displayed the reason for such an argument. Even he was shocked, a cheating scandal for the ages. Suguru’s heart dropped as the reporter spoke:

“District Attorney Joel Robertson caught in a blazing hot scandal this evening. The other woman tells all! His secretary leaks the sex tapes–claiming this affair has been going on for years.”

“How could he cheat on her??” Satoru is puzzled, yet grateful. Your dumbass husband has finally given you a reason to leave. It was only a matter of guessing when you would bang on their door.

Suguru sighs, he never wanted you to be hurt. He knows that Satoru isn’t necessarily thinking about it that way, though he can’t deny the twinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Your dollhouse of a marriage would be over, and he had the perfect idea for revenge.

“Sex tapes, huh?” Suguru muttered, muscular body pressed into the door to watch your husband pick up all his things strewn about the hallway. He didn’t even look guilty, seemingly fine with your pained tears. You slammed the door in his face.

“I never want to see you again! You’ll get papers soon!” You yelled from behind your door. Your husband rolled his eyes.

“Yeah? Well good luck paying for a place like this with no job, you insufferable piece of work.Or finding anyone better than me.” ” He chuckled, the suitcase rolling down the marble hallway and your tears being heard loud and clear after Satoru clicks the TV off.

“Sex tapes.” Satoru confirmed with the shake of his head. He realized how this had to be affecting you, pressing his face against Suguru’s to try and peek out of the peep hole for any movement within. “How horrible. The secretary’s an ugly anyway, they belong together.” He snorted.

Suguru side-eyed him. Satoru said every thought that crossed his mind, his friend was convinced, however it was hard to disagree with some of his wild statements. This was one of them. You were way out of your husband’s league. He treated you like garbage and then had the nerve to cheat after not even being able to please you? Disgusting. Vile.

“Should we…?” Suguru poses aloud, not able to stand the sound of your cries much longer.

Just as Satoru nods eagerly, your door flies open again. This time, you march right across the hallway, raising your pretty fist to knock on their door. Suguru’s lips part in surprise, but you hesitate to actually connect with the firm barrier between you and them. It was almost like the point of no return, the building tension that started the day you moved in would all come to a head if you crossed the threshold.

You bit your lip, looking back at your entrance. Maybe you should just go back, you were just emotional and seeking out the only comfort you could think of, right?

Satoru flings the door open, not giving you the chance. You’re face to face with the two, realizing they probably saw everything. Your cheeks heat up, your raised hand slowly lowering to your side. You must look a mess, hair disheveled from the countless times you raked your hands through it, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your cheeks. You make a strangled sob noise, looking at them so sadly it pulls their heartstrings.

Suguru steps forward, reaching for you. “We heard, we’re so sorry..” He says, and you can see his sympathy for you written in the warmth on his face. You put your hand in his, the feeling of human contact with someone who actually cared was almost enough to make you cry again.

Satoru huffs, leaning against the doorframe. You’re almost caged between them, feeling their body heat radiating off. His face is embossed with displeasure, eyes darkened in the same way the sky does before a storm. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway, sweetness.” He says with a look of disgust, shaking his head.

Suguru covers your hand with his other one, dark eyes bouncing between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you were thinking. Truthfully, you were embarrassed more than anything. It was one thing to be in a loveless marriage, it was another for that fact to be known across town thanks to your husband’s low morals and high notoriety. You would be a laughing stock.

“I’m just…embarrassed! I’ll be known around town as his poor wife. I hate that, I don’t want their pity or laughter…just so embarrassing.” You mutter, looking toward the ground. The sentiment makes Satoru pout. Oh how he just wanted to comfort you, for Suguru to lead you into the apartment where you would stay with them forever.

Suguru frowns. He could tell your tears weren’t for your broken heart, but your devastation. Your reputation on the line, betrayed by a man who had never treasured you. He glances at Satoru, who’s just staring at you with such longing the dark-haired man can’t take it. “We can help you embarrass him, if you’d like.”

His eyes widen. The words fell from his lips before he could think the better of it, but now you’re looking at him with those pouty doe eyes in confusion, and Satoru has to save the day, picking up your other hand.

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ve been listening to you fake orgasms for a year now. Dude has some nerve makin’ tapes like he knows what he’s doing. We could really show him.” Satoru chuckles, leaning down from the door frame. You can smell his cologne, something minty with almost a hint of chocolate. He does know what he’s doing, invading your senses like this. His warm body and gorgeous eyes that have been undressing you since the day that you moved in paired with his scent and touch was overwhelming in the best way. Especially with the firm but comforting grip that Suguru kept. His hands were calloused from hard work, cradling the softness of your hand like a newborn. He leans closer too, waiting for some sort of response from you. His dark hair fell in layers around his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheekbones, pale pink lips smiling softly. He smells of bourbon and cinnamon and some sort of expensive shampoo, the two of them so different and beautiful in their own ways–and both wanting you.

“What did you..have in mind?” You squeak, your neighbors and acquaintances grin at each other. You didn’t even question their eavesdropping, knowing that they’ve been craving you since that summer sunny day.

Satoru hums in pretend thought. This was only for show, they had determined what they wanted to do moments ago when they shared that glance. “Make a sex tape of your own, with men that can actually make you cum.” He let a laugh out through his nose.

Your eyes widen, you open your mouth to speak but find that you don’t know what to say. Have you had a few wet dreams about a moment like this? Maybe, but that didn’t take the surprise out of their reciprocal desire. You looked to Suguru to search for any hint of his friend teasing you, but the man only squeezed your hand and smiled smugly. He could sense your doubt, and it was precious.

“He’s not joking. We’d love to help you get revenge, dear.” He doubled down, the air around you growing heavy and charged with an energy that made your stomach drop, butterflies replacing your insides. Satoru steps out of your way, and Suguru angles his body the same way. You can pass right between them and enter their townhouse. You nibble your bottom lip, a nervous habit they had picked up on. “No worries, though, if you don’t. We’re here for you irregardless.” Suguru adds on the end, not wanting you to think you must. They wanted you to want to.

And Satoru sure hopes you do, his gray sweatpants growing tighter at the thought of having you today, and under such circumstances! They hadn’t considered making films with you when discussing their fantasies, but he was definitely down with the idea. He smiles and nods, taking his lip between his teeth to mirror your nerves, but his was anticipation.

Suguru is highly perceptive, he’s hoping you say yes if only for his best friend’s sake. You wrack your brain, you should say no. There’s no way that this can end well, but your desire has piqued. They were right, your husband was horrible at sex, and you’ve been wondering what Satoru’s slender hands would feel like on your body, thinking about Suguru’s sweet smile pressed into your skin instead. Your stomach tingles at the thought, and you know what you want. You want to give in to your desire, you want to be with the men that had actually taken care of you for close to a year, and you wanted your soon to be ex-husband to see how good they could make you feel.

You take a deep breath and squeeze through their bodies to enter their home. It was clean, like always. They tried to be better about that when you started eating dinner with them. You set your phone down on the table, taking a seat on their couch to blink at them expectantly.

They shared another look, but this one was one of surprise. There you were, in their house waiting for them to fuck you. They had dreamed of this, and now it was happening. Gojo wastes no time, smirking and coming back inside, pulling Suguru in with him and shutting the door. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, though it made you giggle at his eagerness. He takes his shirt off to avoid having to do it later, and you bite down on your lip again. Though this time it’s because he’s incredibly sculpted, as lean as he is.

His skin is pale and scarred, you wonder from what, but it only added to his beauty. Every muscle was defined, down to his v-line. You can’t help but notice the ache in his pants, and you nearly sigh dreamily. It’s almost embarrassing how your core throbs, and this was just one of the two. Suguru picks Satoru’s shirt up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table instead. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, and you fight the urge to request his shirt be removed as well. You smile shyly at him, and he chuckles, reaching his hand out to hold your chin. “We’re gonna take good care of you, baby.” He insists, thumbing at your bottom lip.

Your eyes stare up at him expectantly, taking in the lustful gaze he finally reveals. His dark eyes become half-lidded and focused on your pout. “Can I kiss you sweet girl?” He asks, sharp brow arched.

You nod eagerly, feeling the cushion on your other side dip with the weight of the other male. He must have set up the camera, surely he wouldn’t allow Suguru to beat him to the punch. Much to your surprise, he only sets his hand on your hip, leaning forward for a better view of his best friend’s mouth covering yours. Geto’s lips are rough like his hands, in a good way. His tongue is warm as it laps over yours, his large hand still holding your jaw. You can feel Satoru’s hands knead at your thighs, but he’s not protesting. He doesn’t even protest when Suguru’s other large hand slips under your ass to pull you up into his lap. He just scoots closer to keep you sandwiched between hard bodies.

“Yeah this is hot.” Satoru groans, palming himself over his pants when Suguru gently hikes your skirt up so he can access more skin, his thick fingers digging into your doughy flesh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile at his friend’s encouragement, kissing you harder. Your senses were overwhelmed, though you expected and wanted that. He tasted so good, letting your tongue dominate his just for the enjoyment. He nearly chuckles at your eagerness, it seems their desire wasn’t one sided. Your hands tug at his shirt, so he lets you catch your breath so he can yank it off. “Ah, you gotta match us, angel.” Satoru grins, nimble fingers playing with the hem of your tank top.

You blush, knowing you have no bra beneath. It was still too hot to wear layers, though your body felt like it was at the highest temperature it had been in a while. You’re so pretty, Suguru thinks, watching you peel your tank top off, bare chest to them. Your tits were perfect, nipples hardening before their very eyes. Satoru groaned, reaching to cup one of your breasts. Suguru’s lips latch onto your neck, his hands still kneading at your thighs. You can feel your cunt dampen as Satoru dives forward, sucking your pebbled bud in between his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation, Suguru’s eyes open, watching his roommate fondle your tits and feeling you writhe in his lap only made his hardness nestle into your side, making you gasp again. Both of them were going to be huge, and you didn’t know how you would be able to handle it.

Suguru snaps you out of your thoughts, rotating you in his lap just a little. Your back was flush against his chest, the skin almost burning where you connected. His muscles made you feel like you were sitting against a wall. If not for his warmth and the bulge settled in between your asscheeks, you may have thought you were. Satoru hums, pleased with having more access to you, his tongue swirling your sensitive bud. His fingers pinch the other, the slight pain sending shockwaves through your body, causing you to arch into his mouth.

Geto chuckles, his hands still stroking gentle paths from your thighs to your hips, where nothing but your skirt stopped him. He arched his brow, jerking the fabric to sit around your waist. “No panties either, sweet girl?”

Satoru pulled away from your chest at this, a thin string of saliva stringing from his plump pink lips to your breast. “Oh dollface, I’m beginning to think you got ready for us.” He chuckles, the sound bright and bubbly as he scoots back on the couch to gaze at your newly revealed pussy. Your head spins from the way they look at you, like you’re a precious jewel. You feel drunk on the mix of their touches, where one was sweet and warm the other was rougher and icy. Suguru continues to press sporadic kisses to your neck and shoulders, trying to find your sweet spots. You whine so darling when he finds them, he can’t help but smirk to his best friend as your eyes flutter shut from the simple pleasure of him kissing your neck and the white-haired boy’s grip on your knees to spread your legs. He groans at the sight of your slick cunt, nodding to Geto.

“She’s soakin’ Sugu. Hope you don’t mind but I gotta taste.” He hummed, his svelte fingers spread your lips apart and you shiver from the cold air being blown on your center. Satoru giggles, you were so cute like this, wiggling on Suguru’s lap and craving more of them by the second.

Suguru nodded his permission, obsidian eyes locked on his friend’s sapphire ones. He thought the boy’s excitement was adorable, and yearned to watch the enjoyment of both of you. The lanky boy cooed his happiness and leaned forward to lick a fat stripe down your center, moaning at the taste. Your head fell back on Geto’s shoulder, hand flying to tangle up in white tresses. He giggles again, relishing the way your body responds to him. He does it again, humming at the intense lust in Suguru’s eyes and your sweet gasp.

“Stop playing.” Suguru warned, biting marks into your skin to give you some pressure and pleasure since his counterpart wanted to toy with you.

Gojo pouted, but you nodded your head in agreement. “No fun.” He huffed, but dipped his head down to your core for the count this time. You didn’t want him to tease? Fine. He won’t. But just remember that you asked for it. His tongue plunges in your weeping hole, his fingers assisting him in drawing circles around your clit. You moan softly, body jolting at the sudden intensity. Your hips rolled, fucking yourself on the muscle.

Suguru hums at the sight, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from moving too much. It was clear your ex didn’t know how to treat you sexually, either. You feel his warm breath in your ear, Satoru’s fingers replacing his tongue, pushing his long fingers straight to your spongy spot. Your vision spots from that alone, not to mention his lips suckling your nerves. Suguru watches every move, impossibly turned on by the two of you together.

“You’re so beautiful with his mouth on you like that, sweetheart. Do you like it?” He coos, collecting all your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he could see all of your perfect face. You nod quickly, and Suguru chuckles, a deep rumble that you can feel in his chest against your back. He realizes that you’ve lost the ability to speak just from Satoru. It’s sweet, but he knows you’re in for one hell of a time.

“You sure you can handle both of us, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He asks, eyes focused on the animalistic way Satoru devours you. His mouth was a mess of your arousal, tongue swiping his lips to keep your taste.

You were already overwhelmed, but it was the best feeling of your life. You didn’t know how you would please both of them, but you knew you could. So you nod.

“Use your words for me then, sweetheart. We’ll do the color system, m’kay? Green is all good, yellow for slow, red for stop, can you do that for us?” He says, running his fingers through your hair. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, who also seems to be waiting for a reply. You nod again.

“Yes, ‘m fine, green all good.” You mutter, grinding your pussy against Satoru’s nose even though he was buried in your cunt. He sucks on your clit again, but it makes your stomach jump and your hips rock faster so they know you’re close to your first real orgasm in who knows how long.

Geto hums his approval, tightening his hold on your waist. “You gonna make her cum for us, Sato?” He inquires, every touch flaming hot. Gojo nods, teeth scraping your bud and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. Suguru’s hands go back to your hips, your fingers tugging on the other boy who still lapped at your nectar. He hums his enjoyment, sitting back on his knees and winking at you.

“You can pull my hair all night long, angel.” He says, watching your hole clench around nothing. How cute. He flickers his gaze to the man holding you upright, arousal nearly dripping off his tongue. “I think she needs a little break, you wanna taste?” He asks, which confuses you for a moment. How could he give you a break if they were going to swap?

Geto hums. “Of course I do. Come here.” He says, smirking at your bewildered gaze on them. Satoru grins and leans over you, planting his lips on the man who asked. You gasp softly, the sight more arousing than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, as they seemed pretty attracted to each other, you just felt ashamed for getting off on it. But you can’t help it, the way they hummed their satisfaction against each other’s mouths was melodic, Satoru opening his mouth for Suguru to utilize how he wants. The latter holds his jaw in similar fashion to the way he held yours earlier, controlling the space between them. He pulls back a little, mostly just to view your arousal covering Satoru’s bratty face and to look over at your awestruck features. He smirks at this, his tongue darting out as he brings Satoru’s face back to his, though they don’t kiss. Satoru whimpers as Suguru licks the sides of his mouth, cleaning all your natural honey off his best friend’s face.

You gasp softly, not able to stop yourself, “That’s fuckin’ hot.” Satoru chuckles, his hand closing around Suguru’s wrist so he could turn his head in his grip.

“I agree baby girl. He just had to taste you on my tongue.” He grinned, though that was the exact truth. The flavor of the two of you combined was driving him crazy. His dick throbbed painfully, and he didn’t know how much of this he could take. He releases Satoru in favor of fisting his hair.

“Let me get her other hole ready.” He demands, and only Satoru knows what he means. The white-haired boy grins devilishly, sitting back on the other end of the couch. He wiggles out of his pants and tosses them over his shoulder, cock slapping his eight-pack.

He looks at you with that same bare-naked stare he gave you the day you met, his smirk unfaltering. “Lean over and suck my cock, baby. He wants to see it and he's gotta get your ass ready.” He giggles softly, his large hand wrapping around his own length to keep it from aching. Your eyes flicker to the cock in question, aggravated red tip oozing pre-ejaculate down his prettily veined shaft, curving upwards to abuse every spongy spot. He was much bigger than your ex, you knew it would take some time to adjust. Nonetheless, you eagerly slip off of Suguru’s lap, getting on all fours. Suguru takes the opportunity to free his cock from his pants, sitting on his knees so he had a bird’s eye view of you crawling toward Satoru.

Gojo nearly vibrates with excitement, moving his hand away from his length so you could take over. He suddenly pouts when your pretty eyes look up at him, he’s realized he still hasn’t kissed you yet. “Oh no sugar, Can’t have you suck me off if I haven’t even been a gentleman.”

He hums, sitting up so he could meet your lips. He was greedy with his kiss, lips hungrily moving over yours. You respond in kind, hand resting on the back of his neck where your fingers just brushed over the soft fuzz of his undercut. He moans softly, clearly enjoying the way you play with him. He pulls back with a loud smacking sound, resting his back against the arm of the couch once more, hands folded behind his head. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s showmanship, but he watches anyway.

“Much better, go ahead, hot stuff.” He coos, looking rather satisfied with himself. Your face is why, so drunk on his kiss that you sit back on your knees and hover over his tip, squealing in surprise as Suguru holds your waist. You can feel his length rubbing against your thighs, positioned under your cunt. His tip collides with your clit so perfectly when you rock back on him, your hips doing so automatically. You moan softly at the feeling, and Suguru hums as your arousal continues to drip around him.

“I’m gonna fuck you while you give him head, sweetness, ‘s that good with you?” He asks, praying you say yes. He didn’t want to throw too much at you at once, but his dick was beginning to hurt. He sighs happily when you nod. You bite your lip, knowing you were about to feel unimaginably full. You turn your head to peek at his size, finding him not as long but nearly twice as girthy as the dick you hold in your hands. And you already needed two hands for Satoru. You sigh, Satoru’s slender fingers grabbing your chin to pull your focus back to him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout him angel, I got you soaked enough to take him.” He brags, squeezing your cheeks between his grip. He giggles at your smooshed face and hums, bringing your chin back down to his tip. You batted your eyelashes at him, watching his face carefully as you stick your tongue out and take him into your mouth. He groans at the relief of your warm insides, ego stroked when you gag just halfway down his length. He can feel himself in the back of your tight throat, eyes fluttering shut when you start to bob your head along him. Suguru smirks, enjoying the sight. He can see the muscles twitch in Satoru’s stomach and he can feel your pussy lips move on his dick leading him to believe you’re clenching around nothing.

He can fix that. He palms your round ass, relishing the way you push yourself back into him while easing more and more of Satoru’s dick down your throat. It’s gorgeous, Gojo’s soft moans and the choking gags of you trying to take all of him. Your throat squeezes him perfectly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck to keep you there. He forces his eyes open, wanting to remember the way you look with his cock stuffed deep, tears rolling down your face. All three of you have forgotten about the camera, just performing for each other. Satoru can tell when Suguru plunges in by the way your eyes widen and you temporarily stop moving. Though you don’t have much a choice once Suguru starts rolling his hips against your asscheeks. The burn as he stretches you out is delicious, making you moan around Satoru. He moans in return, the vibration of your voice going straight to his balls. He can’t help but slightly buck into your warm mouth, Suguru’s slow thrusts giving you time to adjust.

You clench around him and that sensation alone is so good he almost moans. Satoru wasn’t lying, he made sure you were absolutely drenched to make accommodating his friend’s size as easy as possible. Your walls were still so choking and spongy, he can feel a tingling sensation shoot down his spine. He watches you get used to him, your hips slightly wiggle back for him, and you resume bobbing along Satoru. It was hard to breathe with such a task at hand, you took deep breaths through your nose, but you still felt dizzy as Suguru picked up his pace.

Satoru watched the pleasure wash over Geto’s face, the man’s eyes closing and mouth dropping open. It was so hot, especially with the way you squeezed around him. It was too much, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Your pretty face at his cock, burying your nose in his snow colored pubes paired with Geto’s soft grunts as he plows into you and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass was sending him hurtling towards the finish line and he didn’t want this to end yet. He didn’t want to shoot his load in your mouth—not this time anyway.

Suguru settles into a regular pace, trying not to falter when you squeeze down on him like this. His thrusts are powerful, pushing you into Gojo’s trimmed bush with every rock of his hips. The men are rewarded with the sweet sound of your gags, to which they both cherish. He tries to be gentle as he gathers some spit on his fingers, tentatively sliding the spit around your tight ring while he keeps you drunk on dick. You mewl softly as his thick index slips in, both holes squeezing on him so fucking good he groans. Suddenly, there’s a rubber band ready to snap in your gut, making you gasp around the girth keeping you from speaking, as if you could do much of that anyway.

The man responsible hums, giving your ass a gentle smack. “Gonna cum for us again baby?” You nod along Satoru, and he beams with satisfaction. “Go ahead, get my dick nice and wet for me.” His words are so lewd that you can’t help but obey, gagging on Satoru as you try to cry out. The slender boy can’t handle it, biting down on his lip to avoid the inevitable.

“Sugu, not gonna make it like this..” Satoru says in a whiny tone, watching your ass ripple into Geto’s hips and your face contort in added bliss. Suguru peeked at his friend’s pouty face and chuckling at the blown pupils and flushed cheeks of the bratty male.

“That’s fine bubs, we’ll change it up. I’m sure that throat needs a break.” Suguru hummed, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He didn’t want anything obscuring his view of your perfect mounds. He lightly spanked the flesh, relishing your little squeal. He treasures his last few pumps of you, knowing he would give his whiny counterpart your sopping hole. Satoru releases your hair, smiling brightly at the sight of your ruined face.

“Now those are some tears I can get behind, princess.” He coos, thumbing them off your pretty face. He brings your mouth back to his, not willing to give you any time to breathe. You’re gasping against his lips, but your hold on his shoulders begs him to come closer. Suguru continues prodding your hole, spitting on the second entrance of yours he’d be taking. He slips a second finger in, and you don’t complain. You sigh into Satoru’s mouth and tug at his hair, lips smacking against each other's messily. Geto loves watching this, his other hand stroking his aching erection.

Satoru watches his friend, trying to sync his timing to his. He was only trying to keep you occupied so the other man could work your asshole, knowing it would be a big stretch, Satoru was content to make out with you until he comes untouched, but he knows Suguru won’t allow that to happen. He nods, now able to scissor his fingers in your hole. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you from the white-haired man which earned a whine from you.

“You’ll get Satoru back, beloved, don’t worry.” Suguru rasps, pulling you back into his lap, facing away from him as you did earlier, the only difference being your knees folded under you as if you were still in doggy. You felt a little guilty with his comment, not wanting to prefer one over the other. So you lay your head back on his shoulder, using two fingers on his jaw to turn his face close enough for you to push your lips on his. Satoru loves the sight, the two sexiest people he knows making out right in front of him! The only thing that could possibly make this better is what they’re planning on next. Gojo walks forward on his knees, once more caging you in. It’s his mouth you feel soothing the marks his friend left earlier, breaking new patches of skin to bruise of his own.

Suguru’s hand cups your cheek, his kisses deliciously slow and sensual. He didn’t want his hard work to go to waste though, so he lifts you slightly, lining his cock up with your asshole. He breaks the sweet kiss, “You think you can take both of us, baby?”

“Oh she can do it, poor girl needs it.” Satoru hums, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that right?”

You nod. If you thought you were incapable of speaking earlier, then maybe you’ve never had good sex in your entire life. “Green, go for it..wan’ have both.” You whine, making Satoru light up.

“You heard the lovely lady.” Satoru purrs, hands on your waist as a means to push you onto Suguru’s cock if he doesn't do it fast enough for his liking. Suguru just chuckles through his nose and shakes his head.

“So impatient. Very well.” He hums, using his leverage on your hips to slide his tip past the squeezing ring of muscle. He grips your hips harder than he means to, undoubtedly leaving semi-permanent marks. It was impossible not to, he was trying to slowly inch his way in, but your ass was sucking him in so good he had to slowly shove the rest in. You let out a loud wanton moan, bordering scream. Satoru moaned from the sight and sound alone, his only touch being his hands on your waist. He was going to claim your cunt, no doubt, but he had to let you get accustomed to Suguru’s rod in your ass.

He just lets you sit on it for a moment, partially for his own benefit. He had to get himself under control or he would bust immediately, and ruin everything for Satoru. And he would never hear the end of his mouth if he did. You feel so full, the pressure of him stretching everything open makes you see stars. You yearn for movement, for some relief on your throbbing clit, so you whine, watching Satoru’s face morph into surprise as you try to bounce on Suguru already.

The man moans, the first one he’s let loose all evening. It’s deep and once again thunders against your back. You were better than the fantasies he had conjured in his head, and he was determined to give you the time of your life. So he aids you in your bounces, his rough hands supporting your weight and dragging you up and down his shaft at his own pace. It was still too good, the warmth and tightness choking down on him perfectly.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Geto breathily demands, the gravelly tone of his voice sending a chill to both you and the man he ordered inside you. Satoru didn’t hesitate, his knees situated between Suguru’s. He lined up with your entrance, tugging you forward just a bit which must have deepened the long-haired man’s connection as you started moaning so lewdly Satoru wondered if he’d paint your walls just by pushing inside. He couldn’t watch your poor pussy clamp around nothing any longer though, bottoming out in you and holding your cheeks in one large hand. He enjoyed how your sounds changed, sounding warped due to your smooshed face. He smiled, your cunt tightening around him, meaning it got even tighter for Geto.

“You heard the man, ‘m gonna fuck you angel. Let us know you’re okay.” He cooed, and even though his words were sweet he almost sounded like he was teasing you.

You nod, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched at the sensation of two huge cocks stuffing you full. You thought your intestines must be forced to move to accommodate them, heavy breathing and soft grunts in your ears. “Good, so good.”

Satoru nodded, kissing your forcibly puckered lips sweetly as he began to move inside you too. His eyes roll back for a moment, everything about this was perfect. Your silky walls pulsating around him, the feeling of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his only separated by a thin wall of tissue, the look on his lovers faces. He groans, tossing his head back as he fucks into you harder. He dreamed of a day like this, and now he could only pray this wasn’t a one time thing. He was already addicted to this, and by the looks of it so was Suguru. He hadn’t ever seen the man so relaxed, though he enjoyed it immensely. As if he could feel his stare, Geto opens his eyes to make contact with the man staring. He winked, a slight smirk. Your hips continued to buck, getting fucked no matter how you moved. Forward onto Satoru’s curved length abusing your pleasure spot or backwards onto Suguru’s impaling girth splitting you open. You feel that familiar sensation of fire building in your gut, your pants and moans getting closer together. The men look at each other, nodding breathlessly. They were close, like they had been since the moment they saw you undress. The feeling of your choking walls on both ends made it impossible to hold out any longer, though your body spasms tell them they won’t have to. Your grip on Satoru’s hair tightens, a wailing moan signifying your release as if the rush of cum surrounding Gojo wasn’t obvious enough.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna get both loads love, you want that?” Suguru grunts in your ear.

You nod vigorously, head so empty you could only collapse against his chest, making him support the full weight of you. He didn’t mind at all, grinning ear to ear. He was hanging on by a thread, but it was his job to make sure everyone was happy.

“You first Sato.” He groaned, clearly struggling.

“With me.” The man pouted, the deal so sweet that Suguru couldn’t refuse.

He nods, “With you.” He gulps, waiting for the tell-tale crinkle of Satoru’s nose to tell him when to release the burning coil in his gut. Satoru could tell that he was waiting for him, his thrusts to your cunt menacingly rough. It only takes a few more before his nose crinkles and mouth drops open, cock twitching inside you fucked out cunt.

Suguru gasps softly, his hot load spurting off like an erupting volcano, quickly filling you up and forcing the rest to ooze out around him despite how well he plugged your hole. Satoru’s seed spills out into you like a dam had been holding him back, both sensations so warm and messy and delicious that you moan softly at just the feeling, head spinning as it falls back onto Geto’s shoulder with heavy breaths.

Gojo slumps forward slightly, kissing your jaw with the most tenderness he had displayed all night. “I knew you could do it, hot stuff. That was fucking amazing.” He hums, fishing for an article of clothing to put under you. He finds Suguru’s shirt, and raises up enough to slide it under you with Geto’s help. They couldn’t have you staining the couch, now. Gojo slides out of you, leaving you on Suguru’s comfortable lap. The black haired man smiles at you sleepily, pushing some of your hair out of the way.

“Yeah, it was, we hope you had a good time?” He hums as Satoru goes to stop the recorder.

You giggle and nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I guess it’s time to get cleaned up and back to my place, for as long as I still have it.” You chuckle dryly, your entire body was a pile of mush, and you couldn’t move if you tried. You just didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make your problems their responsibility, despite their eagerness to take care of you.

Satoru comes back with three bottles of water and a sheepish look on his face, an oddity for him. “I may or may not have forgotten to press record.” He says with a slight grimace, handing out the waters as an apology. Your amusement is clear, and you wonder if he did it on purpose.

Suguru laughs, and he can’t figure out if it’s at you or Satoru. “Hm, what a predicament. You’re not going anywhere.” He squeezes your hips and lifts you off his length, setting you back in his lap regularly. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you don’t have to worry a hair on your pretty little head about your place. You can stay here.” He said matter of factly, his arm hangs possessively around your waist.

Gojo hums. “We could use a sweet lady like you. We’ll make up for that year of faked orgasms.” He winks and takes a swig of water. They make a convincing argument, and with the way Satoru wipes the pearls of cum off your legs and the way Suguru carries you in his arms to start a shower, you have no doubt that they will take care of you.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk #mdni

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cheollipop · 1 year

Text

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months

Text

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold.

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket.

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket.

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles.

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility.

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response.

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space.

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body, his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze.

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air.

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone.

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips.

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect.

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours.

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave.

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck.

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you.

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy.

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge.

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand.

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you.

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment.

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not.

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own.

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him.

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps.

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue.

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.”

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two.

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste.

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips.

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you.

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip.

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand.

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence.

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

#jimin x reader #pjm x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts smut #the winter collection series #reader: female #au: enemies to lovers #theme: winter #theme: christmas #vibe: comedy #vibe: smutty

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ts19009 · 3 months

Text

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: May 18th, 2024)

OT13

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

#joshua hong smut #joshua x y/n #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo smut

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nicksbestie · 3 months

Note

Hey! Could you write one where Matt is having really bad anxiety because of the Wheel of Doom video (the one where he has to eat ketchup) and his girlfriend is super comforting and takes care of him if he’s sick after?

Anxious - M. Sturniolo

Summary : Matt hates the videos that make him feel awful, but you always know how to make him feel much better <3

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

Warnings :

Word Count :

A/N : As a picky eater this was an amazing req to write <3

There were some videos that Matt absolutely hated filming. He enjoyed the general idea of the videos, he even enjoyed watching other people film and create them, but he really didn’t like doing some of them himself. Unfortunately for him, he was often outvoted on those videos, two to one, since Nick and Chris were normally up for just about anything. This Friday’s video was one of those kinds of videos, and Matt was trying not to freak out. They were filming a Wheel of Doom video, and there were very few good options to land on. He knew he would have to be incredibly lucky, and he wasn’t sure how long his luck would last before completely running dry.

It started off okay, with him landing on the “water for a week” slot. It was frustrating, because of the fact that he had just finished doing exactly that, but it wasn’t awful, nor was it painful. He was okay with that one, but it did little to settle the anxiety swirling in his stomach. His second turn went even better, with him landing on an already empty spot, and he got to sit that round out. After the third turn, when it landed on one of his brothers getting to post on his story, his anxiety was starting to level out, but he was still slightly worried about what was left on the wheel.

His fourth turn kept him out of trouble once again, landing on an already empty spot, and he continued to watch his brothers turn. The same thing happened again for his fifth turn, and as things disappeared off of the wheel he began to think that he could get through this, hopefully avoiding any of the bad choices that were left. He was beginning to enjoy himself, especially when Chris landed on the slot of “100 pushups”. However, as there were only a few options left, his anxiety was beginning to race again as one of the options that he really did not want to do was left on the wheel.

Chris was still finishing his pushups, and Matt was hiding his anxiety behind laughing at his brothers, trying to be supportive in some clips, keeping up their usual banter. His turn came dangerously close to landing on a spot filled with a nasty challenge, and you could easily see the relief on his face. As they continued to spin, he clarified in the video that he couldn’t stand the ketchup challenge, and he was really hoping that someone else landed on it before he did. Unfortunately, his luck had run out, and it finally landed on the yellow space as he stared at it blankly.

Chris was drinking his egg challenge before Matt had to do his consequence, and that time was simply causing him to freak out more, his nervous laughter easily heard in the background as he watched the way Chris was reacting. He was talking to Nick, attempting to distract himself as Chris finished his consequences, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the same spot that Chris once was, staring at a small fry that was almost halfway covered in ketchup, regretting every choice he’d ever made.

Just looking at him, you could tell that he was completely freaked out, hating having to eat things that he didn’t like. He had told you about the video that he was planning to film, and you had been there, behind the camera, watching the whole thing, as you were for a lot of their content, laughing along with them, but also knowing that this was a very real possibility of him having to do this consequence. So, you were off camera, but right there in case something went wrong and he needed you. You had also heard Nick say that the camera was dying, which helped in some ways because you knew it would get Matt to quickly eat it, or spit it out, and then he’d be done with the video and could get off of the camera if he needed to do anything more drastic. Chris was yelling at him to swallow the french fry once he finally ate it, and he immediately got off of the camera as soon as he was done, and he disappeared into his room. Nobody except you would see how he was feeling after the video ended, and it was not good.

When he got up, saying that he was going to go cry in his room, he hadn’t lied. You had followed him into his room the second that the camera had turned off, and found him downing the root beer he had grabbed from the fridge, desperate for the taste to leave his mouth. There were tears in his eyes, always having been more sensitive to food, especially ones he didn’t like, and once he set the root beer down, he immediately laid down in bed, letting you lay down next to him. Once you laid down, he clung to you, resting his head on your lap, and you ran your hands through his hair.

“How are you doing, baby?”

He didn’t speak at first, scrolling on his phone for a couple of quiet seconds before he looked up at you, shrugging, and he had a sad look in his eyes.

“Not great. I can feel my stomach starting to hurt.”

You gave him a sad look back, gently combing through his hair, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“It’s going to be okay sweetheart. Your anxiety is getting the best of you, baby. It’s going to be alright.”

There were so many cuddles and gentle comforts shared from you to Matt that night, soft kisses, stomach rubs, and a lot of love. You didn’t speak too much more to him that night, but right before he fell asleep, he mumbled something you barely caught.

“I’m never eating ketchup again.”

~ taglist : @blahbel668 @strnilo @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

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bettyfrommars · 7 months

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!artist!reader

Part 17: A creature of love, I can't be tamed

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, series typical violence, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex with someone other than Eddie and reader, hate-fucking (consensual), oral (m receiving), sexual harassment, biker!steve, biker!billy, protective!eddie, rocker!nancy

word count: 6.4k

songs: I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Wild Child by W.A.S.P. and Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative

The second half of your first night back at the Velvet Hammer heats up with Eddie on stage, Charlene on the premises with Billy, and Steve working through his emotions in a moment of carnal desire.

authors note: It has felt so good to get back to writing this story, I missed our biker boys so much. It will probably be another week or two until the next part, but you won't have to wait too long. Thank you for your patience, I love you.

There came the sound of shrill feedback from the stage, and the drummer twisted his stick around his fingers before clapping the high hat. You took your break and met Eddie over by the carpeted hallway. The two of you huddled together, out of view from the front half of the bar, including Charlene and Billy.

“What’s Steve going to do?” You hushed, feeling the familiar anxiety rise inside of you that someone might get hurt again.

“Nothing for now,” Eddie exhaled. You put your hand on his chest, and he held it there. “You let me worry about Steve and Charlene, you have enough to do. I won’t let anything go sideways in here tonight.”

You told him about what you’d just learned from Shana, about Charlene being part owner of the Velvet Hammer, and he gave a slow blink, dragging out a long, ragged breath. “Why does that not surprise me,” you could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. “She can’t have this place, it’s ours,” he growled, walking you down the hall and clanking open the heavy metal back door to the alley.

“But,” you started. Eddie pulled a pack of smokes out of his front pocket and sparked a flame from his zippo to light the end. “Isn’t it too late for that? It sounds like she already took it?”

You held two fingers like you were making a peace sign for Eddie to pass you a smoke and he raised his eyebrow at you curiously. You gave a nod, answering his unspoken question, and he put a second one between his lips to light it for you before passing it over.

You took a tiny drag and coughed smoke out of your nose at first, but then the second inhale was smoother. Thanks to so many nights at the Hammer, your throat and lungs were sufficiently coated with tar and ready for the challenge.

The other owner of the Hammer was a well known real estate investor and builder named Murray Bauman, and he was a friend of the MC. They’d done several “jobs” for him over the years that were clean by MC standards, but dirty enough to ruin his reputation if they came to light. Murray was also notoriously unfriendly with the Gregson’s, and Eddie wondered how much Charlene had paid, and what kind of scandal she’d dug up on Stephen, to make him give up his share like that.

Eddie tilted his head back, exposing his throat, to take a long, thoughtful drag, looking up at the clear sky that was blinking full of stars. “I wish I could go back in time before I ever met Charlene, and avoid her at all costs.”

“I don’t know,” you looked down and kicked the heel of your shoe against your toe. “She’s awfully determined. I think she would’ve found you anyway. Plus, I don’t think it’s you she wants anymore.”

“I feel responsible though,” Eddie muttered, blowing smoke out through tight lips. “For everything that’s happened to the people around me because of her.”

The sound of Nancy saying something into the mic, followed by the crowd cheering, came muffled through the door, and you really wanted to change the subject, to pull him out of his dark thoughts. “I’d love to see you play tonight,” you told him right before both of your cherries glowed orange at the same time in the dark.

“I don’t have my guitar here,” he stated the obvious, sucking his tongue on the roof on a sharp inhale, angling his head back to blow smoke up while keeping his eyes on you. “But I might sing one or two with her. Just for you.”

“You can sing too?” Your eyes got wide like a little kid watching the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree.

“Hi, baby, have we met?” He scoffed, slipping his bottom lip through his teeth to repress a grin, and then he winked at you and smashed his smoke on the brick wall before throwing it in the dumpster. He caught you by the hips and pulled you flush to him. “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

—--------

Back on his stool, Steve rolled a toothpick between his lips while he scanned the crowd, and did his best not to look over at Billy and Charlene. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him more; the fact that she had the nerve to show up after everything, or that she was there with Billy.

The crew from Lucifer’s Own were known for doing the dirty deeds no other MC would touch. They ran a high-end escort service on the outskirts of town, and did a lot of blow and opiate smuggling over the border. It was also a front for an underground fighting ring that was dirty and rigged, and sometimes, the fools who participated ended up with broken bones, or had their lights turned out completely.

Billy Hargrove and Steve went way back, and they’d actually been friendly acquaintances for a while back in high school, until Billy had pursued a girl Steve liked at the time just to piss him off. Also, to prove to Steve that he could take whoever he wanted. “Nothing wrong with a little competition, right, Harrington?” Is that what this was? Was Billy escorting Charlene around just to rub it in Steve’s face?

“Yeah, well, you can have her,” Steve mumbled to himself under his breath, thoughts racing so fast that he was starting to talk to himself, head bent to work the end of the toothpick with his fingers. “Good luck with that one, buddy, you’ll need it.”

There was more feedback from the speakers. “Hey there Hawkins, who is ready to rock?” Nancy purred into the microphone, one hand gripping the fretboard of her guitar before she slung the strap around her body. People shouted and cheered, and there were a few high-pitched whistles of encouragement.

The bassist with the band looked like a younger version of Eddie, but with a mane of black hair that was thick with tight curls, and the drummer had a black goatee and long, straight hair way past his shoulders. The backup guitarist looked like he was cut right out of the James Hetfeild playbook.

“We’re gonna start out with a little something familiar to get y’all warmed up,” Nancy said into the mic. “This one is called I Hate Myself for Loving You.”

The crowd roared, pounding their fists on the tables. Nancy said a countdown before she began a slow clap to the beat and the drums kicked in, deep bass vibrating in the walls.

When Steve looked up, he saw Charlene making her way across the room, either for the payphone or the restrooms, and Steve straightened up, wondering if he should say something to her. He went up to the bar and patted Thumper on his broad back, asking him to watch the door for a few minutes. Thumper was three beers and several shots in, but was not yet showing any signs of inebriation. He fisted a handful of his graying beard and told Steve it was no problem.

“Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you…”

He followed but he hung back, hiding in the crowd until he saw her go into one of the bathrooms. When you and Eddie came out from the alley, you found Steve leaning against the wall that was heavily papered in band flyers, next to the payphone.

Eddie was walking behind you,his hands firm on your hips, moving his legs in time with yours. You both came to a halt at the sight of Steve, and you had to shove off, back to work, but Eddie took your hand to kiss your knuckles before you walked away.

“Everything cool?” Eddie asked his friend, checking around to make sure no chaos had ensued while he’d been outside with you. There was a huge crowd there, packed in like sardines. All of the tables and bar stools were occupied, and plenty of people were taking advantage of the standing room only, blocking most of the walkways.

“I’m not sure yet, man,” Steve put his head back against the wall, Adam’s apple jutting out. “But I’ll let you know.”

“I called Van and told him to get over here with Devlin,” Eddie let him know. “Just in case more of Lucifer’s Own try to cause trouble.”

Steve only nodded, absently, his eyes twitching to the bathroom door every so often. Eddie clapped Steve a few times on the arm before turning to watch the band as he pushed his way through the crowd. Nancy made her fingers into devil horns in the air at him and Eddie returned the gesture, raising his arm high.

“I think of you every night and day

You took my heart and you took my pride away…”

The crowd was stomping their feet to the rhythm and belting out the chorus. Nancy detached the mic from the stand to make her way across the stage.

The second Steve saw the door open, he took long strides across the hallway to keep Charlene from exiting, pushing her back inside the single-person bathroom. She did not protest as he braced the door and locked it behind him, turning to face her with a tight jaw.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Char?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” She hushed it, dropping her gaze as if suddenly she was afraid to look at him. “I missed you.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlene, you need to stop.” He rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at the hotel, but this needs to end.”

“But what if I don’t want to stop?” She closed in on him, lifting her hands to hold his face, but he blocked the effort, restraining her at the wrists. “What if I want you so bad, it hurts?”

He met her eyes. “You miss me and you thought fucking Billy would be the answer?”

“We’re not fucking, it’s not like that with him. Not like it was with you.” She struggled a little in his grasp just so he would tighten his grip on her.

Steve scoffed. “You mean, not like it was with me and Eddie and your husband and every other dude you’ve spread your legs for in this town?” Steve wasn’t one to judge, not with the amount of pussy he’d run through over the years, but still, showing up with one of his rivals was a low blow.

Charlene slammed forward so that Steve’s back hit the door, her breath hot and urgent on his neck. “No one fills me up like you do. I need your cock to split me open one last time, Stevie, please.”

She sank to her knees, kissing down his chest as she went, and he let her, releasing her wrists so that she could make quick work of unbuttoning his Levi’s. She licked around his balls and nuzzled her face in the hair at the base of his thick shaft, making hungry gasps of need as she did so.

He hissed when the fat head of his cock sank into her mouth. “Juss…just one more time,” he groaned as she lapped him up. She hummed around his length and nodded, looking up at him, agreeing as her lips strained to take the measure of his girth.

“I know you’re angry, Steve,” she flicked her tongue out over the ridge a few times like a poisonous snake about to strike. “I want you to take it out on me.”

He fisted a handful of her hair, tight, so that he controlled the movements of her head, and it made her whimper with pleasure.

—------

The next song Divine Filth sang was an original, a real headbanger that had Nancy growling into the mic and jabbing her devil horn fingers in the air. The bass guitarist’s fingers strummed the keys while the drummer spun his sticks high in the air and caught them. You noticed that a few of the male patrons were choosing to go outside to take a piss, which meant there was another line at the bathrooms again, but you were too busy to go over and check out why.

While Erika was on her break, it was your responsibility to go over and check on Billy, since Jackie was working the other side of the room. Two more of the Coffin Kings had just arrived and Eddie was out in the parking lot having a talk with them, being that it was hard to have a conversation inside with the band playing.

You made your way over to Billy’s table, noticing that Charlene was nowhere to be found. One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin while he watched you approach, and you wondered if he knew who you were and who you belonged to. You also wondered if he gave a shit.

As you got closer, you noticed that he had a pronounced scar from his eye to his jaw, and he didn’t have a ton of tattoos like the other boys, but there was the word “mother” above a heart with a dagger through it just under the sleeve of his t-shirt on his bicep and a Lucifer’s Own insignia on his opposite forearm.

He was slouched down a bit in his seat, knees spread wide, voice raised to be heard over the music. “You must be War Machine’s old lady,” he gave you a lift of his chin.

“You are correct,” you said with your best customer service smile.

“Damn,” his hand made a cage around the pack of smokes on the table so he could pull it toward him. His eyes locked onto your face, unwavering. “That son of a bitch always had good taste.”

“If you say so,” you checked over your shoulder, expecting to see Eddie charging over with that dangerous scowl on his face, but he wasn’t inside yet. You cleared your throat. “Can I get you anything else?”

He ordered another beer for himself and a tequila for Charlene, even though you knew she was much more of a wine drinker.

“Just put it on Charlene’s tab,” he said with a wink, alluding to the fact that she was practically your boss now. “But this is for you,” and before you could reach for the 20 dollar bill he had in his hand, he was stuffing it into the waistband of your shorts, fingers grazing your bare skin, watching the discomfort wash over your face as he did so.

You turned on your heel without another word, bee-lining back to the bar, when Eddie stepped through the main door so abruptly, you almost crashed into him.

Devlin and Van moved around the two of you while Eddie put one hand on your lower back and the other cupped the back of your neck. “You okay, baby?” He mumbled, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, but then Eddie looked over in the direction you had just come and saw Billy there, flicking the flame on his lighter and watching the interaction between the two of you. You knew what Eddie was looking at by the way his body tensed. “Did Billy say something to you?”

“I had to wait on his table while Erika was on her break,” you were pulling your boyfriend away as you were talking, practically dragging him back to his seat at the bar. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. I just missed you.”

On stage, Nancy lit into a mean guitar solo.

“You sure?” Eddie’s stare was hard.

“Hey,” you grabbed Eddie’s face, making him look at you. “Baby, can’t you see? He wants to start trouble. Just ignore him. Please, for me.”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw muscles bulged and a dark fell over his brown eyes, making them almost black.

“No baby,” you hummed the lie. Eddie had quite a bit of common sense, more so than Steve when it came to affairs of the heart, but you knew that someone would get hurt if you told him about the way Billy had slid that money into your shorts. You had no doubt that Eddie could handle himself, but you didn’t want there to be any more fighting; everyone had already been through enough. Plus, Billy was not the first guy at the Hammer to overstep, and he wouldn’t be the last. Sadly, that was the nature of the work, you’d come to realize.

Eddie took a breath and lowered his forehead to yours, slotting his fingers around your ears so that his thumbs grazed your cheeks. “I’ll be good, sweetheart,” he promised.

Everyone clapped at the end of the song and then you heard Eddie’s name being said over the speakers.

“We’re lucky enough to have the frontman for Corroded Coffin here with us tonight,” Nancy started. “And he said he might get up here for a song or two. What do you say, Munson?”

The crowd went wild at that suggestion, and some even chanted his last name, punching fists into the air. Nancy motioned him on stage with a few scoops of her fingers.

“I guess I’m doing this,” he said, parting your lips with his tongue for a brief but firm kiss before he made his way to the stage. The James Hetfield guy was already taking off his guitar to hand it to Eddie before he could protest, and they clapped hands together in greeting. Your “old man” was adjusting the strap over his shoulder when he looked out over the sea of heads and caught your eye.

“I love you,” Eddie mouthed, taking the pic off of the chain that he had dangling around his neck.

—-------

Five minutes earlier, Steve had Charlene bent over the sink in the bathroom, jeans low on his hips, yanking her head back by the throat as he jackhammered himself inside of her.

“Tighter,” she whined, and his fingers closed in on her windpipe. He’d pushed her thong to the side and was spitting every so often so that he could watch it slide down her slit and mix with the frothing wet mess of her arousal where his cock sank into her. He didn’t need the saliva to lube his brutal pace, but he liked the idea of spitting on her, it helped him work through his hatred.

“God Steve, you’re so fucking good, fuckkk,” she dragged the last word out as hips clapped onto her with rapid, forceful grunts, making her whole body jerk each time he made contact.

He slowed the pace for a few thrusts so that he could spit again, and then he used his thumb to rub the saliva around the pink hole that tightened at his touch. He’d never been with a woman who had every inch of hair removed like her, she looked like some kind of porn star. He wanted to be in her ass one last time, but it felt too tight and warm where he was. He was close.

He let go of her throat and clutched her hips on either side in a way that would bruise, angling to finish himself off.

“You’re such a fucking whore for my cock,” he bit out. He wished she didn’t feel so fucking good. He wished that his disgust for her didn’t also turn him on in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Charlene’s eyes rolled back in her head, orgasm mounting rapidly as he buried himself base deep to a point where the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. She knew this was a farewell reminder, and it made her cry out his name.

“Fuck Steve, I’m cumming,” a few more pumps and she was exploding around his length, legs shaking at the way the wave crashed over her, making her see white.

“Get on your knees,” Steve told her, his hips stuttering. When she was down in front of him, he jerked himself the rest of the way off onto her outstretched tongue, ropes of cum painting her chin and dripping down to her cleavage. He made her lick the rest of him clean, and then she sucked her fingers.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, hold your fucking horses,” Steve shouted, pulling his jeans up. He helped Charlene get her bodysuit back on and zipped up. He almost kissed her, but then he remembered who she was.

He checked himself in the mirror and slicked his hair back before letting her know she should wait a minute until after he was gone before she followed him out. She was cleaning the mascara that had leaked down her cheeks, and was about to apply more lipstick, when she caught his eyes on her in the reflection.

“What if I told you I had a gift for you?” Her expression was coy.

Steve sighed. “I don’t want anything from you, Char. This was it, I’m done, I mean it.”

She rolled the red lipstick out of its gold tube. “What if it was something that would change your life?”

He thought about that, wetting his lips. “Listen, we’re never gonna fuck again. I don’t care if you buy me a Ferrari.”

“Well, it’s better than a car,” she huffed a small laugh. “Let’s just call it a…parting gift. A way for me to say sorry for everything I put you and Eddie through.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and put his back against the door. “Yeah, well, if this is about to be some grande gesture from you, I’d like to know what the catch is.”

She turned to him, fixing the ends of her hair around her face. “No catch, not this time,” she took a step forward, holding her black clutch in one hand. “Listen, I know it sounds childish and stupid, but I think I…I think I fell in love with you.” She furrowed her brow as if the sentiment didn’t make sense to her, as if she’d never grasped the weight of the words before.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he rolled his eyes and barked a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“I can’t change the past,” she tried to push her chest out, to get her statuesque posture back. “But I can try to make it up to you. To both of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve gave her a bored shrug. “Personally, I think you’re way past the point of redemption.”

“Maybe,” she pressed her lips together and took hold of the door handle. “I guess we’ll see.”

—------

All of your attention was eyes front on Eddie as he leaned over to discuss something with Nancy, lengthening the strap on his guitar as he spoke. You barely noticed someone trying to make their way through the crowd until Steve bumped into your shoulder, making you sway on your feet.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he caught you and helped you find your balance. “I didn’t see you there.”

Steve looked…disheveled, and his face was flushed, as if he’d just run around the block. There were lines in his hair from raking his fingers through it so many times.

“You good?” You called after him, but all he offered was a “thumbs up” over his shoulder.

It was barely a minute before you caught sight of Charlene coming out of the hallway, following in his wake. She had a pink flush to the pale skin of her throat, almost a perfect handprint impression, and your brain was busy putting the pieces together when Nancy got back on the mic.

“This one is called Wild Child,” Nancy started on the guitar and people in the crowd got crazy again. The Hell’s Belle next to you whistled so loud, it almost blew your eardrum out. You weren’t too familiar with the band W.A.S.P. before Eddie, but you knew the song, and waited eagerly to hear his voice as he leaned in, moving his fingers along the strings.

“I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain

A creature of love, and I can't be tamed

I want you, 'cause I'm gonna take your love from him

And I'll touch your face and hot burning skin

No, he'll never ever touch you like I do…”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sang the first bit, hair hanging down his shoulders, muscles flexing under the ink that covered his forearms and hands. When his eyes opened, he found you in the crowd, and your heart swelled at the way he cracked a smile around the words at the sight of you.

“So look in my eyes and burn alive, the truth

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you…”

God, he was magic up there. He looked like a natural, holding that guitar in his hands, the way his fingers flew deftly to each note.

And he was all yours.

The chorus came and you sang the words, smiling so hard already, your cheeks hurt. You’d never known your eyes to “sparkle” like a cartoon before, but you felt like that’s what they were doing.

“My heart's in exile, I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I want you”

Someone grabbed your elbow, and you spun around to see who it was.

Jackie had a full tray in her hand, trying to balance it amidst the moving bodies. “Hey, are you on the floor right now? Don’t mean to be a bitch, but I need you. A table full of jarheads just showed up.”

“Oh shit, right,” you’d honestly forgot where you were for a moment, you’d been so caught up in that Munson Magic. You took another glance at the stage, wanting to catch Eddie’s eye, but he was looking down at his hands, concentrating on where they worked the guitar.

The table in your section that Jackie mentioned had seven guys in their mid-twenties sporting that type of “high and tight” haircut that you saw almost exclusively with members of military or law enforcement, and you took a deep breath, because you never knew what the vibe would be for those types of men who visited the Hammer. Either they’d be extremely polite like they just came from church, or they’d be vile and disrespectful.

“What’ll it be tonight, boys?” You asked, sidling up to their table. “Buy one pitcher of draft and get the next half off.”

They all turned to appraise you, not caring that the way their lewd stares locking on your body and tits made you uncomfortable.

“See, I told you,” the dark haired one said to the one in the red and white striped polo shirt. “The bitches here are super hot.”

You gulped, doing your best to restrain from looking as disgusted as you felt while they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“How much for you to sit in my lap?” One of them asked.

“How much for you to suck me off?” One of them whispered, and the whole table guffawed into the type of laughter that was not warranted for something that was so not funny.

You checked over your shoulder for Steve, and he appeared to be escorting someone out who’d just been cut off. There was a bench outside, and he always had them wait there while he called a member of their family or a taxi to come pick them up. The guy was having a hard time getting his legs to work, and Steve had to practically carry him out.

You glanced up at the stage when the other song ended, and you could tell Eddie was searching for you, and so you stuck your hand up in the air to catch his attention.

“This one is for my girl,” he pushed hair out of his face and the sentiment made you freeze. A goofy grin stretched across your face and you let out an actual giggle. You were very familiar with the opening notes of Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative.

“So, a pitcher of beer, then?” You asked, distracted, but in a much better mood than you were a few seconds ago. The guys at the table were too busy being crass to decide what they wanted to drink, so you chose for them. They agreed on the pitcher, and ordered a round of shots.

You kept your attention on Eddie as you made your way across the space, and your heart was in your throat at how proud you were to be his. His voice was deep and powerful, and it seemed like no one could pull their eyes away. The air was a bit humid inside, and you could see a sheen of sweat on his skin already glistening, bangs sticking to his forehead. He’d taken off his Coffin Kings cut and shirt, so he was up there in a ribbed, white tank of the Hanes variety, exposing the wash of dark tattoos over his shoulders and arm muscles that bulged from hours upon hours of manual labor.

“I want to live with a cinnamon girl

I could be happy the rest of my life with her

A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night

You see us together, chase the moonlight…”

At the bar, you considered letting Van and Devlin know that there were some guys there who might start trouble now that Steve was distracted, but then you remembered that you were the bad bitch who stabbed Craig in the balls and brought him to his knees—-you could handle a few young douchebags.

You gave Shana the drink order while Eddie’s deep voice bellowed, “my cinnamon girl, my cinnamon girl…” to the collective swooning of the crowd.

You waited on two other couples, lingering in the middle of the room so that you could see Eddie more clearly, dragging your feet before you had to return to the guys with the matching haircuts.

You took a cleansing breath and squared your shoulders before heading back. You tried not to be bothered by the way the dudes checked you out as you put the drinks down. When you were finished, the guy closest to you, with close-set eyes and a thick neck, ran his hand up the back of your leg.

“Hey,” your stare hardened on him and you stepped away, eyebrows pinching together. “No touching.”

The guys all snickered at that, as if it was so funny that they all knew they weren’t supposed to touch the staff, but they still got away with it.

“No he’s sorry, really,” said the tall, skinny one who hadn’t spoken up yet. His face was unreadable, you couldn’t tell if he was being a shitheel or not. The table fell silent for a beat. “But we would really like to know how much it would cost for handjobs, all around. Is there a group price for you girls?”

More idiotic cackling.

You turned to leave them, to go find Steve, to let him know you needed his assistance, but the one with the blonde hair and Limp Bizkit shirt caught you by the arm, digging his fingers in, and yanked you back so that his other hand could roam the curve of your ass. “Just a little feel, baby, we’ll tip good, I promise.”

You pushed him off and were just about to yell for Steve or Thumper when you saw the guy across the round table get his face smashed into the wood, so hard that blood splattered and you could hear the sick crack of breaking bone.

You were surprised to see Billy there, standing behind the one who was clutching his broken nose and wailing. He was smiling, cigarette bobbing between his lips. “I think you bozo’s should apologize to the lady.”

You hadn’t heard the music stop, didn’t realize that the commotion had drawn most of the attention to you.

In a flash, the guy in the Limp Bizkit shirt was ripped from his seat, and there was Eddie, picking him up by the throat to punch him across the face, sending him flying.

The impact made saliva and possibly a tooth go spitting from his mouth and you screamed at the shock of it.

“Eddie look out!” You shouted. The tall one was about to take a cheap shot at Eddie’s ribs while he sank another punch into the guy’s jaw, but you came down with your serving tray as hard as you could and nailed him.

“Holy shit,” Steve cursed when he stuck his head inside to see what the commotion was. Thumper was nowhere to be found, and Steve figured he was taking a piss. Starting brawls inside the Hammer was not protocol. Bouncers were always encouraged to take everything outside, but now it was too late.

“Get her out of here!” you heard Steve’s voice, he was talking to Devlin, and then you were being pulled back by cautious hands, away from the chaos.

One of the jarheads was just about to break a beer glass over Eddie’s head, but Billy showed up out of nowhere and kicked him in the back, sending the asshole flying right into Steve’s awaiting fist. The guy’s body crashed into a table, shattering glasses, and making the other patrons scatter.

“You better leave this one for me, Harrington,” Billy smiled and wiggled his tongue. “Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Billy was helping them, and that was a twist you hadn’t expected. Perhaps it wasn’t so much for them as for himself, since you could tell Billy had been looking for a fight all night.

Steve got one of the other guys in a choke hold and began to drag him outside. Billy made wide eyes at one of the leftover trouble makers and charged after him, making the guy shriek like he was about to pee his pants before running from the building.

While the one Eddie had been punched was babbling at the foot of unconsciousness on the ground, he took hold of the one with the close-set eyes and the thick neck who had rubbed your leg first.

Eddie had been watching, and quick to cut off before the end of the song to jump down from the stage in a blinding rage.

Devlin held you loosely by the arms, but you shook him off, and stood next to Shana and Erika, continuing to keep your distance for the sake of Eddie and Steve’s peace of mind, and wincing each time one of the other dudes took a hard hit from one of the Coffin Kings.

Eddie took the guy by the shirt and sent a punch into his stomach. Mister Thick Neck doubled over but then Eddie took him by the throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. Eddie had his fist winding back for a punch when Steve shouted his name to get his attention.

The rest of the dickheads had been escorted outside by a few Hell’s Belle’s, while the rest of the crowd kept their distance. You saw Charlene in the far corner, touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror, seemingly unphased by it all.

“Not in here,” Steve pleaded with Eddie, breathlessly. “Like you said.”

Eddie’s eyes were black and cold like that of a shark. His mouth trembled with the urge to actually bite into the guy’s face, to mutilate him with his bare teeth and make him beg for mercy.

Eddie banged the guy's body into the brick wall again, locking him there with his forearm. “Apologize to my girl,” he growled.

The buzz cut guy coughed and struggled, having a hard time breathing. “I don’t know who your girl is, man,” he was only able to squeak out a mild protest under the pressure of Eddie’s grip.

“Your waitress,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth.

The guy against the wall tried to turn his head to look for you, but Eddie squeezed his face. “You don’t get to look at her,” Eddie fumed. “Just say you’re sorry.”

Multiple desperate “sorry’s” followed, and then Eddie told Steve to get the guy’s wallet to take all of the cash out. A quick count said there was about a hundred bucks.

“That’ll be her tip,” Eddie announced, dragging him by the shirt collar to take him outside with the rest.

They were all told to empty their wallets of their cash, and Steve made a scene of noting the addresses on their driver’s licenses.

“I have a memory like a steel trap,” Steve lied, pointing to his temple, grabbing the guy in the red and white polo by the side of his neck, getting up in his face. “If you so much as walk by this place ever again, or tell the cops about this, you’ll see me in your nightmares. Now, get the fuck out of here before I call your mommies.”

You sank in next to Eddie’s side just outside the main entrance, and he put his arm around you. “Will things ever calm down around here?” You asked with a heavy sigh, watching the broken group scurry and limp away down the street.

Eddie gave a low laugh and hugged you a bit tighter. “God, I hope so, baby.”

Divine Filth started another song, to try and get things back to normal, and most of the crowd returned to their drinks as if there had not been actual bloodshed just five minutes ago.

No one but Shana heard the phone next to the cash register ring over the sound of the music, but after a few seconds, she shrugged by you and Eddie to stick her head out and scan the sidewalk.

"Steve?" She craned her neck to look for him.

"Yeah, that's me," he came from around the back side of the door, flicking his cigarette, knuckles split and bloody again.

"Some guy named Dustin called," she said, merely passing on a message. "He said Suzie just went into labor."

-----

Love love you all for cheering this story on, hope you enjoyed this one. Your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated and cherished.

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#I'm on Fire #Eddie munson fic #Eddie Munson series #biker!eddie #biker!steve #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington smut #biker au #90's au #Nancy Wheeler #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Spotify #protective!eddie #jealous!eddie

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

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love love love the plm jealousy drabble! can you also write a super needy, subby plm koo 🥹 only if you have the time and energy! Tysm 🫰🏻

This is 5 months late but here it is - my take on "subby" Koo even if I do not know how to write this kind of dynamic. But I tried with CK JK in mind so I hope you like it. There's also lots of fluff and teasing and walking down memory lane and this is me, making up for the past 2 angsty parts. 🙂

Title: Please Love Me Bonus (09) - The Lake House

WC: 16,648

Tags/Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, past illness; CK JK, lots of teasing and fluff; talks of past sexcapdes; explicit sexual content ("subby" JK & OC trying to be a "dom" (??), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, oral (m & f receiving), straddling, fingering, lots of kissing, penetrative sex, creampie??) (18+) I’m obviously unsure of my smut pls forgive me 😅😅

Series Masterlist

“Am I making your heart flutter again, Mrs. Jeon?”

Jungkook smirks as he asks, his body turning towards you when he reaches the stoplight.

Seated on the driver’s seat with his one hand on the wheel and the other one on yours, you shyly smile, knowing you’ve been caught, even if you weren’t really hiding your obvious attraction for your husband on this specific day.

He’s got the short sleeves of his plain white shirt rolled up, his arm tattoos looking bright under the summer sun. His hair is curlier than usual as it’s grown longer, and paired with the denim jeans that you asked him to wear, he’s an absolute stunner.

“You know the answer to that, hun,” you giggle, briefly looking away before he tugs your hand to look at him again.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” he urges, his eyebrows wiggling now.

You know that he’ll take any chance he has to hear you confirm that you’re ogling him, and well, you’ve told yourself that you’ll do that every few times just to see him be a giggly mess.

“You are, Kook,” you concede. “My heart’s non-threateningly leaping out of my chest right now. You’re so handsome and you’re so happy; it’s my favorite version of you.”

“Ah, I thought post-shower Jungkook is your favorite,” he teases. “But you also said that about post-sex Jungkook, and post-gym Jungkook, and Jungkook with his glasses on, and—”

“Oh stop it,” you laugh, getting flustered at him pointing out just how weak you are for him. He’s not wrong, though. “They’re all my favorites.”

“You can’t have more than one favorite though,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“So then what’s your favorite version of me?” You ask, challenging him.

“The present one,” he winks. “Today’s you is my favorite as of today; yesterday’s you was my favorite as of yesterday, and then the day before that was… you get my drift. Each one has been my favorite and it changes everyday.”

“You’re a cheater,” you shake your head.

“I am a lover, babe. I love every version of you.”

You cover your face as you feel embarrassed for you and him, and you’re glad you’re the only two people who are witnessing your husband be incredibly cheesy, which happens every once in a while. You know he does it to make you laugh but you also know there’s truth to the things he says, no matter how cringey they could be sometimes. He loves you that way, and you like that he does.

“Do you love the version that upsets you, too? And that cries and gets sad when you’re away?” You wonder out loud, knowing that any reference to your recent fight and its aftermath doesn’t hurt you both as much as it used to.

It was two weeks ago when he took the 4-hour drive from Busan to Seoul to be with you, and you’ve both been more comfortable talking about the things that hurt since then. It’s how you managed to get back to how things were, playfulness included.

“Of course, babe,” he says, more serious and softer now. “I love you even when I’m angry. And even if it’s hard to see you cry, I love it when I get to hold you again. And then, you know, we have sex and then you talk dirty to me.”

“Kook!” You squeal, feeling your cheeks warm at the reminder.

You’re rarely ever vulgar during sex, letting Jungkook take the reins in all ways including vocally, but that night, you felt so much desire that you just wanted to push him a little, perhaps make him feel how he makes you feel, and your words did what you wanted them to. He came so hard and you basked in the joy that you could do that to him. Thinking about it now makes you shiver, and you truly can’t wait for the long weekend you’ve been afforded to go out of town and be together, knowing what you’ll be doing most of the time.

“Why are you shy about it?” He chuckles, taking your hand from your face and kissing it. “It was so fucking hot, okay? And since you don’t do it much, it surprises me whenever you do, and that’s just… shit I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

“Honey, behave,” you laugh, although the thought that he could get turned out at the memory of that night makes you giddy. Perhaps that version of you could show up in the next few days.

“I will,” he smiles sweetly now. “But you know it doesn’t matter, right? You could just be lying in bed and sounding the way you always do and that’s all I need. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. Just you.”

Your nose scrunches as you try to temper your smile, but it gives him more reasons to tease you.

“Your heart fluttering again?” He wiggles his eyebrows now.

You pout in response and he can’t help but laugh, and the sound of it warms your heart in ways you can’t fully express. You were without it for weeks, as you recall the days following your stint at the hospital, how Jungkook had been cold to you until things blew over, and how he was distant right after because he didn’t know how to handle all his conflicting emotions towards you. Looking back now, your biggest fight since getting married was because of how much love you both have for each other, and that says a lot about how far you’ve come.

Despite the weeks since then having been tough for Jungkook because of the meetings and project preparations he had to manage, he made sure to go home to you, hug you every night, message when he can’t call, and let you know that he needs you even when he’s just about ready to pull his hair from stress. And you were there, letting him lay on your chest, massaging his head, and kissing him constantly to let him know that you’ll weather the storm with him, no matter how tough things get.

After getting things going and delegating the tasks for his project, Jungkook got the approval from his father to get two days off, which is why you’re both on the way to Busan, having missed home so much. You’ve both only visited since you got married but never stayed long enough to go around, and like what you both promised each other, you’ll make new memories in the places that hold unpleasant ones. Home felt the same but you’re both different now, and the flirty smile that Jungkook gives you is evidence of that.

Perhaps it’s his feeling of temporary freedom that makes him look a lot more handsome today; he’s smiling and laughing and teasing, and it’s when his youthfulness shines. Perhaps it’s the way the sun highlights his caramel skin, or the way his curls fall on his shoulders, or maybe it’s the casual look that isn’t his usual sweatshirt and joggers ensemble that’s making him look even more irresistible. Maybe it’s everything, as he bops his head to the sounds of his playlist, his carefree vibe somehow making him glow.

Maybe you’re just as excited, and so everything he’s done since this morning is probably just preparing you for what’s to come.

You’d stopped to watch him dress up earlier and commented that he could be a jeans and underwear model, and he’d laughed, saying that in contrast to his younger years, he no longer feels comfortable walking in his boxers around strangers. He had to clarify that he joined some community fashion show during one of his backpacking trips because his companion convinced him and he was a hit; everyone was cheering and then flirting with him afterwards. He’s done with that, he’d said. You’re the only one he wants to see him that way; he’d give you a private show if you wanted, he teased.

During your stopover at a cafe for breakfast, he was sitting on the chair with his legs spread wide while sipping his coffee, and you allowed yourself just about a minute to imagine climbing on his lap and marking his pretty neck while he moaned your name.

And this whole drive, he’d been nothing but a tease - combing his hair with his fingers, dragging his tongue along his lips just because, and singing along to love songs while smirking at you. All the while, you’re smiling like a giddy teenager admiring her crush, and Jungkook makes sure to call you out on it. But you don’t mind, really, not when he stops at a shoulder on the road just to kiss the pout off your face and tell you that he becomes such a giddy mess every time he sees you be a mess yourself for him.

“Kook,” you whine against his mouth, wanting it all over you even if you know it’s not the time nor place. “We have to go to our grandparents’. You know they don’t like it when we’re late.”

“They miss us too much to get angry,” he argues, as he presses kisses down your neck.

“We’re still out on the road and in public,” you counter, panting now as your pleasure increases. “And I don’t want to go into that lunch with messy underwear because that’s what’s about to happen. Please, hun, I—” your moan cuts you off when his fingers press onto your clothed pussy, feeling now the effect he has on you.

“Hmm, baby,” he groans, suddenly frustrated at not being able to do anything more right now.

He shouldn’t have teased you like this but he also couldn’t go on another minute not kissing you after you looked at him the way you’ve been all morning. There’s this perpetual desire in your eyes, as if you’re savoring every action that he makes, perhaps coming up with scenarios in your head that he hopes you’d play out once you’re both alone. He suddenly wants to fast forward to tonight for that, knowing it’ll take you until the early hours of the morning to get fully satisfied.

“We should save all this energy for later, okay?” You say, taking his fingers that felt you up in your mouth, wanting to get back at him but also wanting to excite him; his hardened gaze says you succeeded. “In the meantime, we have to act like the precious, wholesome couple that our grandparents think we are.”

“Hey, we’re wholesome sometimes,” Jungkook laughs, willing himself to pull away from you and continue driving. “But, uh, do you think they’ll ask us about having children again? I don’t really know what to tell them; we can’t really ask them to not be on our business like we can with our parents. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I know, same here,” you sigh. “But Mother told me that she told them not to bring it up, since I have to focus on getting healthy again after what happened. Hopefully our grandparents won’t hound us about it.”

“If they do, then let’s just be honest.”

“And say what?”

“That we’re living our best lives and we’ve decided to let life surprise us,” Jungkook says. “And that it’ll come. And when it does, it’s gonna be really special because we prepared ourselves for it. Because that’s what we’re doing, right?”

“It is,” you smile, liking how he’s able to talk about having children in a casual manner now, with less of the fear and more of the excitement.

You may still be just letting things take its course - with some false alarms along the way - but the challenges in between have been helpful in preparing yourselves for eventually starting a family. You know that when it happens, it’s going to be everything you imagined it to be.

Your grandparents’ estate is not far from the beach. They bought a humble home in this area decades ago and slowly expanded the property by buying the surrounding land, until they were able to build a large main house with smaller living quarters for when their children and grandchildren visit.

The garden is large and well-designed. You claimed a section of it when you were young. It’s where you had your playhouse set up because playing in it was the only thing you could do; you weren’t allowed to run around like Seokjin and Soyeon were. There was a spot where you laid your mat to play with your dolls; as you grew older, it became the place where you’d read books or paint or draw. The playhouse is still there, a little old and rusty but you imagine your future children playing in there one day.

There’s a tall tree in the center and you stand underneath. It’s the one that used to shade you when you would watch your siblings play with the Jeons.

Apparently, it’s also the spot of your first picture with your husband, as you find out from your grandparents. Your grandmother holds an old photo they recovered from one of their albums - you and Jungkook at 2 years old, standing next to each other, with him in a red hooded jacket and you in a yellow sundress. There’s distance in between, but you’re both posing the way little kids do, and you can’t stop gushing over how adorable you both looked.

“Honey, look at us!” You giggle. “Two years before you started disliking me.”

“You mean, 2 years before you rejected me?” He counters, pouting at you.

You both pose the same way for another photo - Jungkook with a peace sign by his head and you with your close-lipped, sweet smile - and lay the polaroid next to the old picture, over 25 years apart. It’s amazing how things play out, you think to yourself as you gaze at them. Life does surprise you, and realizing it decades later is a different kind of special.

Jungkook makes you take another photo so he has a copy, and you indulge him, knowing he gets pretty sentimental about these things. He said once that he wishes he had more of your joint childhood to remember and treasure, but much of that only lives in your mind because you’re the one who always paid attention; he was the one who tried not to mind you even if you were right next to him, the jealousy clouding his mind. Which is why whatever piece of your past he finds, he’ll take it, if only to put together the puzzle of your lives back then, and smile because even if he doesn’t remember much of that, he remembers everything about this - your now and everyday.

He goes through other old photo albums of your grandparents, telling his grandparents that he’ll check their stack as well when you both visit on your last day. It’s stories of the yesteryears that fill the air as you finish your meal, and you’re thankful that everyone is immersed in the stories to even bring up your sickness or your future family.

The sound of Jungkook’s laughter fills your heart once more, and as he pulls you close under that same tree for a kiss, you think that it’s another new memory you’re going to hold dear.

Pulling up to the side of the road, Jungkook turns off the engine and meets you by the railings overlooking a semi-private beach. It’s one of several in town and Jungkook’s favorite. This is where he first learned to surf and he spent much of his time here with Jimin and Taehyung.

He tells you this as you both walk down the steps to get to the shore, reminiscing the days when things were much simpler.

“So that’s why you chose this for your 13th birthday party,” you say, looking around. “It’s gorgeous, Kook.”

“You knew I had it here?” He looks at you curiously, immediately thinking that Junghyun had told you.

“Yeah, I could tell from that big rock,” you say, pointing to it near the shore. “You had photos there and your brother told me how your mom was yelling at you to not jump from it. I… I asked him to show me pictures when he visited me at the hospital. I told him I wanted to see how happy you were.”

“You were recovering from surgery but you were still thinking about me, huh?” Jungkook says, a sigh almost escaping his lips at the thought.

“You were really excited about it and I was sad I couldn’t go. If I was strong enough, I would have, but I guess you wouldn’t have noticed either way,” you laugh, knowing that Jungkook didn’t pay much attention to you then.

“I was pretty bitter, actually,” he admits. “You were supposed to be family but you didn’t come - that was the thought in my head. Silly, right? And pretty childish.”

“You didn’t know, Kook,” you assure him. “So you were looking for me?”

“Sort of,” he laughs. “I was being petty. I remember not wanting to ask hyung where you were so I never did, but I just chalked it up to you never attending parties anyway, so what would be different about me?”

“Yours was the only party I would actually go to, but I didn’t want to be the boring girl to you who just sat at the table while everyone enjoyed,” you reason. “So I never went to the ones after that. I always wanted to, though. But that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” You turn to him and smile before you wrap his arms around your waist. “I’m literally family and we’re here together. I think this is a nice good memory to make.”

“It is,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I’m glad I took you here with me. Immature 13-year old Jungkook can get over it now. If I told him I’d be marrying you 12 years later, he’d probably cuss me out.”

“You were cursing at 13?!”

“Yeah. Don’t tell my Mother.”

You laugh together as you head back to the car, the late afternoon heat starting to prick at your skin. It’s been a long day but you’re nowhere near done. You take the half-hour drive to your home for the next few days, a place that holds a lot of unpleasant memories for you, which is why you insisted on staying there.

One of the Jeons’ beach houses would’ve been an easy choice, but when you told him where you wanted to go, he immediately understood.

With your luggage bags in his hands, Jungkook looks around the graveled pathway and at the cabin in front of him. “So this is the place, huh?”

The place, he repeats in his head - the one where you found refuge in when you wanted to be away from him after he’d hurt you. That fight before your wedding was years ago but sometimes, it still feels like not much time has passed. He gets to see where you spent your days though, and while that may remind you of how hard it was back then, you could at least remember it now as a place where you both spent your weekend together.

“This is the main house,” you say, ringing the doorbell and greeting the caretaker who welcomes you. You smile at the lake view just across; it calms your senses as it did all those years ago. “They only allow a small percentage of land to be used for residential purposes. When my siblings and I got older, my parents wanted to give us our own spaces, so they bought the surrounding areas so we can build our own houses however we want.”

You walk out to a covered pathway that leads you to your own piece of paradise - a one-floor home with a veranda that’s overlooking the lake. It has an open floor plan with the kitchen and dining on the left of the entrance. At the center is a freestanding wall that separates the sleeping area from the living room, both spaces having a good view of the water. The corner on the left houses your painting materials, giving you access to the outside where the magic happens.

There’s a stretch of land down the steps towards another walkway that juts out to the lake, and as you lean by the railing, you take in everything that you see. It’s been years but a lot of things look the same, and just like this city, it still is; it’s you and the man next to you who are different.

“So what did you do while you were here?” He asks, trying to imagine how you spent your days while he wasted away in your apartment in Seoul.

“I… cried,” you admit. “I was upset but I still missed you. But I also painted a bit, read books… Most times I just sat here. It’s so picturesque, you don’t really get tired of it. It helped because I kept thinking about you being alone and worried even if I wasn’t ready to speak with you then.”

“I was thinking of you a lot back then, too,” he says, facing you now and taking your hand. “I hated that you were alone and I didn’t know how to get to you. But I guess I should thank this place, too, for letting you breathe and letting you think. Is that how you forgave me?”

“It was,” you smile. “After my emotions settled, I thought that one day, I’d like to bring you here. I’m glad I could do that now.”

Jungkook smiles at you softly before his eyes turn desirous. “So are you gonna paint and read books and just sit out here this time, too?”

“Hmm, I could,” you smile back. “But I was also thinking of making love to you here. I think that would be nice.”

“It would be,” he hums, cupping your cheek now and pulling you in for a kiss. “We could probably start now, huh?”

His free hand sneaks inside your dress to cup your breast, and you jerk when he flicks your pert bud and you’re taken out of his spell.

“Honey, I’d love that but we have a dinner reservation soon,” you say, pulling away. “It’s jazz night and we said we’d catch that.”

Jungkook doesn’t look disappointed. He agreed with tonight, after all, and he thinks he’d just be craving more and more if you started anything right now, so he lets you go for a shower while he unpacks his things.

He looks out the water as the sun starts to set and spots the two other houses not far away. It seems as though those have been renovated, with extra rooms for your siblings’ kids now, and Jungkook wonders when you’ll have your own place extended for another room.

He lets the thought settle in, as he continues to get used to the idea of having a family with you. It would be nice, he imagines, driving off during long weekends to come here and enjoy the scenery and just spend time together. Your children would grow up knowing their great-grandparents, running around the same garden and beaches that he did, perhaps playing with your old toys, too. He knows those have been preserved at your request, waiting for the perfect time to give them away.

You call out to him and he turns around to find you in a simple linen dress, the neckline low enough for your tattoo to make an appearance. You look stunning, as always, and he has to stop himself from pulling you for another kiss.

He gets ready and goes out in a white button-up long-sleeve polo, loose enough for the cool summer evening. He catches you staring at him again, and he smirks at you to let you know that once dinner is over, your long night will begin.

The restaurant is just 10 minutes away by car. It’s fancy yet still cozy, serving some of his favorite elevated local dishes. The jazz performance is great, and with a small crowd, the singer encourages the guests to take the dance floor and that’s what Jungkook does, taking your hand and asking you to dance with him.

You’re shy at first but give in. Flushed against his chest, you both sway more than anything, and inhaling his ocean scent while he caresses your back, you feel that warmth that only his love can give, the kind of warmth you’ll constantly seek.

You finish your glass of wine before you head back to the car, with Jungkook laughing over something on his phone right before you leave, saying that the guys’ group chat is blowing up.

“What are they up to now?” You ask.

“Tae did this stranger role play with his girlfriend,” he shares. “You know, when they pretend like they don’t know each other and pick each other up?”

“O… kay. And then?”

“He got made up to look like some old Hollywood actor with the red jacket and slick hair and all. And people flocked to him to flirt before he could even get to his girlfriend. I can imagine she wanted to stop it all right then,” Jungkook narrates.

“Why don’t they just stay at their place and flirt there?” You say. “They can even dress up if they want to. Why go through the struggle?”

“Because it’s fun!” Jungkook exclaims. “There’s a kind of thrill from doing that, especially in a public place. The usual role play can get a bit over-the-top sometimes.”

“And you know that because… you’ve done it?” You ask, ready for his answer because you’re used to him just casually mentioning his previous sex adventures by now.

“Just the usual,” he shrugs. “Boss-secretary, doctor-patient… She was into it and I went along because sure, why not?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Is that a trick question?” He asks, as he parks the car.

“No…” you answer. “I’m just wondering if role playing is something you like. If it is, then we can, I don’t know. Maybe try?”

He furrows his brows at you as you both enter your house, curious as to why you’re suggesting it when he knows it’s something that would make you uncomfortable.

“Or like… uh, what else could we do?” You wonder out loud.

“Baby, we don’t have to do anything else,” he says, pulling you by the waist now. “If this is about you wanting to be ‘adventurous’ to appease me, then I’m gonna stop you right there.”

“I was just curious,” you pout. “I mean, it’s no secret that you’ve done a lot of these… ‘adventurous’ things with your partners - sex in a tent, in an alley, behind a waterfall… a sex show, and role playing as well? I guess I’m just wondering if you want us to do something exciting, too. If you’re still into that.”

“Baby, why would I want something else ‘exciting’ when I’ve got you?” He says, his onyx eyes boring into you to let you know that he means every word. “I married the prettiest girl in the world. Why would sex with you not be exciting? You know how fast I get hard with you. That’s… that’s exciting.”

You feel your cheeks warm again because he’s right. He does get hard pretty fast.

“Plus, we’ve skinny dipped, had sex in a caravan, in the car, on a deck…” he continues. “But to be honest, you could just be lying down and I’d be all set.”

“That’s literally all I do,” you laugh embarrassingly.

He’s always known that you like things simple. Sure, you give in to Jungkook’s requests, but most of the time, you settle for the same positions that you know give so much pleasure. You’re content; you just wonder if he is, too.

“Not all the time,” he corrects. “And those are just as exciting as when you’re coming undone under me and moaning my name, your perfect tits bouncing and your tattoo reminding me how much you love me.” He kisses your neck and you sigh in satisfaction at the movement. “I could get hard just thinking about that.”

You merely hum in response, not able to move on from it. You want to surprise him, maybe go out of your comfort zone to excite him differently, and so your wandering mind continues, something he picks up.

“Okay. Why don’t you… take control this time,” he suggests. “It’s nothing crazy. It’s just you directing me what you want me to do, how you want me to do it… anything.”

“That’s fine, hun, except there are times when I try to do that but you get so impatient and touch me right away,” you counter, chuckling now as you recall the times you direct him what position you want but his mind goes blank once things intensify and so he’s got his mouth and fingers inside and on you in seconds.

“Fine, then we’ll do it without me being able to use my hands, then,” he says. “I’ll only use them when you ask, and stop when you ask. Are you okay with that?”

Your mind thinks of all the scenarios you’ve been playing in your mind all day, and you lick your lips in anticipation.

“Looks like you are,” he says proudly, excitedly. “I guess then, we can start?”

You nod your yes. “You’ll be good for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, his eyes widening in anticipation. “I’ll be so good for you, baby.”

“Kook, that wasn’t meant to be dirty talk or whatever,” you giggle. “I just meant that you’ll be good in following the instructions you set out.”

“Don’t care baby. Don’t take it back. But say it again, please?”

The way his eyes plead does something to you, and so you let your inhibitions go and follow what your pussy says. And right now, it wants to command Jungkook.

You bite your lip before kissing him softly on the neck, trailing up until you reach his ear.

“You’ll be good for me?” You whisper sultrily this time.

He releases an incredibly deep grunt before he answers. “Yes, baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” you pant, feeling your heart race now. “Kiss me. Just kiss me.”

Your mouths crash against each other, desperate and wanting in their movements. Your tongues fight for dominance but he lets you take this, liking how you aggressively take him in and pull his hair, causing him to moan, even more as his hands remain at his sides, aching to touch you but he promised he’ll be good; he promised to let you take control even if all he wants right now is to rip off your clothes and make out with your body.

You moan as well, slowing down now as you try to catch your breath. You face him, your eyes glassy and your lips swollen, and he seems to like what he sees. You take his balled-up fists and unclench them, placing them over his top.

“Undress please,” you say softly. “And do it slowly.”

Jungkook follows, his fingers working on the buttons carefully, skillfully, making sure you get to see and remember what those digits could do to you. He can’t wait for you to direct him to work those on you later on.

He gets everything undone and so he removes it - slowly, as you asked.

You gaze at his toned body, crafted by immaculate beings themselves as they created him so perfectly - the tautness of his chest, the line down his torso that branches out to his abs, the narrowness of his waist, all complementing the gorgeous face that you also can’t get enough of.

His jeans hang right underneath the white band of his underwear, and though you love this look on him, you like something better.

“Pants off,” you say this time.

And he follows, undoing the button and unzipping his jeans, pushing them off him until they pool on his ankle. His feet do the work of ridding himself of the heavy material, and all the while, his eyes are set on you - dark with lust and challenging you to do more, to ask him of more.

“Sit on the couch for me, baby,” the pet name coming out during tense moments like this.

He walks there as you say, and you watch his half-naked form move away from you, and it’s making you go feral.

“Where do you want my hands?” He asks when you’re finally standing in front of him.

“Just on the side,” you answer, your mind going hazy as you admire him seated on the couch now, his legs spread enough for you to see the stiff member in between.

His eyes remain on you but you’re staring at his gorgeous lap and those blue boxer briefs he’s wearing, shaping him in all the right ways. You take this time to ready yourself, removing your dress for him to observe. With your lace underwear, you know you’ve got him craving for you. His jaw tightens and you know just how to ruin him.

You kneel down in front of him and he seems to know what you’re up to, as he clenches his fists to control himself. He looks like he really wants to break his own rules now. But you push on, meeting his eyes before licking a strip over his clothed cock. It’s hardened even more now, and you can’t wait for what you’re about to ask him to do. You softly bite the flesh, feeling him strain his thighs as you tease him relentlessly.

Once you think you’ve teased him enough, you look up at him. “I want to see,” you whisper. “Take it out for me, show me what I do to you.”

He grunts before he follows, taking his cock out of his boxer brief, begging in his mind that you’d let him at least squeeze it because with you in your underwear on, commanding him like this while still maintaining your softness and hints of shyness, he’s losing his mind; he’s in real pain right now.

“Do you think about me when you’re away?” You ask.

“Yes, baby. I think about you all the time.”

“What do you think about?”

“Kissing you,” he grunts. “Tasting you, sucking every sensitive part of you, making love to you. Fuck, baby, I could go on.”

“Can you show me what you do when you think about those things?” You say, taking deep breaths now as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.

Jungkook sighs in relief and gets to it, squeezing his throbbing member and stroking it as you requested. He wouldn’t have known that this is what you wanted him to do. He’s obviously touched himself during the times before sex, and he also really does it when he’s away from you, but doing it this way - on the couch while you now stand before him, your eyes watching his every move - it’s exhilarating.

He continues his movement, getting into it completely as he takes in the way you look, especially with your parted mouth and heaving chest as you watch him pleasure himself to the sight of you. It seems like you’re in a daze, as your eyes don’t move away from him.

It’s the way his perfect slender fingers wrap around his thick, hard cock. It’s the way they glide, how his thumb occasionally presses the tip, how he starts to heave, feeling the pleasure build up, and how his head leans back and his back arches, revealing the column of his smooth neck, a perfect canvas for you to mark later on. You don’t stop the moan that you release, wanting to get into it, too, as the sight of your husband touching himself to the thought of you is so captivating. Seeing that this is what he does when he’s missing you makes you giddy, and you get to marvel at all of that right now.

You sit on the coffee table, your eyes still not leaving him. You feel the dampness in your underwear, so you press your fingers onto it for that much-needed friction, and you’re left wanting more. You remove it, feeling the string of essence stick to you and disappear as you throw your lace clothing on his side.

You touch yourself, too, your fingers drowning in how wet you are. They aid in your own pleasure, as you rub patterns on your clit that has Jungkook’s eyes widening in shock as you get into your own action, quickening by the second. Your eyes drift away briefly from him as your thighs start to shake, only being brought back when you hear him ask you to “open up.”

You spread your legs wider to give him a view, knowing that will help him. You want him to reach that peak, and you want to see him do so, since you miss out most of the time because you’re too caught up in the haze of how he pleasures you. You continue with your movements, speeding up once you feel you’re close to the edge, and Jungkook matches your pace, only for you to crash first.

“Oh my god,” you heave, feeling the mess you’ve made of yourself, and seeing it, too, as it pools on the coffee table.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, his hand still working on his cock. “That’s so hot, I’m— fuck, I’m close. I want to come, baby. Fuck.”

He looks at you like he’s pleading, but you want to be selfish. You want to hold onto this scene of Jungkook pleasuring himself like this.

“Just a little bit more,” you end up saying out loud.

He concedes, knowing he’s given you all control. He slows down a bit, just so he won’t make a mess before you’ve asked him to.

You see his thighs shaking, his jaw clenching so tightly, and the veins from his hands and arms popping out form how much he’s controlling himself.

“Fuck, baby. I can’t take it anymore,” he pants.

You don’t want him to suffer. You’ve ingrained this scene in your mind already, so you tell him he can come, and the grunt that he releases will live in your mind, too. He paints his torso with his slick, but you get to him before it all ends, as you kneel back down and take his dick in your hand to swallow all that’s left.

“Shit, baby,” he groans again, taking you in with your eyes closed, lapping him up as you lick him off. “You drive me crazy. That was so hot.”

You sweetly smile at him before spotting his cum on his abs, perfectly placed on the dips and ridges, tempting you to clean him up.

And that’s what you do, as you lean forward and lick what’s remaining of his seed, your tongue gliding upwards and to the sides of his stunning plane. You lick and suck each patch of skin in your way, and you feel him still shaking a little bit, perhaps still coming down from his high. You get to his nipples, dark and beautiful as you nibble on them while trailing up to meet him in a searing kiss, letting him taste himself on you.

“I’m sorry for making you hold back,” you whisper against his lips, meaning it because you could tell he’d really wanted to come.

“No need to, babe,” he responds, heaving. “That was so sexy; I was losing my mind.”

You giddily smile, and Jungkook doesn’t know how you can maintain that sweetness while saying words and doing things that make him breathless.

“Can you go again?” You ask, eyeing his flaccid cock and licking your lips.

“As much as you want me to,” he replies, his body tensing in anticipation once more when you trace his dick with your fingers, tugging on the hem of his boxer brief until you’re pulling it off him completely.

You place it on his side and return to kneeling in front of him, capturing his gaze and savoring the look of him naked and willing. “I really like that brand of underwear.”

“I’ve been wearing that since I was a teenager.”

“I know,” you hum, earning him a cocked eyebrow from you. “You used to wear those low rise jeans that showed your brief’s waistband, and then you’d pull up your shirt or do cartwheels or anything to show off. It wasn’t hard to miss.”

You giggle at the memory, recalling how anytime Jungkook revealed slivers of skin when you were both in your teens, you’d get flustered and look away. Your siblings and Junghyun didn’t miss how nervous you’d been then, saying that your little crush grew up with the both of you.

“Ah, yeah. It made the girls go wild,” he smugly says.

“That includes me now. It’s probably the tiny waist,” you say, kissing him there, your hair dangling over his skin that causes him to curse.

“Or the strong thighs.” You spread his legs open so you can kiss him in places, too, finding his sensitive parts and licking him there. He stiffens at your movements, his clenched fists clenching even more, and when you look at his dazed eyes, you know you’ve got him wanting again.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he heaves, losing breath once more.

“Or, to those lucky enough to see it, your pretty cock,” you smile sweetly again, as if your words aren’t sending him in a spiral.

Perhaps all the times that you’d ogled at him quietly isn’t so bad, Jungkook thinks, knowing that this is how you are once you finally voice them out. You’re so enchanting like this, as the lust in your eyes is tinged with that love and adoration you have for him. It’s such a turn on, but it’s also turning him into mush.

He watches you as you suck his balls and then lick a strip up his member that’s now stiffened from your words. You take him in - slow and deep - before swirling your tongue around and he seriously could cry. You’re teasing him but giving so much at the same time; his mind and body don’t know what to do.

“But it’s all yours now, baby,” he drawls, tempted to break his rule and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “This body’s all yours and you can do whatever you want with it.”

You pop his cock out of your mouth and smile at him. “I will. That’s why I will admire it all I want.”

You stand up and look down at him, liking the anticipation in his eyes. You remove your bra and proceed to sit on his thigh, your slick sticking to his skin immediately.

“You can touch me a little with one hand,” you mumble, humming once you let him cup your cheek first.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he moans, tracing your lower lip with his thumb before sliding it inside your mouth.

You suck on it while meeting his eyes, and he pulls it away before a moan escapes you, his wet finger now tracing circles on your pert nipple. His smooth hand with patches of callouses from his workouts caresses your bare body, fondling your breasts and pulling your face close for a kiss. It’s right after when you take his hand and place it on his side, signaling that his time for exploration is over.

You’re in control again, as you slowly grind against his taut thigh, perfect for the friction you badly need.

“You’re so beautiful, Kook,” you smile, combing your fingers through his curly locks. “I like your long hair,” you say. “You kinda look like a rockstar.”

He chuckles at your remark, a little thankful for the change in your tone. “So I’ve been told. That’s why grandfather asked me to cut it. I said I need something to pull when I’m stressed since work is driving me up a wall and they’re all pushing me too hard.”

“Hmm, still talking back to your elders, I see,” you laugh. “Nothing’s changed, Kook.”

“I’m a lot braver now because I’m with you,” he winks. “You’re kind of my shield, you know? You protect me from them so I can be honest. They gave me shit for my tattoos but they stopped once you got yours.”

You hum in satisfaction at the thought, knowing that you could do this for him.

“Guess I’ll have to comment during lunch with them that I love your long hair and your grandfather won’t ask you to get rid of it,” you giggle. “He quite adores me and trusts my taste.”

“Nothing’s changed, indeed,” he laughs, knowing that even from his side, they adore you wholeheartedly.

“I love hearing you laugh, hun,” you say, causing him to smile at your words. “You look so free and happy and so full of love.”

“And that’s because of you,” he responds, his voice low and serious and it does something to you again. “You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I want in this life.”

You nod to let him know you feel the same, but it gets you going, with you wanting to keep on admiring him. And you do, kissing him tenderly with your arms around his neck as your fingers comb his hair. You continue to slide against him and his moans in between tell you how into it he is.

Your lips slide down to his jaw and then to his neck, alternating between its smooth expanse to the stunning canvass of his chest. It’s soft kisses turned to playful nibbles turned to desperate sucking, as you take all of him in and express your adoration with marks and bruises that will stay with him. You’re rarely able to do this because he’s always the one on you so you take your time, liking the rise and fall of his chest and the moans and curses he lets out and the way he tries to hold back any other movement from the one you’re directing him to do, which is nothing.

So you give him something, reaching out for his hand and guiding it to his cock that’s hard right now. “Touch yourself please,” you ask, your hand still on top of his as he strokes his member like you instructed.

“Keep going, okay? I just want to see you this way,” you whisper in his ear. “You’ll get to touch me soon.”

“Yes, baby,” he moans, cursing as you increase your pace of thrusting against his thigh.

You suck his neck, feeling his head bopping to his own movements and hearing the vibrations from his throat. You finally sit back up to watch him touch himself, the same movements from earlier driving you just as crazy. His parted mouth makes you want it on you, so you ask him to kiss your body, and he happily complies.

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts once his mouth is on your breast, aggressively licking and sucking just like you did on his neck. “You’re so hot, baby. I could suck your tits forever.”

“Hmm, I’d love that.”

Jungkook gets lost in the softness of your breasts. It’s perfectly shaped and feels so good in his mouth. He knows how to get you going, so he does all the licking and sucking and tricks he knows. It’s hard when he could bust any moment as he pleasures himself; it’s tough not being able to touch you, too, but he’d take this scenario any day. Hearing you instruct him what to do drives him wild, even more with your giddy and soft eyes looking back at him before it turns lustful.

Your moans are louder now; your thrusts are getting erratic, too. Jungkook wants to savor this but he also wants to reach his high with you. But you take his free hand first and direct it to your cunt, and his curses again at being able to feel exactly how wet you are.

His fingers find your throbbing clit right away. Bent a little back, you give him space to play with you, getting lost in it once again because even with limited movement, he knows just what to do.

Jungkook works his way on your cunt while he continues to stroke himself. It’s insanely pleasurable. It’s also getting hard and painful, and so it’s music to his ears when you say that you want him inside you.

He lets go of his cock for you to slide down on, and the relief of your velvet walls makes him shiver. It’s like being out in the cold and then being wrapped up in something warm; your pussy is all the comfort he needs.

But you’re still in control, he reminds himself, as you thrust on your own pace before you’re bouncing on top of him. Seeing your breasts bounce with you is disarming; you’re so sexy like this and he has to remind himself that you’re his wife and he’s truly able to be blessed by this sight everyday.

You collapse on his chest, flushed against him as you catch your breath. But you keep going, grinding against him slowly. He takes the opportunity to nibble your ear and you don’t complain, so he keeps going, sucking your neck until you’re moaning and bouncing on him again. You sit back up and turn to him, and he captures your breast in his mouth. That’s when you lose it, feeling an out-of-body experience where all your nerves are heightened and stimulated so you give in.

“Take control, baby,” you moan. “I want to come all over your cock and I want you to come inside me.”

You say it to challenge him, to get him going, and that’s what happens, as he growls and immediately lays you on the couch because even as he loves this view of you, there’s still nothing like seeing the pleasure on your face when he’s on top of you, pushing to the depths of your hole and hitting you where you want it.

Your hair creates a halo and you look absolutely stunning, ready and desperate for him, as you whisper that you love him, that you want to feel him inside of you.

Jungkook thrusts hard. He’s got your legs spread so he can hold your thighs up and you can touch yourself while he’s reaching that spot that only he can. You both watch as he slides in and out, and it’s messy and obscene and erratic and every bit as good as it can get. You’re screaming by this time, and when he feels your legs shake, he goes even harder.

He kisses you, wanting to swallow in your moans when you finally let go, and you do, after a deep thrust that sends you over the edge. But he continues, chasing his high as well. He gets there when you whisper in his ear, feeling as if his body’s on fire with your words.

“Come for me, baby. You’re so good to me,” you moan. “No one can make me feel good like this. You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I want.”

He loses it every time you praise him like that and you know this, and that’s why you always say it at the end, when you want to bask in his essence just as he basks in yours.

You feel his warmth coating your walls, and just as you’re about to shiver from the sound of his end-of-sex moans in your ear, he turns to face you - damp hair and heaving chest - and his look softens, his small smile appearing before kissing you tenderly.

“I love you, so so much, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “Every version, every day.”

You giddily smile at him again and wrap your arms around his neck to pepper his face with kisses. You pull him on top of you until he shifts to lay on your side, afraid to suffocate you after what was an intense period of lovemaking, which really started from when you’d asked him to take his clothes off.

“How was that?” You ask, turning to face him.

“Baby, did you see me?” He chuckles. “I was a mess.”

“Yeah, me too,” you laugh, nodding towards the droplets of cum you left on the coffee table. “I… I kinda let myself go earlier.”

“And it was so fucking sexy,” he praises. “But did you like it? Did you like being in control and teasing me like that?”

“I did,” you giggle. “You were pretty pliant, too. Not gonna lie, I was surprised. I thought you were gonna be whiny about it.”

“I was losing my shit,” he admits. “But I kinda made the rules and it was so hot hearing you tell me what to do. Or, well, ask. You’re still pretty polite about it.”

You laugh along with him but he assures you that he doesn’t mind it, and that he’s glad you don’t try to change just because you’re with him. The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you have to be adventurous or daring just to make him happy.

“I know I talk about my reckless and thrill-seeking past like it’s a badge of honor but it doesn’t mean that I’m not satisfied with our safer, more comfortable way of living,” he tells you. “I don’t yearn for anything more than what we do, okay? You literally turn me on with whatever you’re doing or wearing so don’t think I’d want you to be or do anything else, babe. I get to kiss you and make love to you all I want and that’s it… I’m a happy man.”

You scrunch your nose and giddily smile at his words, hiding your flushed face on his chest.

“And when you lose your shit like that because of me… it’s pretty special, too,” he adds, hugging you now.

You turn to face him and soften at how he fondly looks at you.

“You… ignite something in me, Kook,” you say. “Coming here after so long reminded me a bit of how it was back when I left. I was emotional because it hurt, and it was because I cared about you; I always did. Junghyun told me how distraught you were and I let myself believe that you cared about me, too. That’s what made me go back to you and try to make it work. And being back here… I just can’t believe how far we’ve come.”

You caress his face and he kisses your hand, the sparkles in his eyes making your heart race once more.

“You make me love so certainly and so passionately,” you add. “It’s thrilling, loving you like this. And we can argue or have issues or feel off with each other sometimes but if at the end of it, we can forgive ourselves and each other then it’s okay. We love hard and I know that’s how I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

It’s his turn to scrunch his nose now and smile, choosing to kiss you deeply as he pulls you in a hug instead of saying anything more. You’ve said it all, he thinks; he knows you know he feels the same.

But still, you ask. “Have I left you speechless now, Mr. Jeon?”

He laughs at your teasing. “I don’t know why you say you’re not good with words. I… I needed to hear them, babe. Being here and knowing where you spent your days while I was wallowing in guilt and misery at home hits me but doing all this now with you reminds me that we got through that. And we got through the past weeks, too.”

“Thank you for taking a short break to be with me here,” you say, kissing him.

“Baby, I wouldn’t pass up on any break from work,” he laughs. “But hyung assured me that I could. He knows I need to be with you after all that.”

You sigh in relief as you hug him, feeling the knots and bolts of his body melt away like yours are. Being together is like that for both of you, you think. Your love - in whatever form it’s expressed - is healing; it’s rejuvenating. It’s the kind you give so much of yourself to but feel like you’re becoming whole, complete, yet there’s still space for more.

You’re glad your parents made that deal with the universe to save you all those years ago. It made you live long enough to experience this.

A small smile forms on Jungkook’s face as he watches your soft, steady breathing. You seem to be in a deep sleep - a good one - he thinks, as the light from the sun coming from the glass doors doesn’t seem to be bothering you the way it usually does. He can’t blame you though. Last night was incredible. And pretty tiring, too, especially at the end when you let him take control, and he’d made love to you hard on the couch and then during your shower right after.

You were breathless by the time you were in bed, and you had to constantly assure him that he didn’t go too hard for the sex to be considered a ‘strenuous activity.’ You’re still required to take things easy, as your cardiologist had told you, and the last thing Jungkook wants is for you to overwork your heart just because he’d been too keen to fuck you. But seeing you enjoy yourself did things to him. So did seeing you be giddy, and then hearing you express your feelings.

It’s been a tough few weeks. He knew that during the times he was cold and distant towards you that he still felt so much love; it was just hard to express it because he was upset. He just had to process his negative emotions properly and ride them out. Once he’d cleared his head, there you were again, the only clarity he needed, and he was back to being the lovestruck man who’s head over heels in love with his wife. The best part was that you were the same, and being back in Busan and in this specific house is making him a little sentimental. And pretty horny, too.

Jungkook moves away from the bed and removes his shirt that’s absorbed all his sweat. He woke up early and went for a run down a nearby trail, savoring the cool morning breeze by the water and the natural sounds of the forest. It was gorgeous, and he thinks of going on a picnic with you tomorrow to see the sights.

He just got back to the house, expecting you to be awake, but the sight of you sleeping peacefully is still something nice to return to. Wanting to take advantage of the tranquility of this place, he decides to do some painting.

You showed him your corner yesterday. It’s complete with an easel and a stool that faces the view. There’s a bench with paint and brushes that you’ve left and you brought. You told him he could use them if he wanted.

The lake sparks creativity, you said, and he feels that now. The sun casts a glow over it that he wants to capture in brush strokes, and he wants to create something to remind him of this particular day and this specific moment, where he stands by the kitchen counter in a space you’ve both come to claim as your slice of heaven. Moans were bouncing off the walls last night but right now, it’s quiet. And whether you’re naked and bouncing on top of him, or naked under the covers as you take your needed rest, he knows you’re all he needs and wants, and he’ll never get tired of telling or showing you all that.

Choosing the colors he’ll be using, Jungkook starts to work. He stays true to the view before him, blending the blues and yellows and greens that he sees and laying them all out on the canvas. He wants to surprise you, show you he’s learned some tricks that he’s seen you do; he can already imagine your proud face and that gets him excited.

It’s almost an hour later when he hears shuffling inside the house followed by your call of his name.

“I’m outside, babe,” he yells. “I prepared the coffee in the pot, just press the button.”

You shout out your thanks and he gets back to work, immersed in the almost-finished product when your voice takes him out of his zone.

“That’s gorgeous, Kook,” you hum. “Way better than the one you did the last time.”

“Hey,” he laughs, tickling you.

He turns to you and his face softens. You’re standing next to him with mussed hair dressed in his white button-up polo from last night. He’d left it on the stool by your bed and you probably decided to wear it when you got up because you know he loves seeing you wear his clothes.

“Am I making your heart flutter, Mr. Jeon?” You tease, seeing his soft, dimpled smile.

He hasn’t said anything for the past 10 seconds and you think maybe it’s your chosen morning outfit.

“You know the answer to that,” he replies, pulling you by the waist and directing you to sit on his lap. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he says of the painting. “But since you’ve seen it, what do you think?”

“It’s very Bob Ross-esque,” you compliment him. “And it’s really good, hun. The day’s pretty nice, huh? I’d paint this scenery, too, if I wasn’t so tired.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “But I went for a run and everything was just so pretty. You were still sleeping when I got back so I thought to try painting while waiting for you to wake up.”

“Well, it’s good I was still asleep then,” you smile. “The piece is great. You’ve got a good teacher, I’d say.”

“She is. She’s pretty hot, too, so it’s hard to focus sometimes.”

“You’re so cheeky,” you playfully roll your eyes before kissing cheek and standing up to get your coffee.

You choose to lean on the railing when you return, soaking up the midday sun and relishing the calmness of the lake. It’s so peaceful out here, making you appreciate your house’s soundproof walls because you definitely were not quiet last night. Other than the loud thrumming of your heart at how much you were lusting over your husband touching himself and coming undone in front of you, you also know that your joint moans were pretty obscene.

You didn’t shy away from letting him know how you were affecting him, especially when he’d pounded into you so purposefully that you felt him so deep within you. Even the bathroom sex was mind-blowing. So was the loving way he’d kissed you until you both fell asleep, and the thought of all the ways that Jungkook makes love to you sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake a little bit and turn around, surprise laced on your face as you see your husband looking at you from his stool, legs spread with a smirk on his face in all his shirtless glory.

“How long have you been ogling me?” You arch an eyebrow.

“As soon as you came out,” he smiles. “You look stunning, babe. The lake’s pretty lucky it gets to be your background.”

You chuckle at his cheesiness and sip your coffee. “Finish your work now and then we can get ready to head out. We can have early lunch at the seafood place our families used to go to.”

With you by the railings looking breathtaking against the view, it’s a nice scene that Jungkook wants to capture. “I wanna try to draw you,” he states, taking one of your sketch pads and placing it on the easel now.

“Oh yeah?” you ask. “I should pose then.”

He turns to you just as you start unbuttoning your top, leaving your tattoo and black satin underwear exposed. You see him visibly swallow and you push it, adjusting his polo to reveal more of your skin.

“This okay, hun?”

“I–, uh… hmm,” he furrows his brows, his eyes flitting from you to the pad.

Jungkook decides he’s not good enough to capture you in drawing, and he’s definitely not patient enough to wait to finish it before he can kiss you because the way you’re teasing him is a little too much. He has to have you right now.

Retrieving the polaroid camera from inside the house, he walks back out and snaps a shot. “I won’t do you justice, babe,” he explains. “And you look too fucking sexy to pass up on.”

He takes another one and then places them on the coffee table next to him. He walks to you and immediately captures you in a deep kiss, his hand gripping your waist the same way yours grips his chest.

“So that worked, huh?” You giggle. “I was wondering when you were gonna just walk over here and claim me.”

“You could’ve just said you wanted me, too,” he laughs. “You know I like hearing that.”

“You also like it when I tease you,” you counter. “And, well… here I am.”

You bite your lip and pull the polo just enough to expose your shoulder, and Jungkook basically growls at the act, putting away your coffee then kissing you once again.

You moan against his mouth once his hand slides inside to fondle your breast, and the sensation from his touch sends you in a daze. You let him suck your neck only for a while, nudging him to turn to you so you could get a look at him.

“Baby,” he whines, wanting to have continued to map out your body in this open space.

“I just…” you trail, your eyes scanning his half-naked form, his cream-colored joggers low enough again to show the band of his boxers.

You trace your fingers down his torso, following the lines and ridges that you know he works hard on. His breathing quickens, even more so when you slowly slide your hand in, immediately stroking his semi-hard cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head leaning back at the pleasure he feels, your soft skin soothing yet electrifying him at the same time.

But you shouldn’t be the only one, he thinks, as his hand sneaks inside your underwear now, his fingers finding your throbbing clit amidst all the wetness.

“Mhmm,” you hum, your mouth parting as you suck in a breath.

Jungkook wants to bask in your look as you pleasure each other, but he also really wants to kiss you, so he pulls you close, angling your head with his other hand and takes you in. It’s all tongue and teeth, as you both seem desperate for the other, and that’s what prompts him to start walking back and taking you with him, needing to taste you this second because he can feel just how wet you are for him.

He guides you towards the desk near your bed, lifting you a little so you could sit on it, causing you to let go of his dick and you whine in response. You’re not able to say anything more, as he slides two fingers inside your hole at the same time that he sucks your nipple.

“Kook, oh my good,” you keen, feeling your slick spread as he pumps into you.

He doesn’t say anything. He just continues with his movements as you heave in pleasure, grinding reflexively as you seek more friction than just his fingers.

“Do you want more, baby?” He asks, looking at you now.

“Yes,” you whisper, your mouth parting once he presses your clit. “Want your mouth. Oh god, baby, I want your mouth.”

He slows down his movements before retrieving his hand from your damp underwear, showing you his fingers drenched in your slick. He licks them off you as he holds your gaze, and you take his hand off his mouth so you could suck them, too.

You moan as you do, suddenly wanting his dick as well. He crouches down before you get to say anything, pulling off your underwear to see you dripping wet, your essence forming a dot on the desk this time. You’d be embarrassed if he didn’t look so turned on by it, and you completely lose it once he licks a strip up your pussy and swirls his tongue around it.

You lose all sense by then, allowing yourself to just let go because with how he’s gripping you and sucking you dry, you know you won’t be able to control how your body will react anyway.

He sets a rhythm, pulling your hips to meet his mouth and you follow the pace, grinding against him as your body burns with so much pleasure. Your ass sits by the edge and your legs are hanging on air, but you know he’s got you. It isn’t like this is the first time, yet every time feels like it is. Jungkook does you so well, you’ve stopped questioning his ability at this point.

Your legs start to shake and his hands glide to hold up your thighs while your arms support you. It’s uncontrollable by now and you don’t mind the moans that escape you. He’d just fucked you senseless last night but that already feels too far away. You know it's still gonna be another good one this time.

“I’m coming, Kook. Agh–” you shriek, feeling it so suddenly, until you’ve reached the edge and feel even wetter, as your orgasm hits and it feels like a waterfall.

Your husband hums from in between your legs, taking all that he can, even as your legs continue to shake. He kisses your inner thigh before kissing up your torso, meeting your dazed look with his satisfied smile.

“Can you go again, baby?” He smirks, taking off his joggers and boxer briefs in one movement to reveal his cock that’s definitely ready for you.

You want to trace the veins with your tongue, lick the pre-cum off it, and swallow it until you can’t breathe, but his hand gets to it first, with him knowing now how touching himself turns you on. He strokes himself a little, and the version of you that touches herself when he does is back, as you instantly fiddle with your clit to address the aching need at the sight of him like this.

Holding the base of his member, he pushes slowly into you, joining your moan at the feel of him within your velvet walls.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he grunts, as he meets your thrusts. “So, so fucking good, my dick could live here.”

“I want it to,” you manage a response. “Kook, baby, you’re so big. Go deeper, please. I can take it.”

Jungkook follows, moving closer and pushing harder as you ask, feeling your edge as he drags his cock against your walls. You’re moaning in his mouth, lips no longer moving as you feel lost in all that he’s doing to you.

“You like that so much, don’t you?” He moans. “Like how deep I go? How much I stretch you out?”

“Yes, baby,” you huff, unable to form words now. But you try, knowing he likes hearing you like this.

You’re flicking your nipple while he’s massaging your clit, and with all the movements, you feel it again. You try to hold out, wanting to savor this feeling a little longer, but Jungkook’s erratic movements tell you that he’s just about to reach his peak, too, so you let yourself go again, waiting for the crash and hoping he’d get to do it with you.

His body shakes now, you feel it, as yours does the same. And it’s not long after when you feel the shiver all over you, and then he comes, too with a release of a deep breath that gives you goosebumps.

He pulls out, and seeing his cum slide out of you, he pushes back in, making you yelp in surprise.

“We made a mess,” he chuckles, his voice low and hoarse from all the moaning he’s done.

“Hmm, we did,” you huff, seeing him swirl his dick with your joint essence on your pussy.

He’s done this before. But seeing it from this angle, with the sun shining from your glass wall - it’s incredibly sexy. You laugh to yourself. It’s not even lunchtime.

“Honey, I’m tired,” you laugh now.

Jungkook kisses you tenderly and you smile against his lips. “Okay then. We shower and then we take a nap. Food can wait.”

You stare at the plates of food that you and Jungkook had devoured. A lunch for 4, you think, and you blame the late morning nap you took that’s caused you to have your first meal at 1PM. You don’t mind though, as the dishes were much more delicious with how hungry you were, and Jungkook seems the same, as he satisfyingly smiles at you.

“Ah, that was good,” he hums. “Nothing like our favorite seafood restaurant.”

“I know, right? I remember how our grandparents would always reserve the function room for our families,” you say. “You boys were always so rowdy, running around the place.”

“Food energizes us,” Jungkook shrugs. “And yeah, I remember. Seoyeon would scold us for being noisy.”

“And I was always just there, sitting and laughing at the silly faces you were making when the adults finally told you off.”

“You really had a crush on me, huh?” He smirks, pulling you closer to his side so he could have a better look at you.

“Yes, and you really never noticed,” you counter, laughing at his pout. “Would it have made any difference if you knew that weak little me adored you and your bowl-cut?”

“I really don’t understand how you found that cute,” he laughs. “That’s my most embarrassing look ever.”

“What? It was adorable!” You giggle, pinching his chin. “You were always so mischievous but the haircut made you look tiny and pure for some reason. Plus, you had this smile. It was always very sweet.”

He sighs at the thought, imagining a prepubescent Jungkook causing trouble with you still thinking he was pretty special. “I don’t remember as much about you. I hate it.”

“Kook, we have so many photos and home videos,” you comfort him. “We can always go through them and try to remember. I think that’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

It would, he smiles to himself. Days and nights of being curled up on the couch, watching your younger selves and thinking of how neither of you would’ve imagined getting married and being this in love. Your future kids would ask how you two met and you could both show them those videos. He’d proudly say how you were crushing on him early on and you’d tease that he never really minded you. It’s all fun, though, and he can picture your future kids enjoying it, too, perhaps thinking it could be them on screen. He’s suddenly excited to find out who they’d take after.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yeah, I just zoned out a bit but of course, that would be fun. We can make fun of each other while watching.”

You smile at the thought, knowing that reminiscing those days would be a shock to him. You wonder how much of your adoration for him was caught on camera, but even you are curious. Your siblings and Junghyun would tell you stories as you got older, and there were things that you’d either forgotten or didn’t know.

Sometimes you think you downplayed just how big of a crush you had on Jungkook when you were younger because it was unrequited - a silly thought now, given how he is with you. He used to not look your way but now, it seems as if he can’t take his eyes off you the way you can’t take your eyes off of him.

You both exit the restaurant and drive to your middle school. You introduce yourselves and are immediately allowed in. Classes have just ended so it’s a little busy with the students leaving, but the shrieks remind you of how things were during your time, and how different you and Jungkook remember your pre-teen days to be.

The difference is much more glaring once you’re in your high school not far away, especially as you look around the library that’s changed a lot over the years. But you remember your spot at the corner, where you and Yeri would study while Nari drew dresses and Minhyuk read comics.

“You know, I’ve probably only ever been here thrice,” Jungkook laughs, the place an unfamiliar spot for him. It’s also so quiet; it’s unnerving and probably why he never really came here.

“I’m not surprised,” you laugh. “But then again, I’ve only ever stepped foot on the field twice.”

“What? Did you not have PE class?”

“I did,” you say. “My parents had me spared from the physical stuff, so I just read up on sports and other things for my grade.”

“That’s so sad, babe,” he laments. “PE was like, the best. It was the only subject I liked.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you exclaim. “But yeah, I got used to it. It’s different learning a sport by reading it but it was okay, I guess. My teacher would let me watch classes and varsity games sometimes.”

“Let me guess, you were watching me?” He smirks.

“Not always,” you playfully roll your eyes. “You weren’t the only good-looking guy in school, you know?”

“What! Who else was?”

“Secret,” you tease, sticking your tongue out and walking down the hallway.

You pass by the auditorium, another place you spent a lot of time in. Minhyuk used to play the violin and you’d watch his rehearsals with their music group here.

“Okay, tell me you’ve been here at least once to watch a club performance or something,” you say, turning to him.

“Uh, no?” He laughs. “All I remember from this is that we had an important game against a rival school on the field and all your friends were there except for you. Hyung watched it and I overheard him ask them where you were and Yeri said you were at the auditorium because there was some flute recital or something.” He rolls his eyes. “Why would that be more interesting than my soccer game?”

You laugh at his bitter expression. “You wouldn’t have cared, hun. And I’m pretty sure she said saxophone. That was Jaehyun’s instrument.”

“Who’s that? Why doesn’t he sound familiar?”

“Because he was a year older,” you respond as you walk past the seats. “He, uh, he invited me, said I was probably gonna watch the game but it didn’t hurt to try, and he was surprised that I said I’d watch him.”

“Were you… a thing?” He furrows his brows.

“Why would that matter,” you ask. “You were the one dating the class President and the gymnast and a lot of other girls.”

“Yeah but I never took them seriously,” he defends. “We just… you know.”

“Oh, I know,” you chuckle. “Talks of how good of a kisser you were and uh, other stuff spread like wildfire, Kook. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”

You're right, it really wasn’t. He was the rich popular jock that girls flocked to and he loved the attention, and that continued until university. But like he always said, it was all fun for him.

You… you were never the type to date for fun, so he knows that any guy you were with could’ve been the one, and yes, even Won-shik. Or Jongin. Maybe this Jaehyun dude.

It could’ve been Mingyu.

“So you and the guy, were you…?” He asks again.

“He courted me,” you say. “But I wasn’t sure about having a boyfriend at that time and he said he’d wait but I told him not to. We drifted once he graduated and that was it.”

“Okay.”

“Does that matter?” You wonder.

“Sometimes I think there could’ve been a version of this life where we weren’t married,” he starts. “Like, you could’ve been with someone else you loved and I probably would’ve been arranged with some other person but you and I would still see each other regularly because of our families and like… that’s just… a hard thought to have. If it wasn’t me with you right now.”

“Yes, Kook, it’s a hard thought but also impossible because I’m with someone I love and you’re with me right now,” you tell him. “And this is the only version of life I’ll have. Also, I think I have a pretty special connection with the universe so sometimes I think they were truly on my side. They kept me alive and well, they made me marry you, the man who never really took anyone seriously and now look at you!”

“Yeah, look at me, head over heels in love with the woman he was bitter about and barely minded,” he laughs dryly. “But I think they were on my side, too.”

You smile at the thought, knowing that Jungkook may not really be able to let go of the guilt from years ago but he could at least look at things this way - at the end of it, you get to be together happily, making new memories in the places you’ve known all your lives, and out to make even more.

You continue your walk around the school. You pass by the faculty to greet your teachers from over 10 years ago, who fawn over both of you. They say how surprised they were that you’d ended up together, but don’t doubt that now seeing how happy you both look.

Walking down the hallway, you gush over the shelf with championship trophies that Jungkoook had won with the soccer team. And then finally, you sit on the bleachers that overlook the soccer field, Jungkook’s stage during your years in school.

“It does look pretty with the sun casting a shadow over it,” you hum, seeing that it’s late in the afternoon. “I can see why you loved being here, Kook. And seeing you play now, you truly belong on the field.”

“Those years were fun,” he reminisces. “I loved the adrenaline rush, the thrill, the cheers… I loved the attention, really. It made me feel free. I think I kept chasing that high outside of it. And it got me into a lot of trouble.”

“Well, all that trouble landed you right here with me,” you comfort him. “I think it’s not all that bad.”

“Not at all,” he agrees. “But I still experience all that, you know? The thrill, the cheers, the attention… I married someone who gives all those to me. My younger years can’t really compare.”

Your cheeks reach your eyes as you giddily smile. “My heart is fluttering, Mr. Jeon,” you giggle. “Too bad we’re in school so I can’t kiss you right now.”

“Actually, I know a spot…”

“Kook!” You squeal, not wanting to know where he’d made out with the girls back then, but he laughs along to tease and says that you both could always drive back home and do all the kissing you want.

Tempting, you think, but all the walking has made you hungry and he promised you’d have milmyeon for dinner and then pass by the kiosk where Mrs. Na always bought you your favorite hotteok.

You do all that, and just like what Jungkook said, you go back home and do all the kissing you want.

The kissing obviously escalated to so much more. Jungkook let you ride his face and you let him fuck your mouth. The lake house is so conducive to lovemaking, you told him as you started to doze off, and he assured you that all this wouldn’t end here. There’s lots to make up for, but also, making up with you makes him feel like a new man and a better lover, and he wants to be able to show you all that.

He doesn’t mess around though, as you wake up the next morning flushed against his firm chest that you can’t help but kiss all over, and to get you going for morning sex by the lake, he wildly eats you out then takes you from behind while you look at the view outside.

You at least eat your breakfast that you had made on the veranda and then have enough energy to walk down the trail by the lake to see the forest and the birds. Jungkook lays down a mat and you both enjoy fruits and desserts before heading out for a late lunch of pork rice soup that you’ve dearly missed.

You drive around your part of the city, passing by spots and beaches you used to frequent, and it’s as if you could hear the shrieks and laughter from your younger days, sounds you joined in on every once in a while. But much of it was Jungkook’s, and you smile at the thought; he was already making your heart flutter then, and you don’t think that’s ever gonna stop.

He stops by a familiar park, and it takes a while before it registers that this is the playground that both of you used to go to a lot. It’s the midway point of your grandparents’ estates so all you Jeon and Kim kids would play here before heading to either of those places.

It’s also where he asked you to play when you were 4 years old. And where you told him no.

“Are we here to reenact that moment I broke your heart?” You tease, walking next to him as you bask in the sight of your childhood. You may not have played in the playground but you did have your dolls with you.

“Sort of,” he chuckles. “With a good ending this time though. I kind of wanna have both memories ingrained in my mind so they could remind me of how far we’ve come.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, sitting on the bench that you think is the one you would always sit on.

It’s been over 20 years and a lot about it has changed, but you suppose it’s a good guess.

“It’s amazing the memories that we retain, isn’t it?” You wonder out loud. “I remember that day, too. We were just 4 years old, and, well, it’s one of the few that I remember.”

“I know, right? I don’t remember much from that age apart from that moment, actually,” he says. “It stuck with me, maybe because it really affected me. Who knows? Maybe I was crushing on you before that so I chose to forget everything else after you rejected me,” he laughs. “Selective memory and shit.”

“Could be,” you laugh along. “But can you imagine how it must’ve been like for our families seeing us grow up and grow apart? It must’ve sucked.”

“I’m sure it did,” he hums, knowing how much your families wanted this union. “Perhaps the universe was on their side, too.”

You smile at the thought. Coming back to the places with traces of Jungkook as the kid you admired from a short distance makes you sentimental because he’s right, there could’ve been another version of life where you didn’t end up together. Who knows if your fondness for him would’ve faded if you’d married someone else? But you’d still see each other regardless, and the feeling could be haunting you.

You wonder if you weren’t sick, or was just careless enough to have played with him even if you weren’t allowed to - how different would your friendship have been like growing up? Would you be closer? Would he have been as reckless or less of the playboy he was? Would you have been more daring just to keep up with him? Would you have both tried to date? What if it didn’t work out, being as you were both still young then?

But as you look up at Jungkook who’s now standing before you, his hand in his pocket before he reaches it out the way he did over 20 years ago, you think that maybe all those had to happen so you could have this.

Maybe the distance meant that you’d both grow and make mistakes individually. Maybe having different sets of friends and hobbies meant you’d both appreciate yourselves for who you are so you could appreciate the other just as much. Maybe his colorful relationship record and your neutral one meant being able to balance excitement and security. Maybe all the heartbreaks along the way meant you’d learn how to ride through them so you could love each other even more.

Because as you take his hand and stand up to meet him for a kiss, you don’t think you could ever love him more than you do right now. You feel it all over your body that you think it’s all it knows to do at this point.

“Four-year old Jungkook is probably bursting at the seams right now,” he hums as he kisses you again, his arms around your waist and his forehead against yours.

“And four-year old me is probably doing the same,” you smile. “But this 29-year old version of me is so content right now, Kook. She can’t get any happier.”

She can, are the words that echo in Jungkook’s mind. Being here makes him realize how else you - both of you - can be happier. But he keeps the thought to himself and chooses to agree with you for now.

“That’s great, babe. This version of me feels the same.”

The stack of Polaroid photos from the past 3 days has gotten taller. There’s so much from the beach, your grandparents’ house, your schools, the trail, and of course, the playground. Jungkook holds up the ones from earlier where you’re sitting on the swing and the one where you both attempted to slide together but got stuck.

Your smiles are as wide as they could get, and seeing them now tugs at his heart. You seem like you can’t get any happier, but he also knows there’s something more that you wish for.

And it isn’t just about giving it to you; he wants to make it with you, because seeing you skip around earlier and play in the seesaw with him and laugh your sweet, tender laugh - he knows that there are so many more ways he can show you he loves you, and the sight of you happy and free and content is something he wants to see everyday of his life.

“What you looking at, hun?” You ask, as you wrap your arms around his crouched form on the edge of the bed, your chin sliding in the crook of his neck and peeking at what he’s holding.

“All our photos,” he says. “We ended up taking so many.”

“Hmm, more to put in our photo album then,” you hum, kissing his cheek before kissing his shoulder, and then his back, given that he’s too sexy not to have your lips mapping them out.

You make it to the line down his back, kissing his tailbone before lying in bed. “I’m tired,” you yawn. “Let’s sleep, hun. We have a day of travel tomorrow.”

Jungkook keeps the photos in a pouch and turns off the light before he lays next to you, his arm stretching out so you have space to rest your head on his chest.

You make yourself comfortable right away, close to drifting to sleep with his post-shower natural scent and his smooth skin.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking…” he starts. “We kinda went down memory lane, you know? And sorted things out like we said we would. We got through a fight that had us loving each other even more and I feel like I’ve learned and matured after all that and I… I think I’m ready.”

He turns to you, wanting to see your face, and your curious eyes meet his certain ones.

“I want to have a family with you,” he says. “And I mean, really want it, like, I want us to seriously try now.”

“Kook…” you mumble, a little surprised but beaming with joy just the same.

“I’ll admit at the start, a part of me just wanted to get ahead with it because I knew it would make you happy and that would make me happy,” he admits. “But now, I just… I want that for us because we love each other so fucking much and I don’t know how else we could show or express it. And that’s nice, isn’t it? It’s overflowing and the only other person who should receive that love other than you or me is someone we both created.”

You’re frozen, constantly blinking at him in disbelief until he nudges your nose with his.

“Hey, say something,” he whispers.

“I… ” you quiver. “I’m… Kook, that’s amazing. You… We… we’re ready. We have so much to give and we, I…”

A tear falls down your cheek.

You and Jungkook had agreed to let life just happen. You make love all the time anyway and it used to comfort you that there could at least be a chance you’d get pregnant with the frequency you do it. But conceiving a baby isn’t that easy. You may have sex a lot but it doesn’t mean you always do it at the right time. Both your stress levels have been quite high, too, and that’s been a factor on why it hasn’t happened yet.

There were a few times when you thought your period being late meant you could be pregnant, only to have it happen right before you told Jungkook. You won’t deny it disappointed you a little.

But now, with him saying he wants to actively try, it’s making you excited and nervous but incredibly happy. You’ve wanted this for a while, and you realize now with what you and Jungkook could handle and take on together, you want it even more. And he’s right there with you.

“Oh, baby,” he says, caressing your cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry it took a while for me. Wanting to let life surprise us feels like a cop out now.”

“Don’t be sorry, hun,” you sniff, sighing into his touch. “What matters now is that we both want this. And we’re… we’re really gonna try.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “We can go see your doctors tomorrow or the day after to consult. Whatever they say, we’ll follow. If we have to have even more sex, then that’s great.”

You laugh at his words. “I think we have enough of it.”

“We never know.”

You kiss him. Deeply. You kiss him so hard, it’s the only way to express how happy you are because words fail you. You kiss him so long that you climb on top of him, wanting to feel him wrap himself around you, touch you, cradle you, show you how much he loves you.

“Oh, so we’re starting now?” He teases once you pull away.

You just hover over him, your eyes boring into his sparkling ones, and you giggle as you boop his nose.

“I’m actually not ovulating but it doesn’t matter,” you say, pressing your clothed pussy against his cock. “I just… I just want to feel you right now. Your wanting to have a family is such a turn on, I’m scaring myself.”

He smirks at your honesty but he loves it. Your being turned on by it is also turning him on.

But he lets you do what you want first, as you kiss down his torso then pull down his boxer briefs to lick his hardening cock before you take him all in.

“I thought you were tired, babe,” he huffs, feeling the tension build as you take him so desperately, his thighs straining from the pleasure.

“Not anymore,” you say, gagging with how big he is. You turn to look at him with his cock in your hand now, meeting the smirk he has on his face. “I think I can do this all night.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “You gotta play fair. I need my time to do you, too.”

Waking up the next morning feels different. With Jungkook flushed against your back and his arm around your middle, you think that hopefully in a few months, he’d be lovingly caressing you there when there’s a tiny human growing inside you.

It’s a nice thought, but one you can wait for a while to happen. Although last night’s sex was pretty intense, you’re not fertile and there wouldn’t be any surprises soon, but it was still really good. Your emotions had overtaken you and you went with what your heart and body were saying, and you’re now left with sore limbs. But you don’t mind. You’re satisfied beyond belief. And while this may be your last day of your time here, you’ll be going back to your normal life with much more excitement this time. And you know your husband feels the same.

He wakes up shortly after, and you both pass up on breakfast to just sleep in and cuddle, knowing there’ll be less of this again, so you savor being naked in each other's arms, giggling and kissing.

You finally make it out of bed and pack up, ready to head to his grandparents’ as you both promised. It goes by smoothly, with them fawning over you as always, and you and Jungkook spend some time right after going around the estate and recalling memories again.

He takes you to his room, which is where he stayed when he was much younger. It’s still a little boy’s bedroom with all the toys organized and the clothes stored neatly. He opens his closet and takes a chest from the floor, unlocking it to reveal sets of baby clothes in mint condition.

There’s a swaddling cloth and a blanket, a crocheted bunny and a baby giraffe. There are onesies and beanies and tiny shoes and mittens.

Jungkook touches them lightly, excitedly thinking about your future baby wearing them.

“I have a chest like this, too,” you say, smiling up at him. “It’s at my grandparents’. Do you think we could pass by for it? I think it would be nice to have our tiny one wear our clothes, don’t you think?”

“It would be,” he smiles.

You both casually tell your grandparents that you wanted to bring the chests back with you to Seoul “just in case” because you’re sentimental, not wanting to make too big of a deal out of deciding to finally and seriously try getting pregnant this time. You don’t miss their glassy eyes and proud faces, though, and you think of the joy they must be feeling. You hope all goes well and that they’d get to spend as much time with their future grandchildren as possible. It was their dream, after all, and you know it means just as much to them.

With your treasure troves in the trunk and your hand in Jungkook’s, you both drive away, hoping that not too long from now, a little one will be joining you in your weekend getaways and short breaks and vacations. You could only hope they’ll love you with all their heart as much as you know you’ll love them with all of yours.

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holdmytesseract · 2 months

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Drabble request Daryl x fem!reader: i don't want to watch the world end with someone else 🫶🏽 don't know if that's kinda challenging or easy going, I'm excited 🤭

Life and Death

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warning: the usual Walking Dead stuff? walkers, weapons, fluff

Word Count: drabble

a/n: I can't describe how much I enjoyed writing this. Gods, I missed writing for Daryl. 🥹 Thank you SO much for this, friend! 🧡

You were driving down the muddy forest path on your motorbike; crossbow slung over your back. Being the girlfriend of a certain archer had it's perks. Especially in a apocalypse.

The air smelled fresh and clean. Slightly cold, but not freezing. It had just rained; causing the scent of water and earth to fill your nose. Waterdrops fell from the trees which lined the path; hitting the skin of your face from time to time. Closing your eyes for just a moment, you relished in the scent and feel of the nature around you. It was beautiful. And dangerous. But that was nothing new.

The neigh of horses from some distance, ripped you out of your thoughts. You focused; seeing a carriage quite a few yards ahead. You immediately had a guess who it could be and slowed down, carefully approaching. But you could already tell that it was a friend and not an enemy.

When the carriage stopped and you beside it, you knew you were right.

With a bright smile you got off your motorbike and went to hug your friend. "Hey, Maggie. Long time no see. How are you? And Hershel? And Hilltop?" The brown haired woman wrapped you in her arms tightly. "Way too long, Y/N," she started. You could hear the smile in her voice. "'M good, thanks and so's Hershel. Hilltop as well. How are you?" "Never been better, thank ya."

She stepped back from the embrace with her signature smile. "Already the second archer I met today." Your eyes shone bright. "You saw Daryl?" Maggie nodded. "Indeed. Was off huntin'." "I know, yeah. I wanted to look for him and help. Been busy this morning; training some kids in fighting off walkers, but now I've got time. Do you know where he went?"

"He didn't tell me, but I'd say he went south-east," she answered; pointed into the direction. "Thanks."

You actually wanted to talk longer to your dear friend - bound together by the end of the world, but Jesus's words about a small herd of walkers approaching through Maggie's walkie-talkie unfortunately brought an early end to the reunion. Of course, neither you nor Maggie wanted to end up in a herd of walkers. Small or not.

Therefore, you quickly bid your goodbyes and moved on. Maggie back towards Hilltop and you (hopefully) into Daryl's direction.

Luckily, your boyfriend had taught you well over the years and so you were able to make out his wheel tracks in the muddy earth and could track him down.

You found him near a quite big cliff on the edge of the forest; standing near the edge. His motorcycle was parked a few meters behind him; a handful of dead rabbits and squirrels draped over the saddle. Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulders as he was gazing into the far distance; on the valley to his feet.

You had turned off the engine of your motorcycle already a while ago and had been wheeling it instead; unable to drive over the uneven and steep forest ground.

You clapped down the pedestal of your vehicle and parked it beside Daryl's, before you sneaked your way over to Daryl; a mischievous smirk on your lips. Perhaps you could catch him off- "Ya might wanna work on yer sneaking up technique."

You hadn't even made three steps when those words left his lips. Damn it. You pouted and slumped up to stand beside him. "Oh come on, was I this obvious?" The archer looked over to you, a soft smile on his face. "Nah, but I recognised yer steps." You blinked in disbelief. "My steps?" "Yeah. Should know that by now after all those years 'n nights ya creepin' around the places we called home, eh?"

"Well... I suppose you're right." He gave you another soft smile and redirected his gaze.

"What you're looking- Oh my gosh..." Your eyes almost popped out of your head as you followed your boyfriend's gaze. The valley below the hills surrounding it was flooded with walkers. Hundreds. Thousands. Maybe even more.

Your jaw dropped in shock and... You couldn't even describe it. It was a picture of horror in an almost idyllic piece of land. Decay and rotting; flourishing nature and rebirth. Life and death. Light and darkness. Old life and new life. It was the definition of this world and all that happened to it all those years ago in one frame. It was unbelievable and rather difficult to grasp.

"Kinda frightening, right?" Daryl's voice urged to your ears. You swallowed; nodding. "Yeah, but also... I don't know..." You needed a moment to find the right words. "A blessing and a curse. A blessing for the earth. The recovery of nature and all its aspects. A curse for all human beings. Sad to see what became of the people - of the world we used to know." Daryl nodded in agreement. "Couldn't have put it better." He had never been a man of many words, but you could tell that he understood. He felt the same.

Like automatically, you reached for his hand and slipped your fingers through his; needing his comforting touch. Daryl's head shortly turned to look at your now intertwined hands. He squeezed your smaller hand and gently pulled you closer, until your shoulder was brushing his; the both of you still staring down on the horrific scenes below you in silence.

The only reassuring thing about it was the fact that they were very far from the place you called home.

"Daryl?" You spoke up again; voice merely above a whisper. "Yeah?" "I'm happy you're here. With me. In this. I'm grateful I found you. I couldn't imagine this world - neither my life without you. I wouldn't want to watch this world end with somebody that isn't you. Or our friends."

Again, Daryl wasn't a master of words, so instead of answering something, he let go of your hand in order to wrap you up in a tight hug - and you gladly let him.

Nevertheless found four little words their way into your ear. "I love ya, Y/N."

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919

#campfire sleepover #2k follower celebration #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fan fiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fluff

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alicewonderao3 · 7 months

Text

Making baby Hotchner

Title: Making Baby Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x oc female character.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner, Derek Morgan (briefly mentioned), oc female character, JJ ( briefly mentioned,) and Emily Prentiss, (briefly mentioned)

Summary: What happens when Jack not so innocently asks his step-mom and dad for a baby brother or sister?

Warnings: 18 plus, there is smut, p in v, office sex, breeding, oral sex (m receiving), minors do not interact, and anything else I missed.

Authors note: So I wrote this for a bingo challenge and am just now getting around to posting it. I am experimenting more with smut in my writing, so, that's new. I'm also feeling like crap, I spent last Friday in the ER and am still feeling like crap. My body hates me, so I decided to post this today. Also, I know the summary sucks, but the general gist is there. I combined the squares office sex and breeding for this one. I'm tagging @the-slumberparty, I know this is late, but here it is. I had no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. If I missed any tags or warnings, please let me know. Enjoy!

I hadn't thought much about my future until I married Aaron. Marrying Aaron meant that I got a stepson, and I loved taking care of Jack. He was adorable and we'd bonded right away. So while Aaron worked at the BAU and caught bad guys, I stayed home with Jack and took care of him. I took him to school, made his favorite meals and everything.

I still remember the first time he called me Mama. Aaron was gone on a case and I was picking up Jack from school, waiting with the other moms out front. Those eyes of his, so much like Aaron's, lit up when he saw me, and my heart stopped when a large smile lit up his face as he called out, running towards me, "Mama!"

He launched himself into my arms, and I hugged him tightly to my chest, barely managing to keep my tears inside as I took him home. Later that night, I passed on the news to Aaron, after I'd put Jack to bed. I was cuddled in our bed, and I said, "He called me mama today, Aaron." I said, my voice soft. I heard Aaron go silent a moment, and then he whispered. "Really? He did?"

I nodded. "He did. About melted my heart and made me cry. I wasn't sure if it was a fluke or not, you know with all his friends there, but he kept it up when we got back." I settled against the pillows, wiping a tear away. I could hear the grin in Aaron's voice as he said, "Well, he's ready for that. I mean, you are technically his mom, and we had that talk with him last week, remember?"

I nodded again. Just last week, before Aaron left on this new case, Jack had brought up what he could call me while we ate dinner. He'd asked if it was okay to call me something other than Alice, and Aaron had said it was up to him. I wasn't surprised that he was calling me Mama now after that. Jack knew that Haley was his mom, that I was just someone extra to love on him, and that I'd never take her place.

Aaron was due home today, and I was waiting to pick up Jack when he came running out with one of his friends, calling me mama and launching himself at me. I scooped him up and hugged him tightly, kissing him as he introduced me to his new friend, Andy. Andy's mom was very nice, and Andy couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to be a big brother.

Over the next few hours, I saw the wheels in Jack's head turning, and I knew he had something up his sleeve when he waited specifically for Aaron to come home before he said something. Aaron was mid-bite when Jack, without looking up from his mashed potatoes, said, "Daddy, when will you and Mama make me a big brother?"

I don't know how I kept my chuckle in as Aaron practically almost choked on his chicken. I gently patted his back as he faced Jack, and asked, "A-a big brother?" I saw Jack nod. "Yeah. Andy's gonna be a big brother, why can't I?" Again, I had to fight the smirk that threatened to form over my lips as Aaron's eyes met mine and I gave him a look that clearly said he was on his own.

Aaron was silent a moment and then I saw his eyes sparkle, and I knew this couldn't be good for me when he said, "Well, I can't make that choice by myself, Jack. Mama has to want to do that too." I saw his eyes sparkle as he poked a bite of chicken on his fork as if to say, 'How's that?' Jack then turned his attention to me, his voice soft and pleading, "Mama?"

I turned to face him, looking into those beautiful brown eyes, so much like his dads, as he asked, in his best pleading voice. "Will you make me a big brother, Mama?" I couldn't help it, and I met Aaron's gaze a moment, enjoying the way he almost choked on his water when I said, "Of course, Jack. A new baby might be nice."

Jack was gleeful as he finished his dinner and set his plate in the sink, darting off to the living room to play as Aaron met my eyes and said, "Well played, honey." I nodded, taking a bite of chicken. "Yeah, and I'm sure we're gonna have lots of fun making baby Hotchner," I said, as I ran my fingers along his shirt, headed for the sink to clean up from dinner.

So we started trying, and I started keeping track of my cycles, which meant that there were some days when I knew I was ovulating that I would pounce on Aaron when he got home in a bid to make a baby.

There were a few hits and misses, but we kept trying. One day in particular, when I knew I was ovulating, I came by the office with lunch for him. Morgan pointed to his office, saying "He's in there. I'd be careful mama, he's in a bad mood." I shook my head, muttering under my breath. "Not for me, he's not, if he knows what's good for him."

I heard Derek chuckle at my words and I walked in and closed his door as he said. "Whatever it is, just leave it on the desk and go, I'm bu-" I held the plate and raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" Aaron's eyes snapped up to mine and he sighed when he saw me. "Sorry, hon, I'm busy."

I nodded, setting the plate on a side table, reaching over to close his blinds, and locked his door. "Busy? I can see that," I said, walking over to him, noting how tense he was as he focused on a file. "I think you need a little stress relief, honey," I said, as I turned his chair, ignoring his protest when I spun him to face me, as I dropped to my knees in front of him, pulling my curls back into a ponytail.

My fingers nimbly undid his belt buckle as he huffed above me, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. "Alice I don't have time-" But his voice suddenly stopped speaking as I started rubbing him through his briefs, tugging his half-hard cock out and clucking softly, before gently licking the underside of it, then wrapping my lips around his head, sucking gently.

I heard him groan, his fingers wrapping around my ponytail as I wrapped my lips around his cock again, before sinking to my knees and sucking and moving my head in the pattern he liked, his protesting giving way to soft groans of pleasure. I pulled off and licked him, my other hand moving what I couldn't fit in my mouth, a cheeky grin on my face. "Oh, don't have time for what, baby?"

I asked him, as his eyes darkened and he stared down at me. "Looks like you need some stress release, Daddy, and I'm all too happy to help you." I cooed, before wrapping my lips around his cock, my head moving up and down as I sucked him, hollowing my cheeks and moaning as his hands reached down all along my body.

I kept going, teasing him, bringing him to the brink, and then pulling back, slowly watching the thread that was his self-control snap as he finally hauled me up to my feet, his lips finding mine. His voice was dark as he ordered me, "Bend over my desk. Now." I shivered at the command in his tone and did as he instructed, getting a slap on my butt for my earlier sass.

I felt him push my skirt up over my hips and heard his groan again when he realized I wasn't wearing underwear. I knew he was close, and on the edge, and I wiggled my ass at him, my voice soft but bratty. "Are you gonna stare at my ass or are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?" I asked him, squealing when he smacked my ass again, and I bit my lips when he entered me in one smooth stroke, taking my breath away.

He took me hard and fast against the desk, his voice dark and teasing as he fucked me senseless. "Oh, not so brave now, are we?" He said, his thrusts even and slow. "I don't know if I should let you cum, after you sassed me so much. What happened to that brat who walked in here and took command? You get one taste of my cock and just go dumb?"

I couldn't do anything but groan, my fingers clutching his desk as he fucked me. Papers fell off his desk, the wood groaning under my weight as he slowly and steadily fucked me into it. His hand reached around covering my lips, his voice dark in my ear. "Quiet, sweetheart. Do you want the whole office to hear me in here, fucking you dumb?" He asked and I shook my head. "Good, that's a good girl."

He picked his pace up and I bit my lips to stifle my sounds as he fucked me. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my walls clenching and fluttering around me as I neared my orgasm. "Come on, honey, let me in," Aaron said, as he reached around to rub my clit, sending me over the edge, and I clamped tightly around him as I came, his hand pressed tightly to my lips to keep my sounds inside, as he came inside me, pressing deep into me.

I was breathing heavily as he sank over me, hauling me upright and placing me on his lap with shaky legs. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice soft." Are you okay, baby?" I nodded. "Oh, yeah," I said as I turned to meet his eyes. "How about you? Feel better?" He nodded. "Thanks."

He let me up to fix my skirt and shirt and said as he tucked his softening cock back into his slacks. "What brought you to see me?" he asked, and I handed him a plate. "I made you lunch and came to tell you I'm ovulating, but then Derek said you were in a bad mood. So, I helped you feel better and maybe we've finally succeeded in making baby Hotchner."

I chuckled and he shook his head. "Yeah, and in my office no less." I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, it's one thing off my list." Aaron dug into his plate, raising an eyebrow at me. "Wait, you're telling me you wanted me to fuck you in here?" I nodded. "Why not? Bent over your desk, having to stay quiet as you fuck me senseless? Sounds like the best thing to me, and hey, now that we've done it, maybe we can do it again." I said teasingly, leaning over to kiss him.

He chuckled and I said, "Alright, I'm gonna go home. I have a few things to do before I go get Jack. I'll see you later. I love you." I said, and he nodded, kissing me again, "Love you too, Alice." He smacked my ass as I left, a warm, wide smile on my face as I left his office. I passed Derek where he was speaking with Emily and JJ and said, "I think you'll find Aaron's in a much better mood now."

I heard the three chuckle as I walked out. I knew it'd probably take a few more times until we finally made baby Hotchner, but I knew I'd have fun doing it.

#aaron hotchner 💞#criminal minds #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x oc female character #navy and roo sleepover

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starsonthewalls · 26 days

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Wheel of Fics

ashdshf self-challenging myself to post something about a wip everyday in an attempt to build up the writing muscles. So everyday I'll hit this wheel and I have an hour to review/edit/add on to the randomized draft doc, and then I have to post something from that doc on tumblr. I'll use this post as a Masterpost for everything I write for this challenge. I am absolutely just making this up as I go along.

Hnghhhh here we go.

Day 1: (never) a question of trust | Batman (Jason & Bruce)

#m wrambles #m's writing wheel challenge #i am going to scream at myself why do i do this to myself #additional rule for myself i can only edit/add on to existing drafts for an hour before i have to post whatever i can

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diordrysdale · 2 years

Text

after dark ⋆ andy barber (part 3)

dark!neighbor!andy barber x camgirl!reader, ft. devin peters x camgirl!reader

word count ⋆ 2.1k

warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, cheating (laurie is cheating on andy, andy is implied to be cheating/will cheat) reader sends a video where she’s giving devin head, fingering, degradation, squirting, daddy kink, implied murder oop— ft. devin peters: oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation.

authors note ⋆ I HAD TO SWITCH ANDY FROM SOFT!DARK TO JUST DARK!ANDY YALL IN FOR A RIDE I WAS JUST WRITING THIS AND I WENT DOWN A DARK PATH SO HERE IT IS FINALLY PART 3

+ reminder of who devin peters is, he’s chris evans’ character in the movie don’t look up!

don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

previous part

shit, shit, shit!

as soon as andy scurried back into his home, he peeled through the curtain of the window near laurie’s favorite sofa— the one she was currently on.

“I need a ride to my yoga class, andy.” she spoke as she typed away on her phone, laughing at the texts she was receiving from a friend.

yoga class, sure.

he watched as you stood in place, dumbfounded before the movie star tugged you back towards the house, practically pawing at your breasts for attention.

you giggled as he kissed and sucked at your neck, shoving him away to play hard to get, took one last glance at mr. barber’s house, and sighed, convincing yourself it was most definitely a coincidence.

andy, on the other hand, was losing his mind.

so, you were living next door, what could he do about it? go up to the door and give a polite hello, make small talk and confess how he’s been touching himself to you for the past 4 months?

maybe how he’s dreamt constantly of pounding you into his mattress as you drool on his sheets, neither of you knowing whether you’re begging him to stop or keep ruining your hole.

“…andy! here’s fine!” andy hit the breaks, the wheel’s screech pulling him from his thoughts as laurie opens the door without a simple thank you or goodbye, running up to her friends.

he began to drive off, reaching for his phone, unlocking it and grinning for what he was challenging himself to do.

“hey, SIRI, uh, sex shops near me.”

NEXT DAY

tears had dried on your cheeks as you caught your breath, letting your boyfriend tease your lips with the tip of his cock.

“look at you, all hungry for this dick.” he hummed, his free hand holding up your phone, filming your every move.

you said you’d airdrop it to him later, but you had other plans for this home video.

“fuckin’ slut..” you shut your eyes to avoid rolling them, the degradation just didn’t come naturally with him, oh, but with mr. barber.

if your neighbor was indeed your favorite subscriber, he was in for a treat.

“why’s a mr. barber texting you on your site?I thought you didn’t entertain those freaks on your live chat?” devin pulled you from your thoughts when a notification pinged on the top of your screen.

wrapping your lips around his veiny cock, you sucked harshly, distracting him from the text message as he gasped out, hand forcing your head down as he began to fuck your throat in a sloppy manner.

the wet gagging noises sent him over the edge, overflowing your mouth with his sticky load— wasn’t the best taste. although, it still made your mind stray to how mr. barber—

“let me see it.” he groaned, cupping your cheek with a softness you hated.

you couldn’t make up your mind about this guy, no matter how many millions of dollars laid on his dollars

sure, he was an admired actor, celebrity crush to many, and you had him at your beck and call.

but you were insatiable.

you had daydreamed of becoming his girl, riding him in his luxurious cars, and being the pretty little thing on his arm at movie premieres, red carpets, you name it.

but hollywood was ruthless to girl with a job like yours.

maybe starring on the big screen and having paparazzi shadow you wasn’t your thing, but being loved after dark was, and you were okay with that.

opening your mouth, you revealed his load before you swallowed it, glancing up at him for some sort of praise but he just exhaled, sinking into the sofa as he put his softening penis away.

you snatched your forgotten phone from the couch and saved the video before reading the text message, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

barber543

hello neighbor.

andy hid the newly purchased box of sex toy items under the bed, his chest swelled with pride when he imagined how ruined he’d leave you by the end of the night, have you begging for him to stay, to touch your sweet pussy again, and again, til you couldn’t bare another orgasm.

official-kitten

there’s no way it’s you

he chuckled, he could just picture your cute expression of brows furrowed together, biting at your inner cheek.

barber543

come over and find out.

andy was always the type to take charge of a situation, but he was positive you’d be his tonight. and every night after that.

swallowing hard at mr. barber’s recent message, you slid your back down against the bathroom wall, thumbs dancing across the screen.

official-kitten

I’m busy daddy

🎥 0:45

your heart pounded in your ears as you linked the video devin filmed of you, and sent it— it was a russian roulette, you had absolutely no clue what he’d say—

barber543

not even a minute?

did he return the favor? or are you just a cocksleeve.

bet he didn’t even touch you

his punctuation made you giggle, but your hand began to slither down beneath your panties, ghosting over your clit.

official-kitten

he didn’t even make me wet :(

barber543

I’m not surprised.

I’m guessing you’re all needy. and pathetic.

official-kitten

don’t be mean :(

your middle finger and ring finger began to rapid circle on your clit, the sight of your hand moving beneath your underwear made your heart race.

barber543

you don’t know half of it, princess.

come over, or I’ll fuck you stupid in front of your friend.

removing your fingers before you came, you breathed heavily, smiling at the texts as you stood up with a rush, exiting the bathroom as you called out for devin who had made himself busy in the kitchen.

“what’s up, babe?” he chewed on a simple ham sandwich, scrolling through his twitter feed, mostly raising his ego with all the complements and praise thrown his way.

“you need to leave, now.” you shoved his beanie into his chest as he frowned, scoffing.

“i need to do my skin-care routine, do my mani-pedi, you know,” you rambled nervously, but he came to be truly understanding, kissing your forehead.

“fine, fine! send me the video, dollface.” he walked out the door, inhaling the fresh boston air, looking around the calm neighborhood til he made eye contact with the man they’d encountered earlier.

andy waved at the celebrity with full intent of fucking you into his mattress, the bedroom floor, the kitchen counter, and laurie’s pitiful garden in the front yard.

“hey, y/n,” devin called over his shoulder, still narrowing his eyes at the floofy haired man, as you waltzed over to him, glancing up at him, “don’t go on stream tonight. got a feeling there’s gonna be some creeps on the live.”

“sure thing, devy,” you stepped on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I’ve got other plans.”

you applied your gloss, extremely giddy to finally meet the man who had been paying for quite literally everything you could dream of.

you wondered what he did for a living, how he stumbled upon your live stream and if he thought about you daily.

what if he was a psychopath? you had lost count of how many people you had blocked due to their obsession with you, driving you to the point to being constantly paranoid, always glancing over your shoulder and double checking your door at night.

fuck it.

shutting your door on your way out, you fiddled with your fingers, cracking your knuckles which had been a nervous habit of yours.

til someone pulled up to the driveway.

it was a woman, brunette, with a disconsolate look on her face.

of course, he had a wife. why weren’t you surprised? most of the good ones were taken.

“oh! hello..” the woman wiped her drippy nose on her wrist, hugging herself as she stood in front of you, waiting for you to present yourself.

“i’m [y/n], lila’s friend. I’m house-sitting and i just- I can’t seem to, uh…“

“get the washing machine to start? cindy always has that problem, but luckily, my husband andy helps her out. it happens at least every week.” your jaw clenched at the information, feeling yourself turn green with envy, but your heart stopped when the man of the hour stepped out to the driveway, locking eyes with you.

“honey, lila’s friend here needs help with the washer, go.” she sniffled, causing andy to cup her cheek and angle her face up, allowing him to see her bloodshot eyes.

“what happened? where’s jacob, is he okay?” laurie nodded her head, clearing his anxiety a bit til he caught her left hand— ring finger, completely bare.

“we need to talk.” laurie muttered as andy wrinkled his nose at the scent of another man’s cologne on her.

“I’ll just-“

“no!” you and laurie whipped your heads at him, making him breath out a laugh as he reached for your hand— time froze, not just for you.

“I’ll help you first, I just need to get some tools. give her something to drink, laurie.” before you knew it, you began following him and his wife into his home, wondering what scheme he had planned.

he gently closed the door behind you, not missing the chance to place his hand on your lower back, leading you into the kitchen, pouring you a glass of deep red wine, ignoring how his wife had excused herself to the upstairs bathroom.

alas, the two of you were alone.

slowly with a hint of intimidating, he began to corner you against the counter as you look down at your feet with natural submission, making him chuckle and hold your chin between his pointer and thumb.

“wait for me upstairs, second room on the right.” you glanced up at him with a parted jaw, “I want you playing with your pussy, legs spread, only wearing this shirt. go.” his command made you raise an eyebrow.

“you can’t tell me what to do.” your bratty response made him scoff as his hand slipped beneath your pajama shorts, cupping your mound as his middle finger dragged against your clothed slit, making you shiver.

“no? you sure about that?” he smirks at the wet spot on your panties, watching you squirm, in person? fuck, you couldn’t let you go. ever.

“tell daddy what you’re gonna do for him,” he whispers, his pulse accelerating when your trembling hand rose to caress his beard.

“I’m gonna play with my pussy and wait for him. and then, I’m gonna let him do whatever he wants to me,” you whimpered when he pinched at your clit, “let daddy use me and my holes.”

you were a damn menace with your words.

“you’ll be daddy’s cumrag?” he suggested as his hard-on grew against his slacks, compelling him to grind desperately against your stomach.

“yes, please,” you dragged out as looked up at him with lust filled eyes, leaning against him, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“and let me shove my cock in this little pussy when I feel like it?“ pushing aside your panties, his fingers began pistoning past your velvet walls, adoring the immediate debauched look on your face before he kissed your soft lips for the first time.

“anything you want— fuck!”

“beg for your daddy, kitten, beg for daddy to taste your pussy,” the squelching noises, his alluring voice, it was too much.

“fuck! daddy- m’ gonna squirt, ah! pleaseplease-“ he was quick to keep you from falling to your knees, grunting when your legs violently shook, your cunt spurting your juices on his cupped hand.

“my kitten, all mine,” he growled, his pink lips attacking your bare neck, sucking and nipping at your skin as you attempted to even your breath, but you still felt unsatisfied.

you needed to be fucked.

“want your dick, please, please,” you babbled out, your hands moved with a mind of their own, desperately wanting to touch him but he laughed, continuing to rub your slit.

“you’re a little slut, my wife’s in the house! what if she heard you?” he asked with a grin, removing his wet hand and beginning to lead to you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“hurts! I need to feel you inside me,” you pawed at his belt, making him sigh in content before he clutches your cheeks in his hand, it smelled of your scent.

“then fucking wait for me upstairs. second room on the left.” he demanded through gritted teeth, watching you scamper what was left of the staircase.

he rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the first knife he could get his hands on and heads back upstairs with an emotionless façade.

he couldn’t have anymore distractions tonight.

his job was to fuck you as many times you begged him to, and claim you as him.

“laurie, I’m ready to talk!” he calls out to his wife for the last time, gripping at what was to become a murder weapon.

well, only if the police found out.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

a/n; oh y/n, now he’ll never let you go.

#kali writes !#andy barber #andy barber angst #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #dark!andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x female reader

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grogusmum · 10 months

Text

JULY: Buck Moon

Frankie Morales x gn!Reader (nicknamed Rocket)

W/C: 1200ish

RATED: M

WARNINGS: Smut, missionary, unprotected sex because it's fantasy. If I've inadvertently indicated gender please DM me and let me know, and as always if there is something I missed please let me know in my DMs and I will add it.

A/N: Here is the July installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms

This is a companion to my one shot Your Spot Okay, I should admit from the jump. This is not all that pagany. It’s smut. Sorry. But not really. Oops. I just, okay, this is what happened on Frankie Friday, I was thinking about him and Rocket. I also kind of got interested in the challenge of writing a smut for a gender neutral reader, if I could manage it. Fingers crossed.

“Why is it the Buck Moon?” Frankie wondered aloud, sitting by the fire in his camp chair, watching the full moon rise.

“It’s called that by some North American tribes, its also called the berry moon and salmon moon by others. Cuz it’s berry pickin time and like spawning season- you know how salmon are,” you laughed. "Anyway, it's the Buck moon because, you know how they drop their antlers each year… then new antlers grow and are bigger? July’s when the male deer’s antlers are at their peak size,” you explained as you held up two bottles of beer, "want one?”

Frankie nodded.

You sat, handing him the beer, he murmurs his thanks as you clinked the bottles together.

“Peak size you say?” Frankie said after taking a long pull from the bottle, his cocked eyebrow and smirk didnt go unnoticed.

You snorted a laugh.

You and he had decided to take it slow, but there were definitely times when putting on the breaks was getting more challenging, especially since you did so much camping together. There was a lot of necking and humping like teenagers. Since there was no benchmark either of you were waiting for, frankly, the question no one was asking but mostly definitely wondering at this point was why?

“Like it represents, virility … abundance… passion”

“So, mmmm what do people do?”

You swallowed, “well, you know we’re doin it. We caught fish and grilled it along with the veggies we picked from your garden- which is amazing. Did you know you had such a green thumb?”

Frankie tucked his beer in the little holder on the arm of the canvas chair. Then he took yours, and did the same, his warm hand came to your jaw, turning your face to his-

“What else might someone do?”

“Well, you know people … just try … to tap into that energy and you know start something new?”

Frankies lips pressed against yours to punctuate every word-

“Tap virility?”

“Yeah” you whispered after he pulled away infintesably.

“Tap passion?”

Your ‘mhm’ was swallowed by Frankie sealing his mouth to yours. When he pulled away he pulled you out of your chair, and ran his hands down your sides.

“Are we done waiting?”

“Yyyyeahh” you groaned.

As it was a perfect July night, you had planned to sleep under that moon and the stars, with no tent. So you both just tumbled onto your bedrolls. The clearing, your spot, was so protected, so out of the way that neither of you held any self-consciousness at pulling at each other's clothes until you were both completely undressed. The large moon shown on his body, his broad shoulders, and the slight curve of his belly. Sitting on his knees in front of you, your eyes traveled lower to the part of him you have only ever seen and felt through his clothes, above his strong thighs his length jutted proudly, to your mind perfect in size, with an enticing curve. You knelt before him, and when your eyes came back to his face, he wasn’t smug, though with your mouth hanging open, he probably had every right. He was busy looking at your body, fully naked for the first time in front of him. It was worshipful. When his eyes met yours, there was a question.

Am I enough?

You shuffled over to him, taking the forgotten ball cap off his head, and ran your fingers through his hair. Then, you climbed onto his lap. Caging his hips with your thighs, his hard shaft pressed against you made you both moan into each other's mouth. He gave an involuntary buck, and you gasped at the feeling.

“Which way do you want me,” you asked.

Frankie groaned at the question, and in a swift move, he had you on your back, your legs high for full access.

“I want to look at your face, Rocket,” he murmured, rutting up against your opening. “See you come undone, and you can see what you do to me.” His hands ran down your chest, then his teeth grazed one of your nipples, raising it. He licked his hand and brought it between your legs, preparing your entrance for him. A finger entered slowly, and then he pressed another into you as you whined at the stretch of his thick fingers.

“Shhhhit, Frankie.”

“Rocket, you- fuck, you feel good.”

His fingers slid in and out, languid and purposeful, and your breath quickened. Frankie watched you as he lined himself up and slowly pressed into you. The stretch was exquisite but not painful. Frankie had made sure of that. But it’s his eyes that had your chest heaving, those dark chestnut eyes, the crinkle that is almost permanently etched between his brows, searching for your face, for discomfort, for whatever else he can offer you. Full seated, he rested his forehead on yours, grinding his hips slow and deliberate. The way he does everything. Thoughtfully, with purpose. When you pushed back and it was like you flipped a switch, he began to piston into you, deep, hard. His hands on the back of your knees hold you legs high, opening you completely, you held on for dear life. His open mouth on your shoulders and neck.

“Gods Frankie don’t stop-” you gasped as delicious friction pushed you closer and closer to your peak, at that moment he tipped your hips just a bit more and hit your walls at a different angle and the next thrust sent fireworks behind your eyelids, toppling you over the edge. Frankie felt you tighten around him, and the warmth of your release. He let go of your legs and caged your torso holding you in place, grounding you.

You knew he was getting closer, his rhythm became erratic, until the rubberband within snapped. Frankie fell forward, covering you, murmuring your name, your real one, peppering you with kisses.

Finally, your breathing slowed, your heart beating at a restful pace -

"So, um, whadoya wanna do for the sturgeon moon?"

Frankie's shoulders quaked with silent laughter, and he rolled off you and onto his side, though his strong arm kept you close, tucked into his chest.

"Whatever you want, Rocket."

You both lay sleeping, in the early hours. In the night Frankie had rolled over and you took over as "big spoon", your arm wrapped around his ribcage, legs tucked behind his.

"Rocket," he murmured, patting your arm, his voice rough from sleep, " Rocket, ten o'clock."

Your eyes opened, and you muttered the words back to him in confusion.

"At ten o'clock, Rocket. Look," he whispered with urgency.

His words clicked, and you looked up, away from "twelve o'clock" and saw a twelve point buck in the clearing, morning mist surrounding him.

Your arm tightened around him, and his warm hand that covered yours squeezed in return.

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my Frankie stories or any of my writing you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

#wheel of the year series #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x you #year of creation 2023

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starryeyedjanai · 11 months

Text

AO3 | tumblr writing tag | drabbles

All fics are Steddie unless otherwise stated 💕

Highlights

Latest: if devotion is a river, then i’m floating away | E | 6k Greatest: surface-level freak | E | 7k | read on tumblr Kinktober/Flufftober/Eddie Month masterpost

One Shots

it takes two, not three (but i’m here anyway) | E | 18k | stomarol All things end and all things change. | E | 23k kinktober series on ao3 drifting past the fog | E | 4.1k | read on tumblr sitting between comfort and chaos | T | 5.7k | read on tumblr all that you've conquered was already yours | E | 2.3k | read on tumblr | stommy to be known | T | 3.7k | read on tumblr one hand gripping the wheel | E | 2.1k | read on tumblr bet. | M | 2.8k | read on tumblr the only thing i would change | G | 2.3k the night breeze carries something sweet | E | 5.4k | ronance a love like this, all it does is burn | E | 2.5k | ronance a lesson in not sinking alone | T | 1.6k

Series

outlaw eddie verse | there's an outlaw on Steve's farm

heard you fell from heaven for me | T | 3.8k the dark remembers you | E | 5.1k

hear, see, speak (no evil) | college roommate voyeurism au

bad bandit got some bad habits | E | 5.8k need to see you sweat | E | 3.8k

camboy alpha steve verse

rolling the devil’s dice | E | 3.9k pedal to the metal of your heart | E | 6.5k

Chaptered Fics

if i could hold you for a minute (i’d go through it again) | E | 30k Steve and Eddie didn't know they were soulmates until Eddie was pressing him up against the wall of the boat house with a broken bottle to his neck. Somehow in all the years of Steve casually knowing of Eddie’s existence, they had never touched before then. | Steddie Big Bang 23 | Complete 3/3

you and me and a lot of bad decisions | E | 8k | read on tumblr Steve and Eddie decide to have sex on vacation. And then they keep deciding, and deciding, and deciding | WIP 1/4 chapters posted

it's never enough, but I wanted it to be | M | 6.2k 5 Christmases post-breakup where Steve is hurting +1 Christmas where he's not | WIP 2/3 chapters posted

Tumblr ficlets/blurbs

vibin' - steddie microfic challenge (read on ao3) rated: E steve having an oh. moment about eddie steve gets a panicked text from eddie about a snapchat he sent steve is getting married to someone else give in - steddie microfic challenge (read on ao3) tell me (everything will be alright) (read on ao3) Steve Harrington, cat whisperer (read on ao3) steve, who sees ghosts time loop steddie thoughts - angsty "i was made for kissing you" blurb hockey rivals the government uses NINA to wipe everyone's memories falling in love through writing fic in the 80s

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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

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mi media naranja [holiday!AU - mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader, aka "cielo"]

A/N: For Fanboy’s fangirls - a holiday celebration with Fanboy y Cielo. Lots of callbacks to my original Fanboy HCs – so if you’ve been following their journey thus far, there will be lots in here for you. Bonus points if you get the references!

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!civilian!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Warnings: my writing is its own warning, smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, unprotected sex, v mild breeding kink, references to oral sex

Word Count: 5.8k of the warmth of a holiday spent together with your beloved, of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, of the cinnamon-orange passion of sharing half of yourself with someone else.

Summary: You spend your holidays with your sweet boyfriend. Mickey takes you home to visit his family, but of course, you make sure to indulge in the magic of the holiday, just the two of you [part of the Fanboy y Cielo ‘verse].

(moodboard courtesy of lovely @ouralcohol)

Divided holidays were a challenge.

You and Mickey had opted to spend the few days preceding Christmas with his mother and his sisters, which meant, of course, holiday travel.

You'd left your beachside home in San Diego, packing gifts and luggage alike to make the trek to Mickey’s hometown. Artoo was set up with your friend for the few days you’d be gone. And it wasn’t as though you weren’t coming back in just a few days to celebrate Christmas with Mickey, just the two of you. It would go by in a flash. So why were you nervous?

You had met his family before. And, of course, they’d never indicated anything other than that they’d liked you … Still, you’d felt the perpetual need to impress. To ensure that they still liked you, as though their opinion would have changed in the six months since you had seen them for the family’s summer beach weekend.

And the drive was pleasant enough, Mickey expressing to you ad nauseam that he was glad you were coming,

“You don’t understand, cielo,” he urged. “Every time I talk to my tía it’s like – ‘¿Y tu novia? ¿Y tu novia?’” he parroted. “I swear, it’s like she’s convinced you don’t exist, even though my mom has literally met you.”

You patted his arm in comfort, offering him your coffee cup, which he eyed warily – all too familiar with your penchant for bitter brew. Politely shaking his head in refusal as he turned his eyes back to the road.

You shrugged.

“Oh, I’m familiar,” you assuaged. “My auntie is nosy, too, she does the same. Ever since I was in high school, always asking me where my boyfriend was, judging me if I didn’t bring anyone.”

“And?” Mickey’s eyes darted to you, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in time with the radio (and not at all nervously himself).

You chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at your boyfriend’s a-little-too-curious tone.

“¿Estás celoso o algo así?” Are you jealous, or something? “Don’t worry, M, I don’t bring anyone around unless I think they’re worthwhile.”

You popped across the console on your elbows, enough to press a kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek, pleased at the blooming flush making its way across his finely-peaked, mole-dotted cheekbones. At his happy realization that you had brought him home to meet your family for nearly every Thanksgiving since you’d gotten together.

That you had deemed him worthy.

And though Mickey had assured you that it would be a relatively quiet few days, a few meals and a gift exchange with his mom and his sisters, you couldn’t help but wonder – had Mickey deemed you worthy? Had the women in his life?

So, yeah, you couldn’t help the little prickle of nerves that tingled their way through you as your playlist wound down, the dulcet tones of Sam Cooke’s “Any Day Now,” fading as Mickey turned into his driveway, his mother and sisters waiting to greet you with waving hands and identically-beaming faces. Their smiles were all-to familiar to you – a virtual carbon-copy of the one that regularly greeted you on the face of your beloved.

And it was foolish to worry, really, you thought, as you were crushed with hugs and ushered inside by Mickey’s mother and his three shrieking, giggling sisters, all wearing variations of the same, slightly threadbare sweater (no doubt handmade and worn annually). Leaving Mickey to carry your bags and gifts into the home while his trio of sisters fawned over you,

“She looks gorgeous, no?” Said the eldest, Luci.

“I told you, she’s got that glow,” from Eiza, the youngest.

And it was foolish to worry – when they had shoved a glass of ponche navideño in your hands and began filling you in on all the chisme as your boyfriend huffed his way up to his childhood bedroom, laden with bags.

Hours later, you were packed into the hearth-warm kitchen, virtually up to your elbows in masa as you continued to knead, by hand, the sticky dough for enough tamales to feed an army under the approving (but ever-watchful eye) of your general – Mrs. Garcia. The way her lips had split into a smile when you’d refused the stand-mixer and opted to go manual was something you’d burn into your brain for eternity.

Maybe approval wasn’t so far off.

“Bien, mija,” she appraised, as Mickey sipped his punch from the corner he had been relegated to in the the kitchen, watching with honeymelt eyes as the women who shaped his past, his present, and – his eyes lingered over you – hopefully, his future, all worked in tandem to make homemade tamales. Gossipping away and giggling with each other as though you had been their friend for decades.

“Ma,” Mickey piped up, “you’ve got her making all of this by hand? She’ll cramp up. She’ll have witch's hands by the time we leave. She’s an artist, you know, it’s how she makes her living. How many tamales do you need, anyway?”

Mrs. Garcia whipped the dish towel that was draped over her shoulder at the back of her son’s head, effectively silencing him.

“Miguelito,” she hissed, “Tradicion. And your cousin Shawn says he’ll eat at least forty, and you know they’ll be here til New Year’s.”

“Yeah? Well, cousin Shawn is full of shit.”

Mickey’s sisters rolled their eyes at their brother’s antics, the middle sister, Olivia, bumping her hips against yours, her eyes full of playful mirth as she finished stirring the filling.

And you could make out the living room through its swinging door to the kitchen, Vicente Fernández warbling away on the record player in the corner, as Eiza finished decorating their tree with a few of the ornaments that you and Mickey had brought – one, an orb with a photo of the two of you and Artoo on your couch at home, she displayed prominently at the center of the tree next to some that were clearly school projects from the kids’ elementary school years.

It was nice, you thought – to be in a home that felt like a home for the holidays. To see these little pieces of your love’s life that had preceded you and that had shaped him. To let the magic of the season wash over your lives.

After dinner, you helped Mickey’s sisters store the tamales for the long haul (and the arrival of the cousins) while Mickey did the dishes.

Sliding on stockinged feet over the linoleum in their kitchen, you sheepishly produced a pink box tied in twine, with a tag that had a roughly-hewn, hand-drawn likeness of the Garcia household that you had seen in photographs, offering it to Mickey’s mother – a box stuffed full of pan dulce and Christmas cookies.

“Mija, you made these?” She asked, hand hovering over the open flap, debating which to choose. “They all look so perfect.”

“You should, like, have a baking insta,” Eiza agreed, words muffled by a mouth full of fluffy pink pan dulce.

“They aren’t alla that,” you huffed, waving your hand as though to wave away the compliments.

“She’s modest,” Mickey assured, taking the box from your hands and setting it on the oaken kitchen table before lacing your fingers with his. “She loves to bake. She makes cookies for everyone in the squad for Christmas and birthdays.”

“Really?” Mrs. Garcia appraised. “What did you make this year?”

Rooster was positively gleeful at the sight of the red tin bedecked with snowflakes.

“Are those what I think they are?” He bent down to kiss your cheek as you pressed the box into his hands. “Our Marigold’s famous Christmas gifts?”

You had come down to the base to deliver the baked goods in person, on a day the squad had all agreed to meet for a holiday lunch. A cardboard box full of tins, each with their own personalized tag, awaited each of the Daggers. Javy had taken his – with its tag featuring a little drawing of a howling coyote – and absconded with it, thanking you through a sprinkling mouthful of crumbs and peppermint icing.

Bradley’s, with its tag adorned with a strutting cartoon rooster with its tail feathers made of flames, was full of iced shortbread. Something he had confided to you that his mother had made on holidays past. You hoped he’d like them, not that the recipe you had found online could ever touch Carole Bradshaw's.

Mav had winked, thanking you for the classic chocolate chip, chuckling at the cartoonish aviator sunglasses on the tag.

Chocolate-chili cookies for Phoenix. Peanut butter for Jake. Cinnamon swirl for Bob. Lemon-lavender for Halo. Sweet mochi cookies for Reuben… and so on.

“If he doesn’t marry you, Marigold,” Rooster not-so-quietly announced, gesturing at Mickey with a cookie in his hand, “I will.”

It was then that Mickey had swooped in, looping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek, waving Rooster away with a,

“Yeah, yeah… she’ll definitely call you, buddy." Waving at the squad as he spun you and made to take your leave. "Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”

–

Mickey's childhood room was, like the rest of his family home, like the man himself, warm. Belying a coziness you cherished in all spaces, replete with a checkered quilt on the bed that you were certain his mother had made. Posters bedecked the walls, shining with the grins of baseball and soccer players whose names you'd recognized from the backs of jerseys hanging in Mickey's side of your shared closet. Star Trek DVD sets on the bookshelf, nestled next to Tom Clancy novels. Model planes, jets, and Lego sets were intact and displayed – proudly, you were sure – on the desk. It was all so overwhelmingly Mickey, you were certain you were falling in love all over again, more pieces of himself falling into place in your heart. The nature of him, ensconced by his childhood, filling the gaps in your heart.

"It's, ehhh," Mickey scrubbed the back of his neck, placing your bag at the foot of the bed on the side he knew you'd preferred af home. "A little geeky, I know. Ma insists on not changing it."

"She shouldn't," you clarified. "It's perfect. It's you."

Mickey beamed at that, coming to your side and surveying the room from your perspective before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's more perfect seeing you here. Honestly, a pretty girl in my room? My sisters never thought they'd see the day," he chuckled, sweeping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder before gazing up at you through his lashes. "And I gotta say, cielo, it's doing a number on me, you being in here."

You batted your lashes at your beloved before patting his cheek,

“Easy tiger,” you breathed. “I’m not trying to disrespect your mother, or anything. We can wait til we're back home.”

"Yeah, about that," Mickey said, extricating himself from you and readying himself for bed. "My mom is probably still laughing at you for offering to sleep on the couch. They know we've been together for a while, babe. It's fine."

"Still," you hissed, shimmying out of your jeans and into your joggers, sliding beneath the covers. "It's… awkward, no? To be in your boyfriend's house, them thinking we’re like … hooking up in here?"

"If you feel that strongly about it," Mickey slid in beside you, leveling you with his best serious gaze, "you really should make more of an effort to keep your hands off me. Like, damn. Let a man sleep in peace."

You swatted his arm with the back of your hand, scoffing at him as he turned to turn out the bedside light.

"You're unbelievable."

"Tell me something I don't know, baby."

And it had to be some kind of record, really. How quickly you’d gone back on your own word.

As soon as you and Mickey had turned the lights out, he had wrapped his arms around you, and pressed a goodnight kiss to your lips, you were a goner. The rustle of sheets met your ears through the blanket of darkness that had fallen in Mickey’s room, his fingertips meeting the skin of your waist where your t-shirt had ridden up, his lips meeting yours in kind – a clandestine, weighted feeling that you often felt yourself lost in.

Mickey would often tell you that he felt a sort of gravitational pull near you – when you kissed him. That he was helpless to your gravitational pull, like the crashing tides. No choice but to worship you.

It was utter bullshit.

Utter nonsense. Because there was no way he could feel that way about you, when it was exactly how you felt about him, as he trailed his lips along the skin of your neck, feeling his way across your skin, through you, over you, the very heart of you. Rendering you slavish, devoted, insane. No choice but to heed to his beck and call, like the routine surrounding the permanence of a rising and setting sun.

At the breaking little whine shattering its way through your throat, Mickey smiles against your skin, knowing he’s won. His mouth is warm, kisses like rich cocoa against your silken skin as he slips his way down your body, a trail of teasing touches and toying temptations – leading with lips and tongue.

He presses his way down your body, pleased at the heavy sigh that pours from your throat like water in the desert as he slides the soft fabric of your t-shirt up your torso, allowing his lips to chase the mapping progress of his fingers – a path he’s travelled many times, but never feels the same, and never renders the exact same reaction from you.

“Fuck, cielo,” Mickey murmurs in reverence, his tongue swirling your nipple, the heat of his mouth and honey of his lips following. His hands slipping down your waist as he peppers kisses to the ridges of your ribs, the softness of your stomach. Shucking the quilt down to the foot of the bed as he makes his way between your now-parted legs.

His palms skated the skin of your thighs, your calves, your ankles, mumbling muffled endearments against your skin as his lips traversed to your hips, inching closer, closer, closer to your center. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, with honeyed sighs, lashes fluttering and fingers lacing through Mickey’s curls as you acquiesced, always, to the pull of him, the swelling ocean tide sure to wash you away into the depths of him.

“You should feel how warm you are, amor,” Mickey’s lips were wistful and wanton, cruel yet comforting, as he pressed open-mouthed kisses heating the insides of your thighs. A perpetual tease, as tongue followed. “I bet you’re sweet, too.”

Mickey’s eyes met yours as he glanced up at you from between your thighs, glimmering with the dance of mischief and amorous intent. Pleased at the hitch of your breath evident in your chest, the fluttering of your lashes, the part of your lips.

God, you were well on your way to looking as wrecked as he felt.

Mickey smiled then, a splitting peal of glimmering happiness, before he endeavoured to shatter you – cheeky as he inclined his head to lick a firm stripe along the seam of you, through the dampened cotton of your underwear.

You yelped at the feeling, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle the too-loud noise that had shattered the relative silence of the room (save for your collectively heavy breaths), eyes wide at the sound that had spilled from you.

You tugged Mickey’s curls, beckoning him up as you hurried to close your legs – the moment shattering as you realized that once again, you had lost sense of yourself. And under his mother’s roof, no less.

“M!” you hissed, shuffling to readjust your clothing as you gently swatted at his pec, the small thwacking sound vindicating to your own traitorous ears as you attempted to recover from the embarrassment flooding through your body, heating your chest and cheeks. “Y-you … I can’t believe you. Zorro. Baboso.”

“H-hey,” Mickey was cupping his own pec where you had swatted at it, eyeing your fluster and bluster with barely-concealed mirth. “You wound me, baby. I was just trying to kiss you goodnight. I just wanted you to know I love you.”

“Sneaky little good-for-nothing,” you hissed, no malice in your voice as it spilled from lips that were trying, against your better senses, to tug into a smile. Shaking your head. “What would Ken Griffey Jr. think?” You tugged your shirt down, beckoning with pointed finger to the larger-than-life splashed likeness on the poster of the hall of fame ballplayer, staring down at the both of you, frozen smile ever-affixed. Not judgmental, but not-not judgmental.

“He’d high-five me for a home run?” Mickey shrugged.

“You’re shameless, you know?” You readjusted yourself under the covers, making a show of pulling them up to your chin, obscuring your body from his view.

“Well, what do you suggest we do instead,” Mickey queried.

“Um, sleep?”

“Baby,” Mickey’s voice was low, lilting – a slip of a tease in the wintery-darkness of his room. “I don’t, uhhh, think I can go to sleep right now.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, “I want to go on record as saying that this is a self-created problem, but because I love you …” you sat up, allowing the covers to fall to your waist, bending forward and cupping Mickey’s jaw, urging him to you to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Lie on your stomach,” you eased. “Let’s play the word game.”

The word game. Something you had invented with your siblings when you were little. When you were too hyper to sleep, filled with the sugar from Christmas cookies and hot cocoa, waiting for Santa Claus, urging the morning to come … you’d come up with the game to pass the time. A game you had passed on to friends at sleepovers, graduating to giggling wine-drunk iterations in college. And now to your beloved.

One of you would lie on your stomach, while the person that was “it” would pick a word or phrase, drawing each letter on the expanse of the other’s back. If the guesser chose the letter correctly, you would move on to the next letter, until they’ve spelled the word and identified it. Then you would switch

Now, with the twinkling of stars outside of Mickey’s window and the luminescent glow of the moon to light your way, you rubbed your palms along the smooth skin of his muscled back, perusing your mental catalog for your word. Mickey groaned beneath you, pleased at the feeling of your hands working their way along his skin, his contended exhalations leaving his lips like a purr.

“Ah,” you began, “I’ve got one. Okay.”

You traced an “R,” the curving bow of the letter causing a shiver to wrack through Mickey at the featherlight touch of your fingertip, the gentle scrape of your nail.

“Cielo, this is supposed to relax me, not turn me on,” he turned his head to the side, allowing it to rest on his arms so he could glare, balefully, at you through cocoa-swirled eyes.

“I can’t be breaking the rules if everything I do turns you on. Control yourself,” you replied primly, easing the sting of your jest with a sweet kiss pressed to his tanned shoulder. “I’ll draw again.”

“It’s an ‘R,’” he supplied, huffing. “Stupid, sexy ‘R.’”

You beamed, nodding so that he could see, before drawing the next. E.

As Mickey guessed each letter, you proceeded. Giggling at some of his mistakes, signaling wrong answers with a wiping, swirling motion along his spine, not unlike the sweeping shake of your head, until –

“Regalo,” Mickey guessed. Present.

“Bien,” you smiled. Rewarding your beloved with a sweet kiss to his lips, breezy and sweet like honeysuckle in spring.

“And what present did you get me, my love?”

“You’ll have to wait to find out,” you eased down next to him, cuddling into his side. “Or maybe my presence is the present. Either way, you’ll have to be good, or you get nothing.”

“Always,” Mickey murmured, the facile lovingness of your touch, the game, having lulled him some, easing into the routine of relaxing by your side.

Whether he was referring to you always being a gift, or that he was always good, you weren’t sure. And you didn’t ask, his evening-breathing suggesting that he was well on his way to drifting off – one step closer to dancing dreams of swirling ardor.

–

As you sat around in the morning with Mickey’s sisters in their matching sweaters, waiting to exchange gifts, they eyed you with something like mischief. A look you were all too used to seeing in their brother’s eyes.

Mickey was in the kitchen, chipperly helping his mother plate the pan dulce you had baked and pouring coffee. The sunshiney nature of early-birdedness seemed to be a Garcia family trait, you thought, as Mickey’s mother greeted you with a million-watt smile and a kiss to your cheek before ushering you to be comfortable by the tree.

“I heard the strangest thing last night,” Luci began, her lips curling into a grin. “Did you hear it, Oli?” She looked to the middle sister.

“Oh, yeah,” Olivia continued, knowingly. “Some noise coming from down the hall, like a strangled little cat. Very strange.”

“We don’t have a cat,” Eiza piped up, helpfully-unhelpful.

And if your face didn’t bely your embarrassment at Mickey’s sisters clearly having heard your little yelp from down the hall, you were sure that the heat rushing through your body might melt you, like a shameful wave of lava, bent on your destruction.

“Ehm,” you began, plucking intently at the very apparent little loose thread at the hem of your joggers…

“We’re teasing you,” Luci appeased. “Don’t worry. Quite honestly, the fact that you’d choose to be with that little nerd is astounding –”

“You’re too cool for him,” Eiza finished from her end of the couch.

“He’s, uhm,” you smiled weakly at each of his sisters, still recovering from the mortifying ordeal of having been put on the spot. “He’s pretty great.”

“Yeah,” Olivia rolled her eyes. “If you think Star Trek Christmas sweaters and talking about jets and G’s is cool.”

You shrugged. “I do.”

Mrs. Garcia and Mickey entered, then, distributing the steaming cups of coffee and reheated sweet breads. Your beloved pressing his lips to your temple as he pressed the warm mug into your hands.

“Buenas días, mija,” Mrs. Garcia greeted you, easing next to you on the couch.

“Good morning, señora.”

She knocked her shoulder gently into yours, smiling between you and Mickey, as he began to distribute gifts.

“Oh, M, give out mine first, please?” You urged, the little prickle of nerves from yesterday tickling at your throat (or maybe that was just the warm swallow of bitterly-strong coffee, just the way you liked it) as you were eagerly-anxious to see if his family liked your gifts.

Mickey nodded, passing soft wrapped packages to each sister – their names calligraphed on each tag in elegant, looping letters. Urging each sister to tear into the paper, an extra smile for Eiza as he passed her a firmer, square box.

Luci cooed over the hand-knitted scarf and hoop earrings, assuring you they were just the pair she wanted.

Olivia had beamed at the hand-painted mug, admiring the white oleander blooms you had painted. Thanking you for the book of poems.

Eiza shrieked at the pink gamer headset as she unwrapped it, looking up at you with awestruck, eager eyes.

“Now you can join M, Reuben and me on our Call of Duty nights,” you smiled. “You’ll need some face masks, though. We multitask our self-care.” You nodded at the box, urging her to check as she pulled out a pack of Korean sheet masks (the same that you had separately gifted Reuben). She swept you in a hug, promising to set up a time to play with you.

Mickey passed his mother a large, flat package, urging her to tear into the paper.

She ripped away the shining green, revealing a canvas with a watercolored likeness of your beachside home. The cerulean of the swirling ocean and the grapefruit-pink of the sunset stippled into in the background.

“She painted it, mama,” Mickey gestured to you, eyes swimming as he took in the pleased smile on his mother’s face.

“I just wanted you to have something, a piece of our home in yours, until you can come visit us,” you eased. “I hope you like it.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded, reaching to clasp your hand in hers. “It’s beautiful, my darling girl.”

Mickey’s sisters had gifted you with a stocking full of puppy goodies for Artoo. A set of bath bombs and a new sketchpad for you. Gifting Mickey with some games he had his eye on.

Senora eased her way up from the couch, pulling a small wooden box from beneath the tree and handing it to you.

You admired the hewn wood, popping the lid on the box to find a handful of recipe cards in what you recognized form letters and cards to be Mrs. Garcia’s handwriting.

“Just a few recipes for you – so the two of you can have them for your home. And start some of your own traditions.”

You thanked her, with teary eyes and a warm hug, all vestiges of worry set aside as you enmeshed yourself into the warm welcome of the Garcia home.

"You make him better, no?" Mrs. Garcia was sitting with you as Mickey packed up the car, his sisters twittering around him about taking leftovers (seriously, Shawn did not need that many tamales) and promising to FaceTime them after you and Mickey opened the rest of your gifts. The snippets of their conversations meeting your ears as you visited with his mother.

“-- I swear, Miguelito, you better marry her,” Luci’s voice caused your heart to lurch a little.

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Garcia,

"He makes me my best."

–

Artoo was overjoyed at your reunion. He leapt at your feet before you’d even had the chance to exit the car, his tail moving a mile a minute as he bowled over Mickey, licking at his face and his ears.

The two of you had settled into a lazy morning together, Artoo contentedly tearing into the stocking of gifts from Mickey’s sisters from his perch on the couch as you gifted Mickey with a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs – a Christmas morning breakfast tradition in your home.

“I like the shirt,” you acknowledged, beaming at the Mickey Mouse shirt that had been your birthday gift to him the prior year – a tradition of his own making, to wear the shirts you’d gifted him on Christmas. Each year a surprise as to which one he’d pick.

This year’s – a grinning Mickey hugging Pluto – a splash of color adorning Mickey’s torso. A welcome sight painting the picture of your holiday backdrop while you made chili-spiced hot cocoa as your father had taught you, the sweet tickle playing on your lips as you grinned at your boyfriend.

And it was a cosmic, karmic collision – something in the stars, you think. Watching him play with Artoo, watching him eat his breakfast, watching him pluck packages from beneath the tree, ready to give to you. And maybe it was the magic of the holidays – that tinges everything in evergreen romance, warm and sweet and cinnamon. But you think, perhaps, that it will always feel this way with Mickey – as though he was the sunshine in your wintery sky, iridescent and luminous.

“Here,” you passed a package to your beloved, waiting with bated breath and eager eyes as he set his cocoa cup aside and ripped into the paper, marveling at the bound graphic novel in his hands –

A full, illustrated edition of “The Adventures of Fanboy and Payback,” their space-exploration adventures that you had invented and drawn now captured fully, rather than in the piecemeal etchings you would stick into care packages when Mickey was away.

“Baby,” Mickey breathed, “you did all of this?”

“Well,” you worried your lower lip between your teeth. “The binding isn’t the best, but I tried. Do you like it?”

“Ah-mor,” he swept you off the couch and into his arms, his lips meeting yours, full and flush. “You literally made me a sci-fi hero. This is the best ever.”

“I’m so glad,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his tapered waist and squeezing. “You’re definitely my hero, M. Callsign: Romeo.”

Mickey chuckled, disentangling himself from you and pressing another kiss to your lips. Assuring you he loved it as he gently set aside the book as though it were made of glass, turning to pick up your gift.

Mickey gazed at you expectantly as you held the small, unexpectedly dense box in your palm, searching his face for any hint as to what could be in the box,

“Don’t –” Mickey started, trailing off as you gently shook the box, “shake it… Fine.”

You smirked, peeling the paper off the box and peering into it, met with the fiery hue of —

“An orange?” You query, lifting the small fruit from the box, its stippled rind leaving the pleasing, citrusy smell on your fingertips as you examined it. The blazing blue sticker on the side of the rind boasting the phrase, “Sweet Valencia.”

“Por supuesto, cielo.” Of course.

“Well, you know I love oranges,” you smiled at him. “Thank you, my love.”

“Cieloooo,” he snickered. “If we were to share it. To peel it in half, what do you have?” He pressed you.

You gazed at him, glancing between the orange in your hand and your beloved’s shimmering eyes, dark and luminescent as the night sky.

“A half of an orange. Is this a riddle? What am I missing?”

“Si, cielo, my brilliant, beautiful girl.” Mickey kneeled before you know, cradling your hand that held the orange in his palms. “An orange half. Mi media naranja.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

And it was one of your favorite things about the Spanish language, your favorite endearment. Embodied by the gift your boyfriend was handing to you now, the fiery-hued orb in your palms, perfect. The sweet smell of citrus tickling your nose.

Mi media naranja. His soulmate. Literally translated, mi media naranja – “my orange half,” in reference to you.

Mickey dropped your hand, turning to pick up the box you had gently set aside, plucking something from the bottom of the box before picking up one of your hands.

The coolness of metal slid along the ring finger of your right hand.

You tore your gaze down in time to see the coppery rosiness of a simple rose-gold band against the skin of your hand.

“I’m going to marry you one day, mi naranjita,” Mickey assured, looking between the ring on your hand and your starshine eyes. “Until then, consider this my promise to you.”

With your artist's eyes, you can appreciate the watercolor brushstrokes of the moment, the way in which you saw the world, textured and swirling. Rosy and perpetually-perfect as your lips met Mickey’s, tugging him toward you with a finger crooked in his silly shirt.

“You’re perfect, M,” you murmured into his mouth. “Impetuous … but perfect.”

You dragged Mickey down the hall, toward your bedroom, your lips fused to his as you made to peel the cartoonish shirt from his torso as you went, reveling in the firm feel of him beneath your fingertips.

When had the script flipped? You were beneath Mickey now, him rolling his hips into you, the sweet, heavy drag of him inside of you sinfully sweet as you tipped your head back to watch your beloved watching you. The tight heat of you squeezing around him, causing him to roll his eyes back, bucking his hips into you harder.

“Baby,” Mickey groaned, “you're so pretty it hurts.” He dragged his teeth over the column of your throat, soothing the stinging scrape of teeth with a pretty little brushstroke of his lips over the canvas of your neck. "I'll give it all to you – give you more, more, more …" he murmured into your skin as his thrusts became sloppy.

And watching you come apart, to shatter in his embrace, was the gift you kept on giving. One he’d never tire of as he spilled inside of you as you urged him to, “Please, baby, come inside me,” urging, urging. “I want it.”

He never stood a chance.

You draw your finger repeatedly along the curve of his nose, pressing kisses into his neck and begging him not to move from inside of you as Mickey rests his head on your shoulder, puffing exhalations evening into the deep, easy breathing of the satisfied.

And as you glanced down at the rose gold band on your hand – the simple little gift that held so much weight, you drifted to the afternoon you had spent with Mickey before leaving his mother’s home. The tour he’d given you around town, narrating the lives of the ghosts of his hometown as you drove past the movie theater where he’d had his first date; the park where he and some friends had gotten drunk as teens. Stopping to climb to the roof of the school building, to watch the late-afternoon wintery sunset.

"I wish you knew what it feels like," you sighed, carding your fingers through Mickey's curls, his head in your lap as the two of you watched the blaze of orange sunset turn purple like tufted cotton candy.

"What what feels like?" He asked tilting his chin to allow his eyes to prove your form, appreciating the fiery hues of the sky splashed against your skin.

"To love you," you glanced down, meeting your beloved's eyes with a smile.

Mickey's million-watt grin beamed back in response.

And perhaps that's the reason for the setting sun, you thought. It has no choice but to retreat in the face of something so radiant as your beloved's smile, a second fiddle at its own game.

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea, cielito" Mickey sat up, warm hands coming to cradle either side of your face, to appreciate the curve of your jaw as you smile at him -- little reminders how every part of you, delights in every part of him.

At your arching eyebrow, he continued, "After all, I know what it feels like to love you."

His lips met yours, the feel of his kiss like night-blooming jasmine, like petals against your wistful mouth -- eternal against the evening dusk of his hometown's little skyline.

Perhaps traveling for the holidays wasn't so bad.

some tags for my usual suspects: @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemantha @mxgyver @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn @moonlight-prose @thegirlwhowritesfics @phoebe-danvers @jadore-andor @marvelousmermaid @spidervee @t-nd-rfoot

#mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #fanboy x cielo #mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader #holiday fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #tgm fic #my writing #mickey fanboy garcia #Mickey 'fanboy' Garcia #danny ramirez

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