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zibermuda · a month ago
high end | jjk
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→ summary: jungkook is a best-selling erotica novelist living in a lavish neighborhood. He spends his days cruising on yachts, tasting the world’s most expensive wines, and fucking bar-staff. But, as soon as you move in next door with your fruity cocktails, tight bikinis, and odd philosophies, his hobbies shift. To put it plainly; you're sex on legs and he wants to write about you in his upcoming novel. But first, he has to get to know you inside and out. 
→ genre: smut, fluff, angst (erotica-novelist!jk, architect!reader)
→ words: 13,050
→ warnings: unprotected sex, orgy, semi-public sex, semi-public petting, semi-public fingering, ice play, nipple play, bondage, licking, biting, fingering, drooling, spanking, finger sucking, hair pulling, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, pussy eating, dick sucking, throat fucking, crying, gagging, high drug use, drinking, swearing
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masterlist || request
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Let's get one thing straightened out; rich people love to do rich people shit. Whether it be deep-throating oysters in the coastal towns of France, raiding designer stores, or pretending to relate to the lower class, they do it and they do it often.
Jeon Jungkook is guilty of most of the above. At 25 years of age, he lives in a multi million-dollar house situated in the privacy and luxury of the Hills. His neighbors live just as lavishly; some actors, some dentists, and some wealthy by marriage. Their problems seem bizarre to the average person, but respectfully, problems are problems. If you're feeling off about something — even if you're standing in your ten-acre garden and can't seem to decide where to build your own personal water park — you still have a problem.
Jungkook has a problem of his own, but we'll get to that in a moment.
How the fuck did he get so rich and where do I sign up? You might be thinking to yourself. He writes about the intimate and explicit details of sex. Each of his novels revolve around a successful individual dealing with life’s obstacles and ultimately leaving their imprint on the world. The sex scenes are a by-product of the power play. There's a lot of power in sex, there's a lot of love in his heart for life and its obstacles, and there's a lot of money in publishing well-written (debatable), fantasy-driven erotica novels. 
To say he was born with a silver spoon sticking out of both of his ears would be a bit of an overstatement, but not too far from the truth. His parents are the masterminds behind a multi billion-dollar tech company that develops security software. From day one, they drove the tech-fantasy into their sons head, and even though they persuaded him to graduate college with a Bachelor of Advanced Computer Science, things took a different turn once he stepped foot into the real world; he grew a little too cocky with his qualifications, social status, and good looks, and so spent his time entertaining a rowdy bunch of people, partying, having insane amounts of sex, drinking whatever was handed to him, snorting blow off bars, and everything else the champagne life entails.
And then, like most young people, he was inspired by a short-lived summer romance. She was an aspiring solicitor, beautiful, confident, and determined, but her determination made her use people like dental floss. She bat her eyelashes a thousand times, said anything to grow her network, and lied like it was a 9-5 job. But, as much as it hurt him, he never grew to hate her. There was something about her — maybe it was the way she could tame every doubt in his mind, or the way she built herself from the ground up — that made it clear that she knew the world was hers. She was the inspiration behind his first novel. Similar to how musicians write an array of emotional lyrics and dedicate music videos to ex-lovers, he too found a way to tell stories. The difference is that he never writes out of spite. No matter how many chapters of heartbreak he could write, he believes it to be wholly unproductive. He sees the good and the fun in others or he doesn’t see at all.
He knew many fine publishers through his parents, so it wasn’t long before he was an official published author with a new network of literate friends. His novel was a quick success thanks to his advertising team. They worked their ass to the bone to gain a cult following for him. Posters were on bus-stops, library walls, retirement home notice boards, and even on the ‘Do Not Feed the Ducks’ signs at parks. If the ducks and the elderly weren’t already into sexy, but also kind of odd novels, they sure as hell are now.
He was crowned the king of erotica just a week after his first publication.
The average Joe appreciates a little sex every now and then, but this isn't a story about average Joe’s. It's about filthy rich savages who can't get enough of it; in every position, at every time of the day, at every setting. They put rabbits to shame. For all intents and purposes, Jungkook is one of these rabbit-shaming savages. He loves dubious, sweat-inducing, vulgar sex with loose women; MILFS, teachers, models, lawyers, doctors, bartenders, and even the neighbor living in the colonial mansion opposite from him. She's forty-three years old, freshly divorced, and had been a fan of his writing since the very first publication, so she thought 'what the hell? I'll just knock on his door, crack open a bottle of wine, and gush about how much I love his work. Maybe I can work on my game, too.' She came for conversation, but never thought that he'd be spelling it out with his tongue between her thighs.
When it comes to conversing with him, there's often tension, whether sexual or just plain enlightening, and a tipping point. He always says the right things to aid out unlikely confidence within people; a type of confidence that makes a person say what they truly mean and want. He likes to ask unlikely questions and do unlikely things, sex aside.
Back to his problem, though; writers block. He’s lacking very specific inspiration, but this is where you come into play. He was curious about you from the very moment he saw you chatting with the driver of the movers truck. You'd been standing outside your new house with your summer dress and broad-rimmed hat, and he'd been curiously scoping out his new neighbor from his window. It's not uncommon for him to feel such curiosity toward a successful person, nor is it rare for him to adapt and characterize them for his novels. Only the devil knows what kind of woman you are. Maybe you’re a teacher of fine arts, a model, a marine, a police officer, maybe you married into wealth, or even a decoy sent by the FBI. He learned many years ago to not judge a person by their cover.
It was only yesterday that he saw you standing on your driveway with a shadow cast over half of your face, and if he hadn’t been preoccupied with avoiding various voicemails and bickering with his lawyer over the phone, he would’ve introduced himself. Today, though, he plans on doing just that. In fact, he’s already half-way down the stairs with a free schedule and the brighter side of your face clear in his mind.
The staircase banisters are glass panes adorned with silver hand-railings, and each step is a thick, hand-cut slab of grey marble. The steps cascade from the second floor to the kitchen, where contemporary wine racks have been built underneath. Stocked on the racks are hundreds of bottles of imported red wine, white wine, and limited edition champagne taken from events and given to him as gifts. Most, if not all, are purely decorative. He prefers whiskey.
Bright, white spotlights are tucked underneath floating wall dividers to brighten up the home and most, if not all, of the walls have been coated in a light grey paint. A theme of dark wood runs true to his home; dark counter tops, coffee tables, and sculptures. His home is very much an open plan, quite like himself.
Money has never been an issue for him, but it’d be foolish to say that wealth is what got him here in the first place. He has always been smart, has always known the right people, and has always been ambitious to the core. You could give him nothing but an empty bottle, and he’d soon be the best-selling bottle maker in the country.
Jungkook takes a few moments to pick out an expensive bottle of wine — a house-warming gift, if you will — before heading outside. The sky is a pretty shade of blue and almost void of clouds, except for a single cloud spread across the sky like a stroke of white paint. He knocks on your door three times and checks his Rolex after waiting an excess of fifteen seconds. Almost a minute passes before the front door swings open to reveal your shadow-free face. You have light, complementary makeup and a small smile adorning it. If he were younger and a little more naive, he’d drop to his knees.
It’s 4:48PM on a Sunday, yet you have a half-empty, strawberry cocktail in your hand. It’s 4:48PM, yet he has an expensive bottle of wine in his. He already likes you.
“Hello.” You say with those strawberry stained lips. Something about you suggests that you’re a little bit introverted, but it’s definitely not the cloud-white bikini and black, sheer cover-up wrapped around your figure. “I don’t suppose you’re the pool man?” 
“No, but I can take a look if you’d like.” He smiles a true Hollywood smile. “Your neighbor. To the right.”
His home is the biggest in the neighborhood. Many of the other homes are half the size, but just as lavish, including your own.
“Y/N.” You offer out your hand for him to shake and he does so without hesitation. “Architecture is my forte, but that’s not usually the first thing people guess.”
He tells you his name and you repeat it back in a way that makes him raise his eyebrows ever so slightly. And, as you invite him inside, you size him up; from his broad shoulders, slim waist, to his surprisingly perky ass. What is it with men and winning the genetic jackpot for good asses and eyelashes?
You’re not the only one, though. He’s already taken note of your half-naked body, ring-less fingers, and the dimples in your lower back. Your house smells like clean laundry and fresh paint, and an array of gin, brandy, vodka, and whiskey bottles sit on a silver platter on your marbled kitchen counter, right next to a bouquet of deep pink Dahlias. He places the wine bottle nearby, slightly defeated by the wrong choice of drink.
You’re not a wine-drinker, he notes. Cocktails are your best friend.
"Thank you.” You say, genuinely, as you inspect the brand and age of the wine. It looks expensive and by the looks of him, it has to be. “You really didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“I would’ve brought you a pie, but I can’t bake to save a life.” He humors. “You’ll get one, though, just not from me.”
The sun is far too warm to keep the conversation strictly inside. Summer has always been your favorite time of the year.
“What do you do, by the way? I don’t think I asked.” You inquire as you step past the large, glass sliding doors and wander around the great length of your swimming pool. Sundays are the only days where you have the time to lounge around in a bikini and drink cocktails before 5PM, so you make the most of it.
“I’m an author.” Even for someone like him, he’s never seen such a huge personal pool. Are you coaching the Olympic swimming team or something? He can just about picture you lounging on an inflatable pool float, skin wet and glistening in the light.
"What kind of stuff do you write?" You ask with your drink in one hand and his full-attention in the other. "Let me guess.. Science fiction? Business advice?"
His tan skin, wavy hair, and aura yells — practically screams — ‘leisure’, so he could easily be mistaken for a businessman with a habit of visiting the Bahamas every weekend. That’s not far from the truth, to be fair. He isn’t one to shy away from self-indulgence.
"Erotica." There’s no hidden shame behind his confession, nor is their a flicker of embarrassment. He owns it, just like he owns that white, button-up shirt and that dark, ruffled hair. He’s physically fit, too, thanks to his interest in recreational boxing and high intensity training.
"Erotica?" You repeat, way-off, but entirely captivated by this strange man. “So, you’re addicted to sex?”
Cheeky, he notes.
You tap your finger against your glass and drink in everything about him. The longer you look, the shyer you feel. What’s that about? You’ve never been one to shy away from a hot, single neighbor; that is if he’s actually single and not just a cocky husband of a woman who deserves a whole lot better. There’s something very intimidating about him. He carries himself like nothing in this world could bother him or make him stutter over his words.
He likes that you asked that. It gives him incentive to ask you the same thing. “Aren’t you?”
“We’re living in the hills, Mr. Author.” Your laugh strokes his ears like soft velvet. “I’m sure everybody around here is in some sort of sex ring.”
He touches the bottom of his chin and your eyes linger there for a few moments. His face is perfectly symmetrical; sharp jaw, deep brown eyes, pretty pink lips. A small mole sits directly under his bottom lip, too. “You free Thursday evening, Y/N?”
“Could be.”
“Could be.” He repeats, amused. “A friend of mine opened up a bar down on boulevard. Real fancy shit. They serve $1,000 diamond cocktails and everything else pretentious. I’d like to take you.”
“Sounds fun.” You agree without much hesitation. “I get home from work at 7.”
And that’s how Jeon Jungkook meets you for the first time. He doesn’t stay for too long, though, because he prefers to pace himself. Too much of a good thing isn’t good for anybody. You’ve only spoken to him for twenty-five minutes, but he’s already so intrigued. You’re two years his senior, graduated college twice; first with a Bachelor’s Degree in Architecture, and the second time with a Master’s in Architecture. You love what you do, but you hate where you work, even though it’s one of the best studios in the city. Interior and spacial designs interest you the most, but your boss compresses what you’re allowed to do out of fear that you might be better than he is. Jungkook can already tell that you’re better than a lot of people, especially your boss.
“I won’t be mad if you pour that wine down the sink, honestly.” He wanders past your front door and eyes the way you ever so slightly lean your hip against the door frame. “I mean it.”
You laugh, knowing damn well that that very thought crossed your mind just moments before. “See you Thursday, Mr. Author.”
He heads back home, but catches you again from the same window he’d seen you from yesterday. He observes, slightly hypnotized, as you bend over to place a cocktail glass on the concrete nearby the pool. The sheer fabric of your beach kimono rides up your lower back, revealing the curve of your ass and the white bikini thong clinging to your skin. And then he notices his own novel in your hands. The coloring of the front cover suggests that it’s one of his older novels. He then wonders if you already knew who he was and are just a really convincing actress. You didn’t, really, but his novel was stuffed into a box of books that you had just started to unpack. You recall a friend gifting you the erotica novel for your 25th birthday, but you never even read the blurb. It’s been gathering dust at the back of shelves for two years, but now you just have to know what it’s all about. 
Not expecting much, you flick through a few chapters until you land on a random sex scene. You drink in every word like it’s a new cocktail flavor, tasting the incredibly lewd descriptions of wall sex shifting to wet, shower sex. The way he describes each scene has your imagination firing up like an old truck. You can picture each water droplet sliding down the two bodies, the hand print left on the main character’s thigh, and the thick, misty air in the bathroom. A little warm in the face, you flip the novel and peer at the image of Jungkook printed just above the blurb. He’s wearing that same Hollywood smile.
What have you gotten yourself into?
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Monday rolls around far too quickly. You bid farewell to your bikinis and cocktails until next Sunday, and head to work with armfuls of files.
Your boss, David Woods; a man with a passion for development and architecture; ushers you to his large office before you can even make it to your desk. He’s tall and lean; at-least 6′1; with a short quiff that he feels the need to gel back. His hands are abnormally large and disproportionate to his body. Pressed suits, solid-colored ties, shiny shoes, and white button-ups are all that he wears in fear that he could be mistaken for anything other than a rich man.
A dark oak desk sits toward the further end of the room, closest to a blue-grey wall and a painting of something dark and abstract. There are countless awards for god-knows-what lined up on his bookshelves, and a prayer plant is sat on the left side of his desk in a tall, gold vase. If it weren’t for that plant doing regular plant things, the air in here would reek of death.
He takes a seat at his black leather chair and places his big hands on the desk, grinning wickedly at you. The gold light fixtures match the thin, gold necklace that’s half-tucked beneath his button-up.
“A little birdie told me that you’re planning to open up your own studio.” He interrogates. Woods has never been one to mind his business, let alone speak to another human being without a condescending tone. “When was that? Sometime this year?”
“A little birdie?” You’re not afraid to call him out on his blatant dishonesty. “You look through my laptop when I’m at lunch.”
“The company’s laptop.” He corrects. He’s amused by your boldness, but if you squint, you can see the irritation behind his pale blue eyes. “You know how I feel about my people taking clients from The Woods. It’s not good for business.”
No, he’s not talking about literal tree-dominated land, although he does a good job at making people feel as if they’re lost in such a place. The Woods is quite literally him and anything he owns. Once you step foot into the building, you’re in The Woods territory. There’s a difference between being proud of what you’ve made for yourself and being an overbearing asshole who thinks he has a say in everyone and everything.
“I’m just trying to help you out, Y/N. You know that’s all I’ve ever done for you.” He says as condescending as ever. “I just don’t think you’re ready to be your own boss.”
“I’ve been ready for a while.” There’s no reason for you to say this out loud, because, well, both of you are already aware of it. You’re his best. You draw in clients like no other, have a network exceeding 500 professionals, and are a complete realist. You could run five successful studios, but with the right investors, you could run one of the best in the country. “If it’s clients that you’re worried about, don’t. I won’t steal from you.”
“Oh, but you’ve been stealing from me since I let you in these doors.”
Loyalty is a big thing for Woods, but he holds it against people to an extreme extent. He interferes with personal lives, often ordering people to cut ties with others he holds a grudge against or because they don’t ‘fit his vibe.’ If you have an ugly pet, he’ll refer you to the nearest pet sanctuary. If your wife or husband is an under-performer, has one too many blemishes on their skin, or can’t bear a child, he’ll introduce you to somebody he deems worthy.
You leave his office with a plunging feeling in the pit of your stomach and a need for fresh air.
The receptionist greets you as you walk past and toward the revolving doors. She’s a woman in her mid twenties with a noticeable French accent. Light highlights run through her shoulder-length, brown hair. She’s fond of wearing sneakers to work as it makes the train commute a lot more comfortable for her feet, she likes ice-cream scented candles, cats — that’s evident by the few cat hairs stuck to the sleeve of her blouse —, and keeping up with local gossip. She’s good at her job, reliable, and always greets people with a warm smile, even Woods. She’s no-doubt the glue that holds this place together and prevents people from strangling each-other to death.
“Long day?” Mylène, the French receptionist, asks even though lunchtime has yet to hit.
“You could say that.”
“11:11AM.” She says like it means anything to you. “That’s an angel number. I’ll make a wish for you.”
“Thanks.” You step outside for a breath of fresh air. The summers breeze greets you like an old friend.
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From Monday to Thursday, you work and you work and you work. You have countless meetings with new and old clients, draw up elaborate designs, revise old designs, and visit various construction sites. Your desk grows littered with pens, pencils, cuts of fabric and woods, and random slithers of wallpaper prints. During your lunch breaks, you often grab a coffee with old college friends and colleagues, making the effort to really nourish relationships.
Jungkook works, too, but in the most unique way. He meets new characters at various events, leaves an impression on everyone he speaks to, and has sex with three bartenders all in the same night. He gets unconventionally drunk, smokes weed with his cousin on his dad’s side (it’s their thing), wakes up with nothing but a suspicion of what happened the night before, and then sits down at his computer with a throbbing head and very little clothing on. Funnily enough, he thinks up the majority of his novel plots in less than sober states. He writes about a character very similar to you, focusing on her work ethic, her devil of a boss, her love for cocktails, and her sex appeal. He has no coherent plot for this novel, but he knows that ideas are likely to come to mind the more time he spends with you. None of this chaos is new to him. I told you he does very unlikely things.
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Thursday rolls around faster than usual and you find yourself sitting at a bar with Jeon Jungkook at 8:48PM. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt with a slight satin finish, rolled at the sleeves, black dress pants and shoes, and a Rolex around his wrist. His well built chest strains slightly against his shirt, as do his biceps. You’ve come straight from work in a deep blue pencil dress. There’s not a single casual tee or distressed jean in sight, only high heels, neutral colored ties, gorgeous dresses, and styled hair.
Soft, white down-lights shine from the ceiling above the bar table, illuminating whatever vibrant drink the bartender has served to a customer. Pleasant jazz hums from cleverly hidden speakers. The atmosphere couldn’t get any more intimate. You often find yourself at bars like these after a shit day at work with a drink in both hands. There are specific things that make a shit day, but your boss is always the garlic and onions behind recipes like those.
Jungkook orders a scotch on the rocks and takes the first gulp like a parched man. You order yourself a strawberry-mint gin and tonic.
“What got you into writing?” Is your first question of the night. “I’ve heard that the industry is hard to get into. A friend of mine was rejected dozens of times and told that her plots were all wrong.”
He ponders carefully before settling on an answer. “Life and its shit. I’ve been rejected before, but that’s just how it is out there. Wouldn't it be boring to be right all the time?”
You chuckle at the notion. “My boss begs to differ.”
Writing — putting your thoughts out into the world for crass feedback — isn’t an easy thing to do. It’s often praised as brave; to open yourself up to such interactions with people who should have zero impact on your self-worth because, they’re, well, complete strangers with a different set of values, literary interests, interpretation skills, and are often just doing their job as a well-paid shit-stirrer.
A handful of people get a kick out of sharing anonymous, hateful comments. Jungkook deals with those kind of comments every day of his life, but if there’s one thing that he’s learned by being in the public eye, it’s that opinions aren’t facts. It’s important to take them and then let them go. Hell, you even have the power to build your own foundation with the bricks people throw at you. His life is his. Your life is yours. It’d be a very big mistake to see your life in eyes that aren’t yours.
People are always going to be cunts with zero regard for other people’s feelings. The difference is that you and him know the difference between being a decent human being and being that. That’s something to take pride in.
“Sure, but how do you deal with criticism?” You ask, intrigued by his extraordinary life. He’s so young for the empire he’s amassed. Sure, he’s two years your junior, but he could teach you a thing or two. “Do you rewrite or try somewhere else?”
He swirls the whiskey in his glass and watches as it glisten beneath the lights. Amusement is written all over his face, but there’s something foreign wavering in his eyes. “I deal with it by sitting in my mansion and not changing a fucking thing about myself.”
“Touché, but wealth isn’t everything.” You challenge. “A lot of people learn to love the money, but hate themselves.”
“I don’t hate myself.” He says and you believe him. “Not always. I try to hate the choices I make instead of hating myself for making them.”
"Smart. You’re your own best friend.”
“I’m never going to know somebody as well as I know myself, so why not? I am my own mind. I know what I’m thinking at most times of the day.”
He makes an interesting point, but you can’t help but challenge it further. “Then again.. you see yourself, but you also don’t see yourself. There are some things that I know about you that you don’t know about yourself. For instance..”
He holds his glass with a limp wrist, listening attentively. “Enlighten me.”
“Well.. I’m sitting in front of you and I can observe the expressions that your face makes during our conversation. You don’t always realize that you’re making them, but you can’t carry a little mirror with you and check what your face is doing all the time. Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“I’ve never thought about that before.” He says with a smile. “You’re a bit strange, aren’t you?”
His answer disappoints you slightly, but you don’t bother verbalizing it. He can tell you feel this way by the slight lowering of your eyebrows. Only, you don’t realize yourself that you've taken on this expression. Funny, he thinks to himself. Ignorance was bliss.
You both discuss your the past few riveting days that you’ve had; you speak about your boss in the kindest way possible, and he speaks about the people he recently met in only good tones and smiles. He doesn’t ever poke fun at another persons flaw, or their dress choice, or their intellect. He could sell anyone any product, no matter how shit it actually is, with that talent. You find yourself laughing and cringing like he’s an old school friend. It’s a nice feeling.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?” You dare to ask with your straw poking at your bottom lip. You’re on your third gin and tonic.
“The worst thing?” He repeats, amused by your formidable question. He could list a few things that’d shift the mood, but he isn’t ready for you to meet the skeletons in his closet, to evaluate the bad decisions he’s made, or to sympathize with the people he’s hurt.
“Yeah, you know-” You take a sip from your drink before returning it to the bar. You’re in a prying mood. There’s something about him, maybe it’s the way he looks at you with those big brown eyes, that makes you want to try your luck. “The naughtiest.” 
The naughtiest? He thinks to himself. Maybe it was when he bent his lawyer over her desk and showed her what 'taking it from the back' really meant, or when he fucked a prestigious critic for a better review on his novel. He's been everywhere, done a little bit of everything, and a little bit of everyone. To choose just one naughty thing would take a weeks worth of contemplation, but then, something of value comes to mind and he leans closer to whisper it into your ear; something so filthy that it makes your breath catch in your throat and your posture improve.
As he speaks lowly, his breath tickles your neck, sending goosebumps down the length of your arms. If you were slightly more sober, and some may argue — smart —, you’d recognize them as warning signs.
“And then..” His voice is intoxicating and has you hooked on every syllable that falls from his lips. He smells like a delicious mix of whiskey, vanilla, and pine. And, during the most telling part of his confession, he runs his palm from your knee to your upper thigh, taking the fabric of your dress with him.
You definitely took him as the promiscuous type, but this is far beyond anything you’ve ever heard before. When he pulls away, your skin is engulfed in an arousing heat. A warm flush had been crawling it's way up your neck, but has well and truly settled between your thighs. "That's pretty naughty."
“Think so?” His confident tone arouses you more. You’re wet. That’s clear to the both of you. “I like the way you’re looking at me.”
You’re way too lost in his eyes and consumed by the feeling of his fingers tracing small circles against your thigh. Your eyes are probably begging for something, a portion of your bottom lip is probably caught between your teeth, and your chest is probably rising and falling quite quickly. “What way?”
“That way.” His eyes flick to your mouth, and then, just like that, his lips are on yours. He kisses you slowly at first, gently sliding his tongue against your own and relishing in the warmth and wetness of your mouth. He craves you; from your bashful smile to every inch of your body that always seems to be wrapped tightly in designer. He wonders what sounds you’ll make when he fucks you, whether or not you prefer to go slow and make love, how wet you’ll get you with just his fingers, and if your panties are thin and lacy and riding up your ass.
He hates wondering, so he takes you home. You unzip your dress and let it fall to the hardwood floor, and he pours himself a whiskey on the rocks. His curious eyes roam all over your skin, from your hardened nipples to your bare thighs, as he guides your lower back against the kitchen counter. Every touch against your skin makes you shudder, whether it be the pads of his fingers or the grey marble of the countertop.
“Look at you. Fuck..” He says, mostly to himself, as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. Your eyes flutter shut at his touch. 
He runs his palm up the curve of your ass and hooks his fingers underneath the band of your panties, tugging it tight against your pussy. The feeling of your skin burns into his memory, and as he looks at your face, really looks at it, he knows he hit the jackpot; your face is as beautiful as your voice, your voice is as beautiful as your mind, and your mind is as beautiful as your body. To him, you’re fucking faultless. He knows he’ll be on his knees for you before the night is over.
The ice sitting in his glass glistens beneath the kitchen light and it gives him an intriguing idea. He wants to see you come undone, to make you so stimulated that you can’t pinpoint where the feeling is coming from. He takes an ice cube between his lips and presses it against the side of your neck. You gasp at the feeling of the ice running against your skin; so cold that it almost stings. Your fingers grasp at the fabric of his button-up as he drags the ice past your collarbone and down to your nipple, pressing it firm against the bud until your back arches away from the counter. A thin sheen of water maps out exactly where his lips have been.
Just like he knew he would, he sinks to his knees and tugs your panties down your thighs and off at the feet. The ice melts in his mouth. His lips are still cold and wet as he presses a hard kiss against your pussy, and the feeling draws a startled gasp from your chest. He spreads your folds with his fingers and teasingly drags his tongue against your pussy hole. His nose digs against your clit as he licks into you. His own saliva coats his chin, and at one point, drools from your pussy to the hardwood flooring.
“Right there.. Like that. Fuck!” You sigh as he alternates between sucking and licking your clit, and curling two fingers inside of you. He touches you right, really making the effort to listen to the sounds you make and taking note of the way you squirm against his mouth.
He licks your pussy and digs his fingers into your ass until your moans double in volume and your breathing turns rapid, and then he stands to steal your breath again with a deep kiss. You fumble with the buttons of his button-up as he fervently kisses you. The pace of the kiss is erratic and you find it difficult to keep up. He bites and sucks on your tongue until your lips are swollen.
His body is dreamy and something you’ve been curious about ever since he turned up in that tight, black button-up; wide shoulders, slim waist, defined abdomen and pecs, and small nipples that harden slightly as you run your hands over his skin. You tug on the zipper of his pants and reach beneath for his cock. It’s stiff and warm in your hand.
He lifts your leg and wraps your thigh snug around his bare waist, eager to feel you. A relieved sigh falls from both of your mouths as he sinks into you. He pulls your hips flush against his own, delving deeper and filling you up until he can’t any more. You feel so warm and wet wrapped around him. It couldn’t be any better.
“You feel so good.” He praises and he means every word. “So fucking good..”
Similarly to the first kiss you shared, he starts off gentle and slow, but is quick to lose himself in the moment and set a quick pace. His pecs and abdomen flex as he bucks his hips against yours over and over again. The sex has you in a trance. Moans drool from your lips, your nails rake across the back of his neck, and your head grows increasingly dizzy. Your lower back digs firmly into the counter top as he fucks you against it, and profanities fall from his tongue in arousing moans. You can’t imagine your night getting any better.
The sex migrates from the kitchen counter, to the doors of the pantry, and finally to the nearby couch. He sinks onto, almost into, the couch as you straddle his lap. Nothing else is running through his mind aside from you; the feeling of your wrapped tightly around him, the sight of your parted lips and low eyes, the sound of your pretty whines and stuttering breath, and the bounce in your tits as you sit on his cock over and over again.
“Oh my.. god. Oh my-” You chant in desperate whispers. “Fuck..”
He reaches for your tits, squeezing the flesh and pinching your nipples between his fingers. Your skin is delicate beneath his touch; he almost feels like he could break you at any moment, but you’re proving to be a bigger girl than he made you out to be.
You come twice that night; once on his cock and the other on his tongue. You’re breathless when it ends and it takes you many, many more moments spent in his arms before you can gather your thoughts and clothing.
Jungkook has had enough sex in his life to understand that sex is never perfect and that’s a very normal and human thing. Sometimes it takes a few different touches and manoeuvres to turn somebody on, and other times it’s a walk in the (water) park. Sometimes he’ll laugh while he’s balls deep in somebody because one of them made a funny noise. He might miss their mouth and accidentally kiss their chin. He might come too early or too late, lose his erection halfway through because a bizarre thought crossed his mind, or even fall asleep before he can take his pants off because he’s had a little too much to drink. Sometimes sex is boring, or silent, or just an itch that needs to be scratched. But he saw no fault in the sex he just had with you. His mind didn’t wander, but his hands definitely did. He liked everything about it; from the sounds you made to the way you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He still sees zero faults in you.
You head home with a slight wobble in your step. The sex was something that you never knew you’d been craving. It relieved a good handful of your pent-up stress and gave back some confidence that you’d been missing. Your sex life wasn’t dead before tonight, it was just put on hold for a few weeks while you get your shit together at work. Woods has been hinting at letting you work with a really huge client for some time now and you feel the need to give him a very compelling reason to. Sex with no strings attached is easy to find, but good sex with no strings attached isn’t. You know you’ve hit the jackpot with this one.
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Woods hands you the client on Friday morning. Just like that. He strides to your desk and slaps down a file full of various sketches, building plans, and contact details. You flip through the pages with an abundance of enthusiasm as he glares down at you. He wants you to stay at the studio and he’s hoping that this will buy your confidence. That’s what this is.
“Don’t disappoint me.” Is all that he says.
You meet with those clients on the very same day, introducing yourself and chatting about various design ideas over coffee at a nearby cafe. They’re a married couple in their late fifties and as rich as ever. They carry themselves well and decide on a budget in the millions. They want to build a retirement home for themselves; somewhere secluded and surrounded by gorgeous scenery, open plan, modern, lots of light, white and elegant decor.
“Plants.” The man adds as you’re taking notes on an iPad. He’s handsome; short, dark hair, well-built figure, pretty brown eyes, and a soothing voice. “Lots of house plants. They make the air better.”
“Actually..” The woman adds as the meeting comes to an end. She’s as attractive as her husband; pretty eyes, shiny black hair, and delicate fingers. “We’re heading to a literature event tonight and the venue is exactly in the style we’re looking for. Why not come? It’s a nice excuse to get you out of the office, isn’t it?”
You accept with a smile. Who are you to turn down free champagne during a weekday? You’re not much of a reader, not because you don’t like to read, but because you rarely have the time. Regardless, you put on your nicest dress and your nicest heels, and adorn your face with pretty makeup. 
The venue is stunning; high ceilings with expensive chandeliers, white Victorian walls, indoor ivory hanging from aged wooden beams, huge windows that allow the sunlight to pass through. It really is beautiful here. The other guests are dressed to the nines; shawls, glistening dresses, designer ties and suits, and priceless shoes. As you’re looking around and sipping on a glass of complementary champagne, somebody all too familiar catches your eye. He notices you just moments after and comes bounding over with a handsome smile on his face.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Jeon Jungkook, your neighbor and the man you had literal sex with the other day, joins you by the table of champagne glasses. A huge chocolate fountain and a few vases full of white flowers are sat on the table, too.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, a bit taken aback by how good he looks; black blazer over a tight high-neck sweater, black dress pants, and shiny shoes. His hair is styled neatly and pushed off to one side.
“I was invited-” He quirks an eyebrow. “-to the author’s events because, believe it or not, I’m an author. Why are you here?”
“Right.” You breathe out all of your tense energy in one, long sigh. With little conviction, you gesture toward the middle-aged couple who are enjoying champagne with a slightly younger woman. “Those are my clients. They want a home in a similar style to this. They didn’t have to invite me, but it’s nice that they did. Could’ve just googled this place or visited later in the week..”
“My parents?” He asks, unaffected.
“Your parents?”
He points two limp fingers in the direction of the same couple and you can’t help but remember the feeling of them between your thighs. “The pretentious looking couple, yeah, my parents. I was so sure you were the type to read through my Wikipedia page and draw up my family tree.”
Small world, you think to yourself. It seems like every rich person knows all the other rich people in this world. They all meet at some point, buying and selling parts of themselves in the good name of business. The world makes the strangest connections sometimes.
“If you ever feel nervous, just remember this.” He says. “Their son writes sex novels, so nothing can really disappoint them any more than that. You’ll give them what they want, though. I’ve seen some of your work.”
“They don’t support you?”
“They do. My mom tells people that I write about science and the order of the universe, though. She’s still holding out hope that I’ll suddenly want to work at their company. My dad doesn’t really care.. as long as I don’t overdose on some yacht in Cancun.”
Jungkook’s eyes drag from your exposed neck and arms, to the curve of your ass. Your glittery dress is as amazing as everyone else's, maybe even better. The soft skin of your back is exposed and a delicate string of jewels runs down your spine. “You look nice, by the way. Really nice.”
The opportunity for mingling comes to a close once a young man — about the same age as Jungkook — steps up to the mic that’s been set up at the front and center of the venue. He’s wearing round glasses and a black, fitted suit. The guests take their seats at their allocated tables. It comes as no surprise to you that Jungkook is seated at the same table as parents. You sit at the table behind with a few other rich women draped in designer. The eldest woman sat around the table taps your shoulder and compliments your dress.
“Stunning.” She says and you smile.
“Thanks for coming everyone. I’d like to start us off with a passage from my latest self-help book.” The young man with the glasses begins after tapping the mic with two fingers. He’s not nervous, just eager to change at least one person’s outlook. “If somebody doesn’t bring anything positive into your life, let them go. You’ll feel bad and question whether you’ve done the right thing, but just give it some time. Don’t check up on somebody who doesn’t check up on you. Don’t try to keep in contact. Stop associating things, music, and people with that person.”
“Maybe they said something mean and you said something back or vice versa, but in reality, it just doesn’t matter. You were both upset. You’re not defined by a petty argument. People in this world kill each-other, steal, abuse power, and assault the most vulnerable. You’re not a bad person for being upset and saying something hurtful, and that rings true if you feel any ounce of regret. It happened and you can’t change it. Sure, you might’ve had some awesome times and genuinely have love for that person, but if they continuously make you doubt your worth, intellect, choices, values, invade your privacy, and lash out at you for being somebody other than who they want you to be, let them go. You don’t even owe them an explanation or a goodbye. Don’t apologize when it isn’t your fault. Don’t apologize for mistakes that you didn’t make. Don’t waste time reflecting on shit that just isn’t worth it. This world is full of people who you will love and who will love you. Don’t settle. You lose part of yourself when you do.”
And then he nods to the crowd and returns to his seat. An older woman takes his place and introduces a passage from her own novel.
“Lessons in love hurt.” She says. “If there was a class for love, nobody would turn up. We’re not lab rats and we’d all prefer to learn without pain. I don’t ever remember feeling like I’d spend life alone after a math class, do you?” 
Despite Jungkook being the most famous author here, he doesn’t get up to speak at all during the night. All he does is listen to the others and clap once they finish reciting their bit. When the event ends and all the rich people have shaken all the other rich people’s hands, he offers to take you somewhere where they serve a lot more than champagne, and you accept without a hesitating thought.
He drives a black camaro and it smells exactly like his aftershave. You don’t bother to ask him where he’s taking you because you trust that he’ll show you a good time. He drives for fifteen minutes down a busy road before turning a corner and continuing down a narrow driveway toward a federal colonial house. The driveway widens five times it’s previous size, making room for at-least twenty decent sized vehicles. He parks among nine other cars and walks toward the large front door with your hand in his; just in case you trip in the dark with those heels on.
Dim, alternating colors of light emit from each of the windows; floor to ceiling on the first floor, and half the size on the second. A huge lawn surrounds the property and is dimly illuminated by outdoor solar lights that are impaled into the soil. Loud, electropop music booms from the walls of the building. You can practically see them shaking in tune with the bass.
“Where is this?” You ask over the volume. Bunches of balloons are fastened around an assortment of topiary bay trees.
“A happy house.” He lets himself in like he’s been here one hundred times before. He has. This is the one place that he won’t ever outgrow. People do every type of drug here, party for three days in a row, and have boatloads of sex. The police don’t bother intervening because too many celebrities are fond of this place and come often. If offered enough money, even the law can turn a blind eye. “You get very happy here, if you know what I mean.”
The air is thicker inside the building and more difficult to breathe in. It doesn’t feel like a home at all. You can smell weed, sweat, sex, and alcohol. The flickering lights illuminate parts of people’s faces and bodies. They’re chatting quietly, touching each-other through and beneath their clothing, smoking cigarettes, and exchanging saliva in the hallway. Some have multicolored hair, streaks of neon paint smeared on their face, missing shirts, cocaine melted into their upper lip, and a light sheen of sweat adorning their skin.
Jungkook takes no notice. He guides you past the bodies in the hallway and toward what looks like a pumped-up, party-haven living room. Two couches sit opposite from one another and in-between a table that’s littered with empty glasses and glow sticks. It’s hard to see much else.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again.” An older woman comes out of nowhere and engulfs Jungkook in a tight hug. She’s wearing a turquoise jumpsuit, lots of jewellery on her wrists and fingers, and bright pink lipstick. The flickering lights make it difficult to make out the true dimensions of her face, but you can tell that she’s very beautiful. She has yellow neon paint smeared down her neck and arms.
“Huifang, Y/N.” Jungkook takes the joint that she offers him and lights it between his lips. The smoke rises to the ceiling and changes color in tune with the lights. “She’s designing my parent’s old people home.”
The woman steps forward and you expect her reach for a hug, but she cups your face and presses a hard kiss against your lips instead. You’re wide eyed when she pulls away, but her smile doesn’t falter. This is definitely a happy house.
“She’s very friendly.. Ever since the divorce.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in the light as he laughs. It’s a playful gesture that Huifang returns by nudging his arm.
“Wow.. Yeah.” You pat your lips and check your fingers for her bright pink lipstick.
Somewhere along the flashing lines, Jungkook vanishes beneath the lights and Huifang pulls you down on the the nearest couch. You’ve never been so bewildered in your life. There’s so much going on that you don’t understand, but the three glasses of champagne that you had previously are doing their bit at calming your nerves.
“You’re free here.” She says. “You can do anything around these people; take every kind of drug, have sex on the tables, commit fraud in the hallway. Nobody fucking cares here and I love living this way.”
She points a manicured finger toward two people sat on a dining table chair. Balloons are tied to the legs of the nearby table and confetti litters the floor. A woman, about the same age as Huifang, has the straps of her dress at her hips. She’s hungrily kissing a man whose lap she’s occupied. The flickering lights make what their doing seem slightly more private, but they’re still definitely having sex. There are other people slumped against the wall, some are on the couch, some are cutting up cocaine on the table, some are walking past the couch and into the back garden, where sex is also definitely being had. It all seems very normal here. It’s like a frat party on steroids and Viagra.
“You and I are from the same spaceship. I can tell.” Huifang says, but doesn’t elaborate until she lights a cigarette between her lips and takes a long drag. “Ambitious as hell when shown a little faith.”
“I wasn’t always like this.” She gestures to her styled hair and the expensive rings on her fingers. “I was dirt poor when I had my son and couldn’t even afford to send him to school with lunch like all the other kids. Selfish, right? I got pregnant when I knew I couldn’t take of my own kid. And then it got even harder; I couldn’t afford to pay for his bus tickets when the school fees starting increasing. Something to do with expensive development in the area. That’s when I knew I was in real shit. I thought about pulling him out and teaching him a thing or two around the dinner table, but what the hell do I know? I dropped out of high school to raise him. I couldn’t teach him half the things a decent school could. All I could do was work unstable jobs.”
In the time it takes her to preface her story, her cigarette burns out completely. She takes a new cigarette from the pocket of her turquoise jumpsuit and lights it between her small, pink lips. “Anyways..” She says with a cloud of smoke chasing each syllable. The lights make her dark eyes look like they’re shifting colors.
“I met him during my shift at a bar when I was thirty-two and he was twenty-one. I couldn’t believe how smart and handsome he was. He spoke like he knew the answers to everything.” She doesn’t point to any man, but you know for certain that she’s referring to Jungkook. “He was interested in my life, so I told him everything. I told him how my parents would frown at me for living how I lived. They were rich, but I didn’t want to live off money I didn’t earn. They didn’t understand and scolded me for being selfish. My son wasn’t ever a depressed or spoiled child and he knew the value of money from a very early age. I guess that’s one thing I could teach him.”
“He wrote about me, you know?” She admits. “It’s a complete autobiography, really. He’s a talented writer, always describing things that others wouldn’t have thought to. And he gave me 100% of the profits he made from it. I refused at first, but he insisted that I deserved it.”
You’re so engulfed in her story that you don’t notice when Jungkook takes a seat next to you until his fingers push your hair away from your neck. His hand is smeared in pink neon paint, which is now glowing in a section of your hair. In his other hand is a clear drink. He offers it to you and you smell it; vodka and lemonade. Classy.
“Having fun?” He leans close to your neck so you can hear him over the booming music. “She’s funny, isn’t she?”
“You could say that.”
He watches as you take a leisurely sip of your drink. Your lips are slightly wet and glisten beneath the flashing lights. “Can I ask you something?”
You give him a playful look, the same one you’ve been giving him most of the night, and he responds by placing a hand on your thigh. The silk is smooth against his palm, but so is your skin as he reaches underneath the skirt of your dress. Huifang isn’t sitting next to you when you look for her.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?” Jungkook coos against your neck as his fingers dance against your skin. They inch higher and higher as each second passes. The music grows louder.
You’ve had plenty of sex with ex-boyfriends at questionable places, but you haven’t been touched so publicly before, nor have you been so aroused that you’d even allow somebody’s hand to reach any further than your knee.
Your heart slams against your rib cage and you swallow hard. You can’t find the strength to recite your response in anything other than a quiet whisper. You’re no stranger to sex, but you feel like a virgin again. “The worst?”
He can’t hear you. His hand vanishes beneath your dress, now delving beneath the fabric of your panties and running against your wet skin. You sigh at his touch.
The music and chatter has dimmed around you and the only thing your ears listen for is his voice. “The naughtiest.”
Completely void of shame, he eases two fingers into your pussy until his palm is flush against your clit. You instinctively reach for his inner thigh and dig your nails into the fabric of his pants. He moves, slowly pumping his fingers and rubbing his palm firmly against your clit. You’re hazy and light-headed, completely drunk on his touch.
He takes your earlobe between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss against the sore skin. “I think I can guess.”
You bite back a moan into a whimper that only he hears. Your pussy aches around his fingers and you instinctively push your hips closer toward his touch. He presses a hard kiss against your neck and drags his paint-covered hand from your neck down to your breasts. A trail of neon pink paint vanishes beneath your bra, where he has your nipple between his fingers.
Arousal drools down his skin as he increases the speed of his fingers. Your hips move on their own, circling and following the rhythm of his fingers. A fire grows between your thighs and you have to really, really focus to not drop your drink on the floor and smash the glass.
“That’s pretty naughty.” You can hear the amusement in his voice.
That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done.
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On Saturday, you work yourself to the bone. Jungkook crosses your mind when you’re alone in your bedroom, but you fall asleep before you can do anything about it. On Sunday, though, you just can’t fall asleep. The thought of his touch and the insanely perverted thing you did in that house full of people lingers in your mind. Things like that would usually repulse you, but you can’t help but ache for it again.
Shamelessly, you touch yourself. You run the tip of your vibrator up and down your pussy, spreading your lips and slicking up the toy. You picture the shower scene you had read in his novel; the hand-print on the woman’s thigh, the slapping sounds of wet sex, and the heavy water flowing from the faucet. You picture his fingers rubbing hard against your clit and easing deep into you, just how he had done on Friday night. You picture the dimples in his lower back as he dips in-between your thighs, his wide shoulders, toned abdomen, his voice in your ear. 

A whine falls from your mouth as you delve deeper into your imagination. His sex, his moans, the furrow in his eyebrows when he concentrates on fucking you well, the kisses that he likes to press against your neck. Your back arches off the bed as you draw yourself closer to your climax. You can barely contain yourself. Moans and gasps fill your bedroom. You grasp at the sheets and think of him when you come.
Jungkook sleeps with two women and writes more of his novel; the one inspired by you. His writers block is well and truly being replaced with something far more productive.
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From Monday to Friday, David Woods invites you into his office before you reach your desk in the morning and before you step outside at the end of each day, demanding updates on the rich couple you’re working for. They may be Jungkook’s parents, but they’re your clients. You’re smart enough to know that it’s always best to leave personal-life far, far away from work-life.
“Well?” Woods always begins with.
“Well what?” You always finish with. “They’re happy with how things are progressing.”
Every second of every day, you feel Woods’ ghost looming over your shoulder and yelling ‘don’t fuck this up! make me look good and make me lots of money! more, more, more money!’
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Sunday is supposed to be the day that you can dedicate to yourself and to your peace of mind, but you find it increasingly hard to wind down. No matter how delicious your cocktail is, how warm the summers night is, or how pretty the pool looks as the water glistens beneath the moonlight, you just can’t seem to settle your thoughts.
“Rough day?” A familiar voice calls from his second story home. You don’t need to lift your head to know that Jungkook is hanging out of his window with a glass of whiskey in hand and a handsome smile on his face.
“You have no idea.” You call back, making no effort to meet his gaze. You’re wearing a short summery dress and he likes the look of it.
“Well.” He lifts his glass like he’s making a toast to God himself. “I’d like to have an idea.” 
He invites you over and you hesitantly accept the glass of red wine he pours for you. A gin and tonic would’ve been nice, but he’s keen on you tasting this exclusive bottle of wine. You take a tiny sip and are pleasantly surprised. It’s not vinegary like all the other wines you’ve tasted. It’s floral and soft on your throat.
You tell him everything about your ordeals at work; from the first time you met your boss, to the time he told you not to wear a particular color because it ‘washes you out’, and now to his constant breathing down your neck. You want to leave and create your own business as soon as you can, but you can’t leave a client before construction work begins. You’ll look like a fucking idiot.
It feels good to vent and it feels even better to vent to someone who holds zero judgement toward you. The conversation shifts and you ask about Huifang. He tells you that her son recently received a scholarship for university.
“What’s your favorite color?” Jungkook asks as he refills your wine glass for the third time that night.
“Why do you ask?”
He’s amused at your sudden defensiveness. Is it that bad? “Trying to get to know you.”
“I don’t have one.” You say without giving it a single thought. It’s such a simple question, but you don’t want to answer it. There’s something much more intimate about telling somebody your favorite color than, for example, drawing them a labelled diagram of your vagina and asshole. You don’t want to be that kind of intimate. Not now.
“Fine.” He says, smile not faltering. “Mine’s blue.”
You decide to ask him a question of your own; one that you’ve been meaning to ask since that night at the bar. “Nothing in this world bothers you, does it?”
“Things bother me.” He admits. “But I see no point in hanging onto things that I can’t change.”
When midnight strikes, you announce your departure. You pick up the bottle of red wine and make a rightful request. “Mind if I take this? It’s better than I thought.”
“Help yourself.”
You leave and he rolls himself a tight joint. His personal phone rings from the kitchen counter and he picks up after five rings.
“Yes?” He asks, wholly uninterested.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” A pretty female voice murmurs through the receiver. “I’m a few hours behind, so I’m sorry for calling you so late at night.”
His joint hangs loosely from the side of his mouth, the filter growing slightly damp. It crosses his mind that this woman behind the phone may be his first love, but that thought leaves his mind as quickly as it comes. He changed his phone number multiple times to avoid a handful of others, so how could it be? “Who is this?”
“You forgot me already?” Her laugh rings in his ears like a high school bell. It is her. Only she has that laugh. It’s beautiful, but also sort of villainous. “How long has it been? three years?”
“I don’t keep track of time anymore.”
“Because you’re so rich, right? Nothing really matters to you anymore. You can do whatever you want.” He can picture her rolling her eyes so clearly in his mind. That was something she often did when she disapproved. “Money is a nice feeling.”
He doesn’t say anything, too taken aback by the exact same person who used him up like a favorite lipstick three years back. He doesn’t understand why she called him.
“I read your novel, by the way. The one about me.” She cuts the silence with a softer tone. “You made me look a lot better than I’ve been. Why?”
He lights the tip of the joint with an old, silver lighter and inhales the smoke deeply into his lungs. The smoke chases his response and then vanishes into the air. “No hard feelings, right? We agreed on that.”
“Did you mean it?” She switches the topic at the very moment he notices the lights to your bedroom flick on. “When you said you’d always love me? Wait for me?”
“I meant it then.” He admits, his vision and mind softening. He checked out of the conversation just moments before. “But that was then.”
And then he hangs up, eyes on the gentle light emitting from your home. Unbeknownst to him, his heart isn’t stuck in the radio waves that momentarily connected him to his past, it’s in that bottle of wine you took, in your hands, in his future.
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You work like you always do. Jungkook crosses your mind, but it’s far too often for your liking. It concerns you how he easily he can creep into your mind while you’re sitting at your desk, waiting in line for a coffee, or driving home. You always look at his house before pulling up to your own. This isn’t seeming like a no-strings-attached arrangement anymore and that bothers you.
Jungkook is presented with countless opportunities, but he doesn’t sleep with anyone during the time spent away from you. He touches himself to the thought of you a few times; a clear picture of your face in his mind as he runs his fingers over his skin. He can’t help it, but he doesn’t quite know why. He wonders what you get up to at work and if your boss has backed off yet. He hates wondering.
You don’t speak for almost three weeks and that irks him. He writes a lot of his novel in that time, but it’s not enough to ease his mind. He wants to see you, to listen to you ramble about your life, to see that bashful smile. He calls you on a Tuesday night, but you don’t answer. He calls you on a Friday night and you answer after six rings.
“Where have you been?”
“Working.” You hate the effect that his voice has on you. “Where have you been?”
“Working. Wanna hang out?” He asks because he wants to touch you and you agree because you want to touch him, too.
For a change, he knocks on your door and you have sex in your house. The sex is just as good and dirty as it had been the last time, maybe even better; he pulls your hair, pushes his fingers in your mouth, and slaps your ass as he fucks you from behind. He makes you come twice, makes you say his name, and ties your wrists with your own panties. You lick his cock from the base to the tip and coat his skin with your saliva. You hollow your cheeks, swirl your tongue, and run your tongue along his slit, and he fucks your throat until tears prick at the corner of your eyes. The both of you let completely loose and crumble beneath each-other’s touch, but when all is said and done, you immediately start searching for your clothes.
“Are you avoiding me?” He asks as he watches you step back into your panties. He’s laying back on your bed, naked, with a hand resting under his head.
This is where he had his heart broken for the first time; not with his dick out, although, that does come to mind whenever he reminisces, but after being avoided for a period of time. He remembers what his ex said to him; ‘I’m moving away. Away from this fucking city. I’ll call you.’ And then he let her. He let her glance at him only once, get on that flight, and leave his heart on the runway. But he’s not a total idiot. He picked it up and shoved it back into his chest where it should’ve stayed and where healing only comes with time. Even after publishing his first novel, he still felt alone. Money, fame, and sex isn’t everything. He was missing a kind of company where he was allowed to be flawed. And then he met you. You let him say the wrong things, drink too much on a night out, have messy and imperfect sex, and express dissatisfaction even toward his wealthy lifestyle.
You hesitate before answering. Have you been avoiding him? You couldn’t say. You’ve definitely been running from thoughts of him. “No, why?”
“Don’t know. Maybe you’re not.” He doesn’t pull his eyes away from your frantic movements. “I like spending time with you, so it sucks that I can’t see you more often.”
To you, he’s just another contact in your phone book. To him, you’re just company that he’s very fond of. That’s what you’ve convinced yourselves, at-least. Maybe you were both raised the same way; taught to not put yourself in risky situations unless they’ll bring you success and fortune. Emotions are messy and complicated, and feelings of heartbreak aren’t worth the trouble. Sex is fun, but falling in-love isn’t. You go from occasionally thinking about a person, to becoming a vessel for their entire existence. You’ll no longer put yourself first and that can be a dangerous thing. After sex, you can just get up and leave. But, when you’re in-love, it stays with you no matter how far you run.
“I’ve just been busy.” You say. It’s not a lie. “You know how it gets.”
“Yeah, I do.” He grins at you and you feel a huge wave of guilt wash over you. Why is he such a nice fucking guy? Why do you never want to see that smile leave his face?
You can’t hold it in much longer, so you just let it all out. You need to make sense of this. “This is just a friendship, right? We’re clearly friends, but then there’s all of this sex. Really good sex, don’t get me wrong..”
Jungkook knows that he has love for you, but he’s not in-love with you. He could be, though, and that’s something that intrigues him. If you would just look into his eyes a little differently and let him see past the shades of your iris’, he knows that he could fall in-love. Seeing you stand in front of him, now, with nothing on but panties and his shirt makes him wonder. He’s seen what’s beneath, but he hasn’t seen much of what’s even deeper. You don’t talk when you don’t want to. You don’t let yourself be wholly vulnerable around him.
“Why wouldn’t we be friends?” He realizes how that sounds as soon as he says it. You’re just trying to draw the lines and he’s really fucking awful at coloring within them.
“Okay. Let’s agree on friends.. Just to be clear.” You hold out your hand like you’re offering him a life-changing deal. It may not be life-changing, but it’s definitely a one-way deal. How can he refuse? If he does, he’ll lose you completely. If he agrees, he’ll lose you in the way he wants you, but you’ll still be around.
This has happened before, something similar at-least. He should’ve seen it coming, but he gets so lost in your eyes and lost in the way your voice envelopes all of his senses. This is how his life will continue to be; others will do great things and he will be the messenger. Willingly, of course. There’s something quite intriguing about being the pawn in another person’s self-discovery plan. Besides, he’s not leaving empty handed; he gets another plot for his next novel. He gets to feel whatever pain he feels and he’ll make millions out of it. People will do just about anything to succeed in this world, whether it be playing the devil or the fool. Both warrant profit and a status of some kind. 
He wants to ask if you’re sure, but who is he to question your choices? He doesn’t know what goes on in your head, what’s best for you, or how you truly feel about him. Some may say that he deserves to know, but he doesn’t. Nobody in this world is entitled to your thoughts, your body, or your time, no matter what they’ve done for you.
His expression shifts to one of amusement — like he’s saying ‘well played’ — as he takes your hand and shakes on it. You’re one hell of a woman, the most intriguing one he’s even met. There are layers to you that are never-ending, depths that are too dark for him to see in. And, until you hand him a torch bright enough, he’ll appreciate the things that you do decide to show him. “Friends, whatever you want.”
No matter how much it hurts, nobody can force what isn’t meant to be. Maybe time will change the story, but for now, everything is how it’s supposed to be. He won’t force any of his feelings onto you and that’s what will make him a good friend. You’ll just look at each-other, exactly how you’re doing right now, with tight lips. You’ll share the warmth of each-other’s palms and bathe in the silence until somebody picks up their pride and makes the easier decision.
Just because two people love each-other, even in the most platonic way, it doesn’t mean that they’re meant to be together. For some, pain is pleasure. For others, pain is pain, and they have a habit of letting it go along with the person who sparked the feeling. Life is a cycle of giving and receiving pain, but it’s also a cycle of giving and receiving love. Without pain, nobody would know love, and vice versa. 
But, before he can pull his eyes away from yours and be the one to leave, to make that easy decision, you give him that very look; the look that makes him fall in-love with you.
“Purple.” You say, holding onto his hand like it’s keeping you afloat. You feel like you might lose him forever if you let go, like you might drown in the most painful way. You don’t want him to leave. “That’s my favorite color.”
He doesn’t say a word, far too afraid of missing one of yours.
“Not a hickey-colored purple, more like a lilac.” Your eyes are wide and desperate. To be friends isn’t what you want, even if it’s what you said. You know that you’ll never feel what he makes you feel with any other person. Maybe he’ll break your heart into a million pieces, or maybe you’ll break his, but you wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. You’ll never trust somebody like you trust him and that’s important to you. “I didn’t like wine until you poured me some, daises spark up my allergies, my parents have been separated for nine years, but can’t be bothered to divide their assets, so, technically, they’re still married. My friends and I have a Sex and the City marathon every Christmas..”
What happens that same night is unlike anything either of you have ever experienced before. Shut off from others and believing that you are the only two people awake in this big, messy world right now, you allow yourselves to fall completely, deeply, and unconditionally in-love with each-other. There’s nowhere else that you’d rather be than in his arms, sharing what seems like pointless things about yourself; your experience in college, what you were like when you were a kid, your favorite foods, your favorite music, your worst habits. You laugh, you cry, you run your fingers through his hair and kiss him tenderly. You tell him that you love him because you know that you do, and he tells you that he loves you because it’s impossible for him not to.
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You succeed in your own studio because that’s what you put your mind, body, and soul towards. You rarely question your identity, femininity, and self-worth, but when you do, you take a step back and take a long look at the empire you’ve amassed for yourself. You cry when you need to, you scream at the ocean when things bottle up, you have the filthiest sex with Jungkook and let him kiss every inch of your skin when you want to be touched, and you allow yourself to be wholly vulnerable with the people that love you. You take a look at the kind friends you’ve made, the supportive clients, investors, and even those who despise you in silence.
And, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, you take a good look at a newspaper article displayed behind the window of a news agency: David Woods, former CEO of Woods Architecture Studio, is under fire for subjecting his employees to bizarre company policies, underpaying, and failing to provide adequate training and feedback opportunities to female employees.
The article displayed on the following newspaper makes you smile just as wide: Jeon Jungkook, author and new-found owner of a whiskey distillery, sold more than one million copies of his new novel in the first seven days, and has achieved the title of Best Selling Author for the third year in a row.
You might be thinking to yourself: did he ever write that odd, sex-filled erotica novel about me? The answer is yes. You just read it.
Thanks for reading!
taglist — @zeharilisharaban @ayumimegami @philostuff @carolsummerlove @piaesthetic @viokook @bangtan-serendipity @kookie-monsteur @codeinebelle @jeon-ggukkie @prdshobi @kookoo-kachoo @goldenlilyz @chiminies-noona @callmeyourstarrynight @minbinwhore @jiminxjimout @rjsmochii @waves-and-woods @dayjeons @hip-hop-phile @preciouschimine @kookiesdoe @min-nicoleee @jungc0ck @kuuuuroo @boraength @vantesday @shrimpmsg @bbydoejk @syazkook @bts-junseagull @tae165 @bangtanforeverxxx7 @cupidguk​ @lilacrosebud​ @lovrboyjk​ @busansonenonly @marcoazz2
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spacebarnes · 4 months ago
SUMMARY: when a video has your name, it catches your full attention.
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Warnings: none, just fluff.
A/N: I saw this on youtube and immediately knew I had to do it with some of my favs, so this came out! I want to do it with Sebastian and even with some more, tell me if you want me to do it with someone! as I always say, english is not my first language so I hope this is good! take care of yourself pls! (not my gif)
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the sun was beginning to disappear and the last rays of it filtered through the thin white curtains that the apartment had. it was a warm day, but it was beginning to get dark and the cold wind was beginning to appear.
Tom was on the Spider-Man 3 set and you were sitting on the couch with a big black blanket, a bag of jelly beans and the remote control in your hand pressing buttons while you were looking for what to watch on YouTube. a video appeared with the title "Tom and Y / N being a goofy and adorable couple for eight minutes straight." and without a doubt, you said to put it.
the first clip was a instastorie which was recorded by Chris Hemsworth on the set of Infinity War. first Chris's face would appear and then the camera would flip over to show Tom and you sitting side by side laughing at something that was showing up on your phone.
"what are you doing?" Mark Ruffalo's voice was heard from the side of the camera.
"I'm recording teenage love." Chris said and with his fingers he zoomed in on the screen making the camera get closer to you two. "teenage love, teenage love." he began to say the words with some melody, creating a rhythm.
"stop recording me, Tom." you said while applying a little gloss to your lips, you had seen by the reflection of the mirror that Tom was recording.
"i can't, you look so gorgeous." he said without stopping recording, then he stood by your side and I wait for you to finish applying the gloss.
you closed the small container and settled down next to him, feeling how he passed his free hand around your waist. "damn, we look good." when you put your direct view in the mirror, you could see how good you two looked. Tom wore a black suit and a sky blue tie that matched your dress, while you carried a small bag and black heels to match it.
"we do, we do." agreed with you without stopping recording. "'key, let's do a little dance, go!" this took you by surprise and you made the first move that came to your mind, which was to clench your two fists and make circles with them at the height of your shoulders.
after a few seconds, the two of you started laughing and that story was posted on your boyfriend's instagram.
since the quarantine had begun, the activity that the two of you did most was listening to new artists to discover new music.
Permanent Vacation by 5 Seconds Of Summer played in the background as you two danced and jumped non-stop. the smiles were not erased from your faces and that was a moment when everyone could tell that they were soulmates.
in a slip, you slipped and fell straight to the floor, causing Tom to stop dancing to quickly check if you were okay. "darling, are you okay?" He knelt before you and took your hand. "you are so dumb." he said with a smile as he helped you stand up.
"excuse me?"
"so do you have any tradition with your family for Christmas?" Jimmy asked, putting his mug on his desk.
"with my family no, but with [Y/N] i do." when he answered and your name was named, the crowd started to make noise. "we wake up and the first thing that we do it's bake cakes." he said simply and a small smile formed on his face.
"cakes? tell us more." the interviewer encouraged him.
"so, we bake two cakes, one for the dinner with the family and other just for us." he explained with hand movements. "then we decorate it and finally we sit down to watch The Grinch while we eat the cake." the smile on his face grew bigger when he heard the "aw" from the entire audience.
"that's really sweet and sounds fun." Jimmy told him with a smile.
the countless interviews Tom had to do since Spider-Man: Far From Home came out kept the two of you apart. actually now he was playing with his cast friends and he wasn't doing an interview, but there was a surprise for him.
you felt nervous after not having seen him for a few months, because even though they lived together, you had to fly to Canada to be with your family and not feel alone while he was filming.
"alright, so." Jacob switched cards so he could read the following sentence to Tom and Jake, who were wearing loud music headphones. "[Y/N] ...
"what?" Tom interrupted him not understanding what he was saying.
"are we sure that he is gonna understand?" Zendaya looked at the production and then went back to reading the card. "[Y/N] is here."
"who is here?" Jake asked and brought his hands to the sides of his ears to press the headphones further. "i don't get the name."
"[Y/N] is here!" Jacob yelled at them, hoping they could understand the sentence. you appeared in the room, but you stayed where the light was not so strong so that they could not see you and you waited for the producer's signal to appear.
"wait, what?" Tom asked again. "say it slow."
"oh my god." Zendaya rolled her eyes when she saw that he wasn't understanding. "your girlfriend it's here!"
"your girlfriend it's here!" Jake guessed for Tom and did a little victory dance before removing his headphones.
"you have a girlfriend, Jake? i didn't know that." the brunette said with surprise as he took off his headphones. immediately everyone started laughing and he looked at them without understanding what was happening. "i don't get it."
"who's gonna tell him?" Jacob asked and looked at the people behind the cameras.
"tell me what?" Holland asked not understanding what they meant. you started to move forward until everyone except Tom could see you.
"that i'm here, dumbass." you spoke and you saw how quickly your boyfriend's head turned to be able to see you with surprise.
"stop playing, are you a hologram?" he asked in disbelief as he got up from the chair so he could approach you and put his hands on his waist. "you're not."
"i'm not, i'm really here." you said and put your two hands on his cheeks and then get closer and be able to kiss him after so long apart.
"can anyone tell him that Isaac Lahey is a character and does not exist in real life?" your voice was heard on the speaker of your phone while you were recording Tom, who had gotten up from the couch and was right now at the kitchen counter. "because Tom got jealous of him."
"you said that he is hot!" your boyfriend's scream was heard from the kitchen.
"so what? you think Lydia is pretty." you said with a tone of indignation without stopping recording.
"but i think that you are so much pretty than she." Tom's voice began to be heard closer, as did his footsteps.
"that doesn't justify you." you crossed your arms, causing your cell phone to shake a bit.
"that's not even the point! the point is, you said Isaac was hot." seconds later, he appeared with a bag of M&M's and a glass of milk. "you're cheating on me."
"I'm dating a five years old, just to all of you know." you rotated the camera and now you were recording yourself.
"i want the divorce." he said and stood in front of you to hand you the bag of M & M's you had asked for.
"we are not even married!"
"you're currently dating Tom Holland, but we want to know how did the two of you met? because you are not in the Marvel movies." James asked and settled into his chair while you did the same.
"well, everybody thinks that we met at the Golden Globes." you started talking and your eyes brightened. "we actually met at the auditions of my first movie. Tom was there for the paper of my brother, but he didn't got it."
"you met at there? I really thought that the first time you met was at the Golden Gobles." the blond commented in great amazement.
"we didn't met there, but we took a selfie in there for the first time and we talked beyond a few lines of a script." you gave the data with a big smile and looked at the audience.
"and when did you fall in love for him?" he asked and this made the crowd make some noise that was combined with your laughter.
"you know, actually the first time that i saw him i was like 'damn, shawty', but i think it was in the moment that we were at a friend's party and he approached me and told me to go to another place with him because he was not comfortable and I was the only person who knew who would say yes. " and if you thought your smile couldn't get any bigger, the moment you remembered that moment, it did.
the video ended and just then the apartment door was opened, forcing you to take a look. "hey, darling." your boyfriend's voice sounded behind you.
"hi, baby." you said and felt how he hid his face in your neck, leaning his body on the edge of the chair.
"what are you watching?" he asked and pulled away from you, not before leaving a quick kiss on your neck.
"it was a video of us being the goofy and adorable couple of all times." you answered with a smile as you watched him take off his shoes and approach you to take a seat on the couch.
"and there are no more of those?" he asked and sat next to you and then wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head on your shoulder. you took control and pressed a button to see the video suggestions.
"well, here is this one" you said and put the video called 'Y/N and Tom being the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world'.
"oh, i see what people think of us." the brunette said when he saw the title of the video.
"what do you mean with that? of course we are the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world." you wrinkled your eyebrows and lowered your gaze a bit to connect with his.
"yes, we are." when he finished talking, he leaned to you so he can kiss you.
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mostlybarnes · 3 months ago
It’s My Party, You’re Not Invited (Part Two)
Summary: The morning after Bucky threw a party, you confront him but it doesn’t go according to plan.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Warnings: more angst, arguing, Bucky is an asshole, language, not proof read, mistakes are my own!
Words: 1,567
Author’s Notes: Wow. I absolutely can not believe the support on part one! I’m so happy you guys liked it, and of course I’m always happy to give people what they want and since so many of you asked for part two, here it is! Really hope you won’t be disappointed, please let me know what you think. And don’t worry, there WILL be a part three. This isn’t the end!!
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As you had predicted, you got no sleep. Your night consisted of you tossing and turning and occasionally groaning loudly into your pillow.
Your pillow was your closest friend, it captured your falling tears, and provided you with comfort when you couldn’t rest. The morning sun was pouring through your parted drapes, a new day was beginning and you knew you definitely wouldn’t be getting any sleep now.
Lazily, you threw the blankets off of you and sat on the edge of your bed, your palms on either side of you, digging into the mattress. Bucky not inviting you to his party shouldn’t have bothered you, but for some reason, it did. It was the reason you got no sleep, and you were annoyed by how Nat and your friends treated you last night. They were laughing and you couldn’t help but feel like they were laughing at you, even if they weren’t. Today would be the day you would confront Bucky, no matter what. But first, you needed a hot shower to try and wash away the tension that was rolling off your shoulders.
The shower itself would have taken a good ten minutes on a good day, but you spent almost an hour on the shower floor with your knees tucked under your chin and fresh tears disappearing under the shower head. Pathetic, you told yourself. Crying over something that wasn’t even your fault. How dare he treat you this way and make you feel broken. Speak of the devil, through the sounds of your cries and the water cascading down around you, your thoughts snapped back to reality when you heard his laugh from the hallway again.
Enough was enough with his games, you needed to know why you didn’t get an invite, it was just a simple little question.
Standing up off the shower floor with shaky legs, you turned off the shower and stepped out to grab the towel off the rail and pat yourself dry. In your haste to get dressed, your clothes were mismatched and your sweater was turned inside out. You didn’t care about that though, you needed to speak with Bucky. You needed answers.
You left your room and followed the sounds of the chatter coming from the common room. Your feet quickly carried you there, stopping in the doorway and noticing the room was completely trashed from last night’s shenanigans.
Broken glass was scattered over the marble floors, there were literally hundreds of solo cups all over the tables, there was even a broken window.
What the hell happened here? You wondered, stepping into the room, being careful not to tread on glass.
“Watch your feet!” Bucky warned, holding his hands up to halt your footsteps. “There’s glass everywhere.”
“No shit.” You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest and rolling your eyes. You heard him click his tongue as he worked on sweeping up the glass. “I heard you had a party?”
“Uh yeah, just some close friends and stuff.” He shrugged, and ouch if that didn’t fucking hurt.
“Really? I didn’t know you were– were close friends with people from…. statistics?” Anger was rushing through your veins, his nonchalant attitude wasn’t making this any easier and neither was the lack of sleep. You wondered what had happened to the sweet guy you knew. The shy Bucky who couldn’t even make himself a sandwich because he was afraid of being mocked by the other avengers. Or the Bucky that loved to sip herbal tea at 3 in the morning. Where did that Bucky go? Who is this Bucky? It was like a switch flipped and he changed overnight.
“What is this about, Y/N? You walk in here with some kind of an attitude problem and I’m tired, it’s early and I’m not in the mood.” He snapped and that was it for you. If he was tired, you were something else.
You stepped into the room regardless of the broken glass still all over the floor, not caring if any shards cut your feet as you stand toe to toe with Bucky. You shove him, but not surprised when he doesn’t budge.
“Where was my invite? What did I do to you to make you forget about me? It shouldn’t even be a big deal but–”
“Then stop making it a big deal! Is that what this is really about huh? It was my party and I invited the people I wanted to be there!”
“Wha– but you invited everyone but me!” You cried, your voice breaking at the end.
“Then maybe that tells you something.” He offers no sympathy to your state of distress. At least not to your face, it’s when you turn your back and he hears you cry harder does his own heart break. He didn’t mean for this to happen and the Black Widow’s footsteps behind him is about to remind him of his mistakes.
“You’ve really messed this up Barnes. I’m not sure Y/N will ever forgive you.” Bucky turns to look at Nat. Guilt and anger written all over his face.
“You don’t think I know that?! I did it to protect Y/N!”
“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
The day away from the compound was exactly what you needed. The air was refreshing and cold, biting against your skin. It helped to clear your thoughts that were running in circles since you talked to Bucky. You still didn’t have a clear answer as to why he chose not to invite you, and that bothered you more than anything, but what he did say replayed in your mind. You suppose he had a point, it was his party and up to him who he chose to invite but it confused you because you thought you were on good terms with Bucky. Did you get it wrong? Where did it all go wrong?
Your fingers wrapped around the mug as you sat in the corner of the quiet coffee shop with a friend as they watched you watch the world go by.
“Okay, what’s going on?” They asked, blowing into the hot liquid before taking a quick sip.
A deep sigh fell from between your lips. Your body and mind felt exhausted, it was hard to concentrate.
“I don’t even know. I feel like I’m overreacting.” You shrugged, licking your lips and looking into your coffee as if seeking the answers to your unanswered questions.
“Overreacting? Did something happen on the mission you just got back from?”
“No, no. Something that happened after that. You know Bucky, right?”
“Bucky Barnes?” They asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. “What about him?”
“I just– I– would you be honest with me and tell me if I’m overreacting?” You bit your lip nervously and your friend nodded.
“Of course! Tell me everything.”
True to their word, your friend sat and listened to every single word without interruptions or sassy remarks. They didn’t stop to ask you questions, and they didn’t make you feel pathetic like you felt. Talking about it out loud made you feel stupid, maybe it was stupid to get angry over something so small. That maybe deep down Bucky had a good reason not to invite you. Maybe you just weren’t close to him after all.
“I’m so stupid, aren’t I?” You shrugged, the wooden table becoming more of an interest.
“You’re not stupid. He’s stupid but I think he likes you.” Your head snapped up and so did your eyebrows.
“You’re insane! Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Of course I did!” They defended with a smirk, “and here’s what we’re gonna try.”
Your friend’s idea was so stupid and this dress was far too tight for your liking. You felt like your your body was spilling out at the seams, a complete opposite to what you were used to wearing: comfortable clothing or pajamas.
Walking in heels was another problem for you. Any second now, you were sure you were gonna have to call Dr Cho because you had somehow broken your neck. However, after a few laps around your room, you felt confident enough to walk a few blocks in them. Grabbing a purse and a jacket from your closet, you staggered out of your room and into Bucky’s chest.
“Whoa there, you alright?” He asked, pushing you away from him. He eyed you up and down, making you feel naked under his gaze.
“Why wouldn’t I be? And what are you doing here? Outside my door?” You folded your arms across your chest, big mistake as it pushed your cleavage together and with the height difference, Bucky had a pretty good view. He was a gentleman though and kept (or tried) to keep his eyes glued to your face.
“I came to apologize. Where are you going dressed like that?”
“It’s a bit late for an apology. I got your message loud and clear from this morning.” You scoffed. “And I’m going out with my real friends, not that it’s any of your damn business.”
“A party?” He wondered, his jaw clenching at the thought of you dancing with other people that weren’t him.
“Yes, and you’re not invited.” You smirked, turning on your heels and walking towards the waiting elevator, ignoring his calls of your name.
Bucky watched as the metal doors closed, his hands tugged his hair so hard he was afraid he would rip it out. He’s fucked up, Natasha was right. There was no way of fixing this.
“Fuck!” He yelled, kicking a hole in the wall next to your door.
Taglist [50/50]: @w-wolfhxrd @kennedywxlsh @team-marvel13 @rosiahills22 @fallenoutofrose @sourpatchspinster @hazeljean2 @divergent-llamas-03 @jasminweasley @gearhead66 @loudbluepancake @pinkybee926 @furiouscopshepherduniversity @moonlacebeam @chipster-21 @rottenstyx @mundaytuesday @legacies-roserussell @gallifreyansass @supernaturalcat7 @osterfieldshollandgirl @daeguboysmykt @serendipityharry @shittyfuckinweeb @wanniiieeee @hopplessdreamer @wordacadabra @josis-teacup @barneschoco @the-nonsenseblog @angywritesstuff @cherrytop02 @spn-obession @dottirose @veroxloki @wildeausten @directorofmylife @unholyhazza @bababasti @mrslilyrogers-ficrecs @study-aesthetics01 @sophieisinlove @merlin-288 @cable-kenobi @beananacake @johnmurphys-sass @slytherdoravenger @thesnoweclipse @townwitchbadbitch @sxtansqueen
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notchesandbullets · 2 months ago
Waking You Up With His Tongue (Pro-Hero!Midoriya x Reader)
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Art credit: @codename7​ on Tumblr and @/emanedoc7 on Twitter
Warnings: Aged-Up!AU, 18+ explicit smut, somnophilia, dacryphilia, breeding kink, praise kink, oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, spanking, size kink, biting/hickeys, implied subspace, OFA usage, hints of possessiveness, slight cockwarming at the end.
Words: 6.6k
Dedicated to: @sightoru​ (cause i know izuku’s their favorite ​​🥰)
A/N: For Blu’s Breeder Collab!! Here’s the masterlist to the rest of the works!!
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Nights with him were rare and far in between. 
As a pro-hero and the Symbol of Peace, Izuku didn’t have as much time for you as he used to. Little things, such as date night being cut short as he was called off for a mission or patrol were frequent and he often forgot to eat unless you reminded him. His daily calls and texts that used to occur when he was a sidekick at Endeavor’s agency dwindled down to almost nothing as he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. 
Broad shoulders, but human shoulders nonetheless.
You really wished that the civilians and hero expectations would take it easy on him, but then again, you weren’t with him because of his status. You knew what came with the territory of being the Number One Hero’s significant other.
The good, the bad and the ugly.
You had fallen in love with him halfway through your first year of high school but it took another 632 days just for him to stammer out a question for you to go out with him. 
Of course you said yes and ever since then, you two had been going steady.
It happened at Heights Alliance shortly after midterms during your third year at UA and the door to your room burst open, in stumbling a bleeding and distraught Izuku.
You had leaped up from your bed from where you had been doing homework, sprinting over to him and draped his arm across your shoulders as you hauled him inside, scolding him harshly the entire time. 
Your eyes had been wide with fear and shock at his state, asking over and over again why the hell he didn’t go to the hospital as you scrounged around for your emergency kit you always kept on hand.
Having been torn between patching him up and getting Aizawa, who you knew was sleeping downstairs, you made up your mind as soon as you took care of the relentless pool of blood, twisting on your heel to make a dash for it downstairs when Izuku grabbed your wrist. 
He spun you around with a strength you didn’t believe he was capable of at the moment and just when you were about to yell at him again, his lips smashed onto yours, erasing all your anger instantly. 
When Izuku finally pulled away because you were literally hitting him to let you go so that you could breathe, his freckled cheeks rosy and pupils blown wide. 
And just before you could open your mouth, either to chastise him for kissing you out of the blue or straining himself, he blurted out that he loved you and tripped over his words when asking if you’d be willing to go out for dinner sometime. 
With him. Not that there was any question about it since he was the one asking you. 
Izuku scratched the back of his head apologetically as he caught himself rambling but his head snapped up when you shyly responded that you’d like that.
Then, he had to dodge the swat to the head you delivered out of annoyance that he had dragged himself all the way to your room instead of going to Aizawa.
Honestly, he was so dumb sometimes. 
And ever since then, you two had been two lovesick fools who could never get enough of each other. At least, until lately. 
But that being said, he certainly didn’t cut corners or neglect you even when he was on the verge of collapsing out of sheer exhaustion. You scolded him more than once about it.
Just last week, he took half the day off to spend it with you, the most free time that he could manage as the Number One Hero, and it had ended with cuddles, both of your phones off as you caught up. 
And in the quaint yet cozy apartment lined with bluebells on the windowsill in the kitchen you shared with him, you sipped on a mug of tea while he rambled on and on about his day, making up for all the time that had increased with the distance that the job brought.
You had tried to convince him to catch up on some much needed and well deserved rest but he wasn’t having it. He wanted to spend time with you. 
Contrary to popular belief, your life wasn’t as sex-driven as it was rumored to be. Nosy paparazzi. With the muscles and body that Izuku was packing, it wasn’t odd to think that; hell, even you half-expected to be his cocksleeve 24/7, not that you were against it, when he asked you to move in with him but no. 
He was a softie, through and through. 
Any time you guys had together was well spent with quality time, talking about anything and everything. And while that very much was your love language, sometimes you wished that he would just take you, throw you onto the bed and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight.
It was wishful thinking though. While he was certainly sweet and considerate of you, always making sure you were satisfied, he had a habit of doing the same old thing every time. And while missionary was great in the sense you got to see his face twist in pleasure when he got off, he almost never used his full strength on you, to manhandle you and rail you like you wanted. 
It frustrated you.
Sex with him used to be more constant but ever since he truly stepped up to the plate and became a full fledged hero, it became virtually nonexistent. 
And you missed him. 
Growing more and more dismayed at the time that passed without the two of you being intimate until literally three months had gone by, you were vastly more concerned with how he was taking care of himself, or the lack of, that you casted all thoughts about your achingly empty pussy to the side in order to look after him. 
You rarely had any time to get yourself off and the last time you touched yourself was many weeks ago. Seeing as he had less time than you, you almost cringed at the thought that he had to deal with his stiff length by himself whenever it would present a problem.
At the time, you had simply assumed that he resorted to jerking himself off when he could in the pockets of time he had at the office when there was a lull between cases and left it at that. 
You hadn’t thought any more about it since that day. 
Which is why when you woke up in the middle of the night when he wasn’t supposed to be home, you weren’t entirely sure what the reason was.
But you felt it first before you saw it.
Your eyes widened as the sleep haze clinging to the edges of your vision dissipated, a warm and wet sensation probing your most sensitive place between your thighs. 
Ripping the covers off, it took you a few clumsy tries before you successfully grabbed it and launched it onto the floor. Your hands scrambled down to the mop of curly green hair that greeted you, bewilderment coloring your hushed tone.
“I-Izuku?!” You stammered out, your voice coming out a lot less strict than you intended. “Wha… What are you doing— oh fuck.”
At that exact moment, he slid a finger inside of you and everything you wanted to say died in your throat at the feeling of him filling you.
“Y/N, I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” Izuku practically whimpered as his thick digit sank into your weeping cunt, his own hips jutting against the soft bed sheets that didn’t do shit to replace the way your cunt would feel around his aching cock. 
His forest green eyes were wide with awe and trained on your soaking folds. “Fuck, your pussy’s so pretty, baby.”
You whimpered, cheeks flushed already and you slapped a hand over your mouth at the embarrassing sounds escaping you while the other fisted his hair. It had been so long since you had last been with him that even that simple intrusion felt like heaven already. 
You didn’t know how you were going to take his cock if this kept up. 
Rocking your hips up, you muffled a moan in protest when his free arm braced itself across your stomach to anchor you down.
Tears budded in your eyes and got caught in your eyelashes as you blinked down at him, overwhelmed and bewildered by what suddenly brought this on, but you weren’t at all against it.
Izuku had timidly brought up somnophilia to you before but that was back when you two first started living together and he tried to casually slip the news to you on how he wouldn’t mind waking up to your lips wrapped around his cock.
And for his birthday, you made sure to make good on that little fantasy of his. 
If his thick ropes of cum and several loads down your throat and abused hole was any indication, you’d wager he enjoyed it immensely. 
You hadn’t done it as of late though, since he woke up earlier than you did to go to work.
After that first time, he asked if he could try it on you sometime and you said that you didn’t mind it at all. If it felt a fraction of how good he was making it look, then that was definitely something you wanted to experience. 
But you weren’t expecting him to break the dry spell with it. 
“Y/N, am I doing good? Do you feel good?” Izuku asked softly, sliding his finger out of you to let his huge hands pry your thighs open and he licked and gently nibbled on your clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 
“Yes, so good, it feels so good.” You praised through clenched teeth, thrashing against the sheets as he eagerly dipped down and licked a fat stripe up your wet entrance. “Shit.”
Legs kicking out haphazardly as he smothered his face into your drenched folds, you moaned as he enthusiastically licked up every droplet that you gave him. 
Silk falling off of your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunched around your waist, you were sure that if anyone had the misfortune of seeing you now would know that you were being wrecked on Izuku’s talented tongue.
You never went to bed with many clothes on, opting for a simple silk nightgown that was all too comfortable to be just labeled as sleepwear. All the other pjs you had irritated your skin and after countless nights of tossing and turning, you never put them on again.
But that also meant Izuku had easy access to your slit. One that he was taking full advantage of right now.
With no bra and only the flimsiest pair of panties you owned that only covered what was necessary before he slid it off, your pussy was completely bare for him to drink in and taste as he pleased.
And he had gone long enough without seeing you squirming in pleasure beneath him that he couldn’t hold back anymore. 
“Izu… Izuku—” You swallowed harshly, tongue thick and slow in your mouth as your fingers threaded into his green curls and you fought the urge to buck your hips up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how good he was making you feel already. 
It had been so long since you last touched yourself that you were approaching that peak too fast. 
You whimpered meekly, your grip on his hair growing weaker as he didn’t let up. “Needa slow down, or ‘m gonna—”
“You wanna cum, baby?” Izuku mumbled against your clit, flicking his tongue fast against it as two thick digits breached your sopping cunt. “Go ‘head, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me.”
With a wild shriek, you bit down on your hand hard as your first orgasm of the night washed over you. Thrashing violently on the mattress, you mewled as you writhed around uncontrollably, unprepared for the sudden shockwaves to encompass you as he rubbed fast circles on your sensitive nub. 
“F-Fuck!! Izuku, s’too much!!” You practically sobbed. 
But Izuku didn’t hear your safe word so he didn’t stop. In fact, he did the opposite.
You cried out and lurched up as his tongue and fingers sped up in tandem, drawing louder sounds out of you as the squelching of your pussy enticed him to pump the digits in and out of you faster. Your fingers abandoned his curls and fisted the bed sheets so tight, you swore you heard an audible rip through the white-hot haze of euphoria.
Tears collected at the corner of your eyes at the pain of the overstimulation but your pussy gushed at the welcome feeling of finally being filled after so much neglect. 
You couldn’t take it. He was going to break you.
Izuku added a third and watched in pure delight as a clear stream of liquid shot from your weeping core, walls convulsing around his fingers as he coaxed you through your high. 
“Fuck, baby,” He breathed in awe, never having seen you squirt before. “That’s so hot.”
By now, you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks from how overwhelmed you were as your limp body sank against the cum-soaked sheets. 
Your lower half shook with the aftershocks of two orgasms that you didn’t think was possible to happen back to back like that and you shivered as Izuku crawled over you, his built body supported by his forearms as he kissed your cheek, slowly making his way down your neck.
But you knew the sweet gesture was a sinful one in disguise.
Izuku had a guilty pleasure for overstimulation and while it had been pretty tame up until now, rubbing you as you created your high when the band in your lower abdomen snapped, he was going to take it to a whole new level tonight. 
“Y/N,” He whined pathetically, drawing his cock back and forth from where it was nestled in between your plush asscheeks as he pawed feebly at your waist. “Please, can I…?”
You hummed, feigning disinteresting and his pained whimpers grew louder in protest.
Izuku gasped out your name in breathy chants as he humped your leg, translucent precum smearing across your thigh in his effort to get off without breaking you.
It was a little late for that though.
Your heart trembled a little when you heard a wanton moan slip past his lips and you twisted back, ignoring the sharp twinge of your spine in protest and nodded slightly.
Relief broke out on Izuku’s face and leaning down, he slanted his lips across yours, kissing you feverishly. 
You’d like to argue that it didn’t do anything to break you out of your sleepy trance but the truth was that your core was already spasming with the need to be filled with his cock. His fingers were good, sure, and that tongue of his was too damn talented for his own good, but you wanted the ultimate prize.
That long and thick shaft that never failed to make you drown out the ambiance of the night.
Despite having a raging hard-on that looked rather painful to endure, Izuku continued to kiss you, moving his lips hotly against yours and you whimpered when he nibbled on your lower lip.
“... Izuku, c’mon.” You pleaded, wiggling your bottom and pressing your ass cheek flush against his hardened cock. “Don’t you want to put it in me?”
“Fuck, you have no idea how sexy you look right now, baby. Missed you so much, you have no idea.” Izuku groaned, detaching from you long enough to clumsily search around the nightstand compartment for a condom. But it had been so long since you'd last done it together that he couldn’t find one.
You grabbed the front of his unbuttoned work shirt that he hadn’t bothered to take off when he got in bed and kissed him hard, distracting him from his quest long enough to wrap your legs around his waist.
“No condom.” You panted heavily, locking your ankles so that he couldn’t escape. “Wanna feel you.”
“Shit,” Izuku swore under his breath as he continued to rummage through the contents of the drawer to find what he was looking for and he let out a hiss when your wet slit rubbed against his throbbing length. “We can’t, baby, can’t get you pregnant.”
The wanton whine that bubbled out caused his breath to hitch and his eyes turned black.
“Fuck.” He breathed in disbelief but unbelievably turned on at what you were insinuating. “You want that?”
You whimpered.
“Say it.” Izuku demanded, biting your neck and laving his tongue over the dark purple mark left behind. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
Your eyes screwed shut as his aggression that you weren’t familiar with in such a domestic setting came out. “... Want it raw, wanna feel your bare cock pound my pussy.” 
And Izuku went feral.
Flipping you onto your stomach, he gave you no time to process what was happening and absolutely zero seconds to take back your words as he shoved his cock deep inside of you.
Your eyes bulged out of your head at the feeling of being filled so suddenly and a scream barreled past your tongue before your head was wrenched back. Sheathed inside of you so suddenly, it felt like you were being split in two.
“Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck,” Izuku cursed, burying his face in between your shoulder blades as he was enveloped in your heat so fast. “Damn it, baby, you feel so soft. I can feel you pulsating against my cock.” 
All you could do was whimper pathetically. 
Izuku grinned, his eyes flashing as you struggled to take him. “Oh, what a good girl.”
You two had never tried this before. But the way his thick cock felt inside of you bare put your imagination to shame.
His balls slapped against your clit as he started a fast pace that had every thought in your mind disappearing instantly.
“Shut up and take my cock.” Izuku growled in your ear, his grip on your hair tightening uncomfortably as he yanked it up for leverage to pump into you. His patience was wearing thin. “You wanted this, baby, you’re gonna get it.”
In spite of the minimal prep, your previous orgasm produced enough slick in order to make the stretch easier. Though, you being stuffed to the brim over and over again as he pushed deep inside of you did nothing to quell the heat rising in your stomach.
Your eyes bugged out of your head and your jaw fell open in a soundless gasp as he curled and arm under your middle to prop your hips up for a better position.
But from here, you could feel everything.
Every ridge and prominent vein that brushed against your walls just right. 
“Baby,” Izuku moaned as you clamped down on him and he gritted his teeth. “You— fuck, you need to relax for me.”
He was big but you could take it. You had conquered it before. Perhaps he just needed to make your little pussy remember it.
“Can’t help it.” You whined, eyes going glassy as his deep thrusts reduced to slow drawn out pulls and pushes. It felt good but it wasn’t enough. 
The little ruts of his hips were mere sparks of stimulation.
“Go faster.” You pleaded wantonly, blindly grabbing at the pillows in front of your face to hit him with it. You weren’t sure what it would accomplish, but at the moment, it seemed like a good idea.
Catching on quick to what you were doing, he batted away the white pillows, making all of them but one fall onto the floor in favor of quickening his pace to draw more of those delicious sounds out of you. He wanted to hear you.
Izuku bit down on his lower lip so hard he drew blood and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Too fucking tight.”
Whimpering at his words, that only served to make your cunt flutter around him and he cursed under his breath as the obscene wet smacking of skin on skin filled the space of the bedroom and you keened.
Your hands clawed at the pillow that your head had been resting against so peacefully minutes ago and you shrieked as his fingers deftly circled your clit.
His grin was predatory and filled with almost sadistic satisfaction as he abandoned his hold on your hair to press against your lower back, pushing you into the too soft mattress to keep you in place.
“Too big, huh?” Izuku taunted, his teeth sinking into your shoulder when you nodded rapidly, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes. “You can take it, right? You asked for my fat cock, remember?”
You didn’t remember. You couldn’t even after trying to recall it through the muddled mess that was your mind. Your bottom was unbelievably sore, probably bright red from the way his hips snapped into your ass and it rattled you.
Your thighs shook under his relentless fucking, your hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as he drilled into you. He had never made you feel this way before.
The surge of aggression that was so unfamiliar on your dopey dork of an Izuku made your head go blank and you almost mewled when you looked back and caught a glimpse of the dark look in his eyes.
“So fucking hot, can’t believe I went this long without having your little cunny wrapped around me.” Izuku muttered to himself as his darkened green eyes nearly black with lust fixated on the white ring coating the base of his cock every time he pulled out of you before plunging back in. “Your pussy’s so hot, baby, got me hard all the time.”
You panted, fisting the pillow in front of you as he slammed into you. “Y-Yeah?”
He shook his head vigorously, making the green curls on his head flop around as his fingers dug into your fleshy backside. “Yeah, baby. Feel so soft and warm, too.”
His fucking was getting sloppier and uncoordinated the longer he stayed enveloped in your tight heat. It was so unlike all your previous times with him where he had made sweet love to you and your head was spinning at the contrast from his soft nature to this beast that was currently railing you like it was his job to break you in half.
“Think about this little cunt and how it would look taking my dick in my office.” He panted, indulging himself in the fantasy he had been jerking off to for months when he was too busy to come home to you thanks to the crime that ran rampant through the city. “Your cute little noises that you make every time I stuff you full with my raw cock, making you cum on it five times in a row before I even think about letting you take a break. You’d let me too, wouldn’t you, baby?”
You gaped. He had never been this explicit with his dirty talk before. 
A strangled noise forced its way out of your mouth in a half-assed effort to reply but it faded in favor of succumbing to the rapid pumping of his shaft kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“But I wouldn’t pull out, baby, oh no.” Izuku crooned in your ear, an evil smile stretching across his lips as your ass jiggled and a shiver shot down your spine. He knew you were getting off on this little fantasy of his. “You’re going to take all my cum and I’m gonna make sure that little cunny of yours creams properly around my cock.”
At this point, you were practically sobbing. The promise of his words coupled with the stimulation was too much. His girth was so thick, you could feel the bulbous head nudge against the deepest untouched part inside of you and you saw stars as he pistoned into that spongy spot repeatedly once he found it.
A smirk curled at the edges of his lips and Izuku angled his hips to pummel into it over and over again, snatching away the pillow you were screaming into so that he could hear all those pretty mewls.
“Don’t hide from me.” Iuzku commanded with a slight whine at the end of his voice but you knew better than to be deceived by that feigned innocence.
The underlying tremor as his voice dropped an octave gave it away. He was playing with you.
And he was relishing every single minute of it.
Yanking your head up, his hand came down hard on your ass, the red handprint left behind a vivid image of whose mercy you were at as he abandoned all thoughts of rationality and pounded you into the mattress.
The headboard of the bed that you shared with your docile hero, who was nothing but a pure-hearted and kind soul, was slamming into the wall with every sharp thrust that the huge male delivered and your eyes flew open in horror as the wood cracked and splintered under the force that Izuku drove into you at.
You tried to stop him, having half a coherent thought that if this kept up, he would break the bed but the instant you tried to turn around, he pushed your face down into the mattress.
The loud crack of the furnished cherry wood breaking that followed soon afterwards made that argument null and void anyways.
Izuku pressed his lips down to the back of your shoulder blades, growling lowly when that incredibly sexy nightgown you somehow still had on got in his way.
You gasped as he ripped it off of your body but when you opened your mouth to object, his mouth slammed onto yours, licking all the sounds from your cavern before they could escape you.
He hastily maneuvered you around until you were laying on your side with him immobile inside of you, not breaking the kiss until you looked at him through those lidded eyes and completely wrecked expression.
You yelped in surprise when he latched around one nipple, swirling his tongue around until it was perky and it wasn’t until he tweaked it harshly that you really started to lose control. 
“Oh baby, love these tits of yours.” Izuku emphasized with a firm squeeze, adoring the way they fit in his palms.
You squeaked, then your cheeks colored with shame. “R-Really?”
You never thought too highly of them, always too down on yourself for your chest being too small or too big compared to what you saw as the beauty standard as it fluctuated through the years.
But the way he was staring at you, absolutely drunk on the vision in front of him, it flattered you to no end.
“Mmhm~” He hummed appreciatively, licking his lips hungrily. “Can convert a saint, baby, and tempt them to sin.”
If it was possible, he’d have you as a seven course meal every single day of the week.
He fondled your breasts, biting and licking the swell of them, leaving behind dark bruises that were sure to stay for days. 
“Izuku…” You breathed, expression blissed out as he finally abandoned his fascination with your tits and sank all the way inside of you. 
You whimpered at the sheer size of him. From his angle, with your knee bent, he fit perfectly inside of you.
“Ngh— You… You’re really tight.” He panted heavily, eyes screwing shut to hold back his impending release.
Biting your lip, you swallowed a moan at the feeling of what it was like to be stuffed so full without him moving. “I-It’s been a while.”
Izuku pressed an apologetic kiss to your jaw to soothe you and your eyes fluttered shut at how soft this one was in comparison to the others. His fingers interlocked with yours and you leaned up to silently beg him to give you one too.
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest and he hastily removed his work shirt but didn’t bother with his dress pants as he obliged you. 
You mewled into his mouth as he stayed seated deep inside your cunt, his hard shaft twitching against your slick walls as he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his. 
“It has, I’m sorry about that, baby.” Izuku said, brow scrunching up apologetically. “Work’s just been so crazy and then when I came home and saw you looking so beautiful in the moonlight, I just—”
Giggling to yourself, you pecked his lips to cut off his rambling. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just missed you is all.”
Izuku rested his forehead against yours, his breath fanning out across your cheek. Restraining himself from moving too much, he braced an arm around your shoulders before taking a deep breath.
You cried out in protest when he slid out of you, whining sadly at the sudden emptiness that encompassed you. “No!!”
He swallowed the rest of your protests with a hot and heavy kiss, his tongue grazing over your bottom lip to gain entrance and the next moments were filled with tangled sheets and limbs as he flipped you over.
The next thing you knew, you were on your back and he was looming over you with a predatory glint in his eyes.
You weren’t quite sure how he managed to do that without breaking the heated makeout session but you couldn’t say you were complaining. 
“C’mon, Izuku.” You pleaded between huffs, locking your arms around his neck as his fingers dug into your hips. “I need you.”
Izuku hushed you softly. “I got you, baby.”
With your legs wrapped around his waist, he pushed back into you.
Your head thrown back, your back arched into his chest and you bit back a moan at the pleasant sensation of being stuffed with him once more.
“I-Izuku, how are you so big?” You whimpered wantonly, loosening your lock around his neck in order to rake your nails down his back.
It was embarrassing, how much of a jumbled mess you were as incoherent babbles left your lips. 
A strangled groan erupted from the back of Izuku’s throat, his freckled cheeks flushed and desire simmered in the depths of his eyes. 
“I’m not,” He ended up hissing through his teeth, jaw clenched. “Your sweet lil pussy is just too tiny, baby.”
You moaned. “N-No, s’not…”
He cooed at you, a gleam in his eye. “What was that?”
You frowned, pushing your bottom lip out as far as it would go before tucking your face into his neck and mumbled curses against the hot skin for being so cocky.
It lost all its potency though as he rocked his hips into yours.
You gasped as he brushed against that same spot from earlier, finding it with practiced ease. “I-Izuku—”
He growled as his name fell from your lips so wantonly, lewdly and in a manner that made him want to ruin you until you woke up all the neighbors with your screaming.
He wanted those beautiful thighs of yours to shake with pleasure as he drove his cock into you with no mercy.
Your poor legs had gone numb from the feeling and lack of blood circulation and even though that was your doing, you didn’t care in the slightest.
Izuku swore under his breath, unable to hold back after having you writhing above him, pinned down beneath him and now: with your exposed chest for him to feast on and the flush that had settled on your cheeks which let him know how immensely you enjoyed being woken up like this.
And he was ready to satisfy his best girl.
The tempo increased until your vision had gone white and he was nearly deaf from the ear-piercing volume of your poorly suppressed moans.
“F-Fuck, Izuku—” You whispered, afraid to break the lewd symphony of wet skin slapping against skin as more cream wrung out of your sopping pussy. “... I want you to cum in me.”
His hips stuttered dangerously and he lost balance above you, nearly crushing you as his arms gave out and he cursed like a sailor.
“Baby,” He stammered, never once faltering in his pace after that initial slip up. “You can’t… Don’t say things like that so lightly, I’m going to think you’re teasing me.”
You whined, squeezing his hips with your thighs and shook your head furiously. “I’m not—”
He growled, the deep sound driven with unspoken lust reverberating through your being and sent heat flooding your already incredibly sore nether regions.
“Shit.” Izuku breathed, his length throbbing in you as you confirmed his suspicions. “Fuck, gonna breed you so good, baby. So good.”
Sweat dripped off the ends of his hair, landing on your face as he mindlessly delved into you. 
Your eyes widened in shock as green lightning surrounded his body and you could do nothing else but take it as he activated his quirk for the first time ever with his dick inside of you.
“You’re not gonna be able to walk outside without everybody knowing that it’s my seed that’s got you knocked up.” He hissed lowly, unabashedly using One for All to fuck you silly.
Ramming his cock into your cunt as it squeezed around him, his smile was cocky. He could feel how much you were aroused by this, to be pumped on his hard, thick and hot length like this.
He was the one making you feel this way and only him.
To say that he wasn’t going ballistic inside from hearing you say that you wanted him to release inside would be a lie.
All he could think about was shooting thick white ropes of his potent cum into your precious little cunny, making sure you stayed stuffed to the brim with it until he was certain you would get knocked out from it.
Distinctly, he registered you squirming beneath him, begging him to go faster, harder; but he was beyond the control he normally prided himself having.
The need to breed you stomped out every other feeling inside of his heart and he was consumed with the thought of seeing your stomach round with the seed that he planted inside of your womb.
Jerking back, Izuku folded you like a pretzel, pressing your knees into your chest and pushing your legs up.
Your jaw dropped and you shrieked. From this position, he was deep. 
Too deep.
“I can’t, I can’t, hngh—” You sobbed, the tight pit in your stomach tightening until it threatened to snap. You were so close, you were going to cum too fast. “Izuku, please!!”
He couldn’t hear you. All he felt was your tight cunny wrapped around him like a glove as he pounded into you recklessly.
All the finesse he possessed before went out the window as he jackhammered into you with a speed and vigor that wasn’t present before.
He’s really into this. You barely had time to think to yourself before nimble fingers were dancing over your clit.
Izuku got no warning.
“Ahh, fuck!!!!” You screamed as your vision went white.
You curled into him as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced rocked through your body. 
You trembled like a leaf and feebly, your head tipped back, scratchy throat croaking out a small mewl into the crook of his neck as his raw cock throbbed against your spasming walls.
“Fuck, that’s it. Good girl, you’re so good, sweetheart.” Izuku praised as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear. “Milk my cock, baby. Shit, ‘m gonna—”
“C’mon,” You encouraged meekly, scratching down his back that was already littered with marks that you’ve made. “Cum inside, I want to feel it.”
“Want a baby, baby?” He crooned even though he was growing more unhinged with every second that passed. “Want your stomach to be swollen with my kid? You’d look so pretty and everyone would know who you belong to.”
The possessive undertone of his voice had pleasure spiking through the pain of the overstimulation.
Burrowing his face into the juncture of your bruised shoulders teeming with bite marks, he added another one to the mix. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, gah!!!” 
Squeaking as he gave a few weak thrusts before hot spurts of his cum shot in your channel, coating the walls a pure white, you hugged him tightly as he panted hard to catch his breath.
Izuku’s head collapsed onto your sweaty shoulder and his chest heaved as his body trembled in wake of his release. He pressed soft kisses up and down your neck as he whispered how well you did for him, coaxing you back down from the hazy space you were suspended in.
Whimpering, your eyes squeezed shut when he shifted behind you, preparing for him to pull out like he always did. You always hated this part, the part where it felt like the connection was lost.
But you didn’t expect for him to maneuver you so that he could still stay seated to the hilt, not letting one drop of his cum from his softened cock spill out.
“This okay, baby?” Izuku asked tiredly, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your face. He cursed as he saw the dark imprints left behind on your hips as light started to stream in through the window. “Was I too rough? Does it hurt?”
“No, no, you were perfect. Promise.” You somehow managed to reassure, despite being utterly exhausted. “... Love you.”
He smiled at you, the same bright beam that caused you to fall in love with him in the first place and you mirrored it with your eyes, unable to muster up the energy to make the muscles in your face obey your weak command.
The two of you stay entwined for several minutes that followed after, basking in the afterglow of such an intense session as the sun’s soft golden rays peaked over the horizon. 
And in that moment, when the rise and fall of your chest evened out and signaled to him that you fell asleep in his arms, Izuku couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have turned out if he didn’t have you. 
“I love you, too.” He murmured, clutching you to him tighter as he draped the blankets over you so that you didn’t get cold even though he knew you were going to scold him later for using something that had dried cum on it to cover you. “I’m so lucky to have you, sweetheart.”
He didn’t mind. You could pout and whine all you wanted if it meant he could have you in his life. Besides, he knew you didn’t actually care all that much.
That was because when you two were with each other, somehow everything just felt right.
And there was no way he was ever letting you go.
2K notes · View notes
nightmargin · 3 months ago
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the secret come out: what's under Niko's hat?
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whateveriwant · 3 months ago
The Magic Word
Summary: Bucky agrees to try something you've always wanted to do with him, but only under the condition that a certain word be employed if need be.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: ~1.3k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex, choking, talk of safewords)
A/N: Hello! So, I’m sorry for not posting for >3 months. But this is a little something I’ve been working on that I finally finished and so wanted to get out. To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy!
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“Are you sure about this?” Bucky asks, an innocent quirk to his brow. “I mean, we’ve never done this before. If you’re unsure–”
“I’m sure,” you’re quick to interject, nodding enthusiastically. You grip the collar of his shirt a little tighter as you sit on his lap, beginning to impatiently rock your hips back and forth in your excitement. “Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, please, could you?”
Bucky smiles gently and brings one hand up from your waist to your chin, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “Well… how can I say no to that face?”
In a flash, Bucky cradles the back of your head and flips you both over, a startled giggle escaping your lips as your back suddenly meets the mattress. You all but claw at his shoulders as Bucky attacks your mouth with his, plunging his tongue deep into your mouth and sharing that heady, intoxicating taste that’s so inexplicably him.
As you start grappling at the back of his t-shirt, desperately trying to remove it, Bucky pulls away from your lips, breathless. “You’re– you’re sure about this? I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says. 
Despite his lust-blown pupils and that thick, firm line in his pants pressing against your inner thigh, there’s a tenderness to Bucky’s expression that tells you he needs more reassurance – that he needs to know neither of you will regret this.
You smile softly and brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “You won’t,” you promise. And, for extra emphasis, you reach for his hand and drag it up to your neck, squeezing his fingers beneath yours to show him just how ready and willing you are. “Please.”
Bucky studies your face for a few moments before carefully nodding. He pulls his hand away from your throat but then leans forward to place a kiss on your pulse point, trailing his lips up your neck, along your jaw, and finally landing on your mouth.
He sits back and grabs at the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head to reveal that perfectly sculpted torso below. Both of your clothes come off in a flurry – a mess of limbs and fabric as you and Bucky are quick to rid yourselves of everything that comes between you. 
Once bare, Bucky settles himself between your parted legs and leans over you, holding himself up on his elbows as he gives you one more sweet peck on the lips. That peck soon turns to two, then three, then four, and then suddenly, you’re both tangled tongues and heated breath; heaving chests and rocking hips; curling toes and grabbing hands.
But then he pulls away once more. “You’re positive about this?” he asks. “You’re absolutely su–”
“Barnes,” you grumble, “if you ask me if I’m sure one more time, I’m gonna start choking you. And not in a fun way.” You narrow your eyes in feigned admonishment, pursing your lips after delivering your not-so-thinly veiled threat.
Bucky chuckles and shakes his head slightly. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll shut up now,” he yields. “But not before asking… what’s the magic word?”
“Bucky, I already said please,” you nearly whine. You’ve already begged and thrown yourself at him. What more could he want?
“No, not that one,” Bucky says. “The other one. For if it gets too much and we need to stop. I won't do this without it.”
Oh. Oh.
“We don’t need a safeword. I told you you’re not gonna hurt me,” you explain.
Bucky’s face softens, his brows ever so gently pinching together in concern. “Please… for my own peace of mind. Please.”
You take in his expression – that light crease between his brows, that gentle curl of his lips upwards, that shy glint in his eyes. You nod.
“Okay. I’ll use the safeword if I need to,” you relent.
“Gotta say it now, doll, so that I know you know it.” 
You let out a heavy sigh and nearly roll your eyes. Nearly. It’s your fault for picking that damned word in the first place. You don’t know why it came to your mind way back when, but seeing as it’s already well-ingrained in yours and Bucky’s minds, it seems too late to change it now.
Oh well. You don’t really have any intention on using it today anyway.
“Hodor,” you sigh, further stifling the need to roll your eyes as Bucky chuckles above you.
“Good girl,” he whispers before sealing your lips together again.
His hands run up and down your sides, teasing the slope of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the crease of your thighs. As his fingers run over your skin – tingling, tantalizing – you feel your arousal rapidly pool in your core, slickening your folds and readying your body to welcome his. 
Just as you think you can’t take much more teasing, Bucky positions himself between your thighs and takes himself in hand, running his length along your slit before poising it at your entrance.
“You ready?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to your face as he just barely nudges inside.
“More than,” you breathe and wiggle your hips in anticipation.
With a smirk, Bucky pushes his thick, mushroom hodor just inside you, making you gasp at the intrusion. Inch by throbbing inch he slowly slides the rest of the way in – spearing you deep, stretching you wide, stuffing you full.
You throw your hodor back as he seats himself fully within you, baring your neck to his eyes and lips and – most importantly – hands.
He pulls back halfway – his hodor glistening in the low light of your room – before thrusting into you once more, sending a jolt up your hodor as he hits your hodor. Your hodor claw at his hodor as he does it again and again – a near painful sensation, but one dulled by the way Bucky’s metallic hodor suddenly darts to your hodor, applying the barest hint of pressure.
“This what you wanted, baby? My hodor wrapped around your hodor?” Bucky asks, his warm hodor fanning across your hodor.
“Harder. Tighter,” you grit, clenching your hodor together.
His hodor squeezes tighter around your hodor, your hodor pulsing and hodor catching at the increased pressure. You grin and place your hodor over his, encouraging him to tighten his hodor even moreso, your hodor rolling back into your hodor as he does.
Bucky hodor his hodor into you harder, likely to hodor hodor you’ll hodor tomorrow – a matching set with those on your hodor. He hodor as your hodor involuntarily hodor around him, hodor him tightly, hodor him to hodor even harder; faster; rougher.
Your hodor hodor and hodor hodor as Hodor hodor his hodor firm on your hodor, his hodor never hodor – instead, hodor your hodor with each deep and fast hodor. Your hodor hodor from the lack of hodor, but that only hodor to the heavenly hodor, your hodor hodor hodor onto the hodor below you.
As Hodor hodor his other hodor down to your hodor and hodor hodor, hodor hodor yourself hodor close, that hodor in your hodor hodor. Hodor seems to hodor it, too. 
“Hodor close? Huh? Hodor gonna hodor for hodor?” Hodor hodor, hodor your hodor to let hodor hodor, his other hodor hodor quickly hodor your hodor.
Hodor hodor a deep hodor in, hodor the hodor hodor back to your hodor. “Mm-hmm,” hodor hodor, your hodor hodor as hodor hodor, hodor the hodor hodor in your hodor.
Hodor hodor again. “Hodor, then. Hodor for hodor. Hodor all over my hodor.”
Hodor hodor and hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor to your hodor.
“H– H–” hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor at the hodor. Hodor just hodor a hodor hodor. Just a hodor hodor; hodor hodor hod– 
Hodor hodor hodor.
“H-HODOOOOOR!” hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor.
Hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor hodor. Hodor hodor hodor hodor – hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor hodor.
Hodor, Hodor hodor hodor hodor, hodor hodor hodor; hodor hodor hodor, hodor.
“Hodor hodor hodor hodor?” Hodor hodor.
“…hodor hodor.”
A/N: April Fools! I hope you had a good laugh and that you enjoyed! Should you reblog/comment, might I ask that you consider not spoiling the surprise for any prospective readers? I just think it’d be more fun that way. Either way, thank you for reading!
Tags: @littlegasps​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @sweeterthanthis​
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bookishofalder · 2 months ago
Summary: Hotch jumps in front of a bullet for you. The pieces fall together.
Warnings: Mild violence, language, Spencer Reid being sweet, smut—fingering, PiV, praise kink, daddy kink (pretty mild). WC—+8.3k
A/N: And here we have it, another oneshot that reveals my desire for men twice my age. Sigh.
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You told yourself it was a quirk—like Reid with his obsession with Dr. Who or Penelope with her love of steamy romance novels. You just loved a good high-stakes raid; sure, if it could be avoided you weren’t bothered, but if it was necessary—well, the rush of adrenaline during the preparation, the intense focus that settled over you when you climbed out of the SUV, you were a sucker for it all.
When you first joined the BAU it was the quickest way for you to prove yourself to your new teammates, impressing even Derek Morgan when you wrangled a man twice your size to the ground and had him in cuffs before your colleagues could assist. Once you had established trust with the team, you were able to fill your role more effectively as the expert on tracking and capturing suspects. Drawing up unique plans for each case once the person was identified and then working with your boss, Aaron Hotchner, to ensure they were organized and followed.
You had been in this role for just over two years now and the BAU was basically your family; Spencer was your best friend—you spent most of your social time outside of work with him, usually at his place or the bookstore nearby. You did girls’ nights with JJ, Emily and Penelope, some of which got so wonderfully out of hand that Spencer would pick you up, then tease you endlessly for the next few days as you suffered through a hangover. You liked training with Derek because he pushed you, made sure you worked your ass off whether it was for recertification or just a workout, and he had a calm way of talking about life, often giving you wise advice like whether you should invest in a condo as a rental unit (you did and it worked out amazingly), or if you should give in to JJ’s desire to set you up with a cop friend of Will’s.
That advice you...had not taken. He told you to go for it, that saying yes to a date one time didn’t mean you were obligated to do more than that even if the date went well. The problem was—and you’d never admit this to Derek—that you were already sort of head over heels for someone. The idea of going on a date when you just knew you’d be spending the entire time imagining, wishing it were, a different person across the table from you just didn’t feel right or fair.
So you’d told JJ no thank you. That had been over a year ago and you were in no different of a place in your life, still pining for a man you couldn’t have and whining about it over Ben and Jerry’s during movie nights at Spencer’s, the only person who knew your secret. He was such a good friend that he never stopped you from the inevitable venting that happened every month, usually after a case that had you working closely with the man in question for a few days too long. After being holed up together in a conference room planning and theorizing and then always, always pairing together in the field. You made it up to Spencer by making sure he was never interrupted while in the middle of a ramble unless he got too far off-topic.
Being in love with Aaron Hotchner was no way to live, yet you simply couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t care about the age gap, nor did you mind that he had a child; you adored Jack. But you knew that those would be barriers for Hotch, and you’d seen the last two women he’d dated. They were nearer to his age, soft and sweet and nothing like you at all. It didn’t matter that his relationships didn’t last long, you still gleaned enough information from their brief existence to understand that he wasn’t looking to date another agent, let alone his own, younger, subordinate.
When you had first started with the team, you had wondered if Hotch disliked you. You often found yourself going to Rossi; the warm veteran Profiler always had his door open for you and made sure your onboarding and first few months with the team were smooth and comfortable. It wasn’t that Hotch was rude or cold, it was more like he was wary of you—he would only make brief eye contact, take measured steps away if you happened to be standing near him, and a few times he’d seen the empty seat next to you on the jet and ended up spinning on the spot to take the lone seat at the rear of the cabin, then stand awkwardly if he needed to address the team at any point during the flight.
You tried not to read into it too much but made the mistake of mentioning it to Spencer one movie night. He’d nodded vigorously as you’d spoken and then agreed, saying he’d noticed the odd behaviour as well.
Things were like that until a case in Texas where you saved Hotch’s life.
You remembered that in the moment what you were doing didn’t feel very heroic or grand. It felt terrifying; you had breached a small cabin together on the back of a property where the rest of the team was turning over the main house after having arrested the main suspect. Hotch had gone in ahead of you, standard formation, and at first, it seemed routine and easy.
It was the ease that made the hairs on the back of your neck raise as a chill ran down your spine.
You credited spending so much time with Derek the weeks before learning about his expertise in explosives for how you were able to recognize something was off. You had halted in your tracks and told Hotch to stop and he’d glanced at you uncertainly, stilling nonetheless, and watched you as you stared around the sparse, open room. The spike in adrenaline running through you tipped you over the edge, engaged your fight or flight instincts. You think the only reason Hotch didn’t move or speak was due to the expression on your face, that he realized you were sensing something he wasn’t, and you were grateful for just how good of a profiler, a boss, that he was.
It had clicked as you heard the slow squeak of the cabin’s rickety door falling closed behind you—it had been easy to open, the hinges oiled, so why was it closing slowly and making noise? It was then that you had jumped backward, stopping the door and at the same time you had gripped the back of Hotch’s vest and tugged hard, screaming for him to retreat and he had listened, hurrying to follow you. He’d watched as you grabbed a log off the stack of firewood set just outside the cabin door, taking care to leave it propped opened and unmoving.
You had called for Morgan through the comms while rushing away from the cabin with Hotch. He was regarding you with an expression you never did understand. It was thanks to your quick thinking that you and Hotch weren’t blown to bits. The Bomb Squad had verified the door had been rigged to set off an explosion once it closed behind you.
After that day, that case, Hotch treated you differently. He was warmer, seemed to be more comfortable sitting nearer to you and holding conversations that went beyond the workplace. And in the field, you knew you’d earned his trust and he was arguably the most difficult person to win over; for good reason as he was the Unit Chief.
That trust in you had grown over these past two years working together. It had lead to a friendly relationship that went beyond the workplace, which did nothing to help with your feelings. It was usually a group setting; a party at Rossi’s or a birthday celebration at a nice restaurant. But Hotch would still spend a lot of time talking with you, always made a point of wishing you goodnight warmly when he inevitably ended up leaving first to get home to Jack. Sometimes you swore there was something else he wanted to say to you in those brief moments when he would give you a light hug, but he never did. You convinced yourself it was just your imagination.
And speaking of his son, you had met Jack more than a few times—in fact, Jack often texted you when he had a homework question that he knew his dad would pull his hair out trying to assist with (seriously, Hotch was no good with English or drama, it made you laugh), or once even to tell you he’d been broken up with (that had been a fun one to read to Hotch, who’d expressed that a fifth grader shouldn’t even have a girlfriend and you’d had to break to Hotch that kids grew up too fast for their own good). You were also the third emergency contact for Jack at his school and with any camps or sports he played, but that was because you had the lightest schedule of everyone else on the BAU team, being a homebody. That was all.
Hotch trusted you, with his life, with his sons' life—which was why you were so confused at this very moment.
The world was sideways because he had tackled you.
The unsub you had both been chasing had sprung out from behind a dumpster with a firearm neither of you was aware he’d carried pointed directly at your chest, screaming for you to halt. You were one of the quickest shots on the team, though, and considering his aim was right at your bullet-proof vest, you didn’t even flinch when you’d aimed and pulled the trigger.
Only, Hotch had jumped in front of you at the last possible moment. For one horrifying second, you thought you might shoot him but just managed to jerk the gun higher, the shot going over his outstretched arm; instead of blasting into the suspect's arm as you had intended, it pierced through his skull.
He hit the ground before you did.
Though you weren’t far behind, and fuck you were confused. One moment things were going what you would label ‘standard’ for this type of run or die suspect. Hotch had stopped next to you, joining you in telling the man to lower his weapon-and then all of the sudden he was grabbing you, twisting his body in front of yours. It was the impact to his vest that made you realize the suspect had gotten off a shot as well.
You slammed to the ground with Hotch’s full weight over you, heard him grunt in pain when your head cracked off the concrete because his hand was wrapped protectively around your head—the cracking sound was his hand, rather than your skull. Before you could do more than gasp in surprise, his weight sagged onto you and all the air left your lungs as Hotch crushed you unexpectedly.
You looked down in panic to see Hotch slumped, limp against you, his head on the front of your vest and eyes closed, the pain from the impact of the bullet on his vest having knocked him out cold. You whimpered as you struggled fruitlessly to move him, your mind reeling over what had just happened.
Hotch was a field pro, always calm and calculated and precise. He never fumbled, and yet here he had just taken a very big risk to block a shot aimed at you. You didn’t have the strength to lift him and one of your arms was trapped between your bodies, so you pulled in as much air as you could and reached for his face with your free hand, dropping your gun next to you.
“HOTCH! Jesus—fucking, Hotch wake up!” You screamed, patting his cheek desperately, relief beginning to build as you saw his eyes moving under the lids before they snapped open and you moaned aloud, “Oh god, Hotch are you okay?”
He groaned in pain before lifting his head and meeting your worried gaze with wide eyes, “S-shit, Happy, are you alright?” He gasped, surprising you further by using the nickname you’d been dubbed with by the team because you were always smiling, always quick to laugh. He never called you that in the field. The hand he had under your head curled into your hair as he gazed at you in panic mirroring your own.
You gawked up at him, his face just inches from your own, “Hotch, what the fuck—I’m fine, you just, just,” There was a hysterical note in your voice, “You jumped in front of me! What the hell were you thinking?”
You saw it in his eyes at that moment, his body tensing at your exclamation but his face revealing the surprise, the shock at his actions. Like he hadn’t been thinking at all, but rather reacting. A mixture of emotions crossed his face before he schooled his features to neutral, but you were too worked up to understand any of them. You saw enough, you read what he wasn’t saying out loud—that he’d reacted on instinct, without thought.
He grunted as he adjusted his body and you hoped he hadn’t broken a rib, before he lifted his weight off of you carefully so that he was on all fours above you, the hand cradling your head pulling gently to help you sit up. You were sucking big breaths into your now weightless lungs and came to rest on your elbows, glaring up at him. Hotch barked into his radio to call for the team, his eyes on you with a burning intensity that made your stomach turn over.
Once Morgan confirmed they were coming to your location, Hotch released his hold on your head and surveyed you as if seeking out injuries. “He—I thought he had aimed higher,” He supplied rather lamely, not meeting your eyes. You narrowed yours at him, your adrenaline still pumping, and out of nowhere, it hit you that he had been protecting you, that he was currently acting completely out of character because he was afraid.
Afraid you were going to put it all together.
It was all casual touches, mild flirtatious banter-coffees on your desk in the mornings working at Quantico or passed from his warm hand to yours in the mornings in the hotel lobby’s when on a case. And then every moment together over the last year began to replay in your mind in quick succession. Something about your expression must have given away how you were connecting the dots because he was watching you now like he was witnessing a car accident.
Just last month, you recalled, he had lost his temper on a bartender that had, not knowing you were FBI agents undercover, tried to cop a feel as you passed him in a hallway that led to the main dance floor of the club. Hotch had thrown him into the wall and growled at him not to touch you, before turning to you as the bartender scrambled away and gently touching your arm, his eyes softening as he asked if you were alright.
And back during early spring last year, when you were walking with a search party together on a missing woman case in Denver and tripped over a root in the dense brush. You had gasped and Hotch had caught you so quickly you remembered thinking he must have already been watching you, his hand grasping the back of your jacket and hauling you back up before you could hit the ground. He had brushed some locks of hair that had fallen forward over your shoulder before looking away quickly and setting off to continue searching.
And the most recent memory, just last month at Rossi’s annual Christmas party. You had been sitting with Spencer at the kitchen island, listening to your genius best friend as he rambled off facts about why Christmas trees became a thing when you saw from over his shoulder as Hotch slipped quietly out the doors to the patio area, alone. Something inside you had driven you to excuse yourself, jerking your head toward the windows you could see Hotch through, and Spencer had smirked knowingly before you walked away.
You slipped outside into the cool night and Hotch hadn’t seemed to even notice, his arms resting on the balcony railing as he gazed out into the dark, deep in thought. When you leaned your back against the railing to stand next to him, he’d started slightly before shooting you a little smirk you’d grown to adore. It was something he did only with you and every time it sent butterflies through your stomach.
“Hi, Happy,” He had looked away as he’d spoken, back out at the night sky.
You had smiled up at him, “You may need to dip into more of Garcia’s very alcoholic egg nog if you’re feeling short of Christmas spirit,” He had chuckled at that, a sound that shot heat through you and ensured you didn’t feel the chill in the air, “I only had one glass and I feel it.”
You’d been kidding, though it had been pretty strong. But the way Hotch had glanced back down at you, that brief flash of concern as he searched your face, it had surprised you. “Are you feeling alright?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you, actually.”
Hotch blinked a few times, then sighed, “I am,” His eyes were so warm, you remember thinking. “I just have trouble turning off my brain sometimes.” He’d admitted a little shyly, looking away again.
You’d reacted on instinct, your hand sliding across the railing to lay over his own comfortingly. You looked towards the windows, seeing your friends inside all laughing and cheerful, and ignored how Hotch had stiffened in surprise next to you—he could pull his hand away if he wanted to.
“You want me to help sneak you out?”
His hand turned over beneath yours, twisting to capture it in a soft hold, and you had tilted your head to peer up at him, those warm eyes gazing at you with a sudden intensity you couldn’t understand. “No, I don’t want to leave yet.”
Struggling to quell the sudden nerves within, you’d looked away before replying, “I can’t always quiet mine down either. And I have considerably less trauma in my life compared to you,” You tacked on the joke, relieved when he’d laughed fully, his deep baritone cutting through the air in a rush of joy that made your heart thud hard against your rib cage.
“You have, uh,” He broke off, still laughing, and his hand squeezed yours again, “A real way with words, honey.”
Honey. You had liked that.
At what point in the last year had you fully convinced yourself he could never feel anything toward you like you did for him? Because as you laid there on the concrete it seemed almost glaringly obvious how wrong you were. You had thought all of those moments, most little and some a bit more were just signs of a close friendship, respect for one another as both Agents and individuals. It made you work better together, you’d thought, until right now.
Before you could say anything or even think of what the hell to say to him, voices and heavy footfalls filled the alley. Hotch was looking to your team and had lifted himself completely away from you.
Spencer was the first to grab you and pull you to your feet, his features twisted in concern.
“You okay, Happy?” He asked, smoothing back your hair as his eyes roved over your body to assess the damage-or, lack thereof.
You nodded, giving him a tight smile, “I’m fine Spence. Had to take him out though, he had a gun.” You jerked your chin in the direction of the dead suspect—Emily and Derek were already standing over the man, while Rossi was helping Aaron to his feet, leading him toward the street to the paramedics for assessment.
Spencer hugged you, a rare thing for him to do, “We heard the shots, thought you—I’m so relieved you’re alright,” You smiled up at him reassuringly when he pulled back, “Let’s go see the medics.”
“Oh, no need,” You grumbled, giving him a look the silenced any argument he might have otherwise made. With a careful shrug, Spencer led you from the alley with a hand at your back. He made you sit on a nearby bench within the blocked-off area for the investigation.
“So,” Spencer began, taking a seat next to you and fixing those kind eyes on you, “What happened? You’re angry.”
He knew you too well, you thought, shrugging and glancing away so that he couldn’t read you. Your eyes landed on the ambulance; Hotch was being given a once over and you found him glaring hard at the ground as he sat silently for the paramedic. Rossi was sitting next to him with a knowing expression on his face.
The anger and confusion you were feeling intensified as you replayed everything that had just occurred. Your boss had just broken basic protocol to jump in front of a fucking bullet for you, shoved you hard to ensure he caught the hit and then went so far as to protect your head when you hit the ground.
You could have shot the suspect in the shoulder, but Hotch prioritized you the moment he saw the man's gun.
You’d always had such high regard for Aaron Hotchner, even before you developed feelings for the older man. He was a storm, a man who could as easily and swiftly shift from calm and cool to harsh and powerful depending on what the situation warranted in the field and it had always impressed you. Today, he had quite literally taken your breath away but at the cost of his safety and the suspect's capture.
You were stunned.
Spencer was silent next to you, no doubt understanding from where you were looking that you weren’t going to elaborate. He knew you preferred to speak about personal matters outside of work, and being the amazing friend that he was he didn’t pressure you. A comforting arm did land around your shoulders, which you leaned into gratefully.
You weren’t sure how long you were glaring over at Hotch, but eventually, the paramedic moved away and he glanced up, his eyes finding yours. For a brief moment, he merely stared at you, though his gaze tightened after a beat as if he were annoyed.
That did it.
Without a word to Spence, you abruptly shot off the bench and stormed across the sidewalk and onto the partially cordoned-off road. A flash of understanding crossed his face and he glanced over to Rossi, speaking something quietly to him. Rossi nodded before stepping away, leaving you alone with Hotch by the time you were standing right in front of him where he sat at the back of the ambulance.
He was so much taller than you that standing before him you were only given a slight advantage now, but you allowed the fact that you were looking down your nose at him to encourage you. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking, Hotch?” You hissed, crossing your arms.
His expression still dark, Hotch met your gaze without faltering, “I reacted out of instinct, Agent—something that we’ve all done before. I prioritized your safety over that of the suspects.”
“You mean over your own safety, Hotch!” You stepped closer, your arms squeezing your torso so that you didn’t reach out and shake him, “We both know his shot wasn’t high. It would have hit my vest. It’s happened before, I can handle it.”
Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of agitation, though his stern voice didn’t waver as he replied. “I know that you can handle it, Agent. Nonetheless, what’s done is done and I won’t apologize for—”
He broke off when you leaned down so that your face was directly in front of his, your voice coming out choked as your fury reached its peak. “Don’t call me agent, Aaron, not when we both know you aren’t being honest about what that was about.” You didn’t even care that he was your boss at that moment, just like he hadn’t been thinking of you just as one of his agents back in the alley.
You spun away then, your eyes pricking with tears you desperately blinked back. When you looked around, you saw Spencer standing by one of the SUV’s and you made your way over to him. When he saw you coming, his expression fell at the pinched look on your face and he surprised you by pulling you in for another hug when you reached him.
If you had looked back at Hotch, you would have seen the pained expression flicker across his face as he watched you go to Spencer for the comfort he wished so badly he could have given you. You would have seen the way his hands clenched, his jaw ticking as he held himself back from following you, a mixed look of longing and jealousy burning in his dark eyes.
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It was a late departure from the airport that night, the team arriving at the jet well past midnight with heavy eyes, all unusually quiet. The fact that it was also a long flight made you want to cry—you could never sleep on the jet. You weren’t sure why exactly, it was as though you were cursed, you were incapable of falling asleep when on any kind of airplane. And you weren’t afraid to fly, quite the contrary you enjoyed it, even found the cabin of the BAU jet to be one of your favourite places. Regardless, as everyone else settled in with headphones or earplugs, reclining their seats, or in Spencer’s case stretching out on the couch to fall asleep, you sat alone at the back of the plane with your legs curled up on the seat, gazing out the window.
You had your headphones on, though they weren’t connected to your phone. You had gone through the motions when you first sat down, but then gazed at the Spotify app on your phone and went blank, unable to decide if you wanted to listen to music or a podcast, your brain too tired and distracted. You pocketed your phone without selecting anything, then rested your head on your hand against the wall and stared out the window.
You hadn’t even looked at Hotch since walking away from him earlier, though you think you felt his gaze on you at times as you’d wrapped up on the scene and later when you’d climbed out of the SUV to clear the security at the airport. You had determinedly avoided him as best you could, fearing what you’d see on his face if you did look. Anger, disappointment, or worse—nothing at all.
It was maybe an hour later, the cabin dark and silent, that you shifted in your seat and realized you needed to pee. You stood slowly, pulling off your headphones and dropping them onto the seat, and then slipped through to the bathroom. When you were standing at the sink washing your hands, you felt a fresh wave of exhaustion roll through you and closed your eyes, resting them as you dried your hands. You kept them closed as you took a moment to breathe and then opened the door.
When you stepped out into the small galley area that was the rear of the plane, divided by only a curtain from the cabin area, you walked directly into something solid and your eyes flew open in surprise. Hotch’s large hands grabbed your arms to steady you when you bounced off of his chest, releasing you just as quickly once he’d ensured you weren’t going to fall.
“Wha—” Your mouth snapped shut at the expression on his face; it was torn, as though he weren’t certain he should be standing so close to you, yet unable to move away. Your eyes flicked down, noting how dishevelled he looked at that moment—his tie gone, shirt partially unbuttoned, hair messy enough that you knew he was running his hands through it.
For a long minute, he didn’t speak, he just stared at you, yet the air around you felt suddenly thick with tension you couldn’t help but shift nervously, your lower lip drawing between your teeth.
Hotch’s eyes were on your lips before he glanced away from you entirely, his eyes closing as if he were attempting to draw strength or patience. Words failed you because you had no idea what he wanted, what he was doing back here. You thought he had been asleep like the others in the seat across from Rossi, that he had been happy to let you ignore him.
He took a deep breath, “We should talk.” He murmured, eyes on you again and you nodded, nervous under his intense gaze. “I need to apologize to you. What I did today...I realized in after that it was the first time in a while where we’ve been in such a close call like that, where one well-placed shot would—well,” He paused, his pinched brow and dark eyes saying what he couldn’t so much in words, “It’s not an excuse, for my behaviour. But I—I feel, protective, of you. It’s not professional, or fair, or a reflection of any distrust in your capabilities.”
Stunned as you were at his honesty, at how much he was sharing, you couldn’t help but frown, “Hotch, you scared the hell out of me,” You whispered, needing him to understand how worried you had been, “Do you think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to see someone they care about get hurt? Not to mention if there had been any witnesses, then you’d be getting in a lot of trouble for breaking protocol like that!” Unable to raise your voice, you punctuated your words by prodding his shoulder and shooting him your best glare.
He looked away, his eyes landing somewhere over your head as he seemed to consider your words. When he started to nod, his eyes fell back to meet yours and you finally saw a glimpse past that stern exterior, a brief window to his vulnerability and fear and...there was something there you didn’t understand, but it made your legs a little weaker.
“I shouldn’t—fuck,” Hotch crowded you then, quietly pushing you back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him as he stood against you in the small, dimly lit space. Your breath caught in surprise when his hands suddenly came up to cup your cheeks gingerly, and you could see the colour rise from his neck as he struggled with himself, “I thought I could get past this. I—It’s inappropriate. It’s unfair to you, but I can’t seem to fight it anymore. Fight how I feel about—”
You felt all the air in your lungs evaporate as you realized what he was saying. With a burst of confidence you reached your hands up to take hold of Hotch by the front of his suit jacket, your voice a steady whisper as you breathed out, “I don’t want you to fight it anymore, Aaron,” He stiffened, pulling in a sharp breath as you sighed softly, “Please don’t fight it.”
And then you tilted your head, pushed up to your tiptoes, and captured his soft lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
You kept it light and brief, pulling back only slightly to meet his gaze after a minute. At first, he merely stood frozen before you, processing what had just happened. You were both keenly aware of the lines you’d both just crossed, at what was at stake, and you didn’t mind waiting for him. His eyebrows had risen high on his forehead as he gazed at you in wonder, and you had to resist the urge as you looked into his warm ochre eyes to tell him that he was beautiful.
When Hotch finally spoke, his voice shook more than you’d ever heard before, “Please know—you don’t have to pretend, I...this is so inappropriate of me and I promise you don’t have to even say—”
“Hotch,” You interjected, tugging him a little closer, “I feel the same, I really do.”
You turned your head to try and kiss along his jaw, only one of Hotch’s hands shot up and stopped you, gripping your chin, then pushing into your hair. You watched him take a steadying breath, your heart threatening to burst from your chest, and then he was everywhere—his lips on yours, his broad, muscular body pressing you into the sink counter, his other hand now trailing softly up your neck. It was almost frantic, and you matched his energy swiftly, each of you putting what you couldn’t say in words right now into the kiss.
Reaching up between your bodies, you slid your hands over his wide shoulders before pushing them into his short hair and pressing him harder against you, your tongues now dancing together as you each deepened the kiss. You were desperate for more, the heat in your belly settling low and you felt wetness pool between your thighs as Aaron Hotchner kissed the living hell out of you in the bathroom of the BAU jet.
You each pulled back at the same time, your bodies still tightly wound together, and gazed into each other’s eyes as you panted. You broke the silence first, giving a little laugh, “We sure picked the worst possible location to do this.”
Hotch chuckled, the smile that spread over his face so beautiful you felt your heart stutter in your chest. He brought the thumb of the hand on your chin to brush over your lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time, honey,” His voice was low, the timbre of it sending heat through your veins, “I’m sorry I didn’t do it in a better location, though.” He added, laughing again.
“Don’t apologize, Hotch,” You murmured, smiling up at him, “This was perfect, I just...wish we could talk more somewhere comfortable.”
He nodded in understanding, then pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “We should go and get some sleep, and when we land I’ll take you for coffee anywhere you want to go and we can figure this out.”
You leaned back and gave him a sheepish smile, “Hotch I...I’ve never been able to sleep on airplanes. I might be dead on my feet by the time we land,” You admitted somewhat regretfully, “And if I’m honest, I’m a little too worked up right now to even try.” Hotch’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words, his eyes now searching your face with a mixture of curiosity and desire; the latter of which you were sure he recognized in your expression.
You saw him drink in the way you were now biting your lip, the not-so-subtle clenching of your thighs and the heat flaming your cheeks. “Hey now,” He murmured, his voice so husky you nearly whimpered, “Oh, I know just what you need, sweet little thing.”
You have to admit, you almost crumbled right on the spot at his words, the heat of them shooting straight to your throbbing core and you blinked up at him in surprise. Before you could say anything, Hotch pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue sliding over them hungrily. You immediately opened your mouth, allowing him to lick into you and moaning quietly at the sudden storm of intensity that was Hotch.
His hands dropped and gripped at your waist, thumbs sliding along the band of the leggings that you had changed into back at the station. You shuddered at the slight skin-to-skin and unconsciously rolled your hips. “Shit—Hotch!” You couldn’t help but mutter, the reality of Hotch touching you so much more arousing than you could have ever imagined.
He pulled back from you by only a whisper, “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” His warm eyes searched your face for any signs of discomfort.
“God, no!” You whimpered, and Hotch smirked at you in a way that made your insides turn to jelly before he was sliding his dominant hand below the waist of your leggings and seeking out where you needed him most.
He ghosted his fingers over the front of your panties, and you trembled in anticipation. His eyes were on your face, and you couldn’t look away from him even as he dipped below the cotton fabric and found the dripping mess that you were, though your face flushed in embarrassment.
Hotch grunted, “Is that all for me, pretty girl? Fuck,” He’d been teasing along your folds but now pressed up and expertly found your clit with his thumb at the same moment he sunk one finger inside of you. The low, desperate moan that ripped from your chest made him growl and he brought his free hand up to grip your jaw and kiss you firmly before pulling back to give you a mock-stern look, “Quiet. Stay nice and quiet for me and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”
You nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his expression smoothed out before he started moving his fingers again. His thumb worked little circles over your clit, but it was his thick fingers that were making it hard to keep quiet. He pushed a second inside of you now, pumping them in and out and curling them in just the right way, so expertly that you were seeing spots in your vision before long.
“Oh, oh god, Hotch,” You whispered, slamming your hands against his chest and gripping at the fabric of his suit jacket, “S-so fucking good...”
“I know, pretty girl, you just need someone to take care of you,” He was still watching your face as he fucked you with his perfect fingers. You’d never been so turned on in your life, both never wanting him to stop and wishing you were somewhere more private. His voice wavered slightly when he spoke next, “I can’t believe this is happening, I never thought—”
“What?” You interjected softly, beaming at Hotch, “Was I really that good at hiding how I felt?”
His fingers were moving slowly now, dragging you along the edge as he surveyed you with surprise, “I thought...yes, you were very good.” He didn’t elaborate, and though you think he meant to say something more, you were too distracted by his touch to clarify his meaning. You would ask him about it during that coffee. You trembled and his eyes refocused, the pupils blowing back out, “Does this feel nice, pretty girl? You like being a good girl for me?”
Shit, he was fucking hot. His words were erotic and perfect and you had no idea you had such a praise kink but here you were, getting even wetter for him every time he spoke. You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and curling them exquisitely. “Fuck, I’m so close already—”
Hotch pressed his body closer to yours, making a sound in his throat of approval, but when his hips had ground against you involuntarily, you felt the hard length of him at your waist and that was what did it for you. Knowing he was enjoying this as much as you were, that he was so turned on by you coming apart at his fingers, it sent you over the edge. You felt yourself clamp down around his fingers, your hands pushing at his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you had to bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out.
He didn’t make it easy for you, though; Hotch grunted when he realized you were coming, his voice in your ear low and wrecked, “That’s it, such a good girl for m-me. So fucking sexy,” His movements slowed but didn’t stop completely, drawing out your bliss unexpectedly and making you whine quietly. “Fuck—feel how hard I am for you. Do you feel what you do to me?”
His commanding voice was almost enough to shoot you right over the edge again. You barely managed to access enough of your brainpower to drop one hand to his pants, palming over his thick erection before gasping at not only how hard he was, but how long—Hotch was packing. Holy shit.
You leaned forward desperately, wrapping your hand behind his neck and drawing him down to kiss you again. It was messy and delicious; he tasted masculine, warm, like a fucking summer evening, and you could have stayed wrapped around him forever.
When he finally pulled back, you were both flushed and panting, the pink on Hotch’s cheeks beautiful enough to make you stare. He smiled nervously and relaxed his posture before slowly sliding his hand from within you. You watched as he raised his fingers, soaked in your essence, and gazed at them for a moment before looking you straight in the eye as he brought them to his mouth.
Your jaw dropped as he smirked at you like he just knew you’d never had a lover or partner do something so bold. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as he sucked his fingers clean, closing his eyes as if appreciating the taste. Your taste.
“Holy shit, Hotch,” You murmured when he lowered his hand. He chuckled, reaching behind you for a paper towel and wiping his hands dry before cupping your face gently.
“Do you feel okay? Was that alright?”
There was that concern again; it was never gone for long, and you were starting to feel like an idiot for not realizing how often, just how much Aaron Hotchner cared for you. You felt your pussy throb again from the expression on his face and you knew you couldn’t stand another minute without him inside of you. “More,” You reached forward, grabbing at his belt, “I need you, Aaron. I need you inside me, please.”
You started to unbuckle him, only his hands pushed yours away. You looked up, afraid you’d gone too far, only to find Hotch wide-eyed and...and feral. He looked fucking wrecked, like what you had just said was the single hottest thing he’d ever heard, and his hands only expertly worked at undoing his belt and working his fly down.
“Are-are you sure?” He gasped out, pausing as he moved to push his pants down. You answered him by shoving your leggings and panties down, kicking them away from your feet and nodding eagerly as you looked up at him.
You’d never been in such a passionate situation, where every touch and movement felt meaningful and right, and you had to work hard to keep yourself quiet. When Hotch pushed his pants down and stood up straight, his hard cock sprung up and you slapped your hand over your mouth to hold in your gasp. Fuck, was he even going to fit? You could feel the slick running down your thighs now, grateful he’d already made you cum once—nonetheless, it would be no easy feat to take all of that.
Hotch reached up over your head, grabbing a towel from the shelf and throwing it on the counter behind you before he stooped and lifted you gently, settling you on the edge. He stepped right up to you, your bodies pressed together, his thick, long erection hot on your thigh. He then looked at you closely, “This is about more than sex for me. I have feelings for you, pretty girl, this isn’t a one-time thing.”
You think he needed you to understand this as much as he needed to be sure you felt the same. “I’m yours, Aaron,” You whispered back, gazing at him softly even as your body raged with a fire he had lit, “All yours, forever.”
His eyes softened, and he kissed you again before pulling back and gripping your hips with his strong hands. You reached one hand down to grasp his length, leaning back into the mirror, and put your other hand over your mouth again. You gave him two pumps, and Hotch hissed, his eyes on your bodies below as he let you line him up and then he was slowly thrusting forward.
The stretch was immediate, you had certainly never been with someone bigger, your eyes wide as you looked down at him splitting you open. He took his time, easing back every time he sunk another inch in to ensure you experienced no pain, the expression on his face focused. It took a few minutes before he was fully inside of you, and he just let you clench around him at first, his eyes falling shut in pleasure.
The full, stretched feeling was everything, your eyes rolled in your head as you bite back your moans.
“Fuck, pretty girl, you are so tight,” He whispered, adjusting his grip on you so that one hand splayed across your lower back, pressing your body into his. “Going to make this quick, okay? So we don’t get caught.”
The way he said it suggested he intended to take his time with you again soon, the implication driving you to clamp down on him in excitement, and Hotch groaned low. He hugged you close, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, and started to fuck you, hard. He set a pace that instantly had you biting into your own hand to ensure you didn’t scream, his cock hitting you in all the right places. You felt a rumbling in your neck and realized he was using you to muffle his sounds, unable to keep himself fully quiet.
“F-fuck,” You whimpered as you pulled your hand away to grab at his hips, the feel of his muscles flexing as he pounded into you turning you on even more. You pressed your face into his shoulder as you began to see bright lights behind your eyelids. “Going t-to cum again, oh shit—”
He turned his face slightly and breathed into your ear, hot and sinful, “Cum for me, little girl, cum for daddy.”
Oh god, you’d never hurled so fucking fast over the edge in your life. Your orgasm swept over you like the wave of a tsunami; Hotch must have realized what his words had done because he frantically slammed one hand over your mouth as you arched away from him and came. Your head tilted back and mouth opened against the skin of his palm in a cry you tried to contain, the only sounds escaping pathetic little mewl’s. Hotch was panting, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his peak, “Shit, I’m g-going to cum!”
You felt him begin to pull out, and even in the haze of your orgasm managed to wrap your legs around him and pull him so that he was deep inside of you. “IUD,” You murmured, desperately trying to open your eyes and watch his face. “Cum inside me, daddy, please.”
Hotch gave one last, strong thrust, his eyes wild as he started to cum, filling you deeply, “Fuck!” He hissed your name, biting his lip and then dropping both hands to your hips to pull you even closer against him, his eyes on where he was pumping you full of cum, yours watching his face.
The sight of Aaron coming undone for you so completely was captivating. You’d never known something could be so perfect and you soaked up every expression that crossed his handsome face like it was oxygen you needed to live by. When he stilled, the only sound was that of each of your heavy breathing. You relaxed your legs and slumped into the counter, exhausted, and he leaned over you to capture your mouth against his.
This kiss was slower, dizzying, delicious—you were blissed-out and nearly ready to pass out from it all, the intense emotions and explosive second orgasm exhausting everything you had left. “Aaron, Jesus Christ,” You giggled lightly, running your fingers over his cheeks as he smiled down at you. You could feel him beginning to soften within you, but he didn’t pull out right away and you found you liked the sensation, enjoyed keeping him warm within you as you each caught your breath in the cramped space of the bathroom.
Hotch pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his eyes gazing at you so lovingly you could have cried, and then brushed a hand across your face, pushing back some hair, “How are you? Was that too much?”
Your heart constricted again as he concerned over you, “That was amazing, Aaron. Might need you to help me down in a minute, though,” You admitted, giving him a sleepy smile, “Are you always going to worry over me so much?” You added, and he gave you a rueful smile.
“Yes pretty girl, I probably will.”
“Hmm, I think I could get used to you being so protective,” You replied, grinning and stroking your thumb over his cheek, “Just no more jumping in front of bullets, maybe?”
Hotch laughed warmly, slowly pulling away from your body and reaching for paper towels to help clean you up. “I’m making no promises there,” He paused, looking you in the eye and you stilled at the intensity there, “I love you too much.”
His confession brought tears of happiness to your tired eyes, and you let a few slip out as you sat up carefully, “I love you too, Aaron.”
You realized then that nothing in life had ever felt so thrilling and right as admitting you loved Aaron Hotchner.
You smiled warmly as he pulled you against him in a strong embrace, then let him take care of you before leading you to the seat next to him in the main cabin. Tucked into Hotch's side with your head on his chest, you slept for the first time in your life on an airplane. Surrounded by all the people you loved most while being held by the man of your dreams.
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anordinarymuse · 2 months ago
Could I possibly request a Kaz imagine where the gang needs to split up and you end up severely wounded. Kaz gets extremely furious, an understatement, at whoever put you in this position and also really worried since you are very special to him: you guys are still in the early stages of your relationship so Kaz is still a little new to the whole comforting and being there for you part but you can bet that he is not leaving until he knows you’re okay
Just a lil’ angsty but super fluffy at the end 🥺🥺 Thank you so much if you want to write this.
fluffy kaz w angst is like the best duo it makes me feel so warm hehe
Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader
Summary : hehe the request. also this was fun to write.
Warnings : swearing; unedited.
Word Count : 868
A/N : my hand keeps trembling and it won't stop what is happening.
the masterlist.
request here.
"How far's my flat?" You grimace as you hold tightly onto Kaz's arm each step staggers after last. You can feel Kaz beginning to feel the weight as he limps, holding his cane with a ferocious firmness.
"I can see the sign," he replies, you can feel him almost shake as you hold onto him. You'd told him you were fine but he insisted after everybody had left in the alleyway.
The two of you had been trudging for a solid five minutes now, making slow progress.
"We're here," Kaz states, doing his best to help you stand up straight, but you can feel his hesitance as he touches you.
Desperate to get inside you push open the door with your elbow. Your face falls when you see steps of stairs. You had completely forgotten that your cheap flat was four stories high.
"Saints," you whisper staring wide-eyed and in dismay at the staircase.
"I'll-" Kaz starts, he also stares at the treacherous staircase. "I'll carry- carry you...?"
"No, it's fine Kaz, don't worry about it," you reply, hopping over to grasp the railing, feeling sick when your skin makes contact with the cold iron metal.
"I'll carry you," Kaz repeats, this time more certain.
"Kaz, your leg. You should be going back anyway,"
"I'll carry you," Kaz once again repeats, though, this it's demanding. You know there's no point in arguing, so you shift yourself into Kaz's arms.
You had been afraid that he'd accidentally drop you from the pain in his leg, however he's quite strong and you can feel the tense strength in his arms.
Slowly but surely the two of you ascend up the dingy staircase that could fall apart at any second. You were about to suggest that you could walk up the final story, but one look at Kaz's face silences you. His eyes are narrow with perseverance, so you don't bother.
He only let's you stand back up when he carries you to your flat door. You had expected Kaz to leave as you search through your pocket for your key, but he doesn't.
"Kaz, you don't have to stay if you don't want to," you assure him as you enter the flat, stumbling around to any object you can hold on to.
"I'm not leaving until you're in bed," he objects, closing the flat door behind him and following as you hop around.
"It's fine Kaz," you argue, not wanting him to go out of his way.
"No it's not," he snaps, which takes you by surprise. "Your stomach is impaled and you're hopping around Ketterdam like a bird with a broken wing. I'm going to get Pekka Collins if it's the last fucking thing I do."
"It'll just leave a scar. I'll be fine," you assure, making your way to the bedroom. Kaz follows.
"I should've known better than to let you guys go down the east wing. I knew it, I knew there'd be people down there," he paces around the bedroom, speaking through gritted teeth.
"Kaz, it's late you should go home," you suggest as you try and find pajamas that you'd let get ruined with blood.
"No, and how could I let Jesper use the- the- whatever he calls them," Kaz continues with his tangent, his cane hits the wooden floor with every step. It was beginning to give you a headache, "I should've been by you at the beginning not at the entrance while you guys were getting-"
"Kaz, we're all ok, ok?" You reassure, hobbling as close as possible to Kaz without falling, looking him in the eyes.
"Ok," his gaze relaxes as it meets yours.
"Alright so-"
"I'm not leaving until you're in bed," he shakes his head at your impudence.
Begrudgingly you stumble to the bathroom to change into the pajamas you decided on, and then you slip into bed. Kaz just stands by the bedroom door, watching as you get comfortable under the covers.
"Kaz-" you begin, snuggling under the mildly scratchy blankets.
"Go to bed Y/N," he directs, his eyes flicker from you and the bed.
"Goodnight," he silences you with one word, and you ultimately surrender.
Grumbling, you flip over in bed, immediately regretting the decision as you've fallen on a sore spot. You return to laying on you back and when you take a peek, opening your eyes, Kaz remains standing by the bedroom door.
You let out an exhausted sigh before closing your eyes again, and for the rest of the night you don't open them again.
Your eyelids flutter open as the a sliver of sunlight shines in through the drawn curtains.
You wince when you try and sit up, forgetting the events of last night.
Exhausted and sore you grip the covers tightly as you push yourself up. It's only when you turn your head you crack a small grin.
To your left Kaz sits in a chair, slumped down and snoozing away. His cane is still in hand and his fedora is tilted a bit too much to the side. The sight makes you giggle and Kaz slowly wakes up, his eyes lighting up when he sees you in a good mood.
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coffeecatsandcandles · a month ago
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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
Summary: You and Bucky have a quickie on the couch while your children are napping upstairs.
Pairing: husband!Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: SMUT (18+), masturbation, bucky is h o r n y, praise kink, slight breeding kink, language
bucky barnes masterlist
You plopped onto the couch, exhausted and overworked. Your children were finally down for their afternoon nap. Glancing at the time, you groaned at how it was only 2PM. In an hour, you’d have to wake them up and continue the day, but you basked in the moment, as it was the first time the house was quiet since 7AM. Your children were your world, there was no doubt about that. But every once in a while, you could feel the stressors being a parent brought. Some days were perfect, other days were filled with tantrums, yelling, and even hitting every once in a while. You had two boys, close enough in age to be best friends one minute and enemies the next.
“That bad, huh?” Your husband, Bucky asked from the kitchen, noticing how tired you looked.
“I swear, if they weren’t so cute…” You decided not to finish your sentence. You loved them too much, despite how stressed they made you.
Bucky sat next to you, bringing you in with his metal arm and planting a kiss on your lips. “When was the last time the two of us had a conversation and didn’t talk about the boys?” he whispered, moving his lips from your face to where your ear met your neck, the spot that drove you absolutely crazy.
“Oh god, I don’t even want to think about that,” you laughed, feeling your muscles relax.
“Alright then,” Bucky said in between the kisses he was planting on your neck, “Without mentioning the boys, how has your week been?”
You sat for a second, thinking about your week. Your schedule revolved around your children, so it was rare you had a moment to yourself. Even moments like this with Bucky were rare. You couldn’t even remember the last time you were this intimate with him.
“Well, I found a nice recipe I’ve been wanting to try,” you started, Bucky simply humming in acknowledgement as he moves down your neck, placing sloppy kisses on the top of your breasts. You started really thinking about how your week had been. Finding a recipe online you thought your boys would like, doing a shitload of laundry, and starting a new book (in which you’d only gotten through one chapter since you barely had the time to pick it up again). Nothing about it was sexy. Then you remembered all the times Bucky came home from his early morning runs. He insisted on waking up at 4:30 in the morning to do them. He’d come back at around 5:30, immediately stepping in the shower. You never got out of bed; the blanket was too warm and your body was still exhausted from the lack of sleep and energy you always seemed to have. But you’d always glance at him through sleepy eyes, feeling yourself get wet at the sight of his fit body. You really struck gold getting this man to be yours. You recalled one morning you managed to play with yourself while he was in the shower. You knew he was exhausted too, and he needed the shower to cool off after his vigorous run, so you decided against joining him. You played with your clit under the covers, quietly moaning at the memory of the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. You played with your breasts and thighs in the process, imaging his sweaty, manly hands all over you. Before you knew it, you came for the first time in what felt like months. “I got to touch myself after I saw you coming home from your run.” You whispered.
Bucky’s eyes went black with lust. “Oh honey,” he said, taking one of his hands and bringing it beneath the old leggings you were wearing. “Did it feel something like this?” he asked, bringing one of his fingers to your clit, making his movements slow and intentional.
You shook your head, staring into his eyes, “Your fingers feel better,”
He shot you a devilish smile, quickening his movements, “Good girl.” He praised, forcing a moan out of you. You were soaked for him, practically begging for him to rip off your leggings and underwear to fuck you. But Bucky always liked to tease. “Cum for me.” he said with a growl and you started grinding your hips against his hand. You noticed through his jeans just how hard he was, and the thought of him fucking you into oblivion forced a powerful orgasm to rip through you.
Bucky laid you down now, so that he was hovering on top of you. “You gotta stay quiet for me, alright? We gotta make this quick, Mama.”
It was almost embarrassing, the way your body reacted to him talking to you like that. It shouldn’t be legal for him to make you feel so good. He took off your underwear and leggings, admiring your dripping entrance. “Fuck, baby.” He said, unbuckling his belt and starting to take off his jeans with one hand and continuing to toy with your clit with the other.
You caught a glimpse at his hard cock, and despite all the years you two had been together, it still made you breathless. He grabbed your hand and put it around his cock, and you started pumping it before he moved to ease into you. It’d been so long, you almost forgot how good it felt to be with him like this. He almost immediately started to quicken his pace, focused only on getting himself off for a while. You didn’t mind, you already came, so you didn’t worry about it. You liked seeing him drunk for you, knowing only you could make him feel like this. He felt so good pumping in and out of you, though. “Just like that, Buck.” You said, playing with his hair as he quickened his pace even more.
He brought one of his hands that was holding him up to your clit once again, toying with the sensitive bud. He leaned down and gave you a naughty, sloppy kiss that you moaned into. “Only you can make me feel this good.” You admitted to him, which you could tell drove him even closer to the edge.
“Yeah?” he said, “Gonna fill you up with my cum, is that what you want?”
You nodded, and within seconds, he spilled inside of you. You couldn't remember if you’d taken your birth control that morning, but you didn’t care. Still inside of you, he kept rubbing your clit until he felt you convulse and tremble under his touch, knowing he made you cum again.
“Fuck,” he said, on top of you but being mindful not to crush you, “we need to do this more often.”
You were a mess, completely drunk on him. You brought your hands to his face and pulled him in for a long, desperate kiss. Breathless, you spoke. “I love you.”
788 notes · View notes
callmepowy · 9 days ago
Then why do you draw, Fujino?
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The ending really hit me the hardest and i can't stop crying. Seeing their beautiful friendship blossom and then disappear is so heart breaking. I can feel Fujino's pain and regrets looking back on their memories and that heavy last piece of dialog "Then why do you draw, Fujino?"
Fujimoto did it once again, creating a beautiful but heartbreaking story. His use of silence, facial expressions, and body language really impacts the audience in a way not many can do. Fuji def improved his craft and I am so excited to see what he will bring for CSM pt 2
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spacebarnes · 4 months ago
SUMMARY: "accidentally" during an interview you and Chris reveal that you're dating.
A/N: sooo, this is my first post and also, english it's not my first language so i hope this is good. let me know what you think! take care of yourself pls <3 (not my gif)
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Chris and you had decided to keep your relationship as secret as possible, because you wanted to avoid the paparazzi and the countless notes that would have their names as a title.
after the endgame tapes, the two were thankful that people thought they hadn't seen each other anymore and that each was in their respective home. although, obviously there were fans who noticed every little detail about some photo or instagram story.
the quarantine had taken everyone by surprise, but what surprised and even alarmed them the most was that James Corden wanted to do an online interview with several of the cast and obviously with you and Chris included.
"morning, my love" Chris said as soon as he got up and saw that you were already awake.
"hi, baby" you smiled at him and leaned a little closer to leave a short kiss on his lips.
"what is it? the interview?" he asked as soon as he saw that you stopped smiling as you parted from the kiss. you nodded as you closed your eyes for a moment "don't worry, darling. everything will be fine."
"i don't know, Chris. i think we should stay in bed and say we got sick." Chris laughed at your comment and ran one of his hands around your waist.
"that would attract more attention, don't you think?" he asked and that made you smile again. "look, this is what we're going to do. i'll be in the kitchen and you can be outside sitting on the wooden chair we have there. no one will suspect anything, i promise."
"i will trust you for the first time in my life" you said with a smile, provoking one in him.
"rude" was the last thing he said before reconnecting his lips with yours.
finally it was time for the interview, as they had said, you were in the backyard and chris was in the kitchen, each one with their airpods so that the noise would not give them away.
"once again, thank you so much for being here." James thanked all the members who were connected.
"don't worry James. it's our pleasure to be here again." Zoe said kindly with a big smile.
"who told you that? i'd rather be in bed right now watching any Marvel movie, except Spider-Man, without offending you Tom." most of your friends smiled when they heard your comment, especially Sebastian and Anthony.
"i see what's going on here." Tom said quickly and pointed one of his fingers at you. "you're making alliances with Mackie and Stan to annoy me, that's a cheap shot."
"ugh, I hope the quarantine never ends so I don't have to see them again." Robert said sarcastically and rolled his eyes as he sipped from the coffee in his cup.
the interview started to move forward and it was soon your turn to answer some questions James had for you.
"the fans want to know, do you have any upcoming projects or are you taking a break like everyone else?" he asked while reading one of his letters.
"well, this is actually a secret if Stan will allow me to reveal it." you spoke up and quickly sought approval from your partner. when it was given, you kept talking: "Stan and I are in a new movie out of the entire superhero universe." you responded with great emotion.
"that's true." Sebastian added a comment. "i've been seeing [Y/N] for a few weeks now. when it was the meeting where we read the script and I saw her there, i really felt a relief that I wouldn't have to make any new friends." he confessed and raised his eyebrows.
"i have to admit I thought so-." you stopped talking as soon as Dodger started barking.
"is that a dog? i didn't know you had a dog." Hemswort quickly asked and leaned a little closer to the camera.
you could see how Chris also froze a bit when he heard the other Chris' comment. they both knew that he was only doing it to annoy the two of you, well, all his companions knew that you two were together.
"no, I'm at my parents' house and they recently adopted a dog." you tried to hide it with a smile.
by the time Chris was answering some questions, you couldn't help but look at him with great tenderness and love from your small screen, causing several of your friends to notice this.
"alright, back to [Y/N]" James talks again. "how have you been coping with the quarantine?"
"honestly, it took me a bit..." you sighed when you heard Dodger bark again. "i have found some hobbies, but, it is not the same as being on a set or in a restaurant." you answered with a grimace and closed your microphone.
"what are those hobbies? tell us." the guy encouraged you.
"one of those better be learning to skateboard because you're lousy, [Y/N], lousy." Anthony commented a laugh.
you had already opened the microphone and were ready to defend yourself from the actor, however, a "shut it, Dodger" from Chris from the kitchen slipped into your audio, leaving everyone surprised.
"is that the voice of Chris Evans?" James asked in total surprise.
"What? Of course not-" you were going to deny everything, however, Chris quickly run from the kitchen to your side.
"yes, it's me." the actor responded with a smile, and quickly the open mouths of all the other actors were present.
"are you two dating?" Corden asked as he sucked in air with his left hand.
"we are, yes." you answered while smiling broadly.
"in fact, they have been for two years." Scarlett added. "that's right! they have been lying to you for two years."
"thank goodness they said so!" Tom said with some relief. "as soon as I heard Dodger barking I didn't know if I was going to be able to hold it back any longer and it was probably going to escape my mouth."
"well, kid, you've managed to keep the secret for two and a half years. i think that's a great achievement" your boyfriend congratulated him and the laughs were not long in coming.
862 notes · View notes
nochuvalencia · 4 months ago
𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk
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I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi
⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️
𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.
𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have
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“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.
“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.
“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.
You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.
Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.
He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.
After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.
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You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.
You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.
“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.
A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.
It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?
You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.
He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.
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It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.
So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.
A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.
+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?
+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?
+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore
You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.
me : it’s my car asshole
me : bought it with the money u left me
me :thx baby <3
+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?
me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck
+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money
me : why should i listen to you?
me : you aren’t my bf
+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u
me : already did bye babe
You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.
Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..
And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.
This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”
You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.
“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.
“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.
“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.
“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.
And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.
“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.
“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.
“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.
“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.
“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.
“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.
“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.
“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.
“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.
Yummy as fuck.
Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.
“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.
“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.
You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.
Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.
+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run
+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove
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“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.
You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?
You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.
me : i’ll take your offer
me : this is ____ btw
You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.
+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are
+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20
+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart
Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.
In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.
You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.
“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.
“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.
“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.
“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”
You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.
“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.
“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.
“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.
“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.
You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.
Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.
It was huge.
You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.
Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.
“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.
“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.
You were wrong. He noticed immediately.
He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.
“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.
“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.
He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.
“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.
“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.
Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.
He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.
“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.
“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.
“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.
You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.
“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.
He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.
“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.
After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.
You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.
“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.
“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.
“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.
You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.
“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.
When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.
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theneondemonx · 25 days ago
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One Shot
▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.
▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship
▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader
▽ words: 3464
▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk
( ➜ Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]
He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad
You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.
Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.
No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.
We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.
Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.
It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.
You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.
He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.
Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.
But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.
So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.
You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.
You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.
And again, you believed him.
He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.
When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.
We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.
And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.
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The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.
He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.
What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.
“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”
You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.
How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.
You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.
“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.
“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”
Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.
“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”
You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.
“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”
He chuckled darkly.
“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”
He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.
His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.
“Did you let him touch you?”
“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.
He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.
“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.
“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”
He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.
You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.
You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.
You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.
“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.
The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.
You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.
“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.
You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.
“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”
Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.
“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.
“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”
“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.
You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.
Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.
“Fuck! Jungkook!”
He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.
When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.
“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”
His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.
“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.
He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.
“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”
You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.
“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”
Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.
You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.
You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.
A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.
“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.
And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.
The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.
“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”
His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.
“Take off your dress and bra.”
Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.
“Now bend over the couch.”
Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.
He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.
He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.
“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”
You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.
“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”
“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”
He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.
“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.
You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.
“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”
You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.
Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.
“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.
He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.
“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.
“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.
You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.
He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.
“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”
And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.
I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.
“I love you, Jungkook.”
“I love you too, baby.”
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magpietoriches · 9 days ago
LockDown Part I: Bottle Episode
Summary: The fate of the Avengers lies in the hands of the Senate this evening, and all you have to do is make sure Loki is prepared for the hearing and ready to leave. 
Setting: 2018 in an alternate timeline where Loki made it to Earth after the events of “Thor: Ragnarok” and Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, and Scott Lang are still on the Raft.
Pairing: Loki x Reader (First Person)
Playlist ~ Master List ~ Next Part
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Avenges Compound March 12th, 2018:
   I walked down the hallway of the Avengers compound towards the elevator with a file in my left hand, a small purse on my right shoulder, and determination in my eyes.
  “Evening,” an ex-SHIELD employee named Travis smiled at me. His white teeth contrasted against his dark skin. It was nice for Tony to hire the agents who weren’t compromised by Hydra. Normally I’d offer a friendly wave to the young muscle-bound agent, but I had no time, I was already late. 
“Sorry Travis,” I said without stopping, “We can catch up later.”
  The winding halls seemed longer than usual, but I supposed everything took forever when you were running late. That included the elevator. I impatiently tapped on the button. I scrunch my nose in frustration and swore at the damn machine. 
“Not sure if punching it is going to help,” I heard a familiar chuckle. 
  “You,” I used my free hand to playfully push Steve Rogers’ pecks, “Don’t get to school me on when and when not to punch things. And besides I-“ Before I could finish the doors finally swung open, “It worked, I smiled.”
  Steve gave me an amused smile and stepped into the elevator with me. I took note of his unusually formal attire. He wore a navy blue button-down shirt that brought out his eyes and a charcoal grey suit. 
  “Nervous about the hearing?” I asked as I reached over to push the button to the 12th floor. It had been nearly 4 years since the Avengers had their internal fight. A lot has changed since then. Tony and Steve made up shortly after Thor, the Hulk and the Asgardian refugees landed on earth. 
  After learning about the destruction of Asgard, and what Hela had been capable of, Tony and Steve realised there were far bigger threats in the universe than they had previously realised. The world needed the Avengers. 
  “Let’s just say I’ve never been one for public speaking,” Steve replied, looking down at his feet.
  “Just be honest with the Senate. Explain to them why the Avengers are needed and why the ones on the Raft deserve to be given time served.” Steve listened to my advice and nodded. 
  I was no lawyer, but I had covered many Senate hearings for the Daily Bugle before Tony hired me as a liaison. My job now was to identify threats, decide if the Avengers should get involved, and determine which team to deploy. But ever since the Avengers began preparing for the now approaching Senate hearing, my job had been reduced to a personal assistant. Turns out not everyone wanted the Avengers back in commission, even after Steve finally agreed to sign the Sokovia accords. I suppose it didn’t take a genius to see how reluctant he was to do so. But he wanted his family back.  
  “You look nice,” Steve commented as if noticing me for the first time. I was far too overdressed for a Senate hearing. I wore a silk black dress that fell to my knees. One side had a small slit that almost reached my thigh and my back was exposed. 
  “Thanks,” I smiled bashfully as I twirled my gold necklace. It was a nervous habit, “I have a date actually.”
“Oh, you finally said yes to Mr. Facebook?”
  “Ugh,” I groaned, “Don’t call Eric that. Makes it sound like I’m going on a date with Mark Zuckerberg. Eric,” I said as the elevator doors finally opened, “Is an old high school friend who reached out to me on Facebook.”
  “So what’s with the files?” Steve asked as I stepped out of the elevator. He held the door open with his arm. I groaned in response and I could see his eyes slightly widen with concern. 
  “Well before I get to go on my date I have to deal with the prince of darkness,” I forced a smile on my face. Thor and the Hulk tried to brush past the fact that amongst the refugees was Thor’s brother Loki. 
I could remember it like it had been yesterday, and not 4 months ago. 
“So who’s all with you,” Tony had asked.
  “Oh just the usual,” Thor replied, “Me, Hulk, Korg, Valkyrie, MiekLoki, some Asgardians.”
  “What was that?” Tony squinted at Thor. The god of Thunder avoided the scrutiny of the smaller man's gaze. 
“Some Asgardians. Thankfully not everyone died on Asgard.”
“Nope,” before that.
“Miek?” Thor asked. 
  Everyone turned to Bruce for an explanation but he raised his hands as if to silently say, “don’t ask me.”
  “Okay, I’m going to end this bit,” Tony pinched his nose in frustration, “I’m talking about LOKI. You mentioned Loki.”
“Oh yeah. He’s uh, he’s here too,” Thor rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 
  I managed to avoid any and all interactions with the God of Mischief for a while at least. He swore he had changed, and that he no longer desired to rule Midgard. But he was also the God of Lies and therefore it was decided he should live at the Avengers compound where he could be monitored. Eventually, he’d be allowed to live in Norway with his people, if that’s what he chooses. 
  Three weeks ago the Senate wanted to add Loki to the upcoming Hearing on the Avengers. An entire day had been set aside just on the topic of Loki. He wasn’t going to be questioned for another day, but he was still expected to show up for the start of the hearing anyway. The legal department told us there was no guarantee the Senate wouldn’t decide to ask Loki some questions ahead of schedule. 
  I was tasked with coaching him. Every night for three weeks I’d go to his room. I’d read him off a list of potential questions the legal department had prepared. He’d roll his eyes, call me a pathetic little bug, and then we’d break for dinner.
  “I’m going to kill you one day, Loki,” I mumbled one night after he threw all my paperwork onto the ground. Up until that point, I wondered why he insisted on having me print documents rather than using a Stark Pad. Now I knew, it was so he could dramatically scatter everything onto the floor. 
  “I’m supposed to deliver these personnel files on all the senators,” I told Steve, “At least Loki will know who’s going to be asking him questions.”
  “The hearing is in an hour,” Steve looked at me as if I were insane. If it were up to me Loki would already be prepared but he was insufferable and refused to listen. 
  “It sure is,” I plastered another fake smile on my face and, without saying goodbye I pivoted on my heels and marched to Loki’s room. 
  I took a deep breath before I knocked on the door. I reminded myself that all I had to do was hand him the files, make sure he had something nice to wear for the hearing, and then I’d be at Le Bernardin with Eric and eat my weight in lobster. 
  The door finally opened. Loki always seemed to enjoy making me wait. His hair was wet as if he had just taken a shower and he wore black pants and a well-fitted long sleeve shirt the same colour as his eyes. 
  A green glow washed over him and he was instantly dry. His eyes roamed my body taking in the dress I had on. I felt more self-conscious than usual under his intense gaze. His expression remained neutral the entire time. 
“You look ridiculous.” 
“And you aren’t wearing the suit I put out for you. Are you going to let me in or not?”
  As if by answer Loki stepped aside and let me enter his room. I put my purse down on the table by his door. “Room” was a poor choice of words, it was bigger than my first apartment. Equipped with its own kitchen. And as much as I hated the man I couldn’t deny his impeccable taste in decor. It was unexpectedly understated. Only a few pieces of artwork hanging on the far wall seemed to fit the dramatic alien Prince that inhabited the room. 
  “As promised the files on all senators. You might have to read some on the pl-“ I stopped talking when I noticed Loki taking a seat on the black leather lounge chair. He raised his feet to rest on the ottoman. A book was in his hand and I couldn’t help the small hitch in my breath as he licked his finger to turn the page. 
“Are you even listening?”
“Absolutely not,” he answered with candour.
  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arm. I couldn’t stand him. He was arrogant. Rude. I wanted to throw something at him. I looked around the room. My eyes landed on the Jenga box Thor had left behind on his last visit. God that was a disaster. 
“You oaf,” Loki had shouted, “You bumped the table.”
  Thor called my name and pointed to the fallen blocks, “Tell him I didn’t bump the table.”
  Loki and I were supposed to be going over questions he should avoid answering at the hearing. Thor had strolled in believing his brother needed a break. 
“Thor we really need to work,” I had told the God of Thunder. 
  “If you’re looking for something to throw at me can I recommend a pillow?” Loki’s voice brought me back to reality. 
  I froze and looked over to where he still sat. His eyes never leaft his book. I wondered if he could read my mind. 
  “I can’t read your mind, bug,” He looked up from his book and gave me a sinister smile, “You’re just very predictable.” 
  “And you’re an asshole,” I screamed, “I’m trying to help you. We all are. We’re trying to show the government and the world that you’re different, that you’ve changed.”
  “I have changed,” Loki stood up and I was reminded again of how incredibly tall he was. 
“No, you, haven’t. You insult me constantly.”
  “That’s because you’re ANNOYING,” he shouted in frustration, “Any other time I would have killed you,” his voice was calmer, “But I haven’t. Because I’ve changed.” 
  We stared at each other. Both daring the other to say something, to continue the intense back and forth. But I was tired. 
  “The hearing is in 45 minutes. Take the-“ My phone rang. I searched for it in my purse and looked down to see it was the restaurant Eric and I had booked, “Hold on,” I raised my finger to keep Loki quiet, and into the phone, I replied, “Hello.” I listened as the hostess confirmed the date and time of my reservation. It had been pushed back to 8:30. Normally I’d be angry but I was running late anyway. I ended the phone call with a thank you and walked into the corner of Loki’s room for more privacy. I dialled Eric’s number to inform him of the change in plans. The phone rang 4 times, I looked down to make sure I called the right person. 
“You’ve reached Eric. Leave a message.”
  “Hi Eric,” I couldn’t help the smile on my face. I looked up to see Loki watching me and immediately turned around to face the wall, “Just got a call that our reservation is now going to be at 8:30 pm. I’m running a bit late myself. So umm, yeah, see you there buddy.” I hung up, mortified. Had I really called him buddy? 
“Nicely done,” Loki’s voice was dripping in sarcasm.
“Oh shut it.” 
  “Explains the silly outfit you got on,” Loki exclaimed gesturing to me. I looked down at myself. It was a lot more formal than what I was used to. Working for Tony I often wore business casual. All through whenever I visited Loki I would often change into sweatpants and a messy bun. Our meetings were usually late at night and I liked to be comfortable, and I didn’t think he deserved having me dressed up. Had I really looked silly though? Before I could ponder my question Loki spoke “So tell me, little bug. Who’s dumb enough to go on a date with you?” 
  “If you must know, his name is Eric. We knew each other back in high school. Actually, he was friends with my sister’s friend's older brother.”
  “Really?” Loki asked with fake enthusiasm. He had taken a seat at the bar stole next to his kitchen island. He rested his chin in his left hand. 
  “Yeah, so we-'' I paused. Remembering, suddenly, who I was talking to, “You’re making fun of me, aren't you?” I asked matter of factly. 
“I am,” Loki said, blinking as he straightened himself up. 
  “I’m leaving,'' I said as I collected my purse. I looked down at my phone. Disappointed that I hadn’t heard back from Eric. Without looking up I added, “If you have any questions, concerns, please don’t call me.”
  Before I had a chance to turn the doorknob a second door raised from the floor, covering the only exit, locking me in. I looked at Loki for an explanation but he looked just as confused as me. The lights in his room turned off. I jumped and couldn’t help the small scream I had let out when red lights came back on instead. In response to my scream, Loki stood up and gently pushed me away from the window, so that I now stood behind him. He then brandished a pair of daggers from thin air and looked around for the threat.
  A loud alarm began to roar through the entire compound. I covered my ears as Loki’s windows were secured with the same metal reinforcement as the door. 
  Just as soon as it started the alarm shut off. The lights returned to normal. Loki was still standing, posed to attack the unseen threat. FRIDAY’s voice came on the comm system. 
   “Attention all personnel. The Avengers compound is in a mandatory lockdown. Please remain where you are. This is not a drill. I repeat. The Avengers compound is in a mandatory lockdown. Please remain where you are.” As FRIDAY continued to say her message on a loop Loki and I looked at each other. The realisation of our situation hit us at the exact same time. 
I broke the silence first. 
473 notes · View notes
princesscabimagines · 15 days ago
𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 "𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 " 𝓲 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭
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art by incaseyouart
warning(s): none
summary: after a complication for the past two summers of not being able to make it to Portorosso due to a money shortage, luca, now 15, and alberto, 16, haven't seen each other in 2 years. however, today is the day!
{ this is long grab a snack! and yes, the title is inspired by ribs from lorde :] }
"time won't wait for you to grow up, ragazzo."
alberto's ex-father's words rung throughout his head as he sat at the table, a cup of coffee as dark as the night sky. that man was wrong, yet again. time felt so frozen all the time, stretching longer than it needed to be. like that toy thing luca had written to him about! a slonk-...slanka? slinky? slinky! time was a slinky when his beloved friend wasn't around. always stretching. but! he didn't have to worry about that anymore! not for the next few months!
the thought alone made alberto pat his feet on the wooden floor with excitement, practically vibrating in his chair with a cheesy grin on his face. he gulped down the rest of his coffee as massimo walked into the kitchen. the father was surprised to see his adoptive son already in the kitchen and cocked an eyebrow up. "alberto? che cos'è? what are you doing up so early?" massimo asked him, pouring himself the rest of the coffee alberto had saved for him.
"well, y'know, it's only one of the important days of my life." alberto remarked slyly as he set his mug down and looked up at his papa. "no biggie!" he smiled. the beefy man let out a deep chuckle at the boy's behavior. there was never a dull moment with him, was there? massimo took a seat at the chair across from alberto, setting his mug down.
"it's been forever, no? are you excited?" he asked with curiosity, looking down at him.
"of course!" alberto beamed slamming his hands on the table and standing up a bit from his seat. but he withdrew a little bit when a few doubts began to rear their ugly heads. "but, i guess-...i guess i'm also just a little bit worried?" he spoke as he began to fidget with his hands and space out, eyes glued to the floor.
"about?" massimo inquired. machiavelli perched herself on his shoulder and stretched before taking a catnap right then and there. alberto found himself at a loss for words. he brewed it all in his mind a little bit before coming up with what to say.
"i dunno uhh...what if he? expects more of me? after all this time? i mean pfft that brainiac is gaining all this knowledge about stars and the solar panels-"
"system?" massimo chortled.
"right. solar system. man, see, i don't know about any of that!" alberto facepalmed and let out a frustrated sigh. "i don't wanna seem like an idiot next to them two just because i didn't go to school with them. what if they think i'm lame?" alberto finished his rambling as his papa put a hand on his shoulder and caught his attention.
"mio dio, it's like you don't even remember your own people." massimo offered a gentle smile to the boy. "alberto, they are your friends. luca's been writing to you for over 2 years now and neither her mother or i raised giulia to think anyone was "lame". plus, you have learned. you didn't know how to write very well and you learned that, eh? you know how to fish, how to fix vespas. all of that was you." he poked a finger softly into his boy's chest and alberto stared down at it before looking back up at him. "don't underestimate yourself or others." he winked at him. alberto's frown faded into his regular smile and his eyes lit up like they usually were.
"you're right, papa. thanks!" alberto walked his mug over to the sink and eagerly washed it before turning back to his father. "you ready?" alberto asked as he tugged on his sandals.
"ready? ragazzo, i haven't even had my first sip-"
"yeah, yeah, yeah, we can put it in the stove and heat it up later, just c'mon! the train's coming soon!" alberto swept up his father's hand and yanked him out the door, slamming it behind them.
luca fiddled with the seashell bracelet that was taped to a letter alberto sent once. it's become a nervous habit at this point. he doesn't take it off. ever. not even in the shower. the redhead across from him snapped in front of his face and luca jumped. "get out of your head, luca. he's gonna be thrilled to see you." giulia said placing her arm back on the armrest of the train seat. luca gave a nervous smile.
"i know! i just...hope doesn't hate me for how long it's been." he pouted looking down at his thumbs.
"that's ridiculous! alberto knows about the money situation, it's not like you didn't want to see him. you just...couldn't." giulia offered words of comfort to her worried friend. before looking out the window. "santa mozzarella! we're here!" giulia jumped up and pointed out the window making luca's head jerk.
"we are? we are!" luca jumped up and the two of them cheered and hollered, getting looks and glares from fellow passengers. once luca looked around, he let out a bashful laugh and sat back down, turning bright red with embarrassment. giulia snorted at him, her red curls bouncing as she tried to hold in her laughter.
the train came to a slow stop and the brunette watched anxiously as passengers filed out of the train frantically. giulia looked over at her friend. after living with him for so long, she knew luca like the back of her hand. she could see the fearful glint in his eyes, the beads of sweat that decorated his pale skin. he was a nervous mess. she sighed and took one of his sweaty hands in hers, giving him a reassuring look. luca smiled and took a deep breath before they hopped off the train. "okaaay, they have to be here somewhere..." giulia trailed off, squinting and scanning around the station before gasping. "PAPAAA! ALBERTO!" giulia ran off from luca leaving him astounded. and at the mention of his name, his heartbeat picked up and all the fear had washed from his body. he realized he was here, he was tangible, he was gonna see him and be able to touch him and play with him and laugh with him and-
"LUCA? LUCA?!?!"
luca's heart stopped and a wave of emotion overcame him as the tanned, freckled boy was looking for him amongst the crowd with worry. he looked worried, breathing picking up a little as if luca wouldn't be there. always thinking about him, always caring about him. the schoolboy's feet began to race towards him before he could even think.
"ALBERTO!!" luca exclaimed, his voice cracking and echoing throughout the portorosso train station, watery eyes blurring his vision. nevertheless, alberto couldn't have been any more clearer in that moment. alberto's head jerked towards the familiar friend's voice and the breath left his body as he smiled with joy despite the boiling feeling in his excited jade eyes. he laughed for luca to hear and opened his arms as luca jumped into them with a happy whimper and the two of them spun with the force of the impact. laughing, crying, clinging onto each other for dear life as if they would disappear if they let go.
"i missed you so much i missed you so much i missed you so much-!!" alberto repeated with a smile as bright as the coral reef, tears running down his cheeks as he pet behind the other boy's head.
"i missed you too, alberto, i'm so sorry!" he apologized as if it was his fault and wiped his tears on the strap of his yellow tank. the smell of it felt like home. he felt like home.
they laughed until their ribs hurt.
after a long day of catching up, visiting luca's family underwater, and getting back to were they started from, the two boys, giulia, and massimo were eating the father's classic, 'trenette al pesto'.
"mother of pearl, i missed this food!" luca swooned as he ate his last bite and slouched back, patting his stomach and letting out a tiny burp. everyone at the table giggled as luca covered his mouth and murmured an apology.
"pretty good...but alberto scorfano-marcovaldo can do better." the fisherboy bragged before shoving the pasta into his mouth with his hands, acting almost animalistic as everyone watched and giulia cringed. he took a big gulp before letting out a big belch and sighing with satisfaction. luca 'woah'ed at him in amazement, not knowing that was even possible.
"blegh! ever learn about manners, fish-head?" giulia scowled at her brother. alberto crossed his arms and blew raspberries at her. "so as i was saying, papa, the teacher let me look through this huge telescope and-!" luca had zoned out on giulia's story-telling when a 'psst' from next to him made him turn his head.
"andiamo, luca. i have something to show ya." alberto told the boy as he looked at him, the antsy vibe emitting from his tall figure. luca's curiosity got the better of him and he gave a smile before nodding. "well, this has been fun but if you'll excuse us!" alberto took luca by the hand and whisked him away to giulia's window. he let go of his hand and pushed the window open before pointing to the previous hideout, now official treehouse. "look familiar? eh?" alberto asked with a hand on his hip.
"woah-ho-ho! but how-? it was so...tiny!" luca said waving his hands at the now actual treehouse.
"keyword 'was' , mio amico! massimo and i spruced up the place. gave it a roof and four walls." alberto looked at his nails pretending to look cool. "but the inside is where it's at! c'mon!" alberto carelessly ran across the planks, almost slipping in the process but landing on the houses surface, letting out a sheepish laugh. luca rolled his eyes with a smile and carefully walked across, helping the boy up in the process. alberto stood in front of the door before opening it slowly for suspense. "this is where the magic happens." alberto smirked with a cool nod.
luca took in the sights of this space before him. the room was painted baby blue, a purple lightbulb in a lantern on a nightstand next to the twin-sized bed illuminating the room, along with fairy lights draped on every corner. every one of luca's drawings he'd sent and some of his own were hung up on the wall next to his bed.
"wow..." luca's lips were parted so perfectly in that moment. alberto couldn't help but stare a little bit before shaking his head and muttering a 'silenzio, bruno'
"isn't it cool? massimo helped me with the painting and the lights. it wasn't easy, trust me. machiavelli knocked over the paint can..." alberto grimaced at the end, pointing to a corner of the floor with some spilled paint. luca snickered, imagining alberto of all people trying to get along with a cat, machiavelli, for that matter. he flopped onto the bed and looked at a square-shaped hole. alberto flopped next to him and they both looked up.
"what's that hole in the ceiling?" luca asked pointing at it and looking at him.
"oh! my sunroof!" alberto answered pointing up along with him. "massimo built it from me because-!..." alberto's usually glow trailed off.
"....because?" luca propped himself up on his elbow to look at him.
"n-nevermind! i don't remember what i was gonna say. lost my train of thought, you know how it is." alberto brushed it off. luca was not one to let things go. and he could definitely tell when his dear alberto was lying. he looked...embarrassed?
"i'm not stupid, alberto. because what?" he asked shaking his arm. alberto looked away from him and turned on his side.
"it was nothing! honest!" alberto tried once more to usher the boy away.
"per favore! albertooo, you can't just do th-"
"becausethestarsremindmeofyou." alberto squeezed his eyes shut tight and blurted everything out. luca was taken aback by his response ad his heart grew wings. he stared at the boy who's embarrassment was so prevalent on his face. a groan escaped his lips and he covered his face. "why did i say that?! sorry, luca, that was kinda weir-" alberto was cut off by two hands gently but suddenly grasping onto his wrists and slowly pulling them away from his face. and there he was. right in front of him with a dazed expression, dumbfounded and all. his cioccolata curls adorned his forehead and swayed along with the warm, sea-salty italian breeze in the room from the open sunroof. his eyes were darting across his face, making him feel so vulnerable in that moment. "l-luc-?"
"is that true?" he asked him, losing all concepts of personal space and a good 2 inches away from the boys face. there was nowhere to look except for each other's eyes. the sea monster's hearts beat in sync, the electricity between them exchanging with one another. alberto took a shaky inhale before speaking up again.
"yeah. you remind me of the stars. i think i'm gonna throw up later thinking i even let this come out of my mouth but...even on my darkest days, all i have to do is think about when we met, or your laugh, or the way you look at gelato!" he chuckled nervously. "and...and everything is brighter, y'know? i don't feel so scared or lonely anymore." alberto finished.
luca's stomach was bubbling. with what? he couldn't tell you. butterflies? anchovies? vomit? whatever it was, it was so sickeningly sweet, you could almost smell it in the air. even if it was the bakery making the next batches for tomorrow, the smell wafting throughout the room. nothing was sweeter then an all-walls-down alberto. the pair couldn't stop staring at each other, treasuring the fact that they were now as they once were before. together.
"do you know what love is?"
"i think so. is that what your mom-"
"and my dad are in? yeah..."
" you me? luca?"
"does love feel like anchovies swimming around in your stomach all the time?"
"hm. that's what i feel when i look at the stars so...yes?-"
"yes." luca's never been so quick to reply or be so sure of something in his life.
"i love you."
hearing that. hearing luca say it. everything he felt fell into place. he felt like he could fly all of a sudden
"me too, luca." a warm smile made itself known on his freckled face. luca smiled back and pressed his nose against his, the both of them breaking out into an awkward laughing session to ease the romantic tension. what a lame feeling to love. luca looked over at alberto, the boy still laughing.
"can i...try something? miss marcovaldo watches people who love each other on tv and i've seen them do it. i wondered if maybe i could try it?" luca twiddled with his fingers. a blush plagued alberto's cheeks as he knew what he was talking about. he nearly fell off the bed.
"k-kiss?!" alberto said a little too loudly before covering his mouth.
"is it bad? mi dispiace!! i-i don't know what i was thinking, it was way too fast and way too out of the blue i mean it's not like you'd want to do that, and i shouldn't have assumed-!!" alberto couldn't stand seeing the boy doubting himself anymore. he sat up on the bed, holding the boy's hands and ignoring the pounding in his heart, he swiftly captured the boy's lips in a small peck. luca finally shut up, covering his mouth, the feeling lingering before gripping alberto's hands tighter.
without hesitation, alberto cupped the boy's cheeks and truly, truly kissed him. no doubts. no fears. lost in each other's seas as hands were held and puppy love transpired.
but they could never get enough of each other.
that will never be enough.
519 notes · View notes
slytherinchevy · 12 days ago
Hi, saw you were taking requests for Yelena! Here's something I had in mind: Yelena laying somewhere (bed, couch, you name it) and reader leans over her in a similar way Nat did. Up to you how she reacts and what are the details, feel free to deny this request if you want, but thank you in case you do it!!
Upside Down - Yelena Belova x Reader
A/n: When i say this prompt made me internally swoon, i'm not lying. Like as soon as i read it, i had the scene play out in my head like a movie and I had been itching to get my assignments done so that I could finally write it ( I still haven't finished my assignment but oh well)
Thank you so much for requesting this!!!
I really hope you like it too. Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you to everyone who reads, like, replies and reblogs to my writings. It means way more than you could ever know.
Warnings: Black Widow spoilers.
Words: 1012
(disclaimer: any act of translation or plagiarism will not be tolerated. this oneshot is not available anywhere other than tumblr so if seen somewhere else, please do notify me)
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It had been a long day. You sighed as you made your way back home.
Just as you were about a block away, your phone chimed, immediately putting a smile on your face when you saw who it was that texted you.
‘ Hey love. Travel back home safely, I already have dinner ready so don’t worry too much about that. I’m waiting for you. Love you.’
It was simple straightforward text, but the amount of love that radiated off of it made you melt internally.
And you were excited for you girlfriend’s cooking. She had gotten into it recently and all her dishes so far had been mouth-watering.
You sped up your steps, choosing to take the stairs once inside the building because the lift was taking a bit too long for your liking.
You turned the doorknob, taking off your shoes and hanging up your jacket on it’s stand when you noticed that it was quite silent.
Instead of calling out to your girlfriend like you would usually do, you slowly crept to the living room. And the sight in front of you brought a huge smile on your face that your cheeks started to hurt.
Yelena was sleeping soundly, her head resting on the arm of the sofa.
You took your phone out and clicked a couple pictures quickly before making your way towards your sleeping girlfriend.
You gently placed both your palms on her cheeks, slightly patting as you whispered,” Wake up, love. I’m home.”
Her eyes fluttered open, the sparkling green eyes instantly pulling you in.
A sleepy smile grazed her face before she took in the position both of you were in, her smile instantly vanishing. You kept staring at her in confusion as her expression turned a bit more leaning towards sadness and longing before you heard her mutter something.
It had been so quietly spoken that you couldn’t understand anything,” What was that, love? I couldn’t quite catch that.”
Yelena gulped forcefully before clearing her throat, willing herself not to cry,” We are both upside down.”
You smiled softly, eyes still a bit worried but she could see that you didn’t get the reference.
Sighing, she sat upright,” Dinner’s ready. Would you like to freshen up first?”
As hard as she had tried to dodge this particular conversation, you still caught on to her tactic.
Firmly holding her hand, you sat down beside her,” What’s wrong?”
She squeezed your hand, trying to reassure you of something she herself wasn’t alright with but you weren’t letting go.
So, deciding to try and open up, Yelena looked away from you, staring at nothing in particular,” I used to say that to my sister.”
You squeezed her hand, trying to show that you were there to catch her if she fell. It wasn’t often that Yelena spoke of her sister and you knew not to interrupt her whenever she did.
“She…Well when we lived in Ohio, we used to play like that. I used to bend backwards and try to stand on my hands and legs and she’d join me. I used to always say that when we did it.”
She chuckled slightly, as if reliving those moments,” You know, she would always challenge me that she could outlast me and then make me laugh, which would always result in me falling down first. Cheater.” She mumbled softly with a smile.
She went into a few more instances when that phrase had come up between the sisters, now her hands moving a bit animatedly as she recalled each memory.
You watched her with love and adoration but also with a dull ache because you knew she was still hurting.
There was no way to fill the gap of a sister after all.
“And…after taking down the red room, Natasha had saved me. Given a parachute to me after I fell from making the aircraft explode.” Her voice quietening down again, tears springing up against her own wish.
“And even then after we were on the ground she was the one looking for me and…and found me in somewhat of a similar position to how you found me just now. That was…” she cleared her throat, not allowing herself to be vulnerable.
But she couldn’t continue on, her throat clamming up way too much.
You understood her unfinished sentence though. Her body language and expression said it all.
That was the last time she said that line to Natasha.
You gently brought the blonde into a hug, cradling her head to your chest,” Love, it’s alright. You don’t need to hold everything in. That’s not healthy. You need to let It all out.”
You coaxed her and it worked. Soon enough Yelena was bawling her eyes out as she hid herself more into your body, her hands holding onto you as if you were her lifeline.
You just sat there with her, rocking her back and forth until she felt a bit better.
You weren’t sure how long it had been but when Yelena’s sobs had reduced to sniffles, you spoke up,” Hey?”
“You know what might make you feel maybe a teensy-weensy bit better?”
She curiously looked up at you, still in your arms,” What?”
“You standing upside down in front of her grave, like a madwoman.” You smiled teasingly.
And you were thankful that it was able to elicit a soft laugh from your girlfriend who later followed with smacking you in the arm.
“And you know what?” you leaned in closer.
Yelena just tilted her head in silent question.
“ I’ll stand upside down with you! That way we both can be mad people and other humans would stay away from us! We’ll get peace and quiet and Natasha would have a laugh at us competing against each other. It’s a win-win!” you goofily uttered, instantly making Yelena feel a hundred times better.
“Oh stop it you goof!”
“What? You don’t think you can last against me, Belova?” you playfully challenged.
Yelena raised her eyebrow before kissing you softly on the lips,” You are on, Y/l/n.”
Btw, if i miss you out on any of the taglist, please reply in the taglist post, it makes keeping track much easier. Thanks!
Taglist: @mrsweasley06 @boba707 @calimoi @nevaehss-heaven @catsandbooksandsstuff @darlingangel-17 @magic-source @heyarely16 @originaldragonalmondflap @supercorpendgame100 @sleepyheadssss @sleutherclaw @deadrhee @graciecliffx @seggsyburrito @sweetlilbambi @bi-lmg @mxgcalvi @sunday-kindoflove @idk123906 @m-1234 @aqarath @mrs-scottmccall
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theneondemonx · a month ago
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One Shot
▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.
▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au
▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader
▽ words: 2192
▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick
A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.
How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.
And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.
But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.
You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.
You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.
Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.
“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”
“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.
Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.
“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”
“You’re disgusting.”
And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.
As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.
“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.
He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.
“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”
“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”
Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.
Seriously? You are that full of yourself?
“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”
Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.
“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.
He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.
“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”
No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.
“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”
You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.
“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.
“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”
Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.
He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.
“I recognized the skirt, you know?”
You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.
“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”
This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.
“Are you sure?”
You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.
He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.
You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.
“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”
It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.
“You want me to stop, Y/N?”
His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.
“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.
You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.
“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”
His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.
Fuck he’s big.
He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”
You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.
“Tastes good?”
“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.
Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.
“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”
“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.
“Fuck I’m close.”
Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.
However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.
You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.
“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”
His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.
“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”
You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.
“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”
He groaned, thrusting harder in you.
“You are so fucking hot.”
The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.
You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.
When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.
“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”
He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.
“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”
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satanhalsey · 29 days ago
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Summary: Y/N is scared of loud noises, and her boyfriend... is a singer.
PHONOPHOBIA: is an intense fear of noise, which can include loud sounds, voices, and your own voice.
W/N: it seems that people really liked my lepidopterophobia fic so here goes another one. i don't have this phobia but i've informed myself enough to write this. hope you like it ♡
! | mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, angst, fluff, harry being an angel (that's a warning)
based on this ask
Y/N isn't really sure when it happened, she doesn't know if it was when she cried at five years old when her mom and dad yelled in front of her, or when at twelve she wanted to scratch her face in despair when she saw how her best friend's mother inflated a balloon too much on her birthday.
She's not sure, but she curses that day every single day of her life.
But she does remember when at the age of fifteen she had an anxiety attack listening to a rock album that her brother recommended, and how her mother got so worried that she sent her to therapy.
Now she's twenty five and has learned to live with it, but unfortunately it has affected her social circle as it's rare that someone wants to be around a person who is afraid of fucking sound.
Come on, she can't even speak out loud that she may already start crying!
The last time she had a boyfriend was at nineteen, and she remains in the same social circle of just one friend and that's it. She's sad, lonely, and the only thing she can hear at high volume are slow, quiet songs that leave her wanting for more.
She wants to scream to a heavy song, she wants to jump and have her eardrums screech at a concert, she wants to be exalted without leading to a mild anxiety attack, she wants to be normal.
So when her best and only friend named Sarah introduces her the rest of the band that she plays in, Y/N feels like she took a breath of fresh air.
They were all so kind and friendly, some quieter than others (like Mitch), but she had taken a unique liking for the famous lead singer.
Of course she knew who Harry Styles was, and she had listened to some of the One Direction songs when she was younger. Her favorite songs were the quiet ones, the noisy ones? she had to listen to them at a low volume so she didn't get scared.
The first time he saw her, Harry felt something he had never felt in his life, as if everything he went through didn't matter at all compared to that moment and that his place was there with her. She was so beautiful, and when he got to know her, he knew that her exterior didn't compare at all with the kind soul and heart that she had inside.
He remembers the first time he found out, it was their third date and he had picked her up to take her to a bar where a band would play. Like the gentleman that he is, he opened the door of his Range Rover for her and told her that she looked gorgeous, and between talks they arrived at the place.
She thanked for the raised windows that covered the noise of that bar. But that didn't stop her fingernails from digging into her thighs.
"Okay, here it is." Harry said, turning off the car and turning his head to look at Y/N. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just.." She started, avoiding his gaze. "God, this is embarrassing."
The brunette quickly takes one of her hands that were hurting her, and gently caresses it with his thumb.
"None of that, if we really want this then we must tell each other everything, love." He whispered over the loud music "Please, talk to me."
Y/N took a frightened breath, she knew Harry was so good and sweet that he wouldn't say anything to her, but the fear was always there after all.
"When I was fifteen... I was diagnosed with Phonophobia." She whispered, and kept talking when she saw the confusion on Harry's face. "That means I have a phobia of loud sounds, even my own voice." She stared into his eyes, searching for something to tell her he was upset, but found nothing. "I can't go into places with loud music, I can't be in a noisy crowd, I can't go to a concert, Harry, I can't do anything that someone my age should."
He averted his gaze from her and looked straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel with the hand that wasn't stroking her and Y/N felt like she might cry at any moment.
"I'm sorr..."
"Don't." He answered quickly, looking back at her and moving closer to her. "I don't care, I don't care that we can't do those things, I just wanna be with you." He grabbed both of her hands and kissed them quickly, keeping them on his chest.
And she leaned even closer and kissed him for the first time, thinking that maybe after all, this could turn out really well.
And it did go really well, but that doesn't mean it's easy.
Now, three years later, Harry knows better than anyone how to handle the phobia of his love and how to protect her from what scares her so much. It's rare that any of them forget her headphones to block sound, or the high volume of the television before turning it off so when she turns it on, she doesn't get scared, but it happens sometimes.
"Don't you get tired of taking care of her like a baby?" One of his friends told him once.
"Don't you get tired of being an asshole?" He replied, making sure to never to speak to him ever again.
When the garage door closes and his car is safely parked, Harry scatters his thoughts and walks into their house, making sure not to make any scandalous noises that might exalt who, he is sure, is the love of his life.
He doffs his coat and shoes, stretching his bones after a day of non-stop rehearsal, letting out grunts of pain.
He smiles as he hears his girlfriend sing one of the songs on Taylor Swift's album, folklore. And he remembers the emotion on her face when she and the singer met at the Grammys.
She had to watch the performances backstage, with headphones to block sound, embarrassed by the looks people were giving her.
"But if I just showed up at your party, would you have me? would you want me?" She whispered, focused on painting her nails perfectly, not knowing that the brunette was watching her, completely over heels. "Would you tell me to go fuck myself? or lead me to the garden?"
Harry made sure to make a little noise with his foot on the doorframe, so she wouldn't freak out when she heard him, and she turned around, meeting his greenish gaze.
"In the garden would you trust me, if I told you it was just a summer thing?" He sang, approaching Y/N, who was kneeling in front of the sofa and behind the glass table. "I'm only seventeen, i don't know anything but i know I miss you."
His love lowered the volume of the music, leaving it only as ambient sound, and she smiled staring at him.
"Hi, baby" Harry said, stroking her soft cheek with his hands calloused by the guitar "I missed you."
"Missed you too, bubs." She replied, sighing when she felt that sweet pressure on her chest that told her that she was undoubtedly in love with the man in front of her. "How was the rehearsal?"
"Meh, It was fine, I wish you had been there, though."
"I'm sorry, you know I needed to stay here, the therapist told me that I don't have to abuse a lot of noise in such a short time." Y/N sighed, sad that she couldn't be there for him. "But tonight I'm going to the concert!!"
Harry giggled, reaching out to finally kiss her, savoring the unique taste of her lips and letting his tongue enter her mouth, letting her know that he really missed her. He always does.
"Mmh, how long do you have until we have to go to the stadium?" She asked, stroking the curlers on the back of his neck.
"Three hours."
"Ah, so many things to do in three hours."
It has been hours since they arrived at the stadium, and Harry is already dressed in one of those wonderful suits and the rest of the staff runs everywhere putting together the concert.
Y/N is sitting on a table, swinging her feet like a little girl, smiling when she sees her boyfriend running around looking for what he needs for the concert.
"Harry! You have two minutes, you have to go to the stage!" Jeff yells at him, and quickly everyone starts to follow him backstage. Y/N breathes hard as she feels the loud music.
"Okay, my love." The singer turns to look at his girl, wrapping his arms around her hips. "You'll be fine?"
"Yes, H. Don't worry." She answers, but inside she doesn't know if she will.
Where are her headphones and earplugs?
They had supposedly been packed up and one of the attendants at the venue would have to hold them by now, ready for her to take them, but no one was there, and she was panicking.
"I love you so much, good luck kissy?" He asked and when she nodded, he kissed her gently. "I love you, please make sure you cover those cute eardrums, mhm?"
She laughs, which helps her with the anxiety that's building inside her chest. And she kisses him again.
"Go! I'll be waiting for you here."
And when he leaves and Y/N is completely on her own, the slightest anxiety she was feeling transforms into one that doesn't let her breathe, and with trembling legs she approaches to a stadium attendant.
"Hi, I-I'm Y/N Y/L/N, they should have given me the earplugs and headphones a while ago, where are they?" She asks her desperately. "Please, I need them."
"Sorry miss, where were the objects?" The young boy asks him. "Calm down."
"I- In a black bag, we gave it to someone here. P- Please." She sobbed, Golden sounded in the background, but she just wanted to scream and cover her eardrums.
The young boy took time to speak to someone on an earpiece, and when he returned to her, the expression on his face only made her more desperate.
"Sorry, miss. But I mistook them for someone else's earplugs and headphones, and now someone else has them." He said. "There are no more available, sorry."
The boy clearly didn't have much experience and seemed to be new, and Y/N wouldn't have blamed him, if it wasn't for the panic running through her veins.
The fear of knowing she was in danger and that her ears might bleed at any moment, (though none of those things were true) palarized her.
And she didn't have the only person who could calm her down right now.
That knew every exercise, every word, every touch to relax her and let her know that she was indeed safe.
Y/N runs to Harry's dressing room, slamming the door open and his hands go to her head, pulling out some hairs.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She cries, gasping for air and crawling to the corner of the room.
She catches herself between her arms and legs and keeps crying, and although the concert is not that loud from the dressing room, still the vibrations and screams of the people pierce her brain, so she puts both hands to her ears, trying to block out any existing sounds.
She doesn't know how much time passes, but the despair does not diminish, even when Harry enters the room agitated, covered in sweat, and the suit that he once had arranged is now just pants and a shirt with the first buttons unbuttoned.
"Fucking finally! i need to pee." He exclaims, not seeing his girl in the corner of the room. "I only have three minutes. Baby, where were you? I didn't see yeh when I looked to your side of backstage."
But when he takes a moment to breathe, he can hear the silent but ragged cries and he desperately searches the room.
"Shit." He says, heartbroken, and runs to kneel beside her, not caring about his urge to go to the bathroom. "Y/N, I need you to breathe for me, please."
And she looks up and his broken, desperate gaze only hurts her more.
She couldn't be that normal girlfriend that he deserved.
"Baby honey, please breathe like I am." Harry took a deep breath, remembering one of the many breathing exercises he had googled after she confessed her phobia to him. "Look at me, like this."
She did her best to mimic the way her boyfriend's chest moved, and she succeeded, feeling the air enter her lungs as it should. But the tears kept falling.
"That's it, beautiful, that's it." He compliments her, and his hands go to her wrists. "You can put your hands out, nothing will happen to you, I promise."
She listens to him and dreads for a second when her ears are exposed, but she knows nothing bad is gonna happen if she has Harry in front of her.
"Very good, baby, I'm so proud of you." He gives her a winning smile, and puts a kiss on her wrist. "I need you to tell me where your earplugs and headphones are, yeah?"
"A- A guy said... he gave them to someone else, a-and there's no more for me." She sobbed, being enveloped by the strong, tattooed arms that protected her from everything.
"Shh, don't worry, I'll have them returned to you, I don't care that I can't go on stage, I'll stay with you for as long as i have to." Harry whispered in her ear, leaving kisses on her sweaty forehead. "I love you, my strong girl."
And Y/N cried even more, clinging to the sleeves of her love's shirt, thinking of how lucky she was. Their little moment of peace was interrupted by a thunderous Jeff entering the room, making her freak out and alert.
"Harry, you should've been on stage three fucking minutes ago!" He screams, and the named hugs her tighter against him, making sure to block out some of the sound.
"Y/N needs me, I can't go out now." He answered firmly. "Get me the devices she needs for her ears, right now."
"I said right now." Harry yelled, causing her to jump. "I'm sorry, my love."
"It's okay." She answered.
They both knew that the public was probably confused, but he didn't care, he just want her to be safe and well. For the luck of both, Jeff came back in looking like he had run the whole stadium, but with both objects in his hand, which he quickly passed to Harry.
"Here they are, bubs." He held her head in his hands, avoiding her red eyes, he didn't want to start crying. "There it is, you look beautiful." He said when he put the earplugs on her.
The soul seemed to have returned to Y/N's body when she felt that distant noise that soothed her, and she quickly hugged her boy.
"I'm so sorry, H. You should be singing, go." She said, her voice echoing in her head through the earplugs. "Fuck, I'm just a burden."
The green look on the singer's face hardened, and his eyebrows furrowed, showing anger.
"Don't you dare to say ever again that you're a burden. There's no one who I love more and who means more to me than you. You're my soulmate, and i love you with all of your things, just as you love me with mine." He said, leaving a peak on her lips. "I'll go back on stage only if you want to."
"Yes, of course." Y/N answered quickly, sniffing. "I love you."
"I love you more, pet." He said, smiling. "Wait!"
"What, what is it?" She asked alarmed, getting up off the floor with him.
"Your headphones." Harry lifted them off the ground, holding them in his hands and carefully placing them over her ears. "We don't want those cute little ears to get hurt, do we?"
They both laughed and walked out with folded hands of the dressing room and onto the stage, forgetting that horrible situation.
After all, she had Harry.
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tomfknholland · 4 months ago
The Boy Next Door
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inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom
(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)
The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.
y/n. Always the new girl.
"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.
I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.
We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.
"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.
I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.
"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.
We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.
"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.
We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.
"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.
"At least someone does." I remarked.
She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.
"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.
"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.
"Well...this time it's different."
I scoffed, "You always say that."
"I swear this time!"
"And that!"
"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.
"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.
I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.
I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.
The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.
I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.
A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.
A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.
Our next door neighbours apparently.
The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.
"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.
"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.
He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."
"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."
Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.
"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.
"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.
"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.
"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.
His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.
I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.
I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.
I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.
"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.
My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.
I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.
"He's 18,"
"Dropped out of school last year,"
"Says he wants to be an actor,"
"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police know what, that isn't important."
"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"
"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."
The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.
During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.
It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.
A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.
I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.
I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.
I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.
He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.
He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.
He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.
This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.
'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.
I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.
I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.
But curiosity filled my brain.
Where was he going?
Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.
I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.
I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.
However, it didn't shield me from him completely.
I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.
Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.
But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.
They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.
Cammando: I hate you for leaving me
y/n: your fault not mine :)
I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.
I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.
I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.
He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.
He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive I don't even know what I would call him.
Otherworldly, perhaps?
He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...
It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.
I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.
God, he was so hot.
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.
I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.
I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.
I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.
I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.
I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.
I had to blink a few times to really look.
It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.
But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.
They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.
I looked through the comments.
OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby
"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.
They had been together for a YEAR.
"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.
"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.
I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.
I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.
I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.
I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.
I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.
It was Tom.
He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.
He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.
"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.
"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.
"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.
"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"
He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.
I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.
"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.
"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."
"Why would she come here?" I asked.
"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."
"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.
He smirked, "You know what, I like you."
He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.
I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.
"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.
"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."
I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.
"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.
I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.
"You like looking at things."
I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.
"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.
"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."
I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."
"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.
I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.
"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.
"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.
I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.
He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"
I stuttered as we came face to face.
"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.
"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.
I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.
He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."
I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.
This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.
He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.
"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.
I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.
He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.
I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.
"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.
"Is your family home?" He asked.
"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.
He smirked, "Good."
He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.
His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.
I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.
He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.
"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.
I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"
His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"
"No, no. I've had sex it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.
He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.
"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.
"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.
"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.
He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.
He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.
He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.
He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.
"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.
I gulped, "S-sure."
He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.
"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"
"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.
"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.
His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.
"Feels so good." I moaned.
"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.
I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.
"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.
"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.
He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"
I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.
His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.
"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.
"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.
"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.
I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.
"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.
"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.
"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.
But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.
His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.
"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.
"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."
The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.
"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.
He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.
I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.
"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.
"Yeah I've...I've never-"
"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.
He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.
"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.
I bit my lip and shook my head.
"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.
He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.
"What d'you want?" He asked.
"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.
He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.
He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.
He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"
I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.
"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.
I moaned at his words and nodded.
"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.
"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.
"Good girl." He praised.
We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.
"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.
"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.
"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"
I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.
I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.
"That's it, good girl." He praised.
I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.
"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.
The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.
I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.
"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.
His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.
I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.
"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.
I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
"Such a good girl."
But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.
"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.
"Ready?" He asked.
I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.
"Hey, look at me." He said.
I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.
"Breathe in," He instructed.
I did as he said.
"And out."
As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.
I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.
"You okay?" He asked caringly.
I nodded, biting my lip.
"You can move."
He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.
"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.
I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.
"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.
"Does that feel good?" He asked.
I hummed, "Faster, please."
He smirked, "As you wish."
His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.
"So fucking good," I gasped.
He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.
"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.
He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.
"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.
"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.
"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.
I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.
"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.
"Look at me when you cum, love."
I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.
"I said-"
I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.
"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.
I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.
"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.
I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.
My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.
"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.
"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.
"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.
"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"
I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.
He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.
We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.
After a minute or two, he turned to face me.
"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.
"It was." I smiled back.
He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.
But that bliss was broken quickly.
"Hello?! We're home!"
I gasped, shooting up on my bed.
"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.
"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.
He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.
I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.
"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.
He swung a leg out but then hesitated.
"Oh and uh-"
He held his hand out.
"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.
I smiled, shaking his hand.
"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."
"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.
Nice to meet you indeed.
A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!
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