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dailynnt · 3 months ago

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♡⃟࿔ BETWEEN FEIGNED HATRED AND REAL DESIRE ♡⃟࿔

𑁤 Summary: You can't stand Jungkook, your brother's arrogant, cocky friend who is just waiting for an opportunity to annoy you. He always finds a way to get under your skin, and you were sure that what you hated more than him was the idea of having any feelings for him. But one accident changes everything. Left with him in a locked, cramped room, where every breath is a fire between you two, you realizes that you hatred has always been hidden behind something deeper. Something that cannot be denied, cannot be ignored.

𑁤 Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook • Y/N

𑁤 Age restrictions: 18+

𑁤 Size: one shot

𑁤 Tags: best friend brother, school au, y/n Hoseok sister, from enemies to lovers, sexual tension, unprotected sex, detailed description of sexual scenes, swear words, slightly domJK.

𑁤 Dedication: A late Valentine's Day gift 💘 @myjungkookthighs, @kelsyx33, @someoneelse0109, @mskookie, @kooccult, @smokinghotstargirl , @curse-of-art, @rispwr, @kooko009, @medstudentlifestyle

𑁤 From author: Another of my fantasies that resulted in this, in my opinion, an interesting work. It seems that there are many such works, but you know each author writes in his own way 🥹💕 Therefore, please enjoy, this is a gift ( 🤫 Late gift) for Valentine's Day 💞🫶🏻💜

Your story seems is typical. You hated one of your brother's best friends. All five of the Bulletproof boys on your school's volleyball team were just perfect.

Namjoon, tall, strong, and very smart. Jin is tall, funny, and handsome. Yoongi is quiet, talented, and can always talk to you about anything. Jimin is cheerful, charismatic, and has a subtle sense of humor. Taehyung was synonymous with the word beauty, he was cute but also a tomboy.

And him. Jeon Jungkook. He was a walking nightmare who was hotter than fire, but had a temper that pissed you off. His favorite thing to do was to tease you. He would do just that when he came to your house to hang out at a party thrown by Hoseok, your brother, or when you were having lunch at school with your brother and a whole bunch of his friends sat down with you. Jungkook was always there. And you were literally sick of him.

There was tension between you because your conversation always ended with you screaming and wanting to scratch his face.

Today was Valentine's Day and you hated it. Why? Who wouldn't hate those sweet couples in love who kissed or hugged each other almost everywhere they went? Why are they so annoying on this particular day?

Physical education is over, the last class of the day. You took a shower and went to the locker room. The girls were all gathered together, talking, joking about Valentine's Day.

"Girls, let's each say who we would like to fuck today?" - Kim Sora, who was your bestie, suggested. Only the girls from your company were left in the locker room. They were all mostly cheerleaders, but you weren't. "I'd like Namjoon." - She says first. Everyone laughs and Hewon and Seolha say they would like Namjoon too.

"And I would like Yoongi. His aloof and almost bored behavior turns me on so much. I would know how to make him feel better." - Sejong says, and you burst out laughing. She's had her eye on Yoongi for a while now, but he's not paying attention.

"God, I can't decide between Taehyung and Jimin. They're both so hot, can I have both?" - Sumin asks. You laugh again as you put on your sweatpants. You look at yourself in the mirror.

"Y/N hope you'll forgive me, but I'd like to fuck your brother." - Arin says. You turn to her and grimace.

"Goshhh, Arin, I thought you had better taste." - The girls laugh, but you don't. You genuinely don't understand what girls find sexy about your brother. But fortunately, you don't have to.

"And you're Y/N? You're the only one who hasn't said yet." - Arin laughs and all the girls pay attention to you. You are a little nervous about their attention, and you walk back to the bench where your T-shirt was lying. You put it on.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm interested in any of the Bulletproofs." - You say casually.

"No, you're a liar." - Sora says, and you turn a sharp look at her. You raise your eyebrows. No. She's not going to tell you about him. "Girls, do you know who she dreams of fucking?" - Sora smiles slyly.

"Don't you dare talk about him." - You threaten your bestie , who breaks into an even more evil smile. All the girls squeal almost in unison.

"Who? Who is it?" - Arin squeals.

"Who is our impregnable ice queen dreaming about? Is it Yoongi?" - Hewon asked.

"Hey, Yoongi is mine!" - Shouted Sejong.

"No, I don't want your Yoongi!" - You said. You hurriedly started to pack your things so that you could run away before Sora said anything about him.

"No, it's not Yoongi." - Sora said. She was silent for a moment. You gave her an angry look and said with one lip, "I'm going to kill you." "It's Jungkook." - Sora finally said, and everything broke inside you. All the girls gasped.

"Jungkook?" - Hewon shouted out. "She hates him just as much as he hates her."

"I don't want him." - You said harshly. All the girls stared at you. "I barely live on the same planet as him, and you're saying this." - For some reason you were trying to justify yourself. And when you realized it, you decided it was better to leave. "Don't say stupid anymore like that. I'm going home." - You said more calmly. You stopped at the threshold and turned to Sora. "Sora, you are in trouble." - You smiled sweetly and hurried away.

You were so angry. You couldn't stand Jungkook, how could you want him? He was so horrible. You walk away with quick steps, clutching your bag. Your chest burns with anger mixed with shame. How could she do that? How could she say that out loud?

You raced down the path from the gym, clutching the straps of your bag so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your heart was pounding and your cheeks were burning. Jungkook? Was it him? Why the hell would Sora say something like that in front of everyone?

You stopped, took a deep breath. You never want him. You can't stand him. He's been annoying you since the first day you met him. He's arrogant, self-confident, always sure of his own attractiveness.

And for some reason... You stopped abruptly when you saw him. Jungkook stood next to his motorcycle, wearing a black T-shirt that fit his muscular body and above it black bomber. He was twirling his helmet in his hands, and his eyes slid over you as if by accident.

Your face flushed even more. He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" - He said, smiling slightly. You took a step back in confusion.

"Nothing!" - You answered too sharply. His smile grew wider, almost impudent.

"You look..." - He tilted his head, studying you. "Tense."

"Go to hell, Jungkook." - You gritted your teeth and tried to walk away, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You froze.

He took another step closer, leaning in so that you could smell his perfume. For some reason, your heart started pounding furiously.

"Wait." - He purred.

"Are you crazy? Let go of me. What do you want?" - You hissed, trying to pull your hand away, but he only squeezed your wrist tighter. His eyes darkened and a strange pleasure appeared in his voice.

"By any chance, were you thinking about me right now?" - His voice was as mocking as ever.

"You…!" - You choked with anger.

"Because you blushed." - He added hoarsely. Something tightened in your chest. You going to kill Sora.

"If you don't let go now, you'll lost your golden bells." - You threaten, and your face expresses absolute anger. He laughs, but lets go. Because you usually keep your words. You give him a scorching look and walk home.

You get almost home, and when you want to call your oppa, you are horrified to realize that there is no phone. You dig through your pockets and search your bag, but it's not there. Damn it, you must have left it in the locker room.

You swear about everything, cursing this day, and go back to school. It takes you at least 30 minutes to get to the locker room. Almost no one is in the school anymore. You look for your phone, but it's nowhere to be found. You swear again and try to figure out where you could have left it. You desperately searched for your phone in the locker room, under the benches, in your things. But it was nowhere to be found. Fuck!

You exhaled loudly and ran a hand through your hair. Someone must have found it by now and taken it away.

"Looks like that girl has sown something again." - You flinched at the familiar voice. You turned sharply to find Jungkook standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest.

"What do you want?" - You asked abruptly. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I saw you running like a madman. I figured you were in trouble again." - He said bored. But his gaze was absolutely focused on you.

"I'm not in trouble!" - You were indignant.

"Yeah, you're just running around grumbling to yourself." - Jungkook said with a slight smile. You rolled your eyes.

"I just left my phone here." - You said, irritated. Jungkook shrugged again, but suddenly started walking around the locker room, looking under the benches. You raised your eyebrows and watched him. "What are you doing?" - You asked.

"Helping you find it." - He said looking at the windowsill.

"I didn't ask you to. Get out." - You say harshly, turning away from him. Although for some reason you don't want him to leave. And you want to hit yourself for feeling this way.

"Come on." - He said, coming closer. You glanced over your shoulder. He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. "What's wrong with helping my best friend's sister."

You turned away and grimaced, but inside you still felt a little relieved.

A few minutes later, you walked out of the locker room, and you looked around again, trying to remember where else you might have left your phone.

"Maybe in the gym?" - Jungkook suggested.

"Maybe..." - You mumbled, holding a little further away from him. He silently turned around and headed that way. "Hey! I told you, I don't need your help!" - You said, trying to get rid of him.

"Then just don't follow me!" - He threw over his shoulder without even stopping. You gritted your teeth and followed him anyway.

The gym was empty. You walked around it, looked in all the corners, and suddenly Jungkook stopped at a small room with sports equipment.

"Have you looked here yet?" - He asks, peering in. He walks over and opens the door wider. "I saw you go in here in class to get a ball." - Jungkook remembers.

"I wouldn't leave it here." - You argue, coming up behind him. He turns his head toward you.

"I think we should check here too." - He said and went inside. You looked at him skeptically and followed him inside.

The storage room was small, filled with balls, mats, and other equipment. You cautiously walked around the small room. It was lit by a single small window, through which the rays of the setting sun were breaking through. While you were looking at the stand with the volleyballs, you suddenly heard something. A click. The door closed. And immediately there was a sound that made you freeze. A lock.

"No, no, no..." - You turned around jerkily and pulled the doorknob. But in vain. You heard footsteps outside.

"Yeah... I think this is the last one." - You heard a muffled voice. "Finally, all the rooms are closed."

You pressed yourself against the door.

"HEY! SOMEONE HELP US! SOMEONE IS HERE!" - You pounded on the door, but nothing seemed to happen. Jungkook laughed.

"Damn, that's funny." - He said leaning on the stand. You slowly turned your head to him.

"You think it's funny?" - You squeaked. He held up his hands. "We've been locked in here. And probably on purpose."

"Hey, calm down. It's an accident, who would lock us in here on purpose?" - He asked skeptically. You slammed the door with your palm.

"Damn it!!! You're to blame for this!" - You screamed.

"Me?" - Jungkook was genuinely surprised.

"You dragged me here!" - You countered. He laughed out loud.

"My baby, you chose to follow me." - Jungkook said defiantly through hysterical laughter.

"Don't call me that!" - You shouted. You were shaking with anger. You'd lost your phone somewhere, but worse than that, you were locked in a small room with a man you couldn't stand.

"What? 'My baby' this word makes you angry?" - He asked again and smiled again. You looked around frantically.

"We have to get out of here. Call someone, Hosoku or whoever, and get us out." - You said.

"Oh, of course we have to get out. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with me in a cramped room..." - He suddenly took a step closer. "...alone." - You clenched your fists. Reflexively stepping back to the door.

"Don't do this. Just pick up the fucking phone and call my brother." - You said.

"Don't do what?" - Jungkook stopped one step away. You took another step back. There must be a door somewhere. "I think you don’t want that I’m really calling to anyone." - He said, leaning closer. You froze. He smiled slightly, his gaze sliding over your face, then to your lips. "Even you don't mind?" - Your heart beat faster. But you had to control yourself. You clenched your teeth.

"If you don't shut up now..." - You threatened, losing what little self-control you had when Jungkook pinned his gaze on your lips and took another half step closer.

"What?" - He lowered his voice. You could hear the noise in your ears and the frantic pounding of your heart. Jungkook must have heard it too, because he suddenly smiled mysteriously.

"I'm going to kill you." - You tried to say in your usual tone. The one you used every time you spoke to Jungkook. But as he stood so close and looked at your lips, you heard your voice break.

"Really?" - He asked. You suddenly realized the gravity of the situation and seemed to see yourself from the outside. You were like an antelope being caught by a lion.

You were ready to kick him, but he suddenly grabbed your wrist and sharply pushed you against the front door. Your heart was pounding even faster. His face was close. Too close.

"If you hate me so much..." - His voice was hoarse. "Why are you embarrassed next to me?" - You wanted to protest. You don't get embarrassed next to him. He always annoys you, and all you do is get angry and yell at him. Jungkook leaned in even closer, his lips near your ear. "If I kiss you now, will you push me away?" - He whispered. You felt his breath on your skin and knew he was playing with you. But what was even worse was that, against your will, you began to like this game.

You leaned back against the front door, your pulse pounding in your temples, and Jungkook's breath barely touching your skin.

"I'll push you away." - You gritted out, trying to raise your hands to push him away, but he grabbed them and pinned them behind your back, intertwining your fingers. You tried to get free, but he held you tighter. His closeness and the smell of his perfume made your legs go limp. He smiled.

"Oh, you do?" - He asked boldly. Your nails dug painfully into his palms.

"Don't play with me, Jungkook." - You threaten, looking into his eyes filled with mischief. "I'm going to tell Hoseok that you were hitting on me." - Jungkook giggled softly.

"You won't." - He said confidently. "Because you like what I do." - His lips were almost touching your ear. You flinched, but tried to pull away from him anyway.

"I don't like it. You're too confident." - You said firmly. He pressed even closer, and then... backed away. You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. Jungkook had stirred up something in you that you weren't supposed to feel before.

"Do you want me to stop to make fun of you?" - He suddenly asked. You raised your eyebrows and shifted on your feet.

"What?" - You asked quietly. Jungkook smiled predatory.

"I suggest we end this here. Once and for all. Here's the deal. You do one thing I ask and I'll never make fun of you again." - He offered. It sounds tempting. The prospect of getting rid of Jungkook forever is too tempting.

"What are you suggesting?" - You ask sharply.

"Kiss me." - He says. You are frozen. But then you almost laughed.

"Are you silly? What kind of nonsense is that?" - You laugh. Jungkook takes a step forward and you don't take your eyes off him.

"Just kiss me and this will be over." - Jungkook says. You clench your jaw. Should you kiss him? Only if the world ends.

"I won't..." - You say indignantly. Jungkook is close again, and your pulse is pounding in your temples.

"Why, are you scared?" - He smiles even wider. "Do you think you'll like it?"

You grit your teeth. He dares you. He's just playing with you. He won't leave you alone even if you kiss him now. The thought of kissing him is driving you crazy. If you do it now, he'll laugh forever.

But...

Why did your hand suddenly almost jerk forward? Why did his gaze seem to evoke something hot and uncontrollable inside you? You took a deep breath. Could he be serious now? You don't know if you can trust him one hundred percent, but for some reason you think he's serious.

"Okay." - You finally agree. Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

"What?" - His voice is pure surprise. You took a step toward him, grabbed him by the collar of his bomber jacket, and go on your tiptoes, slowly reaching for his lips... You could almost feel his warmth when he pulled away at the last moment.

You froze. You opened your eyes and saw his sly smile.

"You..." - You said quietly, boiling with rage. He laughed, brazenly, smugly, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. How humiliating.

"So you really want to kiss me? You said you didn't like it. You didn't really think I'd let you do it that easily, did you?" - The blood rushed to your head.

"You... asshole." - You punched him in the chest, but he just laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you were so determined to kiss me. Did you really? You hate me so much and you wanted to kiss me?" - He asks through his laughter. You got even more angry and started to hit him, but he quickly caught your arms and turned you around, pinning you against the wall again. He pinned you from behind and you felt his crotch pressing against your ass. You were breathing fast.

"That's enough, baby. I don't want to fight you." - He mumbled in your ear. His fingers tightened around your wrists, which he had pinned against the wall. "I thought you were so cold..." - His voice dropped to a whisper. "But you're heating up faster than I thought."

"Let go of me." - You hissed, wriggling away. But he didn't listen.

Instead, he turned you around and before you could realize it, he was kissing you. Hotly, greedily, so that your breath hitched and your thoughts were mixed. He pressed against you harder, and you... You didn't push him away.

On the contrary, your fingers tightened involuntarily on his bomber jacket. You hated him. But... You wanted it.

When he pulled away from you, his lips were still barely touching yours, and his voice sounded bold and deep at the same time.

"Should we stop?" - He asked. You were breathing heavily, your mind screaming no, but your body was reaching forward treacherously. His gaze burned you. Deep, dark, filled with something that made your body stiffen and your heart pound furiously in your chest.

Jungkook's lips barely touched your cheek, then slowly slid down to your jawline. His breath is hot and tickles your skin, making you shiver.

"I knew it." - He whispers. "You're not pushing me away."

"I..." - You stutter, not sure what to say. His hands, warm and strong, slid down your body. He slipped his hand under your sweatpants and squeezed your buttocks as if he didn't want to let go, as if he wanted to leave a mark on you-not just on your skin, but deeper, somewhere you'd never let him touch.

"Mmm?" - His lips touched your ear. "What are you going to say now?" - You wanted to say that this was a mistake. That you didn't want this. But your breath gave you away. Deep, shuddering, with an echo of desire. Jungkook smiled slightly, his other hand slowly moving up along your waist, tugging at the fabric of your T-shirt. "Do you want me to stop?"

His lips descended to your neck, a light bite, a burnt touch of his tongue that sent an electric shock through your body.

"Tell me..." - He demanded, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. You couldn't say no. Because your fingers had already slid over his chest, you could feel the muscles rippling under the fabric, and your body was treacherously searching for him.

"Jungkook..." - His name sounded almost pleading on your lips.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours again, even hotter, even more greedy. This kiss was no longer a game. It was real. And you already knew you had given in.

His hand that had been squeezing your buttocks slid down your thighs and came to your front. Without taking his lips from yours, he parted your folds and touched your clit with his fingers. You unconsciously moaned into his mouth. He smiled into your lips.

He massaged your clitoris so gently and so wonderfully that you thought that if he hadn't been holding you down, you would have fallen over. The circular movements on your sensitive center were driving you crazy.

Jungkook plunged his fingers into your passage and finally pulled away from your lips. You were both breathing heavily, very close together. You felt his hard cock resting against your thigh.

"You're so wet for me, baby." - He whispers breathlessly. You can't speak, because the friction from his fingers prevents you from doing so. "Do you want more? I can fuck you right now." - Jungkook offers. You raise your eyebrows, moaning softly. Jungkook pulls up your t-shirt to reveal your breasts.

You're not wearing a bra. You didn't put it on after gym class because you were sweating and didn't want to wear a dirty bra. You didn't plan to go back to school, but you forgot your phone.

"I've always wondered what those nipples taste like." - Jungkook hummed and leaned over to one of them. His lips captured your sensitive flesh and sucked. You felt him smile. You held his shoulders and tried not to go crazy with his skillful fingers inside you.

"Jungkook..." - You called out to him. He didn't answer. He just moved to your other nipple and played with it with his tongue. "Please..." - You breathed out. The Jungkook left your nipple and you felt the cold air contrasting with the licked nipple.

"What is it baby?" - He asked into your lips then. But suddenly he pulls his hand out and puts his fingers into his mouth. You breathe heavily and watch him suck his fingers soaked in your cum. "You really want me to fuck you?" - Jungkook wants to make sure. You bite your lip, unable to say it out loud. But yes. You do want him to fuck you.

Jungkook glanced between your bodies. His hard cock was already resting against your pussy. He made a few thrusts and you squeezed his clothes harder.

"Go ahead and say it, or I won't continue." - He says tensely. A hush escapes your lips.

"You're lying." - Suddenly, your voice cuts through. "You won't be able to stop now." - Jungkook laughs. You're so damn right. He's either going to fuck you or…he's going to fuck you.

"You're such a smart girl. But you have to let me." - He warns you gently. But you don't answer right away. You think again that this could be a joke. What if will you let him now and he walks away again? And then what? Or you'll let him fuck you now and he'll tell someone that you begged him.

"Do you want me?" - You asked, instead of letting him. Jungkook pulled away and looked into your eyes. He saw how much you wanted him. He wanted you too, your question was so stupid.

"Isn't it obvious?" - He asked with an arched eyebrow. You ran your fingers down his neck, took out his hair and dipped it in your hands, stroking it.

"Just say it. Do you want to fuck me right now?" - You asked, smiling seductively. Jungkook smiled back reflexively. His eyes grew darker.

"Fuck it!" - He cursed. "Yeah. I want to fuck you so hard you can't sit up." - He said with anticipation in his voice. He put his hands on your hips and squeezed them. You smile satisfied, now you can let him.

"Then do it Jeon." - You say and his lips crash against yours. His tongue enters your mouth and finds yours. You get even wetter from his kisses. You want more and he just promised you.

Jungkook breaks your kiss and in one swift movement leaves you without your sweatpants and panties. He falls to his knees in front of your pussy and his eyes are filled with lust. You breathe raggedly looking down at him. You could never have imagined such a picture in your head. Jungkook smiles at you from the corner of his lips and presses his lips to your pussy.

You grab his shoulders and squeeze them. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue traces long streaks across your folds. Your legs tremble as he sucks on the tip of your clit, and you are just in bliss. You press your head against the door and your moans fill this cramped room.

Jungkook sucks hard on your clit. At one point he plunges his fingers back into your passage to stretch you. You are almost going crazy. It's the first time you've ever been eaten, and it feels so fucking good. Jungkook's skillful tongue takes you to heaven. It doesn't take long for you to come right on his tongue. He feels you twitching and spends some more time his tongue on your clit enjoying every drop of you.

You stop twitching and he finally pulls his lips away from your pussy. You look down at him, breathing heavily. You see his chin shining with your juices.

Jungkook stands up, wiping his chin with his hand. He takes your neck with his hand, pulling you closer.

"As expected, you are as sweet as honey. I should have tasted you sooner. But you hated me." - He says and then kisses you. He puts his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. And it turns you on.

Not one of your boyfriends you've dated has ever eaten you because they thought it was not normal. Even though blow jobs are commonplace for them.

But Jungkook, did it in the first. You've heard about it from your friends and have been dying to try it. You want to laugh at the thought that the first person to eat you was Jungkook and he did it so damn well.

"If I had known that your tongue could do more than just talk nonsense, I would have been more sympathetic to you." - You said with a seductive smile as Jungkook broke your kiss so you could breathe in. He laughed, sincerely and infectiously. You laughed along with him. "So what? Do I have to do to make you feel good?" - You ask and reach for his pants. Jungkook is also wearing sweatpants, so your hand sinks inside without any obstacles, successfully passing through his boxers.

Jungkook pulls away slightly and lowers the looking between your bodies. He only sees your hand disappear somewhere in his pants, but when you feel his length and your fingers pump up the it, he barely holds back a moan. You arched your eyebrows and pretended to look like "not bad."

"You're bigger than I might imagined." - Jungkook looks up at you and smiles cockily. "I thought that if you had such a long tongue, your dick was tiny." - You mock. You couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Jungkook didn't appreciate your joke. He grabbed your face gently with one hand and he another hand leaned against the wall to steady himself.

"You're going to regret thinking that. Because my cock will make you scream." - He said powerfully against your lips, but you weren't afraid, you smiled playfully,. Before you can say anything in your defense, Jungkook kisses you again. Insistently, authoritatively, and deeply, as if he trying to prove something to you. You pull down his pants and boxers below his buttocks to have a better opportunity to jerk him off.

Jungkook moans into your mouth as you speed up your movements. He's getting hard in your hands and you can feel it well.

Jungkook pulls away from your swollen lips with all his might and stops you.

"That's enough, you better give me your pussy so that you realize how wrong you were." - You smile at his words and let him. He turns your back to him. You hear him moving behind you, obviously pulling his pants down. You press your hands against the door and wait for that moment.

Jungkook takes his cock in his hands and pumps you on buttocks several times. He slams it into your buttocks and you breathe heavily. He touches your folds with his fingers, runs them over your pussy to smear your moisture.

You finally feel the head of his cock touch your entrance. You hold your breath. Jungkook leans down to your ear and whispers one last time.

"Please be quiet, so the whole school doesn't hear you screaming from my cock." - He grabs your head and turns you around to kiss you. Your mind is foggy with lust, excitement, and his words.

Finally, you feel pressure on your passage. Jungkook holds your hips. Slowly but surely, he plunges into you. You feel pain when only his head is inside. You scream out, which makes him smile.

"So you're already regretting thinking that?" - You hear his voice somewhere behind you. You say something unintelligible and then scream again as he presses harder. His cock is really big. The biggest you've ever had inside you. Jungkook hisses. "Fuck you're tight, so tight, baby." - You want to smile but you can't, it hurts. Jungkook finally takes over completely. You both freeze to get used to the sensations. Your hot breath leaves marks on the door.

"That feels so fucking good." - You say quietly, so Jungkook doesn't hear that his cock makes you feel so good.

"Are you okay baby?" - He asks leaning down to your cheek. You smile because you're glad he didn't hear what you said a moment ago.

"Yeah. Everything is fine." - You say honestly.

"Then get ready. Because I'm going to fuck you hard." - He warns. Jungkook straightens up and moves his hips. You bite your lip to keep from screaming. The first movements are painful. The next ones are pain mixed with pleasure. And when Jungkook sets a good pace, you feel absolute bliss. You can't stop moaning. He moves his hips so well creating exactly the friction you like.

But Jungkook doesn't stay gentle for long, at some point his thrusts become sharper, deeper. His fingers touch your thighs with a certain force. The cock presses into you as much as possible and you feel he shudders in your middle.

The sensations are simply incomparable. He is so good at this. Jungkook fucks you perfectly. Like no other. It's just nonsense. The best fuck you've ever had is not with someone you love, it’s with Jungkook, who you hate, and not on white sheets, but in a school in the small room with sports equipment. It's crazy.

"That feels so fucking good. Baby, you're just perfect for me." - Jungkook compliments you. He finds your clit with his hands and you can't stand the stimulation.

"Koo... please..." - You say between exhaling moans.

"What did you call me?" - Jungkook asks as he continues to fuck you. You feel a sweet bliss brewing in your lower abdomen.

"Koo..." - You moan his shortened name.

"Damn... You can call me that whenever you want to fuck." - He offers. You raise your eyebrows and open your mouth. Does he think this is not your only time? Right now, you're almost on the verge of cumming around him. And you think that you wanted it to be more than once, too. You want this amazing sex was constantly. But what will happen when you come out from this room, and you finally realize what you've done.

But the knot in your stomach unravels and you come, clutching Jungkook's cock. He's cursing behind you, and you can feel you squeezing him. He slaps his hips mercilessly, his balls slamming against your ass, and the sinful slaps drive you crazy. Jungkook pulls out abruptly and he comes. His cum spills all over the floor and his hands.

You turn around and see him cumming. He looks over at you when he stops spewing his cum.

You are both breathing heavily. Jungkook pulls on his boxers and pants, which he has slightly polluted. You put on your thong and pants and are afraid to look up at him. Jungkook looks at you and a confident smile spreads across his face. You pretend to fix your clothes.

"You have wipes? We're did a little a mess here." - He says and you hear a smile in his voice. You reach for the bag, but your hands are shaking. The warmth of his touch is still pulsating on your skin, and your breathing seems heavier than it should be.

Jungkook seems to sense your state, so he takes his time. He watches you take out the napkins, how you avoid his gaze, and smiles smugly.

"Are you always this quiet afterwards?" - His voice drops to an almost purring tone.

You start to get angry again, but instead of answering, you just toss him the package of napkins. He catches it with one hand and runs the other through his hair, causing the dark strands to become even more disheveled.

"Are you always this obnoxious afterwards?" - You snap back, finally looking up at him. He wipes his hands and the remaining cum on the floor. He stands up. Jungkook tilts his head to the side as if he's considering your question.

"I don't know." - He slowly moves closer, making you take a step back. "But I know I want to do it again." - Your heart jumps into your throat.

"There's not going to be another time." - You say sharply, straighten your clothes, and pretend nothing happened. Even though you want there to be another time. Jungkook laughs again. Deep, low, and this sound makes you even more confused.

"Why not? You liked it." - He states. You clench your jaws and look at him with a challenge.

"Don't you have anyone else to have fun with?" - You ask. He takes another step, and now there are barely a few centimeters between you. His eyes are dark, attentive, and something dangerous is burning in them.

"No. It's just you now." - He says. Your breath catches in your throat. He kisses you and you don't resist. What could that mean? Is this an invitation to fuck without obligation? But he's so annoying when he doesn't fuck you, how do you deal with it? He pulls away from your lips.

"Just don't tell anyone. This will be our secret. You don't want your brother to kill me, do you?" - Jungkook asks, he strokes your cheekbones. You laugh slyly.

"Half an hour ago, I was dreaming about it." - You admit honestly.

Jungkook smiles, and you see something triumphant in his eyes. You hate it - how he always wins your verbal battles, how he always knows which buttons to push to get you off balance.

But you hate it even more the way your heart jumps out of your chest at his proximity.

"So now you don't dream of my death anymore?" - He touches a strand of your hair as if it were something familiar, as if he had a right to do so. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to maintain control. His fingers slowly slide from your hair to your chin, and he lifts it slightly, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "Don't worry, baby. I'll have time to make you dream of other things." - He says this with such confidence that your skin crawls with goosebumps. You pretend not to feel it.

"We'll see." - You snap back. Jungkook lets you go. He takes a step back and then pulls your phone out of his pocket.

"I forgot to tell you that I found your phone earlier." - He smiles, and you are frozen with shock. So he set this up? You blink, not fully believing his words.

"You... you found it earlier?" - Your voice trembles a little with anger.

"Yeah." - Jungkook throws the phone to you, and you automatically catch it. "I wanted to see what you'd do when you went back to look for him."

You squeeze the phone in your hand, feeling indignation boiling inside.

"You asshole!" - You punch him in the shoulder, but he doesn't even move, just smiles smugly.

"Maybe a little. But we've had fun, right?" - He takes his phone out of his pocket now. "Let's get out of here."

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #jungkook imagine #bts fanfction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook shook au #jungkook brother best friend

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always-just-red · 4 months ago

Text

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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sttoru · 2 years ago

Note

toji making suggestive comments towards reader infront of newborn megumi, then reader getting mad at him telling him to never do it again 😭😭

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff + suggestive themes. reader gets called ‘mama’.

“don’t start.”

you knew it — just by taking one glance at your husband from your seat at the couch — you knew toji was up to no good. his hands in the pockets of his shorts, eyes half lidded whilst checking you out and the corner of his lip curled up into a menacing grin; he was seconds away from making inappropriate comments about you, to you.

“ain’t said nothin’ yet.” toji shrugs, smirk still in place. he sits down next to you on the couch and looks down at the baby who was curled up on your chest.

it was an adorable picture; to see the mother of his child being so nurturing and caring, so loving and content. it was an every day sight, yet those mundane moments intensified the urge to take you to the bedroom and shower you with his. . . affection.

megumi babbles something in the meantime, his saliva creating a wet spot on your shirt — which you don’t mind since you’ve gotten used to it, “what is it, ‘gumi? hmm? cutie.”

you giggle and tickle your little son gently. your focus was entirely on him instead of toji, who had already snuck an arm around your waist by the time you realised the proximity. his breath tickled your ear;

“you look so fuckin’ sexy right now, mama.”

you gasp in response. not at the seductive and flirtatious words your husband had whispered, but rather at the fact that he cussed in front of megumi. you made it a household rule — to try and swear less in front of your child. and yet there toji goes, breaking that rule a week after its made.

“toji. what’d i say about cussing in front of your child?” you warn with a glare, but that does nothing more than turn toji on more. he loved it when you bossed him around or had an attitude.

megumi’s babbles and coos had died down eventually. he was more engrossed by the way his parents were interacting in front of him. you didn’t seem as ‘happy’ with toji’s words, however, and that made the emergency alarms in the little baby’s head go off;

“bwah! bwah!” megumi’s smacks toji’s thigh with his tiny hand. the impact wasn’t rough, but the sound of the slap on toji’s bare skin sure made it seem like it was.

you grin as megumi comes to your ‘rescue’. the small slaps didn’t seem to stop until toji gave up and defeatedly redrew from you—scooting just a few inches away from his son and wife.

“got what you deserved.” you lightheartedly comment to your husband. megumi didn’t seem to stop there; the kid sticks his tongue out towards his father’s direction for a split second—rubbing salt into the wound.

“watch it, megumi. i’ll fight ya if it means i get y’r mommy’s attention.” the dark-haired man jokes with a smirk tugging at his lips, his fist gently and carefully making contact with megumi’s chubby cheek. the little boy huffs and instantly tries to nibble onto toji’s knuckles, which was incredibly adorable.

“oh-ho? seems like i finally have an opponent worth fighting. .” toji comments before lifting his hands up in the air, fingers bent at the knuckles, teeth bared — re-enacting a scary monster creature of some kind,

you watch the two with amusement; megumi wasn’t backing down at all and was flailing his arms in the air as toji slowly approaches him again, making tiny noises in protest. your husband was also making some noises, though less. . . cute. his were more growling like—it showed the dedication to his role, at least.

“got’cha! c’mere,” toji grins as he suddenly grabs and lifts megumi up in the air; putting him in air-jail as he likes to call it. the baby kicks and squeals, trying its best to get out, “now—are ya gonna let me show mama some affection or should we do this the hard way?”

megumi protests once more like he actually knows what was said to him and kicks his legs frantically, causing both toji and you to laugh at your baby’s antics.

you sat back and watch the two go back and forth like that for a good while, enjoying the moment. you felt all giddy seeing them interact and wanted nothing more than to kiss and cuddle with both.

and of course, you wished that precious moments like these would never come to an end any tjme soon.

#ෆ : parenting 101.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #toji x you #jjk x you #jjk fluff #toji fluff

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fligniuz · 29 days ago

Text

a performance deserving of standing ovations

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you have some inquiries about your boyfriend’s habits.

word count: 2.6k • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @nephris , @mashkatzi

warnings : gender neutral reader; EXPLICIT; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; discussions of filmed sex and oral; probably poorly translated italian; starring luigi’s dislike of porn

notes : this is dedicated to @diors002 in spirit because i thought of her while writing this,, title from:

“So if you don’t watch porn, how do you get off?”

Luigi looks at you from over the lip of his laptop, eyes narrow. “What?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t jerk off, either,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Seriously. What do you do?”

What kind of question is this?

“I have a broad imagination,” he replies, still typing away. “I just use my brain.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any of those hentai sex simulator games on there?”

Please. As if he’d be caught dead with that trash. He’s almost insulted that you would insinuate such a thing, even if you’re joking.

His face remains neutral. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” You crawl up onto the couch to sit beside him. “I’ve never known a nerd to not love hentai.”

If he weren’t smart, he would tell you that he’s not a nerd. Instead, he says, “I pride myself on being unpredictable. And hentai is too…It’s over the top. The girls are always voiced by someone who sounds five years old. Huge turn off.”

“Then why do you not like porn?” you ask, propping your head up on your palm. “At least it’s grown humans.”

If he weren’t busy, he would probably give you a lecture—but that would technically be mansplaining, he thinks, so better to leave that alone. Instead…

“This is a whole conversation we could have,” Luigi says, “and I would love to have it with you, baby, really, but my mind is a bit occupied with something else right now. I have my reasons. I’ll tell you that.”

He’s got reasons for everything. Sometimes it pisses you off that he’s such a good thinker. Right now, though, it intrigues you; what does he like to imagine when he’s touching himself? Does he think about you? Doing what?

These are questions you could answer with one question of your own:

“Can I watch you?”

He glances over, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Watch me what?”

“Jerk off,” you say simply.

Then he blinks. Stops typing. Flushes ruddy red in his cheeks and his nose. “I’m—That’s—”

God, he’s adorable.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you tell him, gently planting your hand just above his knee and squeezing. “It’s just an idea.”

Your boyfriend stumbles over his words for a moment, makes some funny choked noises—as if he wants so desperately to find the means first, but just can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Would you like that?” he asks finally. “Like—Watching me?”

Well, you asked for a reason.

“Yeah,” you nod. “But if you’re uncomfortable with it, I understand.”

His big hands linger over the keyboard of his laptop, tracing the ridges beneath his palms. It takes some significant willpower to push the image of his fingers in your mouth out of your head.

“Think about it,” you say, patting his shoulder.

You don’t know if he does. Not for a while.

You’re in his room looking for your phone charger when you get to find out.

First you hear his keys turning in the door, his gigantic feet shuffling against the welcome mat: “Our House is a Very Very Very Fine House”. They step closer, trailing off every so often when he peeks into a room in search of you—but eventually you hear them approaching right behind you, a familiar pair of lips finding your neck.

Typically Luigi is quite blunt. Today he has no qualms about being indirect with you.

“What’s up, babe?” you ask when he wraps his arms around your torso, face buried in the warm crease of your shoulder.

And then you feel him.

Luigi is hard. You can feel his cock pressing against your backside, straining through his jeans, shockingly intimidating even after all this time of waking up next to his morning wood.

“Baby, is that you?”

“You said you wanted to watch me,” he interjects, his voice a rough and gravelly murmur in your ears. His breath is hot against your throat. “Do you still want to?”

Is he kidding?

“Fuck, yeah,” you nod, hands meeting his. “Are you gonna let me?”

He doesn’t answer you with words. Rather, he pulls away from you to settle down in his desk chair, just opposite the bed you’re now sitting on. You have to swallow your moan when he starts to unbuckle his belt—arousal rushes through your nervous system at the sound of metal clinking and pure Italian leather slipping through each loop of his pants.

You smile at the imprint of his greedy sex in his boxers. “What got you this worked up, Gi?”

His eyes relax, those long lashes fluttering. “I was thinking about you at work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s palming his erection through navy blue cotton, leaning back against the headrest of his chair. “Can’t get anything fuckin’ done. You’re distracting, you know that?”

He says that like it’s your fault he can’t control himself.

“You drive me nuts,” Luigi continues, hand squeezing and stroking at himself. “I’d quit the fucking thing if it meant I could just keep you in bed all day.”

The sound of that is nice.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask.

He takes a moment, either to formulate a response or to relish in the feeling of his hand teasing his cock through the soft fabric.

“You remember our third date?” he asks, eyelids heavy.

Of course you remember. For your third date, on a mild day in early June, Luigi took you to Kauai so you could see the Nāpali coast. June was the best time to visit, he said—tourists come for the sunniest weather, so the intermittent months when summer is still settling in are the least crowded and most tolerable. The sun was setting by the time you had made it down near the shore, and the way those glowing rays hit your skin had him feeling things that scared him and exhilarated him all in one sweeping breath; he insisted on pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures of you prancing along the coastline, your hair blowing in the wind. Your eyes were wild with joy and you squealed in ecstasy when he ran over to scoop you up in his strong arms and spin you around. For your third date Luigi fucked you in his car, parked in a lonely dirt lot just a few miles out of Koke‘e State Park, with the windows rolled down so the salty air could stream through and cool your flushed, sweating, moving bodies, his hips pounding into you from underneath. You think it’s the day he really fell in love with you; you heard him groan the words into your ear, breath shaky and words choked, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in time with his pointed thrusts.

You nod. “In your car.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the thumb of his left hand dancing along the waistband of his underwear. “Fuck, you were so pretty that day. Sun looks good on you.”

Yes, he had made that very clear to you. He told you probably fifty times on the drive back to his apartment, thirty of which were said just before he pulled over and took matters into his own hands.

“You think about that day a lot, babe?” you ask.

“I think about you a lot.”

“Tell me,” you say. “Show me that big cock and tell me what else you think about.”

He’s pulling his boxers down his thighs—they quickly join the pool of denim at his ankles. One hand just barely lifts his sweater up, revealing a hint of his chiseled abs. The big cock in question smacks against his abdomen, the fat head of it pink and oozing pre. Your mouth waters.

“Think about fucking your face,” Luigi mutters, words slurred and hazy with titillation. His slender fingers are stroking the head of his dick, smearing slick over himself. “When you bent over the console to suck me off…I wish—Wish we could’ve been in my bed, so I could’ve just used your gorgeous little mouth.”

You can’t change the past, but you can certainly imagine an alternate universe where that did happen. He can too. He’s using his thumb and two fingers to squeeze his weeping glans, coaxing more of his arousal onto his hand and spreading it down to the base of his dick.

“I enjoyed that,” you tell him.

“Fuck, I did too,” he says, nodding. “You’re lucky it was so late and nobody was around. You had your ass facing the window. Probably would’ve given anyone walking by a pretty fuckin’ sight.”

Luigi’s loose fist continues stroking his cockhead, curls pressed back against his chair. His throat is bared to you, Adam’s apple bobbing, and your teeth yearn to touch the sensitive, stubble-dusted skin there. Every so often his thumb grazes his tender slit and punches a delicious whine from him, a sound so precious you wish you could collect it in a conch, hold it up to your ear and listen until the Earth burns out.

“I think what’s in front of me is much prettier,” you purr, leaning back onto the bed casually.

“Should’ve seen yourself,” he says. “I’m so glad I got you on camera. My brain could never conjure up the perfection of you, baby.”

That’s right. The pictures he took of you at the Nāpali coast weren’t the only documentation of that night. There was more taken later, in his car, as he was driving his hips into yours with your hair fisted tight in his hand; this video was more explicit, more revealing, a landscape shot of you riding on top, him gripping your ass ravenously. A few times you had suggested watching this particular video together—perhaps past glimpses of your voyeuristic desires—but every attempt only ended in a recreation rather than a communicative, parallel experience.

His hand begins to move lower, spreading his pre down his shaft with long, languid strokes, cupping and squeezing his balls occasionally. If you listen closely enough you can hear the wet sounds of him touching his cock. His face is pink, blatant evidence of his arousal, if the sight of him playing with himself right in front of you wasn’t enough to prove it.

“You gettin’ hot, babe?” you ask him, tone sultry.

He nods frantically.

Smirking, you order, “take that sweater off.”

Luigi has always been a good listener. His dick bounces when he shifts to pull the offending article up and over his head, curls ruffled and stomach muscles twisting. With his torso revealed to you he settles back into the chair and moves his hand to his cock again, still focused on wetting his length sufficiently (which isn’t difficult, what with how much he’s leaking at the sound of you bossing him around.) His abs are flexed and his nipples are hard, begging for a tongue to tease.

“That’s a good boy,” you murmur.

He groans, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Listen to me, baby,” you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Stroke that perfect dick and keep your eyes on me.”

Your boyfriend nods obediently, hand moving with intent over the entire length of his cock, balls and all. His lush lips are parted, breathing heavy and moaning when his slick palm passes over the underside—his pace is slow at first, working himself up to his climax with ease.

And when his beaming brown eyes meet yours you take off your own shirt, leaving it to pile with his on the floor.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” you instruct.

Luigi whines. “I want my mouth on your nipples.”

You moan at that. Your hands glide over your chest, groping at yourself and passing over the very nipples your boyfriend speaks of. With a tightened fist he squeezes his glans, sighing with delight as he watches you move under lidded eyes.

“Il tuo corpo è arte,” he mutters under his breath.

“Yeah?” you tease, as if you understand what he’s saying. As if your flesh isn’t burning with desire. “You thinkin’ about tasting me?”

As you speak your hands migrate to the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down.

“Fuck yes,” he nods. “You know I always am.”

In the process of getting your bottoms off you wiggle your hips around playfully, grinning at the way Luigi licks his lips and pumps his cock with each inch of skin you unveil to him. Your thighs flex and your smile grows the longer you keep your lidded eyes glued to his flushed face, lip trapped between sharp fangs. You ache to feel the point of his teeth in your skin.

“Baby, touch yourself,” he pleads. “Per favore, I want to see.”

You tut. “Patience, sweet boy. Keep talking to me.”

“Fuuuck,” he moans, compressing his cockhead with two fingers. “I love how you taste, love all the noises you make, fuck, so fucking pretty…”

“Mhmm,” you hum, leaning back on the bed invitingly. You run your hands over your chest again and smile sweetly at him, crossing your legs, uncrossing them, crossing again. Egging him on.

The tendons in his wrist flex against his Fitbit deliciously. “I want to lay you down and just make you come until you can’t stand me. Così dannatamente stupendo. You are…Shit…Tu governi la mio mente.”

You have no idea what the fuck he’s saying or why the Italian is coming out so strong when he’s this worked up but goddamn, if you were recording this…Your brain certainly is, capturing every second of his fist rubbing his cock furiously and the slick sounds of it projecting throughout the room. His wide throat pulses when he throws his head back to whine, feet fidgeting as he works, and you bite your lip to suppress your own needful impulses.

When your hand sneaks between your legs he grunts like a rabid dog.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” Luigi nods, staring directly at you. “I’m gonna come, oh, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

You nod with him, hand moving in sync, working yourself up quickly to see if you can meet him head-on. If he gets to watch you come while he’s climaxing you think he might explode. His veins throb as he speeds up his wrist and tenses his thighs, eyes glued on the pure arousal between your legs, spread open and on display just for him.

And then his face drops familiarly, eyelids stunned and lips parted, like he’s teetering on the edge, and you push him to the other side with a honeyed “I love you, baby,” and then he’s coming, splattering his hand and his sweat-soaked abdomen with himself. He keeps stroking the fat head of his cock for a few seconds longer and you love how he twitches and furrows his bushy brows, loudly finishing yourself at the sight of the mess he’s made for you.

“Wow, babe,” you chuckle. “You needed that, didn’t you?”

He flushes. “Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to watch, perv.”

Before he can reach for the tissues on his desk you hop up from the bed and crouch by his seat, grabbing his face. “You liked being watched. Didn’t you?”

“I—”

And before he can answer you, you reach down and scrape some of his orgasm onto your fingers, popping them into your mouth emphatically and giggling when his jaw goes slack.

“Well, did you?” you repeat with a wicked grin, licking some excess from between your index and middle finger.

His face tenses, then settles. “You’re insatiable.”

You shrug playfully.

Luigi points in your face. “And I better not hear about hentai simulators anymore. Help me clean up.”

il tuo corpo è arte = “your body is art”

per favore = “please”

così dannatamente stupendo = “so damn gorgeous”

tu governi la mio mente = “you rule my mind”

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #flig’s work

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jjenthusee · 7 months ago

Text

Hourglass

Pairing: AK!Jason x Reader

A/N: ooo boi, let’s try a new Jason! Arkham Knight Jason my beloved my tragic king. I hope my interpretation lives up to expectations. This is dedicated to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes because i’ve seen the writing on their AK Jason and it made me want to give it a try :) tons of flowers for them 💐 ENJOY :D comment any thoughts, i love to read them

Summary: Who is Jason? You don’t seem to know anymore.

Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, toxic Jason, angst follows AK jason he can’t escape it, possessive Jason, warnings: mentions of blood

Word Count: 1.1k

“You lied to me!” You screamed, making your throat sting at the guttural sound leaving your body.

Every inch of your body shook, your eyes blurring at the burn of your anger…or sadness? Whatever it was, it was taking over you fully.

Your thoughts completely plagued by old memories, old decisions that you had repeatedly told yourself that were nothing but you overthinking, that it was going to be okay.

Now you were paying for it. Mentally and physically.

“I know.” Jason stood calmly. Voice so normal you felt like you were going crazy.

Tick.

Like this was all some twisted joke and he was ready to tell you it was all fake. That he had not done the one thing you pushed to the back of your mind every night, holding onto Jason’s body and shirt before you closed your eyes to sleep.

“I can’t believe I listened to you!” You started to scratch at your arm. Feeling the prick of your skin as the pain was the only thing keeping you in the present. “I trusted everything you told me—“

Tick.

“I had to do it—“ Jason’s voice steadily explained.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t bear looking into the same eyes you have laid out everything to.

“You don’t love me—you never have!” You felt your legs starting to wobble, your body twitching as the emotions of betrayal were all too overwhelming.

Tick.

You were running into furniture, unable to see anything past the blurs of hot tears. The edge of the dining table cutting into your waist causing you to cry out at the sting.

You imagined if someone were to look between the two of you, they would assume you were having two completely different conversations.

Tick.

Two people in two different scenes, two different scenarios.

“I do love you.” Jason stepped forward, letting a tinge of tenderness slip, something he used on the days you two spent together, when he wasn’t covered head to toe in blood.

When there wasn’t red footsteps littering your home.

But all it did now was make you hazy, no longer capable of deciding what was real or in your emotional madness.

Tick.

He felt too calm. Like he predicted your hysterical reaction and was cleaning up the pieces as you let your deranged mind say and do what you wanted.

Tick.

Your scratched arms hurt, your sides hurt, your chest hurt from the grating breaths leaving your lungs.

Tick.

Every single second felt like agony.

“I love you so much.” Jason took another step.

“No.”

Tick. Tick.

“We can get passed this—“

“Stop.”

Make it stop. Make him stop.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Please.

TickTickTickTick

You couldn’t do this.

Each step from his heavy boots echoed in your ears. Your head hung down to your chest and you couldn’t bare to move, only caving in to your body.

Your pupils shook, radiating and pulsing as you kept them down.

Jason reached toward you, the blood covering his hands smearing onto your face, under your chin.

Red hot alarms were going off in your head.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“No, no! Do not touch me!” You started to pace back, not making it far because your legs were shaking so badly.

The blood stunk.

The metallic stench was making your stomach crawl.

“I did it for us, for you.” Jason kept stepping closer. Bringing the rotten smell closer to you.

“Nothing has ever been for us. Look at yourself!”

“Please. I just need you. Only you.”

“I don’t want this. You killed all those people. You don’t do that!” You yelled, falling to the floor, breathless as your legs finally couldn’t handle your racing heart. “You don’t do that.” You quietly repeated to yourself, all energy draining from your body.

Your high from the anger minimizing as your energy was rapidly being used up.

You continued to mumble to yourself. Incoherent thoughts and debate leaving your mouth in jumbled mumbles as your mind couldn’t process anything he was doing.

Jason fell down to his knees next to you.

“You can’t abandon me, not like Bruce did. I can live in the anger that I have for him, but I won’t survive a moment without you in my life. You can’t leave me.” Jason shakily grabbed onto your shoulders.

His grip hurting, digging into your skin even through your clothes. Your wince blending into your gasps for air in your need to flail away from him.

The madness in his eyes scared you.

Who was this?

Like a switch, he started to rub your arms, so gentle in the ways you always knew. In the same way you liked, but right now you hated every single disgusting second of it.

“Jason, I can’t do this! I can’t—“

“No, no, we can get out of this. I promise.”

“I can’t listen to another one of your stupid lies.”

“I’m not lying, I’m telling you the truth. Please believe me.” He leaned in. Gently nudging his forehead to yours.

“I gave up everything to be here with you.” You choked out. Your body and mind confused at what to consider sincere and the want to reciprocate his physical touch.

“I know, I know. But you have me. We have each other.” He gently whispered.

“But all of this.” You harshly spoke, looking at his bloodied armor. “This doesn’t involve me as much as you want to believe it does.”

You gasped, tears running down your face, removing parts of the red that stained your face.

“You didn’t wake up from the dead to come back to me. As much as I lie to myself everyday that you did.” You clawed at Jason, but his armor didn’t even scratch, no inch of skin visible beside his face.

You were out of breath. It was a miracle you were getting any words out.

“My Jason is gone—“ You cried, voice completely gone.

“I’m right here—“ Jason cooed. His eyebrows scrunching at you completely falling apart in front of him.

“My Jason is gone…he’s gone.” You weeped.

All anger and feeling in your muscles vanished, overcome with grief. Something you had pushed down, that you never fully processed until Jason had come back.

Broken, but in one piece.

It was a miracle, but he always felt off. Like something in your ears was whispering that he wasn’t real.

And it was right.

He wasn’t the real Jason.

Not the way you knew him.

But he was here.

He was holding you.

Tick.

In shaky hesitancy, you reached up.

Slowly embracing the man who had betrayed you. Who was planning something so atrocious you couldn’t fathom the scale of it.

Your legs shook from the cold floor, but you held onto Jason, equally as cold.

With numb fingers, you tightly held on.

You felt him cusp the back of your head.

The blood that wasn’t his smeared onto you. A physical seal that you were joining in on the sins of this man, this awful, awful man.

You squeezed him, closing your eyes.

Tick.

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #jason todd #red hood #writing

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 8 months ago

Text

masterlist ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

hi hello welcome to my blog!

my name's kavi! i'm from india! i'm a writer, and i really enjoy writing for all my desi readers. i've been writing fanfictions only for the f1 drivers right now, but i may expand my fandoms eventually!

i'm a huge fan of tangled and how to train your dragon. i enjoy reading romance. i'm a published author. i have a doggo. i am mentally ill and neurodivergent but i'm bisexual, so it cancels out (it’s a joke, guys. tho, i am all three of those things). i have also added my most favourite playlist if any of y'all wanna enjoy!

this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :) i don't write smut. it's something that i haven't tried writing before, and i am not sure when i'll be comfortable enough to write it, so please don't send me requests for smut! i will be posting thrice a week, on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays!

i do want to make one thing clear though, i may be a lando norris, oscar piastri, carlos sainz fan, and i may defend them with my life, but i will not tolerate any disrespect for any of the drivers’ skills. i’ve recently become anti-charles, i respect him as a driver, not as a person, and while i will try my best to keep it to a minimum, i will also have it clearly marked in the tags, and it will not stop me from writing charles rpf. i do want this to be a safe space for everyone, but please be aware that this blog is my safe space first and i will share my opinions the way i like. f1 beginners are free to ask me any sort of questions they have, and i’ll do my best to answer them as accurately as possible.

desi f1 community ✮⋆˙

my works ☄. *. ⋆

𐙚 ao3

⭒ birds of a feather (we didn’t stick together) [jenson button/mark webber + lando norris & oscar piastri]

☾ ln4

⭒ khichdi (desi!reader + fluff)

⭒ aakhon mein teri (desi!reader + smau)

⭒ comfort (fluff + comfort)

⭒ postcards (fluff)

⭒ superstitions pt1 pt2 (desi!reader + fluff)

⭒ crazy ex (fluff + humour?)

⭒ curling iron pt1 pt2 (fluff + humour again? + smau)

⭒ tumne jo kahaa (desi!reader + fluff)

⭒ desi girl (desi!reader + fluff + smau)

⭒ through their eyes (fluff)

⭒ big, fat indian wedding (desi!reader + fluff + humour)

⭒ light of life (desi!reader + fluff + humour + smau)

⭒ sweaty opportunities (fluff + humour + smau)

⭒ hard launching (fluff + humour)

⭒ sajda (desi!reader [can be read by non-desis] + angst + fluff)

⭒ hair (fluff)

⭒ winning hug (fluff + smau)

⭒ national jijaji (smau + desi!reader)

⭒ hickey! (fluff + humour + desi!reader)

⭒ peace (smau)

⭒ girlfriend? wife? (fluff)

⭒ thursday nights (fluff + humour + desi!reader)

⭒ swades (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ flowers (fluff)

⭒ jamaai ghar aaye (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ gora pakora (humour + desi!reader)

⭒ makar sankranti (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ dedicated to (fluff + humour)

⭒ bar hopping (fluff + humour + desi!reader)

⭒ comfort (fluff)

⭒ case dismissed (mafia!lando)

⭒ fangirling and finances (fluff + humour)

⭒ kintu shob theek hoye jabe (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ that type of dad (fluff)

⭒ sticker book (fluff)

⭒ heard it's good luck (fluff)

⭒ commitment (angst)

𖤓 cs55

⭒ greatest victory (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ cultural observer (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ seal of approval (fluff + desi!reader)

☁︎ op81

⭒ crashes and clicks (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ just pure feeling (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ pub rivalry (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ i fucked up (angst + fluff)

⭒ uncultured (fluff + desi!reader)

✪ gr63

⭒ bad days blanket fort (fluff)

ʚɞ mv33

⭒ swear words (desi!reader + fluff)

⭒ no words (fluff + kinda wholesome)

⭒ rub it in my face (fluff + desi!reader)

⭒ burn it all down (fluff + slight angst + mafia au)

⭒ dilliwali girlfriend (fluff + desi!reader)

彡 cl16

⭒ through their eyes (fluff)

⭒ only wedding (fluff + desi!reader)

𖤓 carlando

⭒ his heart (hurt/comfort + angst)

⭒ light (comfort)

❀ landoscar

⭒ number one driver (all angst)

lando norris

✧.* miami 05.05.2024

✧.* dutch 25.08.2024

✧.* singapore 22.09.2024

✧.* abu dhabi 08.12.2024

✧.* australia 16.03.2025

carlos sainz

☁︎ silverstone 03.07.2022

☁︎ singapore 17.09.2023

☁︎ australia 24.03.2024

☁︎ mexico 27.10.2024

#f1 #formula 1 #masterlist #prompt list #send me requests #lando norris #max verstappen #Spotify #oscar piastri #carlos sainz

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starconstruction · 14 days ago

Text

The Sweetest Peach

yeah this isnt exactly original

Minjeong x Male Reader (Smut)

tags: oral (f-receiving), kitchen sex, table sex, creampie.

Word Count: 1216

You and Minjeong had somewhat of a running gag with peaches. It all started in a market where there was some discounted ones, a strange beginning.

You two bought way too many, ate way too much, shared the food together in an act of love.

You couldn't explain how that lead into Minjeong and you going around to try everything peach related in town.

You couldn't explain how you two now had a dedicated peach drawer.

Just one of those things.

The joke escalated a bit, when she was given creative control of what hair color she wanted it was obvious, choosing to dye it instead of wearing a wig. Transforming into a light orange, draping over her back, she looked beautiful and sweet.

But despite every peach you've tried, none could compare to Minjeong's, easily the thickest, juiciest, sweetest and tastiest you have ever sampled.

It was one you had sampled many a time, in many a location. From the comfort of your own bed to the forest, wherever you were hungry she was inviting.

Today was one of those former days, kind of. Instead choosing to pick a more thematically appropriate location to enjoy her "peach". In the kitchen, bent over the black top counter. A bottle of peach flavored water knocked over by her arm. It wasn't her fault, you were needy and accidentally pushed her into it.

"Damn Minjeong you have such a nice 'peach'." You stated, kissing her ass cheeks with while also licking the skin, to properly enjoy her you needed to take it slow. Her underwear was dropped on the floor, laying next to the washing machine, with how wet she already was it was just being practical.

"Yeah? How about you have a taste?" She gloated, but you had better ideas, going for her pussy first, tongue dragging itself from the top to the bottom. Enjoying her sweetness, a gift to be cherished. Going up and down, the feeling of warm silk against your lips. Giving eager licks to her juicy flesh, "Mmh, eat my pussy that's a good tongue."

Minjeong moans were soft whimpers, full of desperation, breathy and so sexy. "God, I can't get enough of this taste." You gasped, rubbing your face against her folds, slurping every inch of your girlfriend. "Just need more and more." You stopped acting polite, running your tongue between her slit, her musky scent driving you insane.

"Have more, take as much as you want!" She was obedient to your touch, pushing herself against your mouth, "Fuck yes!" You gave her more, sticking your tongue inside her sweet pussy, tongue fucking her with pure hunger. "Oh! FUCK!" Minjeong's composure was being replaced by complete and unbridled lust. But you would take it further, make her fall apart.

And you wanted to watch it unfold, pulling away from a whining Minjeong as you turned her around. She got the memo, jumping up on the counter, legs dangling until you put them on your shoulders, pulling her closer to the edge, reuniting her puffy lips with your mouth, eyes looking up at Minjeong's face, her lip swollen from her intently she bit down, eyes begging for more through the thin veil her orange hair had made. "You want more? Want to cum on my tongue?" You asked, breathing hot air against her desperate clit. Feeling her body spasm in surprise.

"Yeah! Eat me out, I need your tongue!" She wasn't shy to vocalize her wishes, nor were you shy to give in. Sloppily lapping her juices up once more, eyes occasionally looking up at her, she looked down at you, blushing.

"Rub your clit for me." You murmured, Minjeong was quick to comply. Fingers reaching down and rubbing circles, you two worked in tandem to bring Minjeong to orgasm. Getting messy with it, she moaned louder and louder, grinding herself against your face, she was so close to cumming, body shaking as the coil inside her snapped.

"Oh fuck!" She gasped, her thighs closing around your face, you let her ride it out. Tongue licking up and down while she came back to earth. Minjeong sat there, the counter was absolutely going to need a wash, but that's laters problem. You didn't have your fill of her yet, needing a taste of her peach.

"I'm not finished with you, on the table." You said, watching her limp over onto the dining table, the place you eat many meals on, sharing with her, this was no different. Watching her lay down over the big wooden surface, her ass laid just in reach as you sat down on a chair giving a preliminary spank to it. Grabbing thick handfuls of her flesh, licking her inner cheeks as they had started to collect sweat, saltiness forming on your tongue.

"Hmm, you tease." She said, feeling the way you caressed her body, thick where it counted. Tongue dipping against her pit, licking the puckered hole, she gasped in glee when you licked up and down, giving another healthy slap and another. The sound rattling against the walls, "Ooh." She whimpered.

You circled her asshole, rimming it for all it's worth, fingers reaching around to her pussy. Moving in sync with your tongue, feeling the way she squeezed around you. Getting her warmed up for your cock, your tongue flicked against her backdoor, enjoying the next few minutes of vigorous ass eating.

Eventually you couldn't handle it anymore, needing to get inside her, dropping your clothes, perhaps you had too much trust in your furniture. Climbing on the table, pushing her legs open as your cock rubbed against her wet lips, pushing inside her tightening cunt. Words couldn't describe every sensation you felt, soft, wet, warm. She felt perfect.

"God Minjeong, your pussy..." You moaned, she would have chuckled at your inability to form words, but she wasn't holding up any better. Being ravaged by your cock, her hair completely sprawled over the table as she took everything from the back.

"Ugh! Keep fucking pounding! Faster!" She demanded in between half moans, you complied, the excitement only amplifying by the shaking ground beneath you. Every table leg rattling under the pressure, the noise of skin slapping rang out, her moans rapid and desperate. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" She moaned out, "Fuck!"

"God! You feel so tight!" You praised, hand swatting her cheeks, listening to her yells. "Cum for me!" You said, losing your rhythm, using her body for your own pleasure.

"Shittt! I'm gonna cum, keep fucking going!" She begged, head falling into the shaking table, being fucked stupid, her orgasm catching up with her. A freight train, you two chanted "fucks" like a sailor, feeling her tighten around you, you couldn't go any longer, lightning ripping through your body. Bottoming out inside Minjeong's inviting pussy, shooting rope after rope of your seed into her while she came undone, creaming around you.

When you pulled out, your semen dripped onto the table, making a mess everywhere. Gingerly getting down as you two laid on the cool kitchen floor, catching your breath. "God, Minjeong that was incredible." You gasped, breathing in her sweaty neck.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be sore, fuck." She replied, looking up to the roof. "Wanna go shower?" You nodded.

Minjeong truly was the sweetest peach of them all.

#male reader #kpop x reader #smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #girl group smut #aespa winter smut #aespa smut #aespa fanfic #winter smut #min #minjeong smut

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elryuse · 3 months ago

Text

Press Record

Julie X Male Reader

Tags : Record Sex, Naughty, Romance, Obsession, Cowgirl, Sweaty

Words : 2,813 Words

This Fic Is Dedicated to My Friend @Pizza_anon. Thanks once again For the Commission My Friend. I hope You Guys enjoyed it.

The first time Julie glanced my way, I felt it like a jolt of electricity. Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto mine across the crowded dining hall. For a split second, her infectious smile flickered, replaced by something darker, more predatory. I should’ve looked away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. That was my first mistake.

“You’re new, right?” she said, sliding into the seat across from me like she owned it. Her voice was low, teasing, and carried an edge that made my stomach twist. “I’m Julie. You’ve probably heard of me.”

I had. Everyone had. Julie wasn’t just a name; she was a reputation. The girl you didn’t cross, the girl who could turn your life into a minefield with a single smirk. But up close, she was magnetic—her messy dark hair, the way she leaned forward like she was about to share a secret, the faint scent of cherry lip gloss that made my pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice steady despite the knot in my chest. “I’ve heard.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Then you know not to waste my time.”

She stayed for exactly three minutes, just long enough to leave me flustered and confused, before disappearing back into the crowd. But that was just the beginning. Julie had a way of inserting herself into my life, like a storm I didn’t see coming. She’d show up at parties, corner me in hallways, and text me at random hours with messages that ranged from ”You’re cute when you’re nervous” to ”Don’t make me come find you.”

And then there was the night at her friend’s party. The night she pulled me into a bedroom, locked the door, and whispered, “Let’s film it,” like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and I should’ve said no. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because when Julie looked at me like that, with those piercing eyes and that devilish smile, I wasn’t just a target—I was something she wanted. And that was all it took.

Now, we’re alone in my dorm room, the air thick with tension. My roommate’s out for the evening, and Julie’s perched on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, toe tapping idly against the floor. She’s wearing a leather jacket that’s too big for her, making her look smaller, more vulnerable. But I know better. Julie’s always in control.

“Let me film you,” she says, her voice low and steady, devoid of the teasing tone she usually uses. This isn’t a joke anymore. It’s a demand.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Julie…”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me,” she interrupts, leaning forward so her face is inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my skin, and I can smell the faint hint of coffee on her lips. “You know you want to. You always do.”

“It’s not just about what I want,” I try, but she cuts me off with a sharp laugh.

“Bullshit. It’s always about what you want. You just won’t admit it.” Her hand finds my thigh, her fingers digging in just enough to make me wince. “You like it when I push you. You like it when I take control. Don’t act like you don’t.”

I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Because she’s not wrong. Not even close. There’s something about Julie—the way she challenges me, the way she makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has—that I can’t resist. It’s dangerous, intoxicating, and I know it’s going to end badly. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But just this once.”

Her smirk returns, and she pulls her phone from her pocket, setting it up on the dresser with the camera angled perfectly. “That’s what you said last time,” she teases, sliding her jacket off and tossing it to the floor. “And the time before that.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I watch as she climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap with practiced ease. Her hands find my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s see how loud I can make you,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.

And then she’s kissing me, hard and demanding, her tongue sliding against mine as her hips grind against me. I lose myself in the sensation, my hands gripping her waist as she takes control, her movements confident and relentless. I can feel the heat building between us, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost unbearable.

“Julie,” I groan, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. She responds with a low hum, her nails dragging down my chest as she breaks the kiss, her eyes locking onto mine.

“Say it,” she demands, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want you.”

Her smile is wicked, triumphant, and she leans in to kiss me again, her hands tangling in my hair as she moves against me. The sound of our breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft creak of the bedsprings as she takes what she wants, leaving me helpless to resist.

And then she pulls back, her eyes glittering with mischief as she glances at the camera. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Before I can respond, she’s moving again, her hips grinding against mine in a way that makes my breath catch.

“Julie,” I gasp, my hands tightening on her hips as I feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’m on the edge. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, and I know she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants.

“That’s it,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry as she leans in close, her lips brushing against mine. “Let me see you come undone.”

I don’t last much longer after that. The tension snaps, and I’m lost in the sensation, my hands gripping her hips as I spill inside her. She doesn’t stop, her movements slowing but not stopping as she rides out the aftershocks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice soft and satisfied as she leans in to kiss me. But before I can respond, she’s pulling away, reaching for the camera and turning it off. “Now,” she says, her smirk returning, “let’s see who’s brave enough to ask what happened tonight.”

I watch as she slips her jacket back on, her movements casual and unhurried, like we didn’t just… like this wasn’t… I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind, but Julie’s already at the door, her hand on the knob.

“Same time next week?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that’s equal parts sweet and dangerous.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because we both know I’ll be here just waiting for her. And she’d love that more than anything…. “You’re not that hard to figure out,” she smirks, turning the door open and walking out with not a care in the world.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the dorm room. My heart was still racing, my mind a chaotic swirl of desire, guilt, and something dangerously close to obsession. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to feel. All I knew was that Julie had left her mark on me—again—and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to scrub it away.

The next week passed in a blur. I tried to focus on classes, on friends, on anything other than the promise of her return. But it was no use. Everywhere I looked, I saw her—her smirk, her eyes, her lips. She haunted me, even when she wasn’t there. And then, just like she said, she came.

It was late. The dorm room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, when the door flew open without warning. Julie stood in the doorway, her hair a mess, her eyes red and puffy. She looked wild, unpredictable, and more dangerous than ever. I froze, unsure of what to say, but before I could even think to ask what was wrong, she was on me.

“He fucking cheated on me,” she spat, her voice shaking with anger as she slammed the door shut behind her. “That piece of shit had the nerve to lie to my face, and I believed him. I actually fucking believed him.” Her hands were trembling, her chest heaving with every breath. She looked broken, but also furious—like a wounded animal ready to lash out.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before she was in my face, her hands gripping the front of my shirt. “Do you know how that feels?” she demanded, her voice rising. “To give someone everything and have them throw it back in your face like it’s nothing?”

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off.

“No. Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word.” Her eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she kissed me. Hard. Her lips crashed against mine, desperate and angry and raw. I could taste the salt of her tears, the bitter tang of her rage. She wasn’t asking for comfort. She was taking what she needed.

Her hands were everywhere—pulling at my clothes, clawing at my skin. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. There was something electric about her in that moment, something that made me forget everything except the feel of her body against mine. She pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me with a ferocity that took my breath away.

“You’re going to make me forget him,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “You’re going to make me forget everything.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. She was a storm, and I was caught in her chaos. Her hands tugged at the waistband of my pants, and within seconds, they were on the floor. She didn’t bother with finesse or foreplay. She was too angry, too desperate. She straddled me, her thighs pressing against my hips, and I could feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of her skirt.

“Julie—” I started again, but she didn’t let me finish.

“Shut up,” she growled, her hands gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re just going to take it.”

And then she was on me, sliding down onto me with a gasp that sounded more like a cry of pain than pleasure. She didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t give either of us time to adjust. She just moved, her hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that was as punishing as it was intoxicating. She was fucking me, but it didn’t feel like sex. It felt like revenge.

Her nails dug into my chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was crying again, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or pain or something else entirely. Her body tightened around me, and I could feel every shudder, every tremor, every flicker of emotion that she was trying to drown out.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re fucking mine.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think. I just let her take what she needed, gave her what I could. Her body was slick with sweat, her skin hot against mine. The air in the room was thick, heavy, charged with raw, unspoken emotion. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear, and I could feel her breath, warm and shaky.

“I hate him,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I hate him so much.”

And then she was coming, her body tightening around me in a way that made my vision blur. I followed her over the edge, unable to hold back any longer. She collapsed on top of me, her breathing ragged, her forehead pressed against my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I wasn’t sure if it was over, or if this was just another pause in the storm.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine, and for the first time since she’d walked in, she looked vulnerable. “Don’t ever lie to me,” she said, her voice soft but deadly serious. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to do. She stared at me for a moment longer, her eyes searching mine, and then she leaned in and kissed me. It was softer this time, slower, but there was still an edge to it—a reminder that she was in control, that she always would be.

“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips, and then she was pulling away, her body slipping off mine. She reached for her skirt, pulling it back on with quick, practiced movements. She didn’t look at me as she dressed, her face a mask of determination.

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “Just don’t.”

And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence once again. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with the memory of her. I didn’t know what had just happened, or what it meant. All I knew was that Julie had blown through my life like a hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake, and I was already craving the next storm.

The first time she left, I thought it was over.

The second time, I knew better.

Julie had always been like this-hot, cold, here, gone. She never stuck around long enough to let things settle, never gave me a chance to ask what any of this meant. Maybe that's why I let it happen. Because I knew if I tried to hold onto her, she'd slip right through my fingers.

But she kept coming back.

The first time was a week after that night. My phone lit up at 2 a.m. with a single message.

Unlock your door.

And like an idiot, I did.

She didn't say a word when she slipped inside.

Just pulled me into her, fingers curling in my hair, mouth already on mine like she'd been starving for it. She never let me ask questions, never let me talk about what we were doing. She took what she wanted, and I let her.

It became a pattern.

Julie would vanish for days, sometimes weeks, and just when I started to think maybe I was finally free of her, she'd find her way back. A text. A knock on my door. A hand on my wrist when she caught me in the hallway between classes, her grip just tight enough to let me know she still had a hold on me.

And every time, I let her in.

Every time, I let her ruin me a little more.

But something was different now.

The first time she left, I thought she was running from me. Now, I wasn't so sure.

She started lingering after.

Not much-just a few minutes longer, just long enough to catch her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. Just long enough to notice the way she hesitated before pulling her clothes back on, like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Just long enough for me to start wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was getting addicted, too.

Then one night, everything changed.

I wasn't expecting her. It had been two weeks since I'd last seen her, and I was finally starting to believe she was done with me for good. And then, out of nowhere, she was at my door, pounding so hard it made the walls shake.

When I opened it, she pushed past me without a word, her hair a mess, her hands trembling.

"Julie-"

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice unsteady. "Just -just let me stay."

And for the first time, she didn't touch me.

She didn't rip my clothes off, didn't press her lips to my skin. She just climbed into my bed, curled into herself, and closed her eyes.

And I knew, then and there, that I wasn't the only one craving the next storm.

She was, too.

And maybe-just maybe-this time, she was afraid of it.

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #kpop smut #julie #kiof #kiss of life #kiss of life smut #kiss of life julie #obsession #recording #press #record #kiss #love #romance

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hazelsmirrorball · 8 months ago

Text

And they were roommates | F1 Drivers

summary: y/n wanted to live in New York, so that's how she ended up living with three losers faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader, lando norris x fem! reader, Logan Sargent x fem!reader, franco colapinto x fem!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language. this is inspired by new girl

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yourusername can someone pick me up? I don't think I can live with them anymore

tagged: @logansargent @oscarpiastri @landonorris

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logansargent we look really hot with our shades on!! But why the hell are Oscar and Lando wearing ur bras?

yourgirlbestfriend omg!! I thought you were joking when you said they used trash cans as pools in ur balcony

-> yourusername nothing is a joke when it comes to them

landonorris shoes off the couch! I sleep there

-> yourusername boo you whore

francolapinto you look so cute :)

-> yourusername omg im blushing

-> logansargent she really is blushing btw

-> yourusername delete this!

-> landonorris @oscarpiastri are you seeing this? isn't this ur girl

-> yourusername stop cockblocking me

-> oscarpiastri We are just friends.

-> landonorris but you wish you were more

-> yourusername do you guys know that private message exist

-> landonorris but I want your whole 100 followers to see that Oscar has a crush on you

-> oscarpiastri I do not.

-> <-

Logan and Y/n stood in front of the tv as the Zumba routine played at full volume. The clock read 4:30 am as the pair tried following the middle aged woman in front of them. Logan skipped in a circle moving his dumbbells side to side. As Y/n hollered when the woman on the TV would ask if they were hype. Oscar, being tired from the night before he could hear the pair having the time of their lives with the zumba. He quickly slipped on some pants not bothering to put on a shirt while walking down the stairs rubbing the tiredness of his eyes. When Oscar finally got to the bottom of the stairs he quickly got flashed with Logan’s short shorts.

“Oh, Oscar, are you joining us?” Logan said, turning to him as he placed the dumbbells down taking a sip from his water. Y/n also turned jogging in place smiling at Oscar.

“I thought you guys were doing that dancing class” Oscar said as he yawned looking at the pair thinking that the clothes they had on was a cause of his imagination and lack of sleep.

“Yeah, dummy. What do you think we are doing? This is a dancing class. We are doing Zumba. Logan found a cheap disk at a thrift store and he also found these sick outfits so we are matching with the ladies on the tv” Y/n responded stretching her wrist warmers.

“Yeah, we are getting ripped”

“I thought you guys meant you were going to the gym and that they were offering the class. It's four in the morning guys. That stupid song is driving me insane” Oscar said glaring at the pair as he leaned against the wall. Logan groaned, throwing his head back as Y/n raised an eyebrow at him.

“You are certainly not invited to our pilates mom group”

“Logan, you are not a mother. Neither of you are”

“Well with all you bitching and moaning, I should be”

Lando pushed open the apartment door after having one to many drinks at the club he looked at Y/n and Logan and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Are you guys supposed to be John Travolta and Jaime Lee Curtis?”

-> <-

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landonorris I just noticed that my whole camera roll is dedicated to my loser roommates. I need a life.

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yourusername mom! I swear I don't drink

-> landonorris babe don't lie. those white claws are on ur side of the fridge

-> yourusername those white claws aren't mine, that's Logan side of the fridge

-> logansargent I hope none of you are touching my white claws

yourusername Oscar is such a nerd

-> oscarpiastri Hey! I have instagram.

-> logansargent surprisingly

-> <- Y/n pulled Franco Colapinto’s arm as she quietly tried to sneak him out of the apartment without waking her roommates up. Franco’s clothes hung loosely on her body as she shushed him for what felt like the one hundredth time. As they were almost near the exit, Lando turned on the light with a huge grin on his face.

“Is this supposed to be his walk of shame?”

“Lando shut up and go to be” Y/n replied through gritted teeth, as Franco stood in front of the door awkwardly.

“I will not shut up. This is the first time you bring a guy home. Honestly I am so proud of you. I was worrying that I was the only one bringing people to the apartment. But now I don’t feel as bad.” Lando said walking up to them and wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders.

“Lando, you literally bring two people daily. I think you should feel bad.”

“No because, this is different. Wait until Osar finds out. Hold up, this means you are not a virgin anymore. Oh my God my kids are growing up.”

“Lando, I wasn’t a virgin”

“That’s what I am saying, Did he..Oh God. Oscar! Oscar, come here”

The three of you guys stare at each other in silence while oscar quickly walks into the kitchen looking at the trio. He looked Franco up and down, quickly turning to Lando

“What”

“Did you know, Y/n isn’t a virgin anymore?”

“I know”

“You know?!”

“Who did you took it?”

-> <-

yourusername via insta stories! landonorris via insta stories!

-> <-

The four of roommates sat on the couch quietly scrolling on their phones. They have been like that for like for an hour. The peaceful silence had broke when Lando gasped loudly.

“You guys remember that we agreed on doing a group costume”

“No one agreed to do a group costume”

“No, you guys did!”

“You said, we should do a group costume for Charles halloween party and we didn’t answer”

“Anyways, as I was saying, I saw a tik tok of some roommates that dressed as the main south park characters and that would be perfect for us. Logan can be Kyle, Y/n can be Stan, OScar can be Catman and I can be Kenny” Logan said while showing them the tiktok on his phone. Y/n laughed and turned to Logan.

“You being Kenny is insane”

“Why?”

“Oscar should be Kenny and you should be Cartman” Y/n responded as if it were obvious.

“Stop defending your boyfriend. I don’t want to be Cartman”

“Lando. You are literally Cartman”

“ I am not! I already bought the costumes in our sizes so shut up”

“Wait, why did my card got charged”

-> <-

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oscarpiastri I am never saying yes for a 4th of July party.

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yourusername who is that lady in the last picture, she is quite attractive

landonorris I look so good in this pic, what the fuck

logansargent oscars active era?

charlesleclerc I think I missed a chapter, what's up with that last picture

-> landonorris I don't even know what's going on, I thought the little guy that flirts was still in the picture

-> francolapinto i am taller than you

Francolapinto invite me next time

-> oscarpiastri No.

-> <-

“Damn it! Everyone to the bathroom right now!” Logan yelled, making everyone enter the small shared bathroom. Logan gripped on his towel showing it to the group. “Is someone playing a joke on me? Honestly, why is my towel still damp?”

“Because that’s not your towel, Logan. It’s my towel” Lando responded, pointing at the blue towel he was holding. Logan looked at Lando with fear.

“No it’s not. Your towel is the red one. It always has been the red one”

“I'll tell you this, pal. I've never used that. I do use that one every single day.”

“Oh, God.” Logan said, gagging.

‘This towel's so warm and fluffy. It's like it's been in the sun forever.” Y/n said, touching the red towel.

“This means you two have been drying your junk with the same towel.” Oscar commented, trying to escalate the situation.

“Intimate.”

“Are you out of your mind?! What do you mean, am I... How do you think this is your towel? Do you even wash it?” Logan asked, trying to not get worked up, which he was failing miserably.

“No, I don't wash the towel; the towel washes me. Who washes a towel?” Lando responded matter of factly while the others looked at him shocked.

“You never wash?”

“You wash your towel?”

“You never wash the towel?”

“What am I going to do? Wash the shower next? Wash a bar of soap? You got to think here, pal.” Lando said, rolling his eyes.

“I'm furious right now.”

“ I get out of the damn shower, I'm clean as a damn baby, and I use the towel.”

“Let me ask you this. Have you been wearing my underpants” Logan asked as his eye twitch.

“Sometimes, yeah. Who cares? You guys don't wear each other's underpants? You're lying. We all wear each other's underwear.”

-> <-

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logansargent loving my roommates (excluding the little one)

tagged: @yourusername @oscarpiastri @landonorris

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landonorris the little one?! y/n is the little one. I am taller than her

-> yourusername oh shut up short king

-> logansargent take away the king

-> yourusername short

-> logansargent short

-> carlosainz short

-> oscarpiastri short

-> alexalbon short

-> georgerussell short

-> francolapinto short

oscarpiastri you are so American, im scared

-> <-

“I want to see who got podium!” Oscar said through his headset grinning, while lando scoffed.

“I obviously got podium, did you not see my hard work out there? I for certain won” Lando replied hitting the table in front of him. As the screen went black.

They all had been like that for the past two hours and none of them had gotten podium. So they had come up with a group strategy for at least one of them to come on top. When the screens comes back up lando yells angrily while Logan groans.

“You guys didn’t give me five starts!”

“Come on, Lando! We can’t all be on the podium” Y/n replied from her room through the headset.

“You are such and ass. My outfit was better than your. Fuck! The theme was Main Character, you did a basic outfit, while I actually played the game correctly and did Sharpay Evans. It pisses me off that I lost. Like this game is dress to impress. Not dress to be mediocre. I am done”

logansargent via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories!

-> <-

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yourusername apartment 512 got a doggy!

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charlesleclerc now our doggies can have a doggy date

-> landonorris I don't want my dog near your dog, leclerc

logansargent why did we also get pictures of you and Oscar? what happen to that handsome guy

landonorris if you guys are together don't you dare break up because we have a lease together, thanks x

alexalbon since when is Oscar this happy

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oscarpiastri my favorite roommate

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landonorris I didn't get a post for my birthday

logansargent I think we are out of the loop what is happening

alexalbon Oscar is in his active era. I am afraid

yourusername love you, Osc.

logansargent you guys can't leave me alone with lando if you move out!

#oscar pastri smau #oscar pastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #lando norris x reader #lando norris #logan sargent fluff #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #landoscar

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elbiotipo · 2 years ago

Text

Said it in the tags of another post, but I hate, really hate, those posts that are like "we shouldn't explore the ocean there are Scary Things down there uwu", yes, we should not let random rich tourists tour historical tragedy sites in shoddily made submarines, but ocean exploration by scientists using proper tools and attitudes is vital to understanding our planet and expanding our knowledge about the world, not to mention very, very cool

Even if it's a joke, to me it's just plain anti-intellectualism disguised as a joke, like "I don't care about this stuff and neither should you" well guess what, I care, lots of people do and they dedicate their lives to understanding how our world works

why are you afraid of the unknown? cringe and fail hp lovecraft ass thinking.

#cosas mias #ocean

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months ago

Text

Heat Of The Moment

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A little gift for an anon who missed hubby and wife 💖 EDIT because I am forgetful as hell: Also dedicated to gorgeous hubby-enthusiast @javierpena-inatacvest because i rant in her DMs.

Summary: You come home after a night out.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Yearning, domestic, drunk sex, creampie, breeding kink undertones, teasing, banter, kisses

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63594517

Heat Of The Moment

You sigh in relief as you enter your and Javier’s home after a night out on the town, replacing the busy atmosphere of the restaurant with the soft hum of your shared home. The two of you had been invited out for a Friday night dinner by Connie and Steve, every expense paid by them, to celebrate a night without children. It hadn’t been long before Javier had made sure that Chucho was babysitting until Saturday.

You have been enchanted all evening by watching your husband converse genuinely and happily for hours out of the corner of your eye, in the meantime trying to keep up with the lively chatter from Connie who gave you a certain look when you were staring at him for too long. Who could blame you? Javier always looks good in these kinds of situations, enticing in the way he can charm his way through dinner parties and government meetings with authority or a smile.

As you hang up your coat alongside Javier, you can still feel the four glasses of wine lingering in your veins. You are a little more giggly in your buzzed state, a little more relaxed, flirty, and up for mischief.

It comes out by establishing a certain electricity in the air between you and Javier when you finally are alone together. You do it by brushing your hand along the back of his neck as you walk past him to take your heels off by the console table, using it for support.

Words are not necessary here. Everything is between the lines. Implicit. It is an invitation to more, a way of telling him that you’ve only had eyes for him the whole night despite being in the company of friends. It is one of the things that makes the two of you so great, the thrill of finding each other the most sexy when doing the most ordinary of things like smiling over a glass of wine when someone says a terrible joke.

Javier knows he doesn’t need to say much. He finds you with your palm splayed on top of the console table, one foot lifted off the ground to peel off your stiletto. He watches how the fabric of your cocktail dress tightens as you move, the way it sits around your thigh and your hips as you bend your knee. He doesn’t think you could look more inviting than now, perfectly gorgeous in your quest to dress down to the point where he feels a flicker of desire. Those hips have carried his beautiful son and his wonderful daughter. He must have you.

You smile tiredly at him as he steps closer, already halfway to getting down on one knee and reaching out to help you out of your footwear. He grabs your calf in his sure, warm, and calloused palm, and takes over the task without question or hesitation as if he has done this a thousand times before. It is only because he has; he knows your body’s weight, knows how to keep you upright when you lean into him and he eases off the shoe.

You have noticed by now that he has caught onto your subtle foreplay. Your heartbeat is a little faster and not just from the alcohol coursing through your body. Heat swirls in your belly too, making you bite your lip while you feel his fingers brush your bare ankles before letting the shoes drop to the floor with a soft thud one by one.

The fate of the moment is decided next when he starts straightening to his full height once more and lets his hands skim up your legs as he does it. He moves like a man who has waited all night for this. Like a man who doesn’t need to ask, a man who already knows the answer is yes. It is what each glance exchanged across the dinner table and what every seemingly casual touch that lingered just a second too long has led up to tonight.

His hands continue up till they reach the hem of your dress, gathering it in a secure grip so he can drag it up over your thighs, hitching it up higher and higher over your hips until your panties are exposed to the air in the room. Your cunt throbs impatiently, leaving the fabric clinging to it damp.

Reading your desperation, his hands find the back of your thighs and he effortlessly lifts you up onto the table along the wall. You settle on the edge with a little difficulty, the material not made for a person sitting on it with their full weight. It creaks in complaint and when you shift to steady yourself, you accidentally knock over the wooden bowl displayed on the side.

It tips dramatically until it falls off the edge, car keys and spare change scattered all over the floor not a second later. The two of you freeze for just a second at the clattering noises echoing in the quiet house, but then breathless, tipsy snickers bubble up in your throats.

But Javier’s laughter doesn’t last as long as yours. He catches a glimpse of your gorgeous thighs flexing as you giggle, the thought of them around his waist clouding out his amusement, his cock aching for it in his pants. It makes his laughter die down before yours but you follow suit when you notice the way his eyes are glazed over with how much he is burning for you.

Your hands find the back of his neck. You pull him in for a long-needed kiss, his mouth crashing into yours feverishly. It is unrestrained and hot, his hands running up the back of your calves until he can drag you flush against him by gripping the back of your knees. Beneath you, the legs of the table scrape against the floor.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls his hips once and he takes the opportunity to lick into yours until you both are tasting your smearing lipstick and the last glass of alcohol he had.

His kiss is searing and his body is warm underneath the fabric of his shirt. You reach and tug at the knot on his tie, pulling it loose so you can touch the skin underneath his collar directly. He breathes deeply in through his nose as you let your nails dance over the sensitive spots on his neck, swallowing down each content sigh you make while his hands go to work.

In response, his fingers dig into the waistband of your panties. Instinctively, you draw your hands away to grip the edge of the table to push yourself up so the fabric doesn’t snap when he starts dragging them down your thighs. After all, this pair is sexy, expensive ones that you don’t want to tear. They’re also already shiny where the fabric has stuck to you, a wet patch revealing just how ready you are to get fucked, bred, used by him by now.

He breaks the kiss to look down at them with you, making you breathe harder at the mere sight of him undressing your cunt that he’ll sink into soon. He draws back momentarily to roughly tug them over your knees. You kick them off when they dangle around your ankles, the pair of them landing next to the mess of household items on the floor.

With drunken haste, your fingers fumble for his belt then, still slightly clumsy from the wine buzzing in your bloodstream. You can feel how hard he is beneath his slacks, the thick girth of him straining against the front, and you don’t waste any time.

As soon as you have the belt unbuckled and the zipper down, your hand slips inside, wrapping firmly around him to stroke him just how he likes it. He makes a sound that has your already-fuzzy head swimming even more; a deep guttural groan that makes your whole pussy involuntarily clench with the need to be filled. Yet he isn’t about to let you tease him, too desperate to be inside of you that he takes action.

He reluctantly tugs at your wrist to remove your hand from his pants. However, he doesn’t actually complain, knows what is coming and it is worth a momentary frustration.

You watch him with the eyes of a siren, eyelids heavy and shiny with lust, as he nearly frantically shoves his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. Then he pulls at your thighs to wrap them around his waist, takes his cock in hand and—

You gasp softly as he pushes into you and automatically drape your arms around him too, clutching at his clothed back. The impact of his initial thrusts makes the table bang into the wall repeatedly, one of its drawers sliding open from the mere force.

He settles on a rhythm that is hard and fast. The way he takes you is urgent and so fucking good, the perfect culmination of a night where you have been wanting each other with every meeting of your eyes. He makes the open drawer rattle violently, makes your hand come up to brace yourself against the wall.

You feel so close to one another when you get it on in the heat of the moment. It is a testament to how well you fit together, reading subtle cues and mirroring your desires so you can do this, slot together like this like you were molded to do it for the rest of your lives. And you are. By the state of Texas and the universe, you are meant to share moments of love and lust until you are gone from this world and then Javier will find you in the afterlife too.

Your hand slips under his collar once more, cupping the side of his neck. He feels your thumb brush his cheek, finding your eyes that hold a look that makes him twitch inside of your perfect cunt. Your gaze is tender despite the roughness of what you’re doing, filled with love and so soft, and he marvels at how he is the only one who gets to have you like this. And God, you take him so well with your soft walls fluttering around his cock and squeezing so heavenly when he fucks you just right to make you feel like he is the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.

You can feel everything building fast, coiling tightly in the pits of your belly and mounting into something you simultaneously long for and find overwhelming. It swirls like lava below your belly button, soon at the point where it will erupt like fireworks. Javier can see your legs trembling in his peripheral vision but you just tighten the muscles in them and curl your toes, urging him to go harder by letting your head bump against the wall with a quiet thud, exposing your neck to him. You let out a high-pitched string of moans, nearly in time with the thudding of the table against the wall. The mixed noises make him give in without hesitation.

Leaning a little forward, he hooks his arms underneath your knees to spread you wider on the table, opening you up to him completely. The angle forces him even deeper with each slam of his hips, and the sound that erupts from your throat is high and breathless. Your other hand braces against the wall too, a plea falling from your lips.

He grabs at your thighs to hold you in place and makes sure that each thrust is precise and just where you need it, slamming against your g-spot until you see God. Your hands start to scramble, trying desperately to find something to hold onto because they’re slipping from the wall as you teeter on orgasm.

And then finally, you’re there and he can’t stop himself from joining you when you choke around his pulsing cock, milking him into your tight heaven and perhaps he’s put a baby into your belly. Fuck, he paints your insides with another rope of his warm release at the thought. He wants to kiss your pretty, crying mouth but he cannot will himself to lean in and miss the way you look when you come with him. You’re not just beautiful when you finish but you’re also his, and it makes him come so fucking hard.

In the aftermath, he slumps against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and listening to your panting. Your hands finally find purchase on the broadness of his back when he kisses your skin hot and open-mouthed right where your pulse still races. You stroke along his tired muscles, drunk and sated.

He says your name softly as you revel in the afterglow together. He can feel the way your walls clench weakly around him like your body hasn’t quite realized it is over yet. Like it still wants him. Like you still want him. He always wants you.

Slowly, he draws back and moves his hands up to hold your head in them. He kisses your mouth deeply, hears you inhale sharply through your nose as you open your mouth against his lips. He devours you, tongue sliding into your mouth to brush yours lazily. His softening cock slips from you and makes you whimper, makes you leak his come onto the wood of the side table.

His nose brushes along your throat when he breaks the kiss to breathe and descends on your neck instead, unable to keep his lips from your skin for too long. Your hands find his hair, your nails scratching his scalp gently while you’re just about to say something.

However you are interrupted by the noise of wood splintering and then the table tilting to one side, dropping at least an inch and taking you both by surprise. You let out a startled yelp and the sound makes Javier act on pure instinct, grabbing your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the floor.

For a second, you both freeze but then you laugh so freely and sweetly that he feels a lopsided grin spread across his face from how lovely you are.

“Think we killed it,” he murmurs, tone meant to be funny while still steadying you, the whole situation not any better with how your bottom halves are still naked.

“What?” You try to catch on in your slurred state, mind foggy with wine and sex, “Oh, yeah, we’re great at that.”

“The table, baby,” he clarifies and knocks on the wood to make you snicker, “Fuck, we really gotta stop fucking on things that aren’t built for it and actually reach the damn bed.”

“I want you again,” you say, distracted by his gorgeous neck and shoulders, unfazed and with a lazy grin playing on your lips. Javier groans, his spent cock moving in interest because a buzzed version of you always wants him. He is fighting the part of himself who knows better but still can’t say no to you. Clearly, your drunken mind still hasn’t figured out that it is best to move off furniture that’s hanging on by a thread instead of having sex again. The table creaks in complaint underneath you, threatening to collapse.

“Fuck, get down. Get down get down get down,” he rushes you when it drops another inch, trying to haul you off the surface but his legs are still shaking from orgasm.

Luckily, you slip off the table. The moment you’re on your feet again, the wobbly leg gives out completely and the whole thing tumbles to the ground with a loud crash. You shriek, half with delight and half with shock, but then you lose it, shaking with giggles in his arms. He tries to give you a stern look, the floor a mess of clutter, wooden pieces, your underwear, and come, but you just beam up at him.

“Fuck’s sake.”

“Hey, you’re the one who threw me onto it,” you peck his pouty lips, the tip of your nose against his and your eyes blinking comically innocent.

“And I’m the one who has to clean it up because you can’t handle your booze,” he snorts, absentmindedly reaching to carefully drag your skirt down again and then pulling his pants up afterward. You’re still clinging onto him but he finally detangles himself from your arms that feel like they belong to an octopus.

“Twisting of the truth,” you head for the kitchen, passing him with your hand gently brushing his shoulder while he is crouched down, albeit slightly wobbly due to that last whiskey at dinner, to pick things up from the floor. You seem unbothered, your bare feet stepping carefully over the mess of car keys, spare change, and the remains of your underwear.

He watches you leave the room, knowing you are probably dripping him onto the kitchen tiles but that’s a problem for tomorrow, for sober Javier. The floors need mopping anyway.

He hears the sound of the fridge door being opened and you rummaging through the snack drawers that are actually meant for your children. Then, without looking at you, he hears the smirk on your face, “You know, speaking of ruining furniture. We have a perfectly good kitchen counter.”

Javier barks out a laugh and touches his forehead in exasperation. You walk to stand in the doorway to the hallway, wiggling your fingers at him, a carrot stick stuck between each finger as if you’ve been thinking of Wolverine while you grabbed them from their container. It’s so stupid that your laughter bubbles up too.

It goes on for a while until a nice silence settles over you. You nibble on your snack and Javier picks wood splinters out of the cracks between the floorboards. The air in the house is still buzzing with heat, but it is tangled together with love too.

“I love you,” you say suddenly and sweetly, mid-chew.

“I love you more,” he replies with the softness that only you bring out of him.

“Impossible,” you feed him a carrot stick.

He takes it and chews for a moment, “Actually, no, because you just ruined the table in the hallway and I am still here.”

“Well, if we’re casting blame—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,” he warns smugly.

You glow, nearly sparkle, under his teasing, already off into another fit of giggles and God, Javier Peña could listen to it for hours. He is so completely and helplessly in love with you.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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