#Disgusting I hate black men right now at least this moment . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

novaqueenofmadness · 2 years ago

Text

Rich Coffee

summary: don’t you just hate it when unsolicited men follow you around? well i got the stuff just for you The Glare™️

tags: bucky, being followed and catcalled for a sec

a/n: ‘domnule’ means ‘sir’ as in “excuse me sir/mister” in Romanian. if it’s wrong or there’s a better way to say it please let me know

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' ★'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You had been walking in circles for a few minutes now. You could feel the moist night air dampening your scalp, making your skin feel sticky, and leaving a shiny thin layer of condensation on your jacket. Worst of all you knew you were about to be running late for your shift at the café but you couldn’t help it, this really isn’t your fault. There had been some men that had stopped you earlier in your walk, catcalling and insisting that “you just have to come have some drinks with us sweetheart.” You had declined, politely telling them you were busy (your skin crawling) and most of all not interested. Annoyingly enough some people just can’t take “no” for an answer. The café is nearby, you know that, but the last thing you wanted was for some annoying tourists to know where you work and come harass you there for the rest of the night and whenever else they would’ve felt like coming. So you resorted to taking the main street that had a good amount of people, and turning into other streets at random and looping back to the main one again but they were just not letting up. Desperate, sad, sad disgusting men. You could hear them chatting and chuckling to one another, it was three guys, and occasionally they’d holler something at you, either asking for you to reconsider getting drinks with them (they would pay for everything you wanted to have[as if]), or having the audacity to complain about how long the walk felt. If you weren’t being reminded that jail was a very real place and didn’t have yourself a promise of living out of pure spite you might’ve swung around and perhaps shanked someone but alas c’est la vie. On the other hand if it’s so fastidious to them they could oh i don’t know just leave and go back to your shitty bar ya know.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, felt it pulsating in your fingertips, heard it in your ears above all the people around you and making it quiet enough that your hearing just had to zero in on the men following you. You could hear their footsteps, every time they tripped and one of their friends helped them up laughing at them and standing them upright. There were enough people around that you felt safe but in any case you were uncomfortable and wanted them gone, for cheese sake Gabi was probably waiting on you to switch shifts and finally go home and get some sleep.

what do i do? i just want to go sit at the counter and get my paycheck. people have nothing better to do? do i call the po-? i know that jacket- oh! and i know that hat!

The thought suddenly hit you when you saw the fabric. It was that slightly worn out brown cotton with all the little scuffs, and even though its owner always had a different hoodie peeking from underneath it the black baseball cap he wore was always the same. Most recognizable of all, at least to you, was the slightly longer hair you’d spend hours wondering if it was as soft as it looked at the ends or maybe greasy from how much he wore that cap.

ok i don't know know him but better him than nothing right? right. with a deep breath you quickened your pace and with an enthusiastic approach announced yourself.

Bucky didn’t know why he decided now of all times was a good moment to take a walk. The streets were generously sprinkled with people out to enjoy whatever nightlife they could find, sitting, talking and drinking in and outside of restaurants and bars and eating from whichever vendor was successful in catching their attention. He had meant to go to the same café he would always go to at this time. It was well past midnight closer to what one may call a late night or a very early morning. As usual he couldn’t sleep, as if he ever could, and this café was quiet enough that he’d either read something to pass the time, write in his small journal (or go through it), or sometimes even doze off until it was closing time when the sun came up. The only reason Bucky hadn’t planted his bottom at his usual table right this second was because the barista on shift at the moment isn't the one he’s used to. Currently at the counter is the barista he knows is from the shift right before his preferred one (it’s not creepy he just likes to know things alright). While the barista on shift at the moment also has great customer service, Bucky knew they liked to chat with the customers a lot, something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. In contrast the barista that was usually at the café when he went in would give him his space, play the music at a softer volume and, surprisingly enough, managed to pick up on what music he tended to enjoy more. Above everything else they’d always announce themselves when they were bringing something to his table and he was distracted. Either by whistling to the tune of the music playing, saying “order up” before leaving the counter, and on the rare chance that he was napping, clinking the dishware as they approached his table. It helped with a lot of his anxiety and he was always thankful for it ever since they had caught him flinching that one time he was distracted thinking. They never brought it up or made it a talking point on the few times they had conversed with one another, but that they noticed and took it into consideration was something Bucky will remain grateful for. So maybe in actuality he does know why he’s walking around, but it's not because he’s hoping that by the time he does a round around the street the nice barista he prefers will be on shift when he’s back. Not at all and the Scarlet Witch isn’t here to prove otherwise. So ha.

Bucky will admit he was a tad bit distracted, and you should give him some credit, there’s dozens of footsteps all around as well as all the talking happening. So yes maybe he jumped a bit and went slightly ‘assassin mode’ when he heard,

“James! Hi honey i’m so sorry i’m so late, some people were holding me back” followed by someone, albeit reluctantly, wrapping their own arm around his bionic one. Bucky immediately felt every muscle in his body coiling up together ready to incapacitate whoever just called him by his name, given name that is, and was about to attack him. It however took him a full second to uncoil himself and realise he knew that voice. It was the very familiar voice of the nice barista he was absolutely not just thinking about and waiting for. Bucky turned his head to the left and there you were, wrapped around his arm looking tired and uncomfortable.

Feeling James flinch when you grabbed his arm you quickly made your touch barely there, letting go and essentially just hovering around his arm. The last thing you wanted was to make the poor man uncomfortable but you were getting desperate. Making eye contact with him you conjured up your best believable smile and quietly but hastily added “Domnule- James- Domnu- i’m really sorry there’s men following me and I don’t know what to do.” James had given you his name before at the café after a conversation where all you referred to him as was “domnule”, but you never felt close enough to him to use it and had continued to use “domnule” to greet and bid adieu whenever you interacted with him.

Bucky could see desperation in your eyes, they were beginning to get watery, and from the split second you had been pressed to his arm he felt your slight tremour that had travelled up to the nerves pressed in the socket of the prosthetic. Now that he knew there weren’t any hostiles there for him he relaxed and quickly looked around from beneath his cap.

“Sweetheart he’s not interested! How about that drink now?” Immediately Bucky saw you tense and your eyes widen, nearly on the verge of tears, he completely turned to you and wrapped his right arm around you, causing you to let go of his left and freeze even more at the sudden action but swiftly getting into character, letting go of some tension and pressing closer to his side. Whispering a small “thank you so much” under your breath and fully relaxing. You got a hold of his jacket with your right, selling the part of a couple meeting up for a later night walk.

Thanks to the numbskull's call Bucky was able to pinpoint exactly where the men harassing you were. To him they looked clearly intoxicated, two of them lean and the third with more mass. They looked slightly winded, as did you, clearly you had been walking around trying to get away, and they kept leaning on each other laughing and looking your way. “It’s no problem Doll I was about to call you, everything alright?” He made sure to look you over for any injuries or any other signs of distress he might have missed before. Thankfully you were visibly alright.

“Yeah everything’s good, we can get going please.” You were desperate to leave, you felt awful for disturbing his night but you also knew he was going to end up at your café and who better to walk you there than a 1.75 built man who always looked ready to throw someone through a window and maybe even stop a speeding motorcycle with his bare hands. You were already turning to the general direction of the café and attempting to pull the solid steel wall in front of you when you felt the arm around you pull you back closer and turn you to face him.

“Doll, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re alright” Any time you and James had spoken his voice was always quiet, almost like he wanted almost no one else to hear him speak. The difference between those times and now was that he was properly holding eye contact with you, were his eyes always such a rich coffee brown? and his voice wasn’t quiet, it was soft but loud enough for anyone approaching to hear it. “I- well- yes- i’m,” the other difference was that he’s never left you this speechless, yes you found him conventionally attractive but you had never been this close to him, and he’d never made you feel this flustered. Bucky could feel the heat that was gathering at your cheeks with how close he was, later he was sure he probably would’ve gotten flustered too had he not been busy giving The Glare™️ to the men that had been following you.

You, quickly noticing the look in his eyes and without thinking, placed your hand on his cheek and turned him to look at you “James, I’m fine, nothing happened” and quietly added “and i’d really like to go start my shift Gabi is going to murder me” giggling feeling the completely tension ease off your shoulders now that you felt safe.

Bucky felt himself relax further feeling your i gloved hand cold from the weather on his now warm cheek and the thought of getting used to your laughter and the feeling of your palm passed his mind. Collecting himself and closing his barely parted lips he nodded scanning your eyes one more time to be sure “alright, let’s get going” and began to walk with you to the café, making sure to keep his arm around you and looking back at the men who had been following you earlier. Men who now stood up straight as pins and looked much paler and much more sober than they did when they first walked into the street. Bucky won’t admit to it but the rest of the tourists enjoying the night would recall three seemingly frightened men booking it out of the street as if their shoes had caught fire and they were desperately looking for water to put them out.

The walk to the café was a very short walk from there, you and James didn’t converse at all but stayed just as close throughout it. Finally getting to the café you saw it was empty, as it usually was at this time on weekends, and an annoyed Gabi sitting at the counter. They looked up when they heard the bell at the door ring and were ready to call you out on your tardy-ness when they saw it was that one hot-late night-patron who seemed to only come in during your shifts, holding the door open for you and letting you in. Gabi's mouth was visibly agape and their eyes nearly bulged out of their skull. They let out a small gasp and quickly got up, grabbed all their things and replaced their astonishment with a Cheshire-like grin. “Gladyoumadeithavefunstaysafe bye.” You hadn’t even finished blinking when Gabi was already out the door, bell still ringing and the panes on the door still trembling from how fast they made their exit.

“Bye?” Now actually inside the empty café it was just you and James. You looked back at the door tilting your head questionably, making sure you really just saw your co-worker a second ago and then made eye contact with James. You couldn’t help laughing. You were relieved to have made it to work with no other problems and your co-worker’s jump-the-gun attitude never failed to bring you entertainment of some type. Bucky also couldn’t help joining, a softer laugh, when he recalled the men’s scared faces and now your co-worker’s quick retreat was amusing in and of itself.

“Eager to leave, that one” Bucky felt calmer now unwrapping his arm from around you but unconsciously dragging his arm across your back and taking his seat by his usual table where he could see everything around the café.

“You don’t know the half of it, I'm sure if they had my phone number at hand they would’ve been spamming me,” seeing things continue as usual and trying to stop the tingle that went up your spin when he removed his arm, you began to make your way behind the counter, checking in, taking your jacket off and tying the café’s apron around you. “Give me a second domnule and I'll get you your usual order.” Already washing your hands, getting his desert and warming and mixing his coffee the way you’ve learned he enjoys it.

The sudden change to “domnule” struck a chord in Bucky. Normally he’d let it be, he was a customer and he knew you were just doing your job being formal, but, “You were calling me James just a few minutes ago, I still think it sounds better.” He always thought domnule sounded too formal for him, on top of that it reminded him of a military service he barely recalls doing (even if it was in a different language), and of the little scientist addressing each other at hydra bases. He could do without the domni. Bucky faced the table making himself busy placing his choice of book to read today and pulling out his small journal.

“Oh- That. Again thank you so much domnule-,” Bucky looked up at you as you looked up from his coffee you were preparing “James,” you nodded as he did and a small smile blossomed on your face. You began to approach his table with a quiet ‘order up’ as you departed from the main counter. “Those men were following me, for a while actually, but I didn't want to bring them here. I felt they would’ve stuck around for the rest of my shift.” You placed his order down and were ready to head back when he signalled for you to sit with him. You did a sweep around the café and yup, still empty, sat opposite him but shifted your chair closer to the wall so he could still see out into the room.

“That’s smart, people usually go to places they frequent for comfort but weirdos either stick around or come back later” Bucky took a sip of the coffee you just served him and couldn’t help but sigh. Just the way he likes it, perfect. “But you’re alright, right? They didn’t…do anything?” Bucky looked up at you again, your eyes were scanning the book and journal on the table, you looked fine but he wanted to make sure. The thought of men harassing people just for the fun of it already irks him but the thought of anyone harassing you who always makes sure there’s always warm coffee in his mug, you who’s been able to pick up on things that make him uncomfortable and comfortable and applied it to the times you interact with him, you who are just doing your best and still treating people with kindness, you and your non judgmental self, just makes him consider that perhaps committing a few more war crimes would be no biggie.

You looked up at him and again noticed his eyes, and once more wondered if his hair is really just soft as it looks or if it would be greasy from wearing that cap all the time? “I promise i’m all good James” you sent him a smile, and couldn’t help but notice the reddish colour lightly dusting his cheeks and ears from what you thought to be the cold outside. “Just some idiots that had too much to drink.” Which wasn’t anything new, the following you around had scared you a lot more since normally they wouldn’t go that far but you were glad James was at the right place at the right time. “Your first order is on me as a thanks.” You saw him about to protest before you shut him down “no take backs, I need to thank you.” Your voice shying to a softer tone and you got quickly already up and walking to the counter when James replied.

“How about I walk you back home?” Stuffing some of his desert his mouth in order to not continue talking. Bucky was sure if he wasn’t trying to hide his own flush on his ears with his cap he would’ve seen your own flustered state. He almost asked you for a date but decided he doesn’t know how long he’d be here, in any case why not try to take it slow like it would be if it were normal circumstances, at least this once. He always thought you made interesting conversation with him, and enjoyed the times you’d stop by and chat or even when you just asked him if he wanted refills or water.

“Home, you want to walk me home” you were mostly thinking out loud, processing what he proposed and eventually a small ding went off in your head and you started nodding. “Yes! Sure, yes I'd feel better walking home with you.” You could feel the apples of cheeks still warm and the smile on your lip was clearly content. Of course you found him cute, you really liked talking to him when you felt he was open to that and always found the excuse to fill his mug to get close to him but you’ve never wanted to push him out of his comfort zone, this could very well count as a dream come true.

Bucky found your smile and the sudden alto into your voice adorable and couldn’t help his own barely there smile. But it’s a smile from Bucky. What else could you ask for?

The rest of your shift you spent sitting with James talking softly and listening to the music you let him play. You thought he looked a bit confused trying to find the song on your music app but not everyone has smartphones and how hard is it to just give some guidance. James never actually touched his reading book and at times when he told a story of when he was young he’d pause to look for you to nod and quickly jot down another note in his journal. You found it endearing he looked undeniably excited every time he wrote something in there. At the end of your shift, when the sun came up, you cleaned up and just as promised James walked you all the way home. Leaving only when he managed to ask you if he could walk you to work tomorrow. You, needless to say, agreed then and the time after that and the time after as well.

//The Glare™️

#james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier #the winter prince #marvel #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel mcu #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader

108 notes · View notes

raisin-gran · 3 months ago

Text

Bouh! I've just swallowed a bad oyster. Now hypochondria is taking possession of me again. The oysters are spoiled, the servants are ugly. I hate the human race. I just passed through the Rue Richelieu, in front of the big public library. That pile of oyster-shells which is called a library is disgusting even to think of. What paper! What ink! What scrawling! And all that has been written! What rascal was it who said that man was a featherless biped?[51] And then, I met a pretty girl of my acquaintance, who is as beautiful as the spring, worthy to be called Floreal, and who is delighted, enraptured, as happy as the angels, because a wretch yesterday, a frightful banker all spotted with small-pox, deigned to take a fancy to her! Alas! woman keeps on the watch for a protector as much as for a lover; cats chase mice as well as birds. Two months ago that young woman was virtuous in an attic, she adjusted little brass rings in the eyelet-holes of corsets, what do you call it? She sewed, she had a camp bed, she dwelt beside a pot of flowers, she was contented. Now here she is a bankeress. This transformation took place last night. I met the victim this morning in high spirits. The hideous point about it is, that the jade is as pretty to-day as she was yesterday. Her financier did not show in her face. Roses have this advantage or disadvantage over women, that the traces left upon them by caterpillars are visible. Ah! there is no morality on earth. I call to witness the myrtle, the symbol of love, the laurel, the symbol of air, the olive, that ninny, the symbol of peace, the apple-tree which came nearest rangling Adam with its pips, and the fig-tree, the grandfather of petticoats. As for right, do you know what right is? The Gauls covet Clusium, Rome protects Clusium, and demands what wrong Clusium has done to them. Brennus answers: `The wrong that Alba did to you, the wrong that Fidenae did to you, the wrong that the Eques, the Volsci, and the Sabines have done to you. They were your neighbors. The Clusians are ours. We understand neighborliness just as you do. You have stolen Alba, we shall take Clusium.' Rome said: `You shall not take Clusium.' Brennus took Rome. Then he cried: `Vae victis!' That is what right is. Ah! what beasts of prey there are in this world! What eagles! It makes my flesh creep.

Brennus, who takes Rome, is an eagle; the banker who takes the grisette is an eagle. There is no more modesty in the one case than in the other. So we believe in nothing. There is but one reality: drink. Whatever your opinion may be in favor of the lean cock, like the Canton of Uri, or in favor of the fat cock, like the Canton of Glaris, it matters little, drink. You talk to me of the boulevard, of that procession, et caetera, et caetera. Come now, is there going to be another revolution? This poverty of means on the part of the good God astounds me. He has to keep greasing the groove of events every moment. There is a hitch, it won't work. Quick, a revolution! The good God has his hands perpetually black with that cart-grease. If I were in his place, I'd be perfectly simple about it, I would not wind up my mechanism every minute, I'd lead the human race in a straightforward way, I'd weave matters mesh by mesh, without breaking the thread, I would have no provisional arrangements, I would have no extraordinary repertory. What the rest of you call progress advances by means of two motors, men and events. But, sad to say, from time to time, the exceptional becomes necessary. The ordinary troupe suffices neither for event nor for men: among men geniuses are required, among events revolutions. Great accidents are the law; the order of things cannot do without them; and, judging from the apparition of comets, one would be tempted to think that Heaven itself finds actors needed for its performance. At the moment when one expects it the least, God placards a meteor on the wall of the firmament. Some queer star turns up, underlined by an enormous tail. And that causes the death of Caesar. Brutus deals him a blow with a knife, and God a blow with a comet. Crac, and behold an aurora borealis, behold a revolution, behold a great man; '93 in big letters, Napoleon on guard, the comet of 1811 at the head of the poster. Ah! what a beautiful blue theatre all studded with unexpected flashes! Boum! Boum! extraordinary show! Raise your eyes, boobies. Everything is in disorder, the star as well as the drama. Good God, it is too much and not enough. These resources, gathered from exception, seem magnificence and poverty. My friends, Providence has come down to expedients. What does a revolution prove? That God is in a quandry. He effects a coup d'etat because he, God, has not been able to make both ends meet. In fact, this confirms me in my conjectures as to Jehovah's fortune; and when I see so much distress in heaven and on earth, from the bird who has not a grain of millet to myself without a hundred thousand livres of income, when I see human destiny, which is very badly worn, and even royal destiny, which is threadbare, witness the Prince de Conde hung, when I see winter, which is nothing but a rent in the zenith through which the wind blows, when I see so many rags even in the perfectly new purple of the morning on the crests of hills, when I see the drops of dew, those mock pearls, when I see the frost, that paste, when I see humanity ripped apart and events patched up, and so many spots on the sun and so many holes in the moon, when I see so much misery everywhere, I suspect that God is not rich. The appearance exists, it is true, but I feel that he is hard up. He gives a revolution as a tradesman whose money-box is empty gives a ball. God must not be judged from appearances. Beneath the gilding of heaven I perceive a poverty-stricken universe. Creation is bankrupt. That is why I am discontented. Here it is the 4th of June, it is almost night; ever since this morning I have been waiting for daylight to come; it has not come, and I bet that it won't come all day. This is the inexactness of an ill-paid clerk. Yes, everything is badly arranged, nothing fits anything else, this old world is all warped, I take my stand on the opposition, everything goes awry; the universe is a tease. It's like children, those who want them have none, and those who don't want them have them. Total: I'm vexed. Besides, Laigle de Meaux, that bald-head, offend

gonna try my grantaire themed tea!! i’ll give you all my thoughts

#les mis #les miserables #les misérables #grantaire #guys this was such a stupid joke #in all seriousness the tea is so delicious!#i’m really enjoying it #i’m gonna make a fun spiked version

4 notes · View notes

lostlimerence · 2 years ago

Text

The Youngest

CW: discussions of predatory behaviour.

He’s the youngest of the three, a fact that is all too easy to forget.

Sometimes, when he’s reminded, it’s something mundane, like when the boys have a disagreement and Steve, to ease the tension, jokingly ruffles Billy’s blond curls with some quip like, “respect your elders,” as Eddie nods sagely with a barely suppressed smile.

Other times, it catches him off guard, like the time he’d passed Billy a cup of coffee, “black,” (like he’d ordered) then watched, not without amusement, as the boy’s nose had crinkled in disgust at the first sip.

But then, far too often he’s reminded in moments like this. When the kid’s cornered by some self-serving adult.

This time it’s Karen Wheeler.

He watches as she crowds Billy, manicured talons glinting as she strokes the length of his arm. His back is pressed up against the Camaro, knuckles white where he grips the handle. When he sees a predator cornering it’s prey on Tv Jim’s skin pricks, just like it is now. He’s caught the live show and Billy sure as hell isn’t the predator.

Jim pushes himself out of his car, takes a breath, and tries to swallow the acrid anger rising in his gut. He needs to be calm. Diffuse and extract. He repeats this mantra as he strolls over.

“Billy!” the kid starts hard and turns, anxiety clearly coursing his veins. Karen just looks up, clear irritation spreading across her face.

Jim hates her.

He forces a grin “hey kid,” he shouts, flicking a pointed stare at Karen as he does, before focusing on Billy “why you still here? Pool’s shut, isn’t it?” Billy looks a little perplexed as he replies, “yeah, I was just, er, leaving, right Mrs Wheeler?” he turns back to the woman, who has at least taken a few steps back. She doesn’t look even slightly phased as she corrects him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “we’ve spoken about this Billy, call me Karen,” as she bats her eyes in a way that makes Jim want to knock her out.

It’s an image he allows himself as he closes in on them, stretches his grin further and says “with all due respect Mrs Wheeler surely Nancy and Mike are home by now,” she has the audacity to puff up at the dig “I was just about to head home Hopper. The kids will be fine for a bit,” Jim keeps smiling, “ of course Mrs Wheeler, you get back to your kids and I’ll take care of this one.” he says it in what El has affectionately dubbed his ‘Chief Voice.’ It leaves no room for argument. With a slight huff Karen shrinks back, sends one final sweeping glance at Billy, before retreating to the safety of her car with a sharp “Goodnight.”

He watches pointedly as she drives out of the car park, then turns to Billy. He’s strung tight, trembling and pale. Jim braces himself, ready for an argument as he speaks“you aren’t driving anywhere like this kid, get in my car,” he’s surprised when Billy complies. Jim follows suit, puts the car in drive, there’s no destination for now.

Billy’s shaking hands curl into fists as the car pulls out onto the road. Jim waits, gives the kid time to process. The silence is long but when the words come they’re seething “I was fucking fine,” he hisses, “I don’t need your fucking help,” he’s gritting his teeth, snarling like an animal, hackles raised. Jim won’t rise to it, he knows this is the ‘fight’ part of Billy’s wiring, something he calls upon constantly. Instead he simply and calmly states “no you weren’t, and yes you do,” eyes fixed firmly on the road.

His periphery catches the lock and load in the kid’s throat as Billy’s teeth grit impossibly harder, he twists in his seat and pulls the trigger as he roars “What the fuck do you know?!” it’s fucking loud, splits Jim’s ears, but he keeps his composure, because Billy is a fucking kid and he’s a fucking adult. Plus, Jim knows he’s being pushed for a reaction, violence is the only language Billy knows especially when it comes to adult men, and Jim will never speak it, no matter how hard Billy tries to make him.

He waits for a beat, listens to the kids laboured breathing before speaking deliberately and slowly,“she’s a predator Billy, old enough to be your mother. Hell, her daughter is older than you. She shouldn’t be anywhere near you,” he glances over, sees a little bit of the anger dissipate as Billy retorts “yea I know that,” he leaves a beat before adding “you old fucker,” and Jim does nothing but raise a brow, refusing to take the bait. He lets Billy stew until the silence becomes too much and the kid continues just to break it, “it doesn’t fuckin matter, it’s always like this, I know how to get away, it’s fuckin fine, I don’t need you,” he spits the word need like it’s poison on his tongue.

Jim gets it, he knows this visceral reaction to offered help is nothing but Billy’s innate survival instincts kicking in. The kid has never been able to trust an adult to protect him, never been allowed to need someone like that. He has no logical basis that would allow him to just trust Jim. But Jim is a stubborn ‘old fucker,’ determined to become someone Billy can trust. But to build that trust Jim needs to get through to the kid, and to do that, he knows needs to push, needs Billy to accept some sort of help. So that’s what he does, he pushes a bit, calm but firm “what were you gonna do Billy?” silence hangs, “to get yourself outta there?”

It takes a while but eventually Billy frowns and mumbles “dunno, but I’d have done something,” and Jim needs to drive his point home so he takes a bit of a risk and asks “would you have shoved her? Hit her?” and that gets a reaction, the kid shoots up straight-backed with an emphatic and horrified ‘No,’ and Jim isn’t proud of it but he has to keep pushing so he says pointedly “then what would you have done?” and the only answer he gets is an exasperated “ugh. I don’t. Fucking. Know.” the silence that settles is suffocating.

When Jim breaks it he treads carefully, speaks slowly as he chooses his words, “exactly Billy, you don’t know. Unfortunately, that isn’t a situation, though by god I wish it was, where I could’ve just arrested her. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, it just means our justice system is shite,” Billy flashes a brief smile at that “ so because I can’t just cuff her, we need an alternative plan.” Billy opens his mouth, likely to protest again, but Jim soldiers on “This is what is going to happen, you’re going to give me your work schedule. I’m going to give you one of my kids walkie talkie things, because it can reach my radio. If not me, someone from my team will be in the car park for every late finish and you are going to contact me with the talkie thing if you end up in a situation where you need me to come and get you immediately, Ok?” Billy doesn’t speak straight away, stares out into the darkness before answering in a voice that cracks just a little “fine, whatever old man.”

With that Jim lets the tension bleed from his body. He needs to speak to Billy more, needs to sit him down properly, have repeated conversations with the kid about personal safety, consent, hell maybe even stranger danger with how reckless he can be sometimes. But that is for another time, now he needs to get him somewhere safe, so he just says “great! Now where am I taking you?” Billy shakes himself a little “just home,” Jim questions that, pointedly glancing at his still slightly trembling hands, “is that wise right now?” Billy frowns a little but changes his answer, “Munson’s” Jim smiles. Eddie is so well attuned to Billy, he knows the kid will get nothing but comfort as soon as Eddie lays eyes on him (he also knows Steve will be with them in a flash).

He makes the short drive to Eddies, cuts the engine outside and turns to face Billy, “I’ll get you a talkie and give it to Eddie or Steve tomorrow ok?” Billy stares at him shocked. He looks so young, so lost, like he can’t comprehend the idea that Jim isn’t just all talk, it takes a while but he gets a quiet “yea ok,” before the kid is suddenly yanking the door open, turning to slam it shut with a brief muffled “thanks old man” slipping through the gap, before he’s off practically sprinting to the door.

Jim chuckles to himself, at least it’s better than ‘old fucker,’ he waits for Eddie to open the door, sees the blatant look of concern as he gently slides a hand into Billy’s and pulls him across the threshold, just catches a glance of Steve who’s staring worriedly at his cop car before the door swings shut. Jim sighs starts his engine and heads home.

Billy’s the youngest, the most vulnerable of the three, sometimes it’s easy to forget.

Sometimes it’s vital to remember.

#billy hargrove #jim hopper #eddie munson #steve harrington #mungrove #harringroveson #harringrove #stilldie #Karen wheeler #jim is Billy’s new dad it’s literally stuck in my brain #hurt/comfort #strangerthings #stranger things #fic #writing #dad jim hopper

940 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

personal disaster

Toji took the personal invitation to be your personal disaster.

REQUEST. toxic toji + enemies to greater enemies + toji railing reader in front of someone they’re seeing because he doesn’t want to see you happy but he doesn’t want to “keep” you either

PAIRINGS. toxic toji x reader x mafia! leader noritoshi kamo (he’s just witnessing the fun, dw)

CONTENT/WARNINGS: rough sex, slight bloodplay, violence, toxic toji, toxic and abusive relationships, choking, begging kink (you’ll be surprised in what way), degradation, mass murder, mentions of blood, cuckolding, overstimulation, reader is kind of crazy, hate fucking, neck slicing, IT’S DARK okay? unedited too, sorry for typos and grammatical errors

WC: 3.5k+

masterlist !

Your arm looped with your fiancé’s, his possessive arm wrapped around your waist. He glared at everyone who stared at you with a lust filled gaze, his cold eyes alone enough to send his people staring at the ground with a tug of their jackets to hide their erection. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they always saw how your pussy took Noritoshi’s cock so well, but that was it.

They could only see but never had a taste of the specimen you were because you were the mafia leader’s fiancé, soon to be the Queen of his empire while you sat pretty next to him, getting richer and richer with each passing second before you fulfilled your duty and birthed him an heir.

Noritoshi wasn’t in a rush, though. He was a man of sensual pleasure, wanting to take his time with you and getting to know you, and take his time he did.

There was not a day that he didn’t have you moaning under his silk sheets, wrists already chafed from the handcuffs he insisted on using you, simply because he was a man who liked to exert dominance and craved being in power. You never denied him – how could you when all you had to do was spread your legs and you got that coin?

You were beyond a slut for him, however, and this much was clear when Noritoshi announced that you were his and his only.

When even that didn’t deter the curious hands of his people from pumping their cocks at the thought of you, Noritoshi have had enough. He roughly slammed his lips to yours before he melted at the sweetness of your lips, soon turning gentle before he slipped a ring inside your finger to make it official.

Noritoshi, dramatic as ever, wanted everyone to know about this engagement as loudly as he could without opening his mouth.

Your fiancé had a flare for the theatrics, which was why he didn’t blink an eye as he got you an expensive designer dress, hand-stitched, and flaunting you around – flaunting his soon to be wife hanging off of his arm proudly.

He guided you into his limousine until you reached a night sky nightclub that was notorious for its luxury. Not even the richest people belonging in the top tier of society could afford a single ticket, much less a private room. Noritoshi made the right choice by walking with you down the hallways, the walls transitioning from a glossy black to a velvet tint, leading into one of the VIP rooms that was already surrounded by his guards.

The whole way there, Noritoshi didn’t loosen his grip on you, making sure his hand was cupping your ass to flash your ring and his.

Several envious gazes and curious ones later, followed by hushed whispers before the pair of you disappeared behind the double doors, Noritoshi loosened up in his seat, satisfied that he’d marked his territory successfully.

Noritoshi uncapped a bottle of fine whiskey served by a shivering waiter, while you sat next to him, legs crossed enough that the poor blushing waiter flushed at the sight of your bare cunt.

You checked your nails, smirking at the velvet black acrylics Noritoshi was generous enough to let you borrow his black card for. The dress you wore was infinitely superb too, the bust firm enough to push your breasts high enough that the outline of your cleavage was just a step away from exposing your nipples – a tease, as always – just as how Noritoshi wanted.

He was like that; always dangling the treasure right in front of people’s mouths as they salivated in hunger, then bringing it back to his grasp just before they took a bite.

How Noritoshi, you thought.

Out of nowhere, muffled gunshots could be heard from the outside, your eyes cat-like as they glared at the door, waiting for people to burst through. Not a second later, one of your guards rudely invited himself in, pushing the curtain that hid a secret exit as he started babbling nonsense about a madman or something.

“What’s wrong?” Noritoshi asked calmly over his glass, swirling the glass with a satisfying clink. “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Sir, you need to leave! There’s an assassin here and he’s easily taking our men down!”

“Assassin?” he scoffed with a pinch of his brow. “What do you mean assassin? This is a private nightclub – isn’t our security tough?”

“Yes, sir, but he’s easily overpowering us—”

“This assassin you speak of,” you stopped inspecting your nails, placing them over your knee instead. A smirk painted your bold red lips when the guard’s eyes trailed downwards to your shaven cunt, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight before he turned away, stiffening harder once he met Noritoshi’s glare. “Is he tall, dark, has a scar running down in his lip and has a crazy look in his eye?”

“Y-yes, that’s exactly him.”

“Do you know who he is, darling?”

You scrunched your noise, uncrossing your legs out of poor mercy to this man. He looked like he’d faint soon – seriously, didn’t Noritoshi have enough sluts for his men to fuck? “An old friend of mine, although I could hardly call him that when he took everything from me,” eyes darkening at the memory of him, you pushed yourself off the velvet cushions of the couch, swiping at the gun strapped to your thigh. “You should leave, Toshi. I’ll handle him.”

“You’ll handle him? It’s unsafe – we need to leave—”

Sigh, he always worried too much over you. It was so easy for him to forget you lived an equally dark life prior meeting him, so you pressed your lips against his, making sure to mark the edges red to remind him he had nothing to worry about. As always, it shut Noritoshi up, his hands coming up to caress at your ass.

“He won’t hurt me,” you assured, palms laid flat on his chest. “Now go.”

Noritoshi wasn’t given a chance when you nodded at his guard, who got the message and dragged his boss away rather harshly behind the curtain. Smirking, you made your way outside, adrenaline rushing through your veins and heat seeping into your core. This night just got a lot more interesting.

Your fun was spoiled, however, when you were met with blood stained walls and limbs torn everywhere. A sneer made its way to your face, not because you were disgusted by the sight, but because he was still as boring and upfront as ever.

He never let you had your fun.

“Toji,” you greeted the tall man sitting on top of the pile of bodies, brows raised because it’s been a long time and he still hadn’t changed. He still wore the exact same fitted black shirt that looked like it would rip into pieces at each of his movements, which to your surprise, never did. “Still as messy as ever, huh?” you clicked your tongue, bunching your dress up with your fists as you stepped over the bodies, making sure not to slip from the sea of blood. “Jeez. You’re not even the least bit concerned about the cleaners.”

“Sweetheart,” he crooned, mirroring your smug expression as he jumped down his throne of corpses, roughly tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eye.

Even with high heels, Toji effortlessly towered over you, reminding you again and again of the strength difference. Though you held your ground pretty well, and he knew this too, otherwise he wouldn’t have struggled so much in his mercenary work the moment you came.

“It’s so nice to see you again – or is that what you wanted me to say?” Your lips stretched for a sinister laugh, Toji beating you to it when his strong hands came to wrap around your neck, slamming you on the wall hard enough he blurred in your vision for a moment. You kept chuckling through the lack of air, tongue darting out to lick the blood of his knuckles. Toji growled, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done to me, bitch. You ruined my pretty face with those nails of yours.”

“Can’t blame a woman, Toji, you weren’t letting me cum.”

“To be fair, you were leaving me after you killed all my clients when I kindly asked you to keep your hands to yourself,” Toji sneered, head darting down to rip the diamond necklace Noritoshi got you onto the ground. You whined upon seeing the crystals scatter onto the floor, millions worth now dipped in blood. What a fucking shame. “But you’ve always been a naughty little minx, aren’t you? You just can’t keep your hands off of beautiful men.”

“Trust me, Toji, what’s inside their pockets are a lot prettier than faces,” you giggled as your hand came up to trace the scar on his lips, eyes narrowed into appreciative slits. “Nothing would ever be prettier than this.”

“Is it still a face you want to sit on?”

“Fuck, yes,” you admitted, pushing yourself off the wall to wrap your legs around him.

The momentum took Toji by surprise, forgetting that you were just as strong as him as he staggered two steps backwards. His grip tightened on your hip to steady you both, the sharp blade of his weapon poking against your thigh threateningly.

It didn’t bother you, and you only nuzzled your nose against his almost affectionately, staring him in the eyes as you mumbled, “I fucking missed you.”

“Then why did you leave?” he grunted while grinding you down on his cock, hissing for a split second when your killer heels dug into his lower back. He could feel blood leaking from how the shoe pierced him, but he made no move to push you away, enticing you to kiss the corners of his lips to worship his scar. He was so beautiful, sinfully gorgeous that you always lost your mind around him.

He was your end, your ruin, your destruction – and you left in a poor attempt to keep your heart safe.

“How long has it been since I had my hands on you, huh, pretty thing? Six months, maybe more? Time gets so blurry when I’m not buried in your tight cunt,” Toji buried his nose in the crook of your neck, using the blade of his sword to tear your dress open, leaving your lower half revealed to him.

“Oh, you asshole, that was expensive!”

“Don’t give a fuck, baby,” he rolled his eyes, and of course he didn’t. Toji wasn’t any better than you; both your minds were always clouded and hazy with sex. “You smell different. Got another man?”

“Hmm, and he’s much better than you are,” Your words ticked Toji off, knowing full well he always hated it whenever you poked at his ego. Toji was a man of many things, and every time you implied that he wasn’t something, you could expect that he would fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs for days. Now that was exactly what you wanted, so you kept going, your nails travelling under his shirt to leave more scratches at his already ruined back – all thanks to you. “He’s rich, classy, handsome, praises me instead of calls me a little slut—”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am,” you agreed shamelessly with a sultry laugh, looking back at him with a devious glint in your eye. “But I like being worshipped every now and then.”

“Haven’t I done that enough? You talk as if I never made you feel good.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, nothing can still compare to your cock, Toji,” Your other hand shoved itself down his pants to feel him, soft pants leaving those pretty mouth of yours when felt his cock bare, the tip already wet with pre-cum.

Of fucking course Toji executed his missions on commando mode – he couldn’t be bothered to keep his fat cock imprisoned.

“But he’s richer. And he’s willing to marry me, breed me until I’m swollen with his children and pamper me afterwards. He’s willing to make me his.”

“You fucking slut,” Toji shoved his tongue inside your mouth, the moans spilling from your lips to his only encouraging him to align his huge length onto your already dripping cunt – always so wet and ready to be filled by him – before he slammed you all the way down. The sudden stretch had you biting on his tongue to muffle your moan, Toji’s hands bruising as he cupped your ass. Toji clenched his jaw upon feeling your walls embrace him warmly, his breaths ragged and faint.

It made your chest swell with pride at the thought that only you could make the infamous Fushiguro Toji this disarranged.

“What is it with you sticking to alpha males all the fucking time?”

“A princess wants her throne beside a handsome prince, Toji. Just because your family didn’t like you, doesn’t mean mine did too. I grew up being told fairy tales while you ran rampant in the streets,” you bit back, the sinister laugh painting the blood red walls dark because you knew Toji better than anyone, and one of the things that always set him off like a bomb was the mention of his abusive family.

You couldn’t wait to see how he would ruin you, and you moaned loudly when Toji grabbed your jaw until your cheeks were squished, the cold of his blade held against your throat sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you the slightest bit aware of how much I want to kill you right now? Slice your lovely neck and fuck you while you suffocate in your own blood?” You gasped as you felt warm liquid slowly bleed out from the slightest cut, your blood sliding down your chest and under the leftover materials of your dress. Toji used his bare hands to rip the dress apart, your tits bouncing the moment they were freed from its confines.

The guttural groan that echoed from his throat was pure animalistic, similar to the carnal thrusts of his dick that pummelled into you. He pushed you flat on your back until your skin pricked with the shards of glass on the bar countertops, the pain only adding to your pleasure.

Toji kept you locked underneath his arm, his hands choking the air out of you while you clenched around him repeatedly, your walls sucking him in tight enough that Toji lost rhythm in his thrusts. “Only you would like that, Toji,” you choked out in a broken gasp, the man above you growling when you picked up a broken wine glass to push his hands off of you.

Blood coated both your bodies as Toji drove his dick deeper, hitting all the spots that only he could ever reach.

“I’m a man of rare taste.”

“So fucking rare,” you teased. Toji’s middle finger and thumb met once they wrapped around your neck, pulling you off the table to bounce you on his cock, using only his masculine virility and raw strength to fuck you good.

The sudden change of position had the tip of his cock pressing into your most sensitive spots, Toji’s angry grunts sinful yet so erotic as your bumpy walls kissed the veins of his cock.

Toji suddenly wrapped an arm under your breasts, flipping you over until you were met by the sight of Noritoshi standing still outside his VIP room, his gun aimed at the both of you. “Uh-uh – I wouldn’t do that if I were you, pretty boy,” he warned, his words taking a huge hit on Noritoshi when his arm wavered. “One cut is all I need and your lovely fiancé’s body would be swimming in her own blood. Now, you wouldn’t want to waste such a beauty, right?”

“Y/N!” he suddenly dropped his gun, hands raised in surrender beside his head. If Toji wasn’t driving his dick like a fucking animal, you would’ve broken Noritoshi’s nose, ashamed that he surrendered so easily. Noritoshi’s dark eyes turned to Toji’s, heat seeping off of him in waves. “I will never forgive you for what you’re doing!”

“Wasn’t asking for forgiveness, shorty,” Toji pressed, using two fingers to split your lips open, giving Noritoshi the show of his life as Toji’s fat cock stretched you open completely, your puffy lips wrapped around his swollen length.

You knew you looked so dirty right now, skin covered in blood, wearing nothing but your black heels that accentuated your legs while Toji split your body in half.

A strangled moan was pulled from you when Toji hitched one of your legs, his arm hooked behind your knee, completely exposing yourself to Noritoshi. Even though you couldn’t see yourself, the squelching of your pussy taking in Toji’s cream filled dick was so pornographic you couldn’t help the heightening of your arousal, breasts bouncing as Toji kept up his relentless pounding.

“Come on, sweetheart, let him see how much I’m stretching you out. Watch as she loses herself around my fact cock like the fucking whore she is,” Toji laughed, silencing your incoherent fucked out mumbled by shoving a thumb through your lips, smearing your lipstick to the side as if you weren’t a mess already. “Oh, look at his face. You don’t mean to tell me he doesn’t know how filthy you are, huh, sweetheart?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?” Toji slapped your ass, your walls clenching around him on instinct. Noritoshi’s eyes widened when you only moaned in response, the blissful smile on his ace rendering him silent. “Not so threatening now, huh, Kamo?” Toji leered, snickering at the apparent tent growing in your fiance’s pants.

It was absolutely sickening that he got off at the sight of his pretty little fiancé be used by some other man, but Toji respected all kinks, even if he didn’t have much respect for Noritoshi to begin with.

“Come on, sweetheart. Scream for me. Say my fucking name like you always used to. Let’s show this pretty boy here how awful you are before he regrets being with you,” Toji snapped his hips harder into you, causing you to see stars that mixed with the sight of Noritoshi falling onto his knees, your name a plead for his lips.

Toji’s cock only twitched at the sight of seeing someone so helpless, to see the infamous powerful Kamo leader beg for Toji to save you and let you go.

He always knew he had a begging kink, but he didn’t think it would come in this form.

“T-Toshi—” you moaned out, eyes snapped shut. You couldn’t think anymore, the only sounds filling your ears were Noritoshi’s cries and Toji’s ragged pants in your ear, his hand pressing down on the apparent bulge of your lower stomach every time he bottomed out.

“I said, say my fucking name.”

“Toji, Toji, fuck!” you leaned backwards and placed your head on his shoulder while he grabbed your hair to kiss you, that familiar heat beginning to form in your core. Unable to help it, your moans fell left and right, loud enough that it drowned out Noritoshi’s pleads. Toji laughed at both of you – called you the dumbest lovers alive – so he kissed you, more tongue and teeth than lips, his thrusts sloppy and desperate. “Oh, oh fuck, yes, yes, right there, oh!”

“You can never fuck her like I do. You can never make her feel good like I do. See how she’s moaning so pretty for me? You can never have her.”

“You’re so fucking unfair,” you cried out, hands tugging at his hair. Toji never let up for even a moment as his thrusts slowed; the new pace he set slow yet deep. Toji pulled out his cock slowly to make you feel him inch by inch, your walls licking at his cock vein by vein until only the tip was left inside, before thrusting full into you in one swift movement of his hips. “You can’t just break up with me and – fuck – tell me I can’t be with others.”

“I own you, sweetheart – I’m your personal disaster,” Toji taunted, large hands groping at your breast when your eyes snapped open, his last final thrusts turning your pussy to mush.

You came around him, hard and overwhelmingly so. Your hands wrapped around his bicep to steady your shaking legs, his name spoken like a prayer with malicious tone as if to curse him. Toji pushed you off his cock until you fell on the floor, his rough hands grabbing at your jaw again to face him, thick spurts of his cum painting your face.

Taking them all in like a good girl, Toji swiped his length over the slope of your nose and pushed the still hard cock through your lips. His hands gripped your head tight as he fucked into your mouth, nothing but anger shown through that scarred face while your jaw fell slack and sore.

“And I’ll break you over and over again until you’re reminded that you’re mine.”

1K notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 3 years ago

Text

Criminal: Part 7

For all your disinterest in James Buchanan Barnes, him kissing you had certainly cast him in a new light.

And not necessarily one that you hated. You had always seen Bucky as the thorn in your side, the Brooklyn heartbreaker who had more women than he knew what to do with. And you were disgusted by him.

Or at least, you tried to pretend you were. You tried to act like everything Bucky did angered you, while avoiding years of longing and unspoken feelings that rose to the surface every time he managed to brush his hands against your skin.

You’d worried about him when he was fighting in the war, which had almost made you lose both your brother and that irritancy. You’d written him during those cold nights when you thought you may never see the light of day again because…what else did you have to lose?

And then he threw you over his shoulder.

And then kissed you.

How could one kiss change the light around Bucky?

You started to notice the darker shades of blue in his eyes and the streaks of lighter brown that ran throughout his otherwise black-brown hair.

You noticed the dimple in his cheek when he smiled that specific way, and the roughness of his voice when he warned you about hitting him again.

You had spent so much time fighting Bucky and you really didn’t know why you had. He hadn’t treated you horribly, he hadn’t smacked you around or treated you like other men would have.

He was…distinctive and debonair.

Why had it taken so long for you to notice? Why had you felt so shaken up the prospect of Bucky stealing your breath with a soft kiss that drug on for far too long?

And damn you, why did the thought of Bucky throwing you over his shoulder like you were a prize he had won, a prize he had taken, so…endearing?

Oh, you may have seen Bucky in a new light, but that hadn’t meant you weren’t going to give him hell for taking you against your will.

He had all but deposited you in his house, or rather the estate the ‘headquarters’ were in, which according to him was the safest place for you, and then he had all but flit away for ‘business’.

But not before he trapped you against the bed, beneath his firm chest, his lips brushing against your own. “I trust you’ll be good?”

He had hummed against you and then stole any chance you had to answer, with a kiss.

“You’re a real piece of work, Bucky!” You cursed him moments after he had closed the door, and you were left alone.

But oh, you had a plan. If Bucky thought that you would start cooperating just because you were in his home, in his estate, in his company, then he had another thing coming.

“Be good,” you huffed as you ripped blankets and sheets from the bed and started tying them together, “maybe he should try not being such a block-head.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave the property, you weren’t stupid. However there was a garden in the back, and from all your years of playing with the school kids when you were younger, you were an expert at hide and seek.

You had made yourself an escape rope from the blankets and sheets, tying them together, and securing one side to the bedpost, before you drug them to the window. You unlocked the window and pushed it open, throwing one half of the blankets and the sheets over until you had enough length, and then you slowly crawled over the other side and grabbed your rope with two hands.

You struggled to get yourself down in those damn slippery shoes, but you eventually had made it. You landed on the stone patio and wasted no time in scurrying into the garden until you reached a grove of trees.

“I won’t make this easy for you, Barnes.” You slipped your shoes off and threw one to the left by the rose bushes, and the other to the right near the fountain.

As they landed and obscured which direction you went, you grasped the tree and started climbing, ever thankful for running so often behind your brother and the bane of your existence.

“Ass.” You mumbled, climbing up until you reached a point where you were no longer visible. “Find me now, Bucky.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! You did not take that poor girl against her will!” His mother gaped at him, aghast at what her only son had done.

“She didn’t give me a choice, ma.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the shop keeper load up the trunk of the car with pretty things he knew you wouldn’t want, but would get anyway. “You know how Y/N is-“

“That is no excuse!” She placed her hands on her hips. “Your father-“

“-did the same thing to you, ma. Its kind of a tradition in our family.” Bucky grinned. Just thinking of that fire and your little temper made him hot under the collar. You always were a little brat, but now you were his brat. “‘Sides, you like Y/N.”

“Of course I like her. Y/N has a good heart and she puts up with the likes of you-“

“Thanks, ma.” Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting until the last bag was loaded.

“But trying to win Y/N over with materialistic things isn’t going to work, James. She isn’t impressed by fancy clothes.” His mother brushed a piece of hair out of his face. “You’re just a boy in love aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna marry Y/N Rogers, ma. I’m gonna be her husband and we’re gonna have beautiful kids.” Bucky was wistful about your future together. He was hopeful and acting more like a lovesick puppy than the head of a mafia family that ruled half of New York.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” His mother gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be too harsh with her, James.”

“I would never hurt her, ma.” Bucky smiled and stepped away, heading back to the door of the car, his driver waiting for him.

“I’ll see you both for dinner then? On Sunday?” She asked, watching him open the door and get halfway inside.

“Of course ma.” Bucky got into the backseat and closed the door, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small box, the necklace inside almost identical to your mother’s locket you had to pawn years ago.

He knew it wasn’t the original, but it was close enough that it would, hopefully, bring you some sense of happiness. He knew his mother was right, however.

You wouldn’t be impressed by the gifts, by the perfume and the dresses, and the makeup. He knew you wouldn’t touch them, at least not for a few weeks, but Bucky wouldn’t help it.

You were his girl. He wanted to spoil his girl.

He wanted you to have the best, and after a tough life, that you and Steve both had, he wanted to treat you.

“We’ve arrived, sir. But it seems like there’s a problem.” His driver parked the car and Bucky got out of the passengers side, immediately seeing an ‘issue’ when his guardsmen stood outside the door with a certain look on their face that Bucky picked up on immediately.

“She left the room?” He growled as he stalked up the front stairs.

“Somewhere in the garden.” They thought but they didn’t know.

“I’ll check it out. Bringing everything inside and have it set up.” Bucky ordered, entering the estate and immediately moving toward the room he had set you up in.

“Oh sugar,” Bucky Rey his hands on his hips the moment he walked into the room and saw the sheets and blankets ripped from the bed and knotted together in a rope ladder, “you think you’re so clever.”

Bucky removed his suit jacket and draped it across your bed, before he turned on his heel to track you down. His mind was raving as he moved throughout the house to the garden at the back. He had seen your shoes tossed in two different directions from the window in your room, no doubt a decoy.

Or at least one of them.

“Y/N,” Bucky called your name, “I know you’re here honey.”

He took that first step and wait, trying to hear any movement you would have made. “Come back inside and I won’t spank your fine ass.”

Bucky moved toward the first discarded shoe and picked it up, tossing it up in the air and catching it before he moved to the next. When he had the pair of them, Bucky had casually walked around the garden. He had a pretty good idea where you were hiding, but he wanted to give you the illusion that you had succeeded in stymieing him.

He wanted you to believe that you were real tough, and you were a tough woman, one of the best he’s seen, but around Bucky, whether you admitted it or not, you were soft. You were softer and far more vulnerable than you let on.

“Come on honey,” Bucky crooned, “I’m not mad. I like the little cat and mouse games. Just come out from where you’re hiding. I got some surprises for you.”

Bucky had approached a thicket of bushes, the place he thought you were in, but when he arrived and had pushed through, you were no where to be seen. Bucky stepped back and frowned, the idea that he was wrong wasn’t sitting well with him.

“Y/N-“ and then he heard it. Then he heard the sound of leaves rustling and a branch shaking. “Brilliant dame.”

Bucky walked toward the tree he knew you were in and came to stand underneath the branches, trying to spot you. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his blue eyes were roaming the branches, watching for any movement again, however now that he was there, you would be silent.

“Baby,” Bucky‘s eyes narrowed, “you’re a pretty bird, not a squirrel. Come down from there.”

“If you want me,” he heard your voice, “come up here and get me, Barnes.”

Bucky grit his teeth, his tongue pressed flat against the back of his top teeth. He was debating it, he was debating climbing the tree and bringing you back down, but a part of him wanted to punish you as much as you punished him.

“You’ll stay out here all night?” He asked. “In the cold? Come on sweetheart. Come down and we’ll have dinner. I’ll pick up your favourite.”

Bucky was trying to entice you. He was trying to take the soft approach before he got real pissed off.

“The only way I am coming down there, is if you drag me down.” You replied and the leaves shook again.

“Fine!” Bucky snapped. “Stay out here and freeze!”

He turned his back to the tree and started to walk away from you and the tree, however he had only made it maybe 15 feet away before he stopped again.

He couldn’t leave you up there. He wouldn’t leave his best girl stuck in a damn tree. He couldn’t let his sweetheart spend all night alone sitting on a branch while he was inside warm.

“Y/N!” Bucky groaned and turned back to the tree, staking toward the thick trunk. “You get your tight little ass down here!”

“Or what?” He could just see the look on your face. He could see the look on your face and it made him unbearably hard.

“You want me to call Steve?”

“Ooh! What a big threat! What’s he gonna do? Stand there and scold me to death?” You called down.

“Dammit! Y/N Rogers!” Bucky cursed. “Get down here, honey! You’re gonna fall and hurt yourself!”

“Ask nicely.”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on the ends. You were a spitfire. You were a damn brat.

“You are a menace!” Bucky yelled up at you, placing his left hand against the tree trunk. “What do you want, huh? You want me to bribe you?”

“You have nothing I want-“

“Fuck! Fine! Please,” Bucky‘s jaw clenched, “get your tight little ass down here.”

“So he does have manners.” You started to move and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat when he heard you shriek and a few branches fell.

“Dammit, Y/N!” Bucky didn’t think his heart could beat any faster, even when you were now in view. “Are you out of your mind?”

When you were close enough, he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you from the tree, setting you down between himself and the thick trunk.

“What the hell were you thinking? Huh? You could’ve fallen and broke something.” Bucky raised his voice, his blue eyes searching your face. “You got your cheeks all dirty.”

“Oh no a little dirt-“ Bucky slammed his hand against the trunk, and slipped his other hand into the small of your back. He yanked you flush to his chest and dipped his head, his lips mere inches from yours.

“Don’t you ever pull that kind of stunt again.” His gaze lowered from your eyes to your lips. “I never want to see you in a tree again. If you would’ve fallen-“

You caught him off guard. You had leaned in and made contact with his lips, effectively throwing him off his game. And when he tried to deepen the kiss, you ducked under his arm and slipped away, causing Bucky to crash against the tree.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” You grinned and turned your back to him, slowly moving toward the house.

“I’m going to die young. And that woman will be the cause.” Bucky shook his head and picked up your discarded shoes, following behind you.

#‘40s!mob!bucky barnes #‘40s!bucky barnes #mob!bucky imagine angst #mob!bucky barnes imagines smut #mob!bucky barnes imagines fluff #mob!bucky barnes imagines angst #mob!bucky barnes imagines #mob!bucky barnes x reader smut #mob!bucky barnes x reader angst #mob!bucky barnes x reader fluff #mob!bucky barnes x reader #criminal series #criminal #criminal masterlist #criminal part 7

122 notes · View notes

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Note

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

874 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,947

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*************************

Cillian’s POV

Shortly after Denise got home from her rather miserable date with Jeremy, Cillian went to bed. It was only 9 o’clock but he thought that he would spend some time finishing reading the book he had started to read two nights ago.

The problem was that, even when he tried hard to focus on the content of the book, he couldn’t.

His mind was overrun with guilt about what had happened between you all so suddenly and unexpectedly and he still wasn’t so sure why he had given into you so easily. It was almost like he had lost all of his self-control in that moment.

This kind of behaviour was unusual for him. Usually, he would have been more sensible than this. After all, he was 45 and never had a one-night stand in his entire life.

Would you share this with anyone?

Probably not, he thought. He had known you for a while and you weren’t the type of woman who was actively seeking attention. You were always somewhat nerdy and a bit of loner. For years, he had known you to be sensible and he always liked that you were looking out for his daughter Denise. You were more mature than her and were always somewhat shy and reserved.

With this in mind, he was even more surprised by your actions. You seducing him the way you did seemed out of character for you which made him nervous.

Did you have feelings for him?

He certainly hoped that you didn’t. For him, this was nothing but sex and he would hate to give you the feeling that it was something more. He didn’t want to hurt you.

He should never have given into you. He knew that it was wrong and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he acted so selfishly because, in his mind, this was exactly what it was. An act of selfishness.

You were young and clearly inexperienced which made this whole thing even worse. It was obvious to Cillian that you hadn’t been with many men before and he felt as though he took advantage of you even despite the fact that you were the one who made a move on him. He should have stopped you.

The fact that he is seeing someone else in Manchester didn’t help either and, whilst it wasn’t anything serious or exclusive, it felt wrong to him to be intimate with you which, in his own mind, brought him to another dilemma all together.

Why didn’t he use protection when he slept with you?

He knew that he could have simply walked into his son’s bedroom and find what he needed. But he didn’t. Instead, he was so consumed by lust that he forgot all about the need to be play it safe. Of course, he always reminded his adult children about the importance of protection and yet, he failed to adhere to his own rules.

Whilst he knew that you didn’t have many sexual partners and any risk associated with contracting STDs was somewhat low, he worried that you weren’t on birth control.

Why on earth didn’t he at least ask you about it? Was it too late to ask you now? Why did you make him pull out?

WHAT THE FUCK HAD HE DONE???

He panicked and he knew he had to talk to you in order to ease his mind.

YOUR POV

After you listened to Denise about her date gone wrong and what an asshole Jeremy actually was, you also made your way to bed. You felt terrible for her but knew that she would meet someone else who would make her happy and treat her well.

But her date with Jeremy wasn’t the only thing you felt terrible about. Even more so, you felt terrible about sleeping with her father which you knew was wrong and yet, you tried to justify it in your head.

Why did you act so selfishly and gave into your sexual needs?

This was something you had never done before. You were rather careful when it came to getting yourself involved with guys.

You had taken a liking in your friend’s father several years ago when you were 19. But then, it was just a silly crush you thought.

When you heard about his divorce however, you began to fantasise about him in your sleep and this was simply a fantasy you had finally acted upon.

This, however, didn’t change the fact that he was your friend’s father.

Would she mind if she knew?

Maybe she wouldn’t. She might just think that you are disgusting for sleeping with her dad but, in the end of the day, you are two consenting adults.

Why couldn’t you stop even when you realised that what you were doing was wrong?

When you made the first move it was almost like you were in a trance. You were overwhelmed. You wanted every bit of it but you never experienced sex quite like this. It was intense and he certainly knew what he was doing.

Whilst Cillian was much older than you, you were extremely attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect in your mind and he felt incredible when he was inside you.

You wanted so much more and thought that, perhaps, if it was just sex, it wasn’t wrong after all.

Together Again

Just as those thoughts raced through your mind, you heard a quite knock on the door.

Thinking that it was Denise, you didn’t bother to cover up as you were sitting on the guest bed in black cotton panties and a tight cotton singlet.

To your surprise, however, it wasn’t Denise who walked into the guestroom when you called out ‘come in’. It was Cillian.

His chin dropped as soon as he saw you. For some reason, he took a liking in your rather simple but yet revealing outfit, your messy hair and your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hey’ you simply said shyly as he was standing there speechless.

‘Hey’ he responded, swallowing harshly before telling you that he needed to talk to you.

‘Sure’ you said, putting the magazine down which you were reading along with your reading glasses. Then, you scooted over on the bed and indicated to him to sit down next to you.

His scent was intoxicating. He was freshly showered and his hair was still wet but you could still smell a hint of his aftershave on him.

‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ you asked without bothering to cover up your naked skin and you could see Cillian’s mind working overtime while the tension was building.

‘About what happened between us’ he then stammered while he observed your eyes wandering towards where they shouldn’t. But, you couldn’t help it and, when you noticed that he was reacting to your presence, you bit your lips seductively.

‘What happened between us was just sex. It’s not a big deal. People have sex all the time and you can trust me Cillian. It will remain our little secret’ you said in a seductive voice while moving your hand over Cillian’s upper thigh, through the hairs on his exposed skin and then all the way towards the rim of his boxers.

‘Y/N’ he barely managed to stammer, swallowing harshly.

‘Yes Cillian?’ you then smirked, noticing the effect you were having on him and moving your hand farther up his legs and beneath his boxers where you began to stroke his cock.

‘You are so hard’ you then whispered as you received no response from him other than a groan and, just as you did, Cillian took hold of you and pushed you beneath him in one swift movement.

Without words, Cillian’s warm lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The kiss was more urgent than before and you loved the way he asserted his dominance as his tongue circled around yours.

He felt such desire for you that he thought he would explode and, whilst he was normally quite vocal, every word he tried to say and every question he was going to ask you, were caught in his throat.

Wrapping your arms round him you ran your hands up and down his firm back as your mouths ground together. Sucking on each other's lips and plunging your tongues into each other’s mouth.

You couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to be kissed in such an experienced, almost sophisticated way and Cillian was marvelling at how someone so young could have learned to kiss so well.

Within split seconds and in between heated kisses, Cillian’s t-shirt and your singlet landed on the floor.

It wasn’t long until Cillian’s mouth left yours and began to wander over your firm breasts and then all the way down to your stomach which is where they came to a halt.

He interlocked his fingers with your panties and pulled them down, letting them join the other clothes on the floor before his head gracefully disappeared in between your legs.

‘It goes without saying, but you need to be quiet’ Cillian chuckled and you barely managed to nod before you covered your own mouth with the palm of your hand as Cillian dipped his tongue straight into your wetness.

‘Oh god yes’ you whimpered quietly as the rasping roughness of his tongue slid along your velvety wetness and sent enormous tremors through you.

You had little experience of either, receiving or, giving oral sex. In your world of mainly inexperienced boys, it was hardly on the agenda as they were generally too keen to get their rocks off to worry overly about your pleasure. In any case in the usually rushed episodes in the back of cars or downstairs with parents in bed there was hardly the time let alone the opportunity for languid pussy licking or sensual cock sucking. In the world of the forty-five year-old man lying between your opened legs, however, it very much was on the agenda and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did.

You moaned loudly as you were holding Cillian’s head in both hands as he licked the length of your pussy. He did it slowly with just the right amount of pressure making sure that the tip of his tongue fully anointed both lips and licked just inside them on that especially sensitive area.

When you moaned a little too loudly again, he reminded you to be quiet just before he sucked and kissed you again, covering every inch of the outside of your pussy before pushing the straightened tip of his tongue inside and probing upwards licking the insides as he started to tongue fuck you.

‘This feels so fucking good’ you stammered, legs shaking and quivering while Cillian held you tightly and it wasn’t long until you reached an orgasm which sent convulsions through your body.

You moaned a little too loud again as your whole body tingled and felt tender to the touch and tears of pleasure and relief, with a tinge of guilt, poured down your cheeks.

‘That was amazing’ you eventually huffed out as you slowly came down from your high and Cillian kissed his way back up your body until his lips reached yours.

‘You taste so fucking good’ he then whispered into your ear after your lips drifted apart and, just as he did, you reached in between his legs and began stroking his cock which was still rock hard.

‘I want to feel you inside me again…please…just once more’ you begged and the sound of you begging alone made Cillian groan.

‘Fuck Y/N…I want you so much’ he whispered as he pulled down his boxers and his wiggling body urged your legs to open so that his cock lay between your thighs with the bulbous end of it pressed against your lips.

‘Then take me’ you groaned marvelling at the fact your friend's dad was about to fuck you.

With the tip of his cock just slightly parting the lips of your pussy and his arms round your body with his hands gripping your taught bum he muttered something you couldn’t understand. It was obvious to you that his mind was hardly able to accept what was happening. Nonetheless, he wanted it so badly and, with a shrug of his hips, he sank his cock deep into your gorgeously tight and wonderfully welcoming pussy.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian’ you groaned as your fingernails were digging into his back.

He pushed himself in as far as it would go, eliciting more groans from you which he had to quickly silence with his lips.

You felt light-headed and deliriously happy. You also felt very filled. Cillian was bigger than the other guys you had been with and you loved the feeling of being stretched. The folds of skin that guard your clit seemed to be open and that so sensitive place felt to be exposed, so as Cillian started moving slowly up and down it was as though his cock was rubbing on it. You had never felt anything like it before. Just as you had never felt like cumming when a man's cock had only been inside you for a few moments.

Somehow, however, you managed to delay your release just a little bit longer, enjoying as Cillian thrusted into you hard and deep until, eventually, the inevitable happened.

‘Let go, there is no need to hold back’ Cillian reassured you and, just as he did, you allowed your orgasm to wash over you.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you shouted out and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand as he continued to thrust into and watched you lose control.

Your legs were shaking once again as you gave in and, when you finally came down, Cillian pulled out of you.

Thinking that he was done and that he wanted you to proceed as before, you scooted up but, to your surprise, Cillian pulled you on top of him instead.

‘Your turn to take what you need Y/N’ Cillian whispered and you couldn’t help but shiver at his words. He wanted you on top and that was yet another first for you.

‘You can cum again’ he then said but you couldn’t help but shake your head.

‘I don’t think I can, but I am willing to try’ you smirked. He had already given you four orgasms that day which were four more orgasms than anyone else before him had given you.

‘I bet you can’ he then winked and you nodded shyly before taking his hard cock into your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

‘I will be sore tomorrow I think’ you whispered as, with a moan, you sank down on his hard cock.

‘Yes, you will be’ Cillian chuckled as, all of a sudden, he thrusted upwards and deep into your mound, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Once again, he covered your mouth with his hand as you began to ride him.

‘You feel so fucking good, you know that?’ Cillian groaned as you began to move up and down on his hard shaft. He certainly had become vocal now and you loved it.

‘So tight around my cock’ he then groaned as he met your thrusts and he could hear you starting to whimper.

‘Oh god…yes, fuck my pussy’ you moaned quietly, holding his hand and keeping it near your mouth while sucking on his fingers.

‘Cum inside me Cillian. I want to feel it. Fill me with your cum’ you then demanded as you began to ride his cock harder and faster and, by this point, Cillian had lost all self-control.

The dirty talk, the tightness of your pussy and the way your lips played with his fingers was too much for him.

‘Cum with me Cillian’ you then moaned as you let go and so did he.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes…fuck’ you groaned as such amazing feelings flooded your body and you felt him push into you as far as he could go.

‘Fuck Y/N’ grunted as you both climaxed simultaneously and you soared to a height of pleasure you had never previously experienced when Cillian’s cock exploded sending streams of his cum into you.

‘Oh god that was amazing’ you eventually huffed out when you both stopped moving.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian grunted almost at the same time before his eyes shot open and he saw your satisfied smile.

Carefully, you climbed off him, releasing his cock from your tight pussy before you sat down on the bed next to him.

You spread your legs and, with curious eyes, you looked down on yourself and watched some of Cillian’s cum leak from your core.

‘That feels so fucking good…so warm and wet’ you observed as you collected some of his cum with your finger and brought it to your mouth while Cillian cocked an eyebrow, wondering what you were doing.

‘Uhm…?’ Cillian chuckled, watching you almost speechlessly but yet somewhat turned on.

‘I never had a guy cum inside me but this is so fucking sexy’ you observed with a laugh before reshuffling yourself and collapsing into his arms.

‘Yeah, about that…’ Cillian went on to say…

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x y/n #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #agegap

358 notes · View notes

mochegato · 3 years ago

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

Marinette collapsed onto the barstool and immediately motioned to the bartender, ordering a drink before Adrien had even sat down. She downed the drink as soon as it came and motioned for another. The bartender raised an eyebrow at her. “Want me to just leave the bottle?”

“Yes,” Marinette answered gratefully with a bright smile.

“No,” Adrien answered over her. “Just another drink for now and a water for me, please.” The bartender looked between the two of them, waiting for her response to his interruption. Marinette pouted and slumped in her stool, but didn’t counter him so the bartender nodded and left to pour the drinks.

“Leaving the bottle would be easier,” she commented, slightly annoyed.

“And more dangerous,” he warned. Marinette rolled her eyes and looked away. It wasn’t that she disagreed. She knew it was stupid. She knew she shouldn’t drink until she blacked out. She knew it wasn’t safe, especially in Gotham. But honestly, she didn’t care. The entire day had been a clusterfuck of dark thoughts and tears, after their meeting with M. Fox, and now she just wanted to forget… everything. She wanted to forget her day. She wanted to forget the last twenty odd years. She wanted to forget her feelings. She wanted to forget how to feel. She wanted to forget how to think.

“You might want to try something else,” Adrien tried instead. If self-preservation wasn’t going to get through to her, maybe he could use her self-destruction against her. “If you get the bottle, you’re committed to that liquor. If you just go by the glass, you can try different ones.”

Marinette looked at him from the corner of her eye, knowing exactly what he was doing but unable to fault his logic. Instead she propped her elbows on the bar and buried her face in her hands. She mumbled a thank you to the bartender when she heard him set her drink in front of her but groaned when she heard someone sit on the stool next to her. There were plenty of open seats around the room, plenty of seats at the bar, if that’s where the person wanted to sit.

The only reason for the person to sit so close was because they wanted to talk to her. And while she would normally be polite and give the person a smile and maybe talk with them before turning them down, she was utterly, completely, and in all ways, not in the mood. So, regardless of whether the person was there to hit on her or talk to her because she was a Wayne, she had no interest in any kind of a conversation.

She moved her hands just enough to clearly enunciate, “Not even remotely interested. Move along, please.”

The man chuckled and leaned against the bar himself. “Good to hear it. I'm pretty sure the Press would have a field day with that.”

Adrien scowled at the men who had taken the seat by them and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hey, buddy, she said not interested. Find someone else,” he growled threateningly.

The man shook his head. “I only have so many sisters and the others don’t drink. Well, not with me anyway.” He motioned to the bartender. “Actually, the only other sibling we have that can drink, besides Cass, is Dick and he is going to be absolutely insufferable for months over this, trying to make you feel welcome in the family. So I’m avoiding him too.”

Marinette eased her head out of her hands to look at the man. She immediately recognized him from the gala. Jason Todd. One of Bruce’s sons. She narrowed her eyes at him. What was he doing here? How did he find her? “You followed me here.”

Jason shook his head with a light chuckle. He looked up as the bartender approached. “Hey Jay, Roy. The usual?”

Jason nodded. “Thanks, Jack.” He waited for the bartender to retreat to pour the drinks before turning back to her. “If anything, you followed me here.”

Marinette scoffed and turned back to her drink. “I was just looking for some place to get drunk and forget about the whole,” she motioned to him, “drama.” She glared down at her purse. “Lucky me. I chose this bar. Sorry for the accusation.”

Jason waved her off. “No. I get it. Paranoia is justified in this family. Welcome to the family. It doesn't get better.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her head into her hands again. She motioned to the bartender as he brought Jason and Roy their drinks. “What do you want? Same?”

“I don't care. Whatever you have and make it a double… please. Is a triple a thing?” Her eyes brightened at the idea. Adrien motioned no behind her, his eyes pleading with the bartender.

Bartender nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Double it is.”

Adrien let out a relieved breath and turned to the boys. “Hi. I’m Adrien,” Adrien finally cut in after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Nice to meet you. So you’re the one schtupping my sister.” Jason reached out to shake his hand.

Marinette wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Schtup? What is schtup?” She downed the last of her drink as she waited for them to respond.

“Screwing,” Roy answered.

Adrien choked on air and Marinette spit out the whiskey she had just drank. Marinette glared at him and shot Jack an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. This one and the next are on the asshole.” The bartender looked to Jason with a laugh and nodded.

“It was just an observation,” Jason answered with a smirk.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Marinette grunted.

“That’s a tall order for Jason,” Roy grinned.

“He’s tall. He can handle it,” Marinette snarked with a shrug. She turned back to Jason. “No. No we are not stooping.”

“Schtupping,” Jason corrected.

“Stopping…” Marinette tried again.

“Sch…toooo…ping,” he corrected again, accentuating each sound for her.

Marinette blinked a few times at him. “Screwing,” she finally finished with a decided nod. Roy laughed hard. “He’s my brother Adrien. Adrien…”

“Her other brother, Jason.” Jason finished for her. Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t contradict him. “And this is my partner, Roy,” Jason continued, motioning toward Roy who gave a short wave before taking another drink.

Marinette waved back at him. She turned back to Jason. “Partner… is that another word for screwing too?”

Jason sputtered and narrowed his eyes at her, frustrated that he walked into that so easily, but Roy laughed loudly again. “I like her. New favorite sibling… don’t tell Cass… or Dick.” He grinned charmingly at Marinette. “But no. Business partner. Not currently schtupping anyone.”

Jason rounded on him and glared. Roy looked back at him innocently. “Yes?”

“No,” he said warningly.

“Are you another Wayne?” Marinette asked Roy.

“No?” He stared at her for a few seconds before realization set in. “No. I hang out with them a lot. Dick and I used to be on a team together so we were around each other constantly for a while there. Our families used to be together a lot. They feel like family sometimes.” He grinned at her. “But, no. Not in any way related to you.”

Marinette nodded and looked back at her drink. At least that’s one person in Gotham her… M. Wayne hadn’t adopted after chucking her out. Jason glared harder at Roy and punched his shoulder. “Sister,” he hissed.

Roy grinned back. “Yours, not mine. We just established that. Keep up.”

Jason narrowed his eyes even further before relaxing them as he turned back to Marinette. “So, how are you handling… you know, everything?”

Marinette and Adrien both stared at him with deadpan expressions. Marinette looked pointedly around the bar and her drink. “Oh, you know… well.” She kept eye contact with him as she downed the rest of her drink, wincing at the feeling. She looked down at her drink critically. “Why do I drink this stuff? I hate it.”

“Maybe you should ease off then,” Adrien offered gently.

“No. Fuck off. I want to get drunk,” she glowered back at him. Roy chuckled and motioned to Jack for her.

Adrien sighed and raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. Maybe something that tastes better then?”

Marinette cocked her head in consideration. “Okay. Excuse me, M. bartender? Can I get something that will get me very drunk very fast and taste better than this, please?”

Jack blinked at her a few times and looked over to Jason. Roy laughed at her response while Jason shook his head. “She’s had a rough day. You got anything?”

Jack grunted and shook his head as he looked around. “I’ll look.”

“Thank you, M. bartender,” Marinette chirped at him. He waved her off without looking back at her.

“I think you came to the wrong bar if you’re looking for something other than the basics,” Roy mock whispered at her.

She leaned in closer, leaning past Jason to talk to Roy. “I came to get drunk and away from reporters and forget about all this,” she motioned toward Jason. “I came to the wrong bar for more reasons than my liquor preference.”

She suspiciously eyed the drink Jack put in front of her with a grunt, but plastered a smile on her face. “Thank you.” She tentatively took a sip and wrinkled her nose in disgust. There was no way she was going to be able to drink this slowly. The only solution was all at once. She removed the tiny umbrella she was pretty sure he added to mock her and downed the drink like a shot. She gasped at the horrific sensation. Adrien just barely missed getting his water away from her before she grabbed it to get rid of the taste.

She handed the now empty glass back to Adrien and buried her head in her hands. “Regretting your decision?” he asked with a smirk. Served her right for stealing his water.

Marinette groaned into her hands and nodded. After a few seconds she leaned back in her chair, eyes unfocused. “I should never have come here.”

“Told you so,” Roy singsonged. “Now there’s a different bar a few streets over you might like better…” The rest of his sentence got cut off when Jason smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

Jason turned to Marinette with a sympathetic smile. “I often feel that way, but usually after a few more drinks.”

Marinette shook her head. “I knew it was stupid to come. I knew I shouldn’t have,” she groaned pitifully. “I could feel something bad was going to happen, I just thought that was the part before we came not… not,” she motioned all around her. “God, I was so stupid. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to just sneak in and out.” She leaned her head on Adrien’s shoulder, fighting the tears.

“So why did you?” Jason asked as though he didn’t know.

She looked over at him for a second without raising her head from Adrien’s shoulder before closing her eyes again. “Friend needed a job. Was getting sc… schtuped by the hiring committee at WE and scouted by a few other places that I didn’t trust… I mean Lexcorp gets blown up less than Palmer but then he’d have to work for M. Luthor. And, yeah, I don’t think so. So that leaves your dad.”

“Our dad,” Jason corrected pointedly.

“So you thought you'd use your connections to get him a job and didn't think you would get noticed?” Roy asked not even bothering to hide his amusement at the apparent stupidity of the plan. It wasn’t often he got to enjoy how laughably bad other people’s plans were.

“So,” she countered pointedly, looking directly at him, “I thought I’d use my charismatic personality to charm M. Fox into noticing him and let him know one of his scouts is poaching ideas. You were never supposed to know I was here.” She squeezed her eyes shut and let out another long sigh.

“But I was so stupid and now everyone knows and once they know...” she groaned and let her head drop onto the bar top with a resounding thud. She popped her head up quickly and rubbed her head. “Ewww. It’s sticky. I don’t even want to know what caused that.” She pulled some hand sanitizer out of her purse and wiped her forehead with it.

“You approached Lucius Fox with nothing more than charisma and got him to do what you asked?” Roy asked in amazement.

“And my brains, but…” she leaned closer to him as if passing on a secret, “I can be very charming when I want to be…” She looked down at herself and frowned. “When I’m not,” she motioned to herself, “you know. A mess.”

Roy smiled charmingly. “I believe that. Even when you aren’t trying. And if this is you as a mess, normal you must blow people away.”

Marinette scoffed and turned back to her drink. Jason waited until her attention was on her glass and shoved Roy hard enough to knock him off his chair. Adrien raises an amused eyebrow at them before shaking his head and looking down. Marinette looked over at the sound. Her brow furrowed in concern. Jason smiled casually and motioned to Roy. “Too much to drink.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at him and rubbed his hip. “Overprotective much?” he grumbled quietly enough for Marinette not to hear.

Marinette turned back to her drink, noting it was awfully low. She swirled the contents and nodded distractedly. “Lucky.”

Roy bit his tongue as he climbed back onto the stool to stop from asking if she wants to be, because there's no way asking Jason’s new sister, in front of him, if she wants to get lucky, ends well for him.

“I’ll have whatever he had, please,” Marinette called out to the bartender, motioning toward Roy.

“So what now?” Jason asked.

“Now… fuck,” she whined. She almost dropped her head on the bartop again but stopped herself just before actually making contact. She eyed the surface suspiciously and whimpered instead.

Roy took a long drink to keep himself from talking because “Is that an invitation?” was not going to end well for him either and he was not looking to get a black eye out of tonight. He frowned at his drink. What was in his drink tonight? He didn’t usually have this much trouble keeping his comments in check.

“I don’t know. Now everything is…” she made a jumbled motion with her hands that almost caused her to fall out of her chair. “I haven’t even…” she whimpered and eyed the bartop again before grabbing a napkin and setting it down in front of her. She dropped her head onto the napkin with an audible thunk.

“You know your hair is still touching the counter,” Adrien mentioned with more amusement in his tone than Marinette appreciated. Marinette groaned and sat back up. She pulled her hair in front of her eyes to look for traces of gunk. “She only found out about all this a few days ago and by then we were already on our way to the gala and in mission headspace so she hasn’t even had the chance to deal with it yet,” Adrien explained, keeping his eyes on Marinette.

“You didn’t know?” Roy asked incredulously.

“Nope,” Marinette responded popping the p and nodding in gratitude to the bartender for bringing her another drink and motioned for another.

“What the fuck?” Roy grunted. “That’s messed up. How did you find out?”

Marinette downed the entire glass. “Heard my maman talking on the phone and distinctly heard ‘if you would like to actually meet your daughter…’ and she wasn’t speaking with my papa. And I just…” she shrugged, staring at the empty glass like it might have an answer for her. “… knew. I had a friend trace the call. And then I was here the next day and…”

“I think B was expecting more time to deal with it too,” Jason nodded along.

“He’s only had 20 years. If that wasn’t enough, I may not live to when he finally has the time he needed,” Marinette groused.

“Twenty years,” Roy mused. “Isn’t that when…” he trailed off and his eyes got wide realizing the timing of Dick’s adoption.

“I think he was planning on doing something soon,” Jason said louder than was necessary for their close proximity, leaning forward slightly to cover Roy. “And being able to ease into it, slowly, making sure you… and Damian, weren’t too overwhelmed and you could move at your own pace,” Jason offered, fighting down the odd feeling defending Bruce left in his chest.

Marinette stared at him, swaying slightly in her seat. “Did you come here to drink or defend your dad?”

“Our dad,” he corrected.

“Because you seem to be doing a lot of one and not the other,” she continued as though he hadn’t said anything.

Jason shrugged. “Easy fix for that,” he said raising up his glass and finishing the contents. “So… you staying around or what?”

Marinette whimpered again and eyed the bartop. “I haven’t thought that through yet. That wasn’t the plan, but then again getting found out wasn’t the plan. Getting drunk tonight is now the plan.” She looked over at the hoodie Roy had thrown over the back of his chair and back at the bartop. “Can I…” she motioned toward the hoodie and reached for it at the same time.

“Oh, are you cold? Yeah sure,” Roy almost fell out of his chair trying to get out of the way so he could hand the hoodie to her. She gave him a weak smile and thanked him before spreading it out on the bartop and dropping her head audibly on it again. She sighed almost happily as she let her head stay down on the bartop. Roy watched her in amused fascination and let out an amused huff. “Not what I was expecting, but glad you’re getting use out of it, I guess…” he chortled.

“And do you always need to have a plan?” Jason asked curiously

Marinette and Adrien snorted in sync. “Do you have a plan,” Marinette mocked, raising her head purely so she could take another drink, but decided to keep it up to educate them. Jason looked over to Roy to see if he was as confused as Jason was. “I have lots of plans,” Marinette continued swinging her glass around to accentuate her words.

“I have plans. I have contingency plans. I have backup plans. I have plans for plans,” she started listing off on her fingers. She looked at her hands accusingly as she ran out of fingers and almost dropped her drink. She set down her drink with a frown and continued counting off her plans.

“I have plans to back up backup plans. I have plans for contingencies that the contingency plans didn’t cover. I have plans for when things go sideways. I have plans for when things go to shit. I have plans for when things go exactly to plan,” She leaned over to them. “I’ve never once gotten to use one of those. I have life plans. I have death plans. I have future plans.”

“That’s a lot of plans,” Roy noted, fascination laced his voice. “Any of them turn out for you?”

“No!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “And then I have to make a new plan on the fly.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jason grumbled.

“If all your plans get destroyed before you can complete them, why bother making them at all?” Roy asked.

Marinette brought the fingers together in front of her face and stared at it as though she were holding something precious. “It’s all about the illusion.”

Roy snorted and nodded. “She’ll fit in.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Roy. “Is that an insult?”

Jason laughed and Adrien dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus, Mari,” he groaned.

She scrunched her nose at him. “What? He said I’d fit well with M. Wayne.”

“I meant his kids,” Roy assured her.

“Oh…” Marinette answered sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Roy waved her off. “Nah. It’s okay. I get it. I meant you’re smart, sassy,” he eyed her with an amused glint in his eyes, “short…”

Marinette rounded on him, mouth agape in insult. She quickly closed her mouth and glared at him. “Not too short to kick your ass.”

Roy laughed and grinned at her. “Violent.”

Marinette scrunched up her nose and turned back to her drink. “Not like I’m out there every night beating people up.” She took a swig of her drink, missing the glance Jason and Roy sent each other before looking back at her for any indication she had meant something more by it. “Anymore…” she muttered under her breath just loud enough for Adrien’s sensitive ears to hear it.

“But,” Adrien cut in. He motioned toward Jason. “Short?”

“Yeah,” Roy granted, “Jason’s the exception to the short part.”

“Damian’s the exception to the sassy part,” Jason added.

“Who’s the exception to the smart part?” Marinette asked.

“Dick,” Jason and Roy answered at the same time.

“Who’s the exception to the violent part?” Adrien asked, concern edging into his voice, because that wasn’t exactly a comforting quality to be associated with Marinette’s new family.

Jason scoffed at the idea of any of them not being violent. “We were hoping it was going to be her,” he motioned toward Marinette.

“But, nope,” Roy finished, popping the p. “I mean Duke isn’t particularly violent. He can protect himself but, like, he’s chill about it.” Roy eyed Marinette analytically. “Maybe you can be the exception to the emotional car crash part,” he offered.

Marinette snorted inelegantly, took a swig of her drink, and looked back at him. “That wasn’t on the list.”

Adrien leaned past her to look at the boys. “She wouldn’t be the exception. She’d be leading the pack.”

Marinette shoved his shoulder. “Like you’re any better.”

Adrien raised his glass to her. “Never said I was, Bug.” He eyed his glass with contempt. “You know, this would be a lot more effective if there was alcohol in here.”

Jason ordered another round for them and raised his glass to Marinette when the drinks came. “Well, at least now I know why you were completely uninterested at the gala. Because I'm your brother.”

Marinette scowled slightly and hunched over her drink at the bar. “Not my brother.”

Jason looked at her curiously, a frown forming on his lips before a hurt look flashed in his eyes. Almost immediately, the hurt turned into annoyance. He pressed his lips together hard. “Right, another blood child. Another kid that thinks only blood matters. So adoption doesn't count?”

Marinette furrowed her brow in confusion. She faced toward him and pointed toward herself. “Given away and never contacted again doesn't count. You he cared for. You he wanted. You're his son, but I am not his daughter.”

Jason’s eyes softened looking at her and he nodded in understanding. Feeling unwanted, he understood. Feeling abandoned, he understood. Feeling like you weren’t considered good enough, he understood. Feeling replaced, he understood. And the fact that Bruce had made someone else feel that too, that it wasn’t just him, pissed Jason off more than he could express. He didn’t even bother reacting when Roy punched his shoulder. “Maybe not. But you're still my sister,” he assured her. “I want you.”

Marinette scoffed. “You don’t even know me.” Adrien gently bumped her shoulder with his and gave her a gentle warning look.

“I know you better than he did,” Jason reminded her calmly. “I have more to base my decision on than he did, and I know enough to know you’re my sister and nobody can change that.” He gave her a devilish smile. “You’re stuck with me now. Fuck the old man. He did this to himself.”

“And,” Roy interrupted excitedly. He raised his drink for her to clink. “Now you get to be an official member of the Shitty Dad Club.”

“Oh,” Adrien perked up. “Can I be a member of that club?”

Roy eyed him suspiciously. “What are your qualifications?”

“Neglect, severe emotional abuse, and he was a supervillain who tried to kill me regularly,” Adrien rattled off nonchalantly.

Roy blinked a few times. He looked to Marinette for confirmation. She nodded almost imperceptibly. He turned back to Adrien and raised his drink. “Right. Welcome to the club. We meet whenever there are drinks. We should get you one. You deserve it.”

Chapter 7

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - overprotection

343 notes · View notes

jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x @kai-kai-bookshelf @somewhereinthestarss @hsinmyheart @moonchild1 @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie @fangirls94 @jinsalpaca @ggukkieland

#btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

473 notes · View notes

connieshusband · 3 years ago

Text

Fucking hate you, love to fuck you

Hate sex

Oikawa x fem!reader

"fuck you!" "Is that a promise?"

reader was the captain and ace of the girls team, reader goes to Aoba Josai, reader is also Kag's cousin

Degradation, Slight Feminization Kink, Praise Kink, Fluffy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'm not very good at writing smut, I also got tired while writing so its short... sorry, Sir Kink: but very minor, no beta we die like men

-cross posted on my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31932412

MINORS DNI

Summary:

You hadn't registered that you'd slapped him until he look at you holding his red cheek with his large hand.

And you certainly hadn't registered that he had his tongue down your throat not a moment later. An honest to god moan leaving your lips which he smugly ate up.

___

Degration as well as any kink should have the full consent of all parties involved every time!!

I'm not very good at e2l so be gentle 🤩

I'm such a simp lmao

Oikawa could never figure out why you hated him when you both entered your first year of high school. Having come from a different middle school than you, he figured you'd be like the rest of the people in your grade level and fall all over him.

He wanted to ask why you had such a large stick up your ass during your first group project but chickened out. He assumed you'd at least get along as you were captain of the girls volleyball team and known for your powerful spikes. The setter in him really wanted to find out your perfect toss.

But it wasn't until your 3rd year when he came to despise you too.

He'd overheard you telling your best friend that your cousin made it onto his high schools volleyball team. Being the nosey Nelly that he is, he made the mistake of asking which school your cousin attended.

"Karasuno," you said, your chest puffed out.

It clicked: the black hair, intense expression, the last name even. He could practically see his protégé in the reflection of your eyes. He mentally slapped himself for not seeing it sooner.

His eyes narrowed, matching yours as tension of your silent beat down had to be cut by Iwazumi.

_____

You set down your suitcase, giving your aunt a big hug as she greeted you in the doorway. You give Tobio a fist bump as he helps you carry your things into the spare bedroom.

Your aunt had graciously allowed you to stay with her so you could be closer to school for your final year.

"I can't believe you're dropping volleyball club just as I'm about to join," Tobio whined, setting a suitcase on a chair in the corner of the room.

"I know," you said sullenly. You hadn't wanted to, but being captain and a 3rd year just wasn't going to be practical. Not being the best student, you thought it would be a wise decision.

Having always been close your your cousin on your dad's side came with its perks, including but not limited to drama. Ever since Tobio had joined volleyball in middle school he'd talked about Oikawa, usually brushing off some of the down right nasty things he'd said. But you hadn't. You took it upon yourself to help him train harder and harder to be able to defeat his bully when he'd found out he couldn't attend Aoba Josai with you.

Being an ace had its advantages when teaching Tobio about different techniques on how to set up a spiker best. Often gossiping about the smug bastard as you worked.

Of course, there was no escaping the pretty boy at school either. When your best friend, Ryu, had started dating his best friend Iwaizumi, being the 3rd and 4th wheel at hangouts became increasingly awkward.

And even worse when she mentioned your current math grade. Damn that ginger setter. And Mr. Perfect boasting about his grades to you. Which had lead you to your current situation.

Sitting in his bedroom.

Listening to him drawl on and on with rapidly decreasing interest.

While he looked hot as fuck.

What?!

With new found annoyance you scoffed at him snapping his fingers in your face.

"earth to y/n, I know I'm ravishing, but now it's math time." He said, a smirk decorating his lips.

“I ignored you on purpose, dumbass. Don't you get that I hate you?"

"I'm not asking you to stay, besides this has nothing to do with me?? Its calculus..."

"narcissist," you mumbled under your breath.

"must be your type," he shot back, "gawking at me for the last hour."

"aren't you dating whats-her-face from English?" You retorted, feeling your face heat up.

"yeah??" he said, confused.

You mocked his confusion, ""yeah" God, then stop flirting with me."

He scoffed, an eyebrow disappearing into bangs, "you must be a narcissist if you think I'm flirting with you because wow, it almost like I can't stand the sight of you, y/n," he rolled his eyes in disgust, sitting up in his chair indignantly.

You push him back into his chair, turning on your heels, saying nothing more.

"good!! I was going to kick you out anyway!"

____

You notice his current girlfriend wasn't hanging out with him at lunch nor sitting in his lap during English. In fact. He hadn't found new arm candy by the time your next session rolled around the following week.

___

After begrudgingly agreeing to do another tutoring session and making him promise no funny business, that rule was broken when he had his sleeves rolled up of his blue silk shirt, he glasses laying forgotten on the table, fingers rubbing his tired eyes as he tried to explain a difficult problem to you.

How could Tooru Oikawa be so fucking sexy and such a fucking dick at the same time?

Asking myself this a lot while writing

"fuck you, Oikawa! I don't need your bullshit!"

"fine! Fucking go then!" Giving you a light shove towards the door.

You hadn't registered that you'd slapped him until he look at you holding his red cheek with his large hand.

And you certainly hadn't registered that he had his tongue down your throat not a moment later. An honest to god moan leaving your lips which he smugly ate up.

You shoved him against his bed, your own smugness drinking up his moan.

You pulled your tank top off as you climbed on top of him. "You have condoms?" You asked, cringing at your breathless voice.

He flipped your position, hot breath fanning your ear, "don't you want to be filled with my cum, baby?"

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the position again, "the last thing the world needs is more of you running around."

He considered it before saying with a shrug "top drawer."

Leaning over, your legs still gripping his hips, you pulled out a condom wrapper and tossed it at his face. His nose scrunching cutely.

"pull some weight, lazykawa," you said, yanking his pants and underwear to his ankles. He was already fully hard and you took great satisfaction in wordlessly teasing him.

Trying to ignore you, a blush creeping up around his ears as he hurriedly rolling the condom onto his thick length, as you remove your bra. He flips your position once more, hovering over you, a taunting smirk plastered over his lips.

"can't go 10 minutes without getting your greedy pussy fucked?"

"Can't that mouth do anything besides half-assed insults, Shittykawa?" You mocked, he raised a cheeky eye brow at you.

He lowered his face to you heat, "want to find out?" You grip his hair harshly and shove his face between your thighs.

He rips off you panties and eagerly laps around your cunt before catching himself, slowing his ministrations.

He gripped your thighs as he buried his face in your heat. Alternating between sucking in your clit and finger fucking you, never letting you get both at the same time.

You bit your tongue, doing your best to avoid begging for more - a futile endeavor.

"C'mon babygirl, I know you want it," he sing-songed

You swallowed your pride, "please Tooru."

"sorry couldn't hear you, your legs were busy clamping around my ears.

Your legs shook in frustration and pleasure as he lazily drummed his finger on your sweet spot.

He leaned overtop of you, sucking harshly in your neck as his other hand massages your ass.

"please, Tooru! Please sir!"

"oo~" he remarks, returning between your legs, 3 fingers entering you suddenly as he nibbled along your thigh, quickly returning to sucking on your clit.

You come hard and without warning.

"delicious," he remarks, sitting up and licking his fingers clean, "and so many lewd noises too."

"You have a knack for bringing out the worst in people," you attempt to sound threatening but only succeeding in boosting his ego.

"Oh no~ I hate to find out what the best would be..." He unbuttons his blue silk shirt, allowing you to drink up the full show of his abs. "Not talking so big now, eh, Kageyama?"

You scowl at him before grunting a "just fuck me already".

"don't mind if I do."

You connected your lips with his, enjoying the noises he made as his neglected cock became engulfed in your warmth.

Neither of you lasted long.

He emptied himself into the rubber with a sexy grunt lining up with your moan.

After care he collapsed on top of you, his deep breaths matching yours.

Your hands still resting on his back, feeling scratches from your nails decorating his skin.

He had pressed his forehead to yours, you looked up to meet his eyes which were flitting between the purple marks on your neck and your eyes.

He hadn't held your gaze for more than a second when the realization of what just happened hit both of you at once. Pushing your bodies apart, you shamefully picked up your clothes from the floor leaving the room quickly.

____

It had been weeks since that day. You hadn't gone back for another tutoring session, claiming to Ryu that your grades had improved.

The free time had allowed you to be a better supporter for your cousin, getting a chance to meet his teammates and his friends.

You meet Karasuno's Ryu and think to yourself how well he and your Ryu would get along

While hanging out with your cousin at the spring tournament, you were enjoying a lunch break with a vibrant ginger, his best friend Hinata and a mutual friend with spiky hair. Bokuto, you had learned, was in your year and had a ton in common with you.

Maybe you'd gotten carried away returning his flirty looks and laughing a little too hard at his jokes. He remarked often how different your personality was from your cousin. After exchanging numbers to practice volleyball sometime (him being excited to practice with another captain/ace) an unfortunately familiar voice pulled you away from your fun.

"y/n?"

"what?" You roll your eyes, at Oikawa. You knew he had been watch you and the rest of Karasuno after they had win their first game. Beside you, you can feel the 3 boys, especially Tobio fuming.

"I have a question about the math assignment."

"I'm busy."

"too bad."

Recognizing that he wasn't going to go away until you give in, you stand up, brushing the dust from your bottoms. He leads the way out of sight from your new friends.

He harshly pushes you against the wall, "what do you think you're doing princess?"

You flip your position, he winced as his back connects with the concrete wall. "You ask you the same thing, princess."

His hand instinctively wrapped around your muscular arm submissively.

"you like that don't you?" You asked.

He nervously glanced around him for on lookers. Luckily he'd chosen a pretty secluded spot

"wouldn't want your fan girls to see you being treated like the pretty white you are?" You smirked.

He nodded shyly.

You grabbed his ass, earning a submissive squeak from him.

"such a good princess, getting his flat ass groped," you smile, you see him swallow a moan as his eyes flutter shut.

You begin painfully slowly palming him through his shorts, feeling him grow under you.

"I hope you lose," you whisper sensually into his ear.

He scowls at you as you pull away completely. Leaving him hard, exposed, and blushing as you return to your new friends.

______

The cheers from Karasuno's supporters hadn't quieted down as the team packed up. Still high on adrenaline and pride for your baby cousin, you took the time to use the bathroom before the long drive home.

Rounding the corner you heard voices, recognizing one to be Oikawa and the other belonging to a deep voiced man.

Sneaking a peak your eyes go wide. He was face to face with Ushiwaka. The former not fairing well in the conversation. You didn't think a man could look for upset than the way Oikawa looked right now.

As the conversation comes to a close, you wait until Oikawa has gone out if sight to chase after him. Accidentally running into Ushiwaka.

"sorry" you mumble, attempting to move past.

"you're with karasuno, yes?" Ushiwaka asks.

Your mind didn't really register him, instead giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and a "that's great, buddy," as you run after the brunette.

Hearing an "I look forward to playing them." In the distance.

"Hey!"

He was too far ahead to really hear you, pushing past the front doors.

"HEY!" You yell, nearly at his heels. You stand in the doorway breathing hard, "TOORU!"

He turns to face you, Iwaizumi annoyed that he can't convince their captain to just get on the bus already.

You beckon him over and he skeptically approaches you.

"here to gloat?" He asks, his voice lacking the usual sharpness.

"Tobio is staying at Hinata's tonight and my aunt is out is town for the next two days," you say.

You see the cogs working as he pieces together what you're offering. His mouth forming an 'o' shape as he realizes.

You smile smugly before running back to where Karasuno's bus is parked, giving Tobio a running jump hug, which he awkwardly returned.

If nothing else, Oikawa was punctual. Arriving at exactly at 7:30. You hadn't done anything special, just heated up 2 frozen pizzas that your aunt had left. Watching his form as he quietly ate his 3 cheese. He hadn't said a word besides "thank you" after you'd served him. While yes, apart of you meant when you'd said that you hoped he lose but the guilt of seeing the cocky bastard looking so small on the other side of the table, nibbling on the crust. Pity maybe?

"You played really we-"

His eyes were red, his pride keeping him from crying in front of you. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You want to have sex?"

he hesitated before asking, "can we be nice?"

You nodded. Making your way to his chair, straddling his hips and cupping his face. You kissed him slow and deliberate. You don't kiss long before you start to feel his dick springing to life. You stand up pulling him, walking backwards, towards your room accidentally walking into the partially open door.

"Graceful," he commented, a hint of his salty tone under his words as he resumed kissing you.

You grinded against each other for a few moments, drinking in each others moans. You pulled away momentarily, his cheeks dusted pink, breathing heavy, his dick straining in his pants.

"You're so beautiful," you said. He blushed harder, his cock twitching in it's confines. Your fingers dip under the waistband of his pants and pull them down, licking your lips when his cock hits his stomach. You're about to press your lips to his tip when you feel pressure on your forehead.

"y-you don't have to..." he says. You cock your head to one side, your lips parted as you gaze up at him. "I-I get it you know... I don't hold it against you..."

"I want to," you say, "if you want me to."

He nods slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he enters your warm mouth.

Out of all the sex you'd had, this moment with Tooru didn't feel like sex. It felt like making love.

After he got close, you popped your mouth off and had ridden him. His muscles still sore from his games. Your lips danced with his as his hips met yours. Both of you reaching your climax simultaneously.

Tired in the best way, you cuddle up to his bare chest, kissing his cheek, "don't think this means I like you, flatass."

"of course," he says, relaxing into your touch.

"good."

"it was the fact that my dick was down your throat that made be think that."

You punch him in the ribs, earning an 'ouch' followed by a quiet, "let me have one win today." Followed by an even quieter "sorry" from you.

You place a gentle kiss on his cheek again before returning to your snuggle position. He wraps his arms around your waist as you both drift off to sleep.

______

It's been a number of days and neither if you had spoken about it. You wanted to text him a simple 'good morning' but the image of him quietly shuffling out of your room at the crack of dawn when he thought you were still sleeping, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You didn't want to seem too eager or somehow let on that not only were you awake but had enjoyed when he'd done it.

After the girls had lost to Fukurodani's girls in the semi finals, Ryu had insisted on dragging you out to play volleyball with her and some 'friends'. You secretly hope it's the other girls from your team. You find yourself not disappointed that it's Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

"Warm up 'Yama!" Oikawa yells at you, serving the ball in your direction as you and Ryu approach.

Caught off guard for a moment, you return the ball back at him, hitting his face lightly with an oof.

Of course, Ryu wanted to set for her boyfriend, leaving you with Oikawa.

You made a pretty good team, he picked up your style quickly, the ball exactly where you wanted it without having to tell him anything. Not to mention that Oikawa had racked up a third of the points on service aces alone, Iwaizumi finally adjusting to being on the receiving end on them. He and Ryu had made a magnificent comeback, clearly having practiced with each other before. You were lucky if you could get a piece of one of Iwa's spikes, Tooru faired better but they quickly took the lead. You grab Oikawa's arm, causing him to look at you curiously.

"set it to me, but I'll set it back. You spike it," you said, finishing your sentence by looking at him.

He considers it.

"break it up love birds!" Iwa shouted at you. Ryu making obnoxious kissing noises behind him. You quickly let go of his arm to flip her off, causing her to burst out laughing.

Iwa serves.

"it's mine!" Tooru yells. Mid jump, he faces you, the subtlest of winks as the ball flies into the air.

Smiling, you angle your body for a spike, Ryu taking the bait, but at the last moment, your hand sent the ball perpendicular to the net, straight into Oikawa's hand. The ball whizzing past Iwa's ear.

The adrenaline getting the better of you as you both embrace, celebrating a successful kill.

You revel in you best friend and her stoic boyfriend exchanging a bewildered look.

At the end of the game Oikawa offers to drive you home, when out of the way of prying eyes, he leans against his car. "Before your cousin goes to nationals, he and shorty should play against us."

"Yeah and maybe Tobio can set for me one round," you say, playing with the hem of his shirt, "but if there's any funny business from you, I'm calling it off."

"Who, me??" he jokes, aware of his history with your family.

You don't respond, opting to gently press your lips to his. He returns the kiss, cupping your face.

________________

Did I write myself into the story? ┐( ∵ )┌ Maybe a little...

I'm also not opposed to doing a part two, so lemme know in the comments ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

Also not me writing my first Haikyuu fic be Oikawa when I wanna break his knees 🥴🤚 (couldn't resist tho he's been on my mind, especially with glasses 🥵🤒)

Also also not me writing this from 1:30 am to 8am then had half my work deleted so I had to redo it the following night 🤪👈

#reader x oikawa #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #haikyuu iwaizumi #degration #oikawa hate sex #no beta we die like men #oikawa is hot and its not fair #im bad at tags #just smug oikawa things #hate sex #anime smut #heterosexuality is a myth #which is why all characters are at least bi

250 notes · View notes