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machveil · 1 month ago

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CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

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ange1heavensent · 4 months ago

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Do I Make You Nervous, Ellie?

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Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

Content Warning: reader has a husband, palpable tension, eye fucking, fic inspired by the movie Bound (1996)

w/c ≈ 1200

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The ding of the elevator rang through the empty hall. Your husband was talking your ear off about some sort of work drama as the two of you stepped through the metallic doors. You leaned softly against the wall, eyes flicking to your husband as he pressed the elevator button to your floor. It was the first night that the two of you would spend in your new apartment. The place was supposed to be a new start for the two of you. You tried to let the move settle into your bones, but the newness felt off. Something was missing, something you hadn’t yet put your finger on. Your thoughts were interrupted, as the doors were about to shut, someone from further down the hall yelled out.

“Hold the doors!”

Your husband pressed the button, which opened the elevator doors yet again and in walks a figure that immediately draws your attention. She’s dressed in a worn leather jacket slung over a plain white t-shirt that clings to her lean, muscular frame. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of dark jeans, and there's a slight smudge of paint on her forearm, peeking from beneath the rolled-up sleeve. She has that effortless kind of confidence, the kind that demands attention without ever asking for it.

Your husband gives her a nod, polite but indifferent. You, on the other hand, feel a sharp jolt in your chest as you lock eyes with her. Those deep green eyes, flecked with just enough softness to draw you in, but sharp enough to keep you on your toes. She glances at you, barely a second, but the tension is undeniable.

Ellie nods back in acknowledgment as she walks past your husband, before she leans back against the elevator wall beside you and then shifts her gaze towards you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a smirk tugging at her lips, and damn if it didn’t make your stomach flip. The elevator ride was short, but every second of it felt like an eternity under her sharp gaze. When the doors opened to your floor, she stepped out first, with a nod in your direction, her eyes lingering on yours just long enough to make your pulse race again.

You and your husband stepped out after, following her down the hallway lined with apartment doors. Then she stopped in front of one, keys jingling as she opened the door. You walked past, moving further down the hallway, but as you passed her you locked eyes once again. This time you sent her a wink, before she stepped inside.

Days pass. Your routine is simple, the mundane tasks of domestic life, your husband working long hours, leaving you alone in the apartment. But your thoughts keep drifting to her - the mysterious woman down the hall, who’s seemingly renovating one of the units in the building.

It starts innocently enough. You see her in the hallway a few times, catching fleeting glances that last a little too long to be accidental. Her presence is always lingering, her confidence radiating even when she’s just minding her own business with a toolbox in hand. There’s something so intoxicating about the way she carries herself, so sure of who she is, unbothered by the world around her.

Then, an “accident” occurs. You’re standing in front of the kitchen sink, washing dishes and absentmindedly fiddling with your engagement ring when it slips from your finger. It bounces off the edge of the sink, twirls once in the air, and falls down the drain with a soft, metallic clink. You bite your lip, staring down at the sink for a moment longer than necessary. Your husband won’t be home for hours. You could call the building maintenance, but where’s the fun in that?

Your mind immediately jumps to her.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of her door, heart racing beneath your chest. You knock twice, listening to the echo in the empty hallway before the door swings open. Ellie leans against the doorframe, wiping her hands on a rag. She raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes as she takes you in.

"Need something?" she asks, her voice low and smooth, the kind that sends a wave of heat straight through you. You swallowed, straightening your posture, before calmly answering, “Yes, I do. I dropped my ring down the sink. Thought maybe you could help me out?” You raised an eyebrow, never faltering eye contact.

Ellie’s smirk deepened as she studied you for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between you. You could feel her eyes on you, dragging slowly from your lips and down your neck. She pushed off the doorframe and stepped forward, closing the distance between you until she was standing just inches away.

“Sure,” she said, her voice low, almost teasing. “I can help you with that.” She wipes her hands one last time before tossing the rag aside and grabbing a small toolbox by the door. "Lead the way."

Back in your apartment, Ellie kneels in front of the sink, sleeves pushed up as she unscrews the pipe beneath. You stand nearby, watching her every move, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room. The way her hands move so confidently, so sure, it’s impossible not to admire her. She glances up at you, catching you staring, she quickly looks away, heat rising on her cheeks.

"Got it," Ellie announced, holding up your ring between her fingers. She stood up, handing it back to you with a playful grin. "Try to be more careful next time." You took the ring, but your eyes never left hers. "Thank you," you murmured softly.

She didn’t step back. Neither did you.

Her gaze dropped to your lips and your stomach fluttered. The intensity of the moment was almost too much, but you didn’t pull away. You just stood there, the air between you thick with desire. Ellie’s hand brushed against yours, her fingertips ghosting over your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. It was just a touch, barely there, but it was enough to make you ache. You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say. So you just stood there, staring at each other, until the apartment door unlocked and your husband announced that he was home, shattering the moment.

Ellie stepped back, her hand dropping to her side as her gaze flickered away. "I should go," she said, her voice still low and teasing. “Thanks for the help…” you said, urging her to say her name. “Ellie” she quickly replied as she awkwardly reached her hand out. You shook it, “Y/n.” As if on cue, your husband stepped into the kitchen.

With a final nod, Ellie walked back towards the door, sending a nod of acknowledgment towards your husband. But before she was out of sight she glanced over her shoulder “If you need anything else…” she trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the air.

And then she was gone.

The weight of the ring on your finger felt a little heavier that night.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Click here for part 2 - with some smut ;)

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

#ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #the last of us 2 #lesbian #wlw post #sapphic #ange1heavensent

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cherrycranes · 1 month ago

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Real Cowgirls Ride (Emmett x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader Summary: When you go to a bar in upstate New York with your girlfriends for a bachelorette party, you encounter a hot rugged man who´ll teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl. Word count: 4,248 Contents: (Minors DNI). No apocalypse AU. Age gap (Reader is 24, Emmett is 39), Oral sex (fem receiving), a little bit of ass licking (fem receiving), fingering, P in v, protected sex! Author's notes: Once more, a collab with @fuckiingloser cause that's my wifey. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Enjoy the ass licker.

It was the first time you ever stepped a foot in this rural upstate New York town. Certainly an interesting choice for a bachelorette party, but your friend: the bride, and her future husband had grown up here. It was nice, though. A very appreciated change of scenery from your busy downtown New York City life. It had been a 3 hour drive to get here, and you planned to just have a good time.

The party had a cowgirl theme and you had gone all out: a borrowed pair of red cowgirl boots that you had never imagined wearing in your life, a pair of dangerously tiny Daisy Duke jean shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that said “Budweiser” across the front. All topped with a matching cowboy hat sitting on top of your head. Your girlfriends showered you with compliments, you played the part so well.

It was around 11:30 pm now, and after several stops of the bar crawl, you all walked into a smoky, dark dive bar. The neon signs gave the entire room a dull glow. It was moderately full, mostly with old blue collar men tired from a long day's work. Some of them gave your group a few stares that only your tipsy state managed to ignore. You had come here for fun, and that’s what you would have.

You got a big table, ordered some drinks and shots and cheered for the bride, wishing her all the best with the love of her life. And, in secret, you hopelessly wished that you would find yours too… You were painfully single at 24 and your only one previous boyfriend had cheated on you after a year of dating. You were still young but loneliness stung.

To distract yourself, you ordered a few more shots and just went along with the vibe of the bar and your friends’ laughter. Some moments later, you wandered over to the old school jukebox that sat alone on a dark corner to flip through the endless pages of song options. Some you knew, some you didn’t, and one you picked before a rugged voice behind you interrupted you:

“Excuse me, miss...” You turned to look. “I just have to have a look at these fancy red cowgirl boots up close...” The man in front of you said with a charming little smirk and with his baby blue eyes looking down at your feet, then at your legs, your body and, eventually, meeting your eyes.

You looked him over too, with his plain white t-shirt, blue wrangler jeans, dusty work boots, scruffy beard with a few silver strands in it and a ball cap with some brown curls peeking out underneath it. Quite handsome. His little excuse to come over and talk to you was pathetic but cute, it had made you smirk a little. And when you looked into his beautiful eyes and saw that pretty smile again, you decided to give him a shot.

“Honestly… My buddies over there were givin’ me a hard time and said that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say something to the pretty girl in the red cowboy boots...” He gestured over to his friends in the booth in the other corner who gave you a wave and smile. You turned back to look at him, and gave yourself the luxury of eyeing him up and down again. He was definitely older than you, but not exactly old enough to be your father. He must have been in his early 40’s at most. He was sort of rugged, most likely a blue collar man. Some tattoos poked out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He was not the type of guy you were used to encountering in New York City. “I'm Emmett..” He smirked, and you chuckled a bit at his words.

“Hate to break the news but I borrowed these from a friend… I’m not a real country girl.” You admitted with a smile. Emmett laughed softly and leaned against the almost forgotten jukebox.

“Well… They look good on you either way… That’s for sure…” He looked over your body once more, shameless infatuation irradiating from him. His boldness made you smile again, and admittedly, it also turned you on. Like clockwork, the first notes of the song you picked started to play and Emmett gave you an approving smile.

“Good choice… You’ve got good taste obviously… Would you like to dance, beautiful?” He asked, his voice like velvet in your ears. You felt a sweet heat rush to your cheeks and you nodded.

“I'd like that.” You smiled and he took your hand with a gentleness that was to die for, pulling you closer and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. In return, you wrapped your arms around his neck and followed him along. Butterflies flew in your stomach like they hadn’t in so long when his arms tightened around you.

You chatted a little, dancing slowly in the middle of the dive bar with his rough hands rubbing the exposed skin of your back. In the background of the slow song, you could make out the voices and giggles of your friends who must have been staring in amusement and support.

In between the small conversations and the dance, you found out Emmett owned a farm nearby. Mostly horses and some crops. You also found out he was 39 years old. Never married, currently single. Then it came time for questions about your life, your work, your age, where were you from…

“Ahh, so you’re a city girl, makes sense… Never seen someone as hot as you around here before...” Emmett whispered, still swaying with you and still holding you tight. You blushed, something not everybody did to you, but there was something about him. His looks, his charm, his rough hands. You couldn't help yourself.

Guided by that feeling, you kept talking. Now telling him about your failed relationship, your cheater ex-boyfriend and your 8 month-long singlehood. Emmett’s brow furrowed upon hearing that.

“Fuckin’ asshole… Who would ever wanna lose you? You need a real man… Not a little immature boy..” He whispered, shaking his head gently and tightening his tattooed arm around you ever so slightly, just for the butterflies in your stomach to go even wilder.

Your song ended and the jukebox went silent. Emmett immediately asked to buy you a drink, and how would you even say no? Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a barstool with him standing in front of you, a hand on your thigh making you swoon. He leaned over to order, the scent of his almost worn-off cologne sending more heat towards the right places.

“Two miller lites please, thanks.. ” The bartender cracked open two beers and pushed them towards Emmett. He handed you one along with a sly smile, his other hand still on your thigh.

“Well… Cheers to a good night that I'm hoping gets even better.” Emmett held his drink up to yours and clicked them together with a nice melodic sound.

“Cheers.” You chuckled, arousal pooling in your lower abdomen and burning steady for the entire time you and Emmett talked and flirted in between sips. Some guilt crept up on you at having practically abandoned your girlfriends, but every quick glance towards them made you find them winking and putting their thumbs up. So you focused back on Emmett, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm, gave him your best smile…

“Can’t believe a pretty girl like you is interested in an old man like me.” He rubbed his hand softly on your exposed thigh, and you couldn't help but let out a sincere chuckle.

“You're hotter than any guy I've met in the city by a million honestly… A real man who works with his hands and knows what he wants and isn’t shy about it…” Every word of yours was soaked in a sensual tone and your eyes never looked away from him now. He had the most beautiful pale blue eyes you had ever seen, his pupils were long dilated from looking at you, and they seemed to get even more when he heard you talking like that.

“Well, you sure know how to flatter a guy… I’ve gotta say you’re one of the sexiest things I've ever seen.” Emmett leaned in to whisper into your ear, his lips giving you a featherlight touch. “My hands aren’t the only thing I’m good with…” His warm breath sent a satisfying shiver down your spine. “And I do know what I want… I wanna see what’s underneath this little crop top and these tiny jean shorts…”

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. His rough hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh firmly, the sensation, along with his words, going straight to your core and now dampened panties.

It was 12:45 am now, the clock upon the wall ticked in front of Emmett’s eyes with an eager question.

“It's getting pretty late… Whaddya say you come home with me tonight… And I can teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl?” He whispered through a seductive smirk, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and effectively making your clit pulse. You bit your lip, took in the pale blue of his eyes and leaned a bit closer.

“You wanna be my teacher?” You asked him, holding his gaze. Emmett nodded before taking a swig of his beer, finishing it and putting it on the bar.

“I'm sure a girl like you could teach an old dog like me a few tricks too…”

Your smirk turned into a grin before his eyes and your wet pussy fluttered again. God, he was so smooth and beyond sexy. The kind of man you needed.

“Take me home cowboy.” You whispered, ripples of arousal traveling around your body as you watched Emmett pull out his wallet and slap a 20 dollar bill on the counter to cover for your drinks and tip, before taking your hand like a gentleman.

Your girls cheered when they saw you walking out with him, and you so graciously gave them a playful middle finger that made them laugh out loud.

Emmett held the door open for you and all the exposed parts of your body felt the cool summer breeze of the night air. Not for long though, his truck was just a few steps away, and as the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger seat door for you and helped you in. The inside was rather cozy, an air freshener hung from the rear-view mirror along with a, quite fitting, tiny cowboy hat charm. You flicked it with your finger as Emmett got in the driver’s seat.

“Before we leave...” He started, leaning over the center console. Before you could ask him anything, his lips met yours in a hot, sensual kiss. Inevitably, your hand reached up to touch his beard, and you delighted with the taste of beer and faint mint gum in his mouth.

“Sorry, I just had to… Couldn’t wait another minute.” He whispered against the softness of your lips, forming a smile. He sat back in his seat and started the truck up, making it roar to life. His left hand held the wheel and his right hand found his new favorite spot: your thigh. Soft rock born from his radio barely made noise as he drove you down the mostly empty country roads to his home nearby. You raised both eyebrows when an old farmhouse and several barns came into view.

“Wow… All this is yours?” You asked softly, admiring the vast space bathed in starlight.

“It is indeed, pretty girl.” Emmett smiled, pulling up next to the house and getting out of his truck, this time helping you out of it, upholding the true gentleman behavior.

His arm wrapped around you once again, his body warmth fighting for you against the chill summer night’s breeze. You smiled when the front door opened for you and you were the first to step foot inside the cute little farmhouse. It was rather lovely, perhaps too minimally decorated but it was to be expected, he was a 40 year old man living alone. You seemed to be the most feminine thing in this house.

“I love it… So cozy.” You leaned against the kitchen counter, attracting Emmett to you. His hands found your hips and he looked down at you with that flirtiness that made your pussy wetter.

“You haven’t even seen the bedroom yet.” He whispered, closer and closer to you until another sensual kiss captured your lips. Your mouth gave his skillful tongue entrance and with a delicious groan he picked you up easily. Your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands supported you by holding your ass. He swallowed a moan from you and walked you both across the house, towards the stairs and into his bedroom. There, he laid you down on his big bed, his lips reluctantly leaving yours for air.

You propped yourself up to your elbows, granting him a visual feast for his eyes to devour. Your exposed midriff, your little shorts and those cute little red boots. Since your cowboy hat had been lost somewhere on the way to his bed, your hair was slightly messy, and your lips glistened from his saliva. He didn’t know where to begin with you.

“Fuck, you’re sexy…” He admired you, reaching down to pull one of your boots off, then the other one. Both joined his wooden floor. “I need to see this perfect body naked for me…”

You giggled, his hands now occupied themselves with your jean shorts. In a couple of seconds they also met the floor.

“Would ya look at that…” Emmett let out a flirty whistle upon seeing what you hid underneath the denim: a little red thong that made his cock twitch in his jeans, another reminder of how painfully hard he was. His calloused thumb didn’t resist and ran over your clothed pussy, slowly making its way between your folds and marveling at the feeling of the damp fabric. He growled in approval.

“Someone’s wet…” He looked into your eyes and you felt a rush of blood divide itself to reach both your cheeks and your needy cunt. You bit your lip, your body ablaze.

“Flip over for me, baby… Face down ass up.” He ordered after playing with you over your panties a little bit. You, incredibly turned on and obedient to any sexy command he could throw your way with that deep voice of his, didn’t even think about it twice.

“Yes, Sir.” You played along, flipping over for him with your ass in the air and your cheek against the duvet cover.

“Fuuuck…” He groaned at the sight. You knew very damn well your little thong was covering absolutely nothing from behind. “I wanna make sure this little pussy is prepped for my lesson…” he said, peeling the thong off you slowly.

Anticipation pooled at your cunt, the flimsy red fabric left your body with his help. Once you were free, Emmett palmed both your asscheeks and spread them slowly. He moaned at the sight of your glistening pussy and tight asshole, all fully waxed.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ…” He breathed out, feeling his heart skip a beat. “I could come just looking at you…” He whispered just inches away from your needy cunt.

You moaned softly at his words, feeling completely exposed yet so turned on. Nothing else could matter to you anymore.

“Please...” You whimpered so needily, he couldn’t resist leaning in and letting his tongue slide between your slippery folds. A guttural groan of his made your pussy reverberate, the taste of you on his tongue so addictive, so divine.

“Oh my god…” Now, you moaned. Emmett’s hot tongue licked a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your ass, flicking against it. The sensation was so good you could barely comprehend it.

“You taste like honey…” He purred to our flesh before spitting on your pussy, his saliva slowly dribbling down between your lips and making him groan in approval. Two of his fingers gathered some of that spit on them before circling your aching hole, slowly pushing inside of you from behind.

You moaned over and over, his thick fingers pumped in and out of you in a slow but firm motion. He watched hungrily as your tight cunt took them in so easily and so greedily.

“Fuck… Feels so good…” You spoke in between moans that only got louder when Emmett curled his fingers inside you, hitting that special spot. “Holy fuck…”

The louder you moaned, the faster his thick fingers moved and curled. Your eager pussy had his index and middle fingers completely wet and glistening.

“That feels good, pretty girl?” He asked with a smirk. “Gotta make sure this little pussy is ready to ride my big cock…” he growled hungrily.

“I-I’m ready… Please…” His pumping fingers had you bucking your hips in desperation and stuttering, almost out of your mind. Emmett loved every single detail about it, you looked just so beautiful when you were this horny and needy. Mercifully, he pulled his fingers out of your begging cunt and slowly brought them to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

“Flip over, baby.” He commanded, the sound of the zipper of his jeans making your ears perk up. You did as he said, catching the glimpse of his pants hitting the floor and his shirt being pulled over his head. He tossed it aside, the view of his toned, hairy chest and arms, along with those sexy tattoos of his made your pussy feel even more needy. Your eyes feasted on him, from his chest to his hard on in his briefs.

“I think you’re ready for your lesson…” Emmett crawled onto the bed and laid on his back, dark curls resting on his pillows. Right away, you sat on your knees, watching the way his arm flexed as he reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. Touch guided his way to a gold wrapper.

“A little help?” He smirked, looking down at his hard cock still tucked in his underwear. You smiled and nodded, your fingers hooking on the gray waistband and gently peeling the fabric down his legs. His big hard cock immediately sprung free for your eyes to devour. A throaty groan resonated from him. It was much bigger than what you had pictured, it was impossible to not stare at it in all its veiny, throbbing glory.

Emmett ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolling the latex down his thick cock and looking up at you with a sexy smile.

“You ready to be my cowgirl?”

Immediately, you snapped out of your trance and nodded.

“Yes, sir…” Your voice came out sweet and so lovely, his hand motioned towards him.

“C’mere, baby…” Emmett cooed and you moved to stand above him. You lowered down slowly on him until your sensitive folds felt the covered tip of his cock, making him groan a little at the friction.

“Mmm, slow baby…” He coached you in a soft voice, putting his hands on your hips and guiding you. “Sink down slowly…” And slowly you did it. His cock slid inside your tight hot ready entrance easily, with all the time in the world. You sank down further, each of your knees on either side of his thighs almost trembling at the stretch. Loud moans escaped you both in unison as you adjusted to him and he adjusted to you. You felt so full, for a second you even doubted if it all could fit, but, as if his cock was designed for your tight little cunt, he fully slid right in with ease.

“Oh, fuck…” You breathed out, looking into his beautiful eyes through your fluttering eyelashes. “So deep…” Words came in soft whine. Soft, clingy hands supported you by touching his broad, hairy chest. Emmett smirked, a perverted gleam in his eye from watching you adjusting to his thick cock.

“You feel me in here, baby?” He whispered, voice thick and heavy with lust. One of his calloused hands moved from your hip to your lower belly, pressing into your soft flesh and creating an erotic pressure that you could only moan and nod to. You felt him so deeply, all over and inside you.

“You feel so fucking good around me… So tight and warm. I think this pussy was made to ride my cock.” His voice was low and rough, both hands moved to your hips again, ready to begin..

“Now, just go with the flow and get into a good rhythm baby… I’ll help…” He coached you with a sly grin that made your cunt clench around him. He was just so sexy, and he knew and reveled in it. “Just relax and enjoy the ride…”

After exhaling a needy breath, you started to swivel your hips a bit, riding him slowly. Emmett groaned, his eyes closed in utter pleasure. His hands stayed glued to your hips and guided the slow rhythm your rolling hips set. You both moaned. His hips moved a little under you, encouraging you more and more.

“Look at you cowgirl...” His voice was already a little breathy, his groan took over the last letters of the word “girl”. His cock throbbed inside you at the sight of your pretty tits moving under the Budweiser logo. He helped you out with that, pulling your cropped shirt off your body and hungrily taking in the view of your bare chest as you bounced on his dick.

You moaned more when the tip of his cock hit that deep spot, and the more you spent riding him and earning yourself the title of cowgirl, the more he entertained an idea.

After a minute or two, Emmett pulled you down, making you chest to chest with him and wrapping his toned arms around you. A searing, sloppy kiss entered your mouth while his hips pistoned from beneath. Your sweet tongue melted into his before he whispered against your lips.

“Now it’s time for you to relax and I'll do all the work baby…” His hoarse voice tickled your skin and he planted his feet on the mattress, gaining the support he needed to immediately pick up the pace and pound into you relentlessly from underneath. No thoughts registered properly in your brain from that point forward, it was all just a hot, wet pool of pleasure. A series of curses left your lips with no particular order and with no respect for anything.

“Oh-fuck… Oh my fucking god... Fuck!” You cried out into the skin of his neck, the sound of your voice mixing with his low groans and the slapping of skin.

“You fuckin like that?” He panted into your ear, his hips never stopping as you moaned non stop.

“Yes... Yes... Fuck, yes!” You cried out as his hands moved to spank your ass, hard. You almost screamed, the sting nearly sending you over the edge. It was so overwhelming, you didn’t fully realize just how close you were until that moment.

“Jesus… I think I'm gonna come…” You whimpered and his hand came down again hard on your ass, definitely leaving a red mark. Emmett held you so tight against his chest, holding you in place for his thick cock to slam into over and over.

“Come for me..” He looked right into your eyes with pure want in the blue of his irises. And as if on command… You did.

Eyes squeezed shut so tight you saw lights, a whiny moan was born from the depths of your chest and your sweet, slick cunt clenched around him tight. Your legs couldn't stop shaking and your orgasm took over every single sense. All your being was just a giant orgasm that still could feel him pumping hard into you.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out in awe watching and feeling you succumb to all the pleasure.

“Good girl..” He whispered, praising you right before capturing your lips in a hot kiss. “I'm coming too..” Even in your state, you could tell. His thrust had gotten sloppier and his breathing was much heavier. He wasn't able to hold back much longer. Inside the transparent latex, you felt him pulse and fill the material with his warm cum. He groaned, his arms held you tight and kept you there until the last drop was out.

Panting like you had just ran a marathon and with hearts beating fast, you laid there chest to chest. You put your forehead against his in a sweet moment, in response, his hand rubbed your back slowly.

“Jesus… that was...” He whispered, still a little out of breath looking right into your eyes. You couldn't help but blush and put on a shy smile.

“...the best sex i’ve ever had…” You softly finished his sentence.

He pulled out slowly and sat up with you still pressed against his chest. His eyes studied your face for a minute before speaking.

“I think you may be a real cowgirl after all…” There was that sly smirk once more, one that made you return the sentiment and lean in with him for one last soft kiss.

Pinterest board with our visual inspo for this fic, made by @fuckiingloser

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #emmett a quiet place #a quiet place part ii #emmett aqp2 #emmett smut #emmett aqp2 smut #emmett fanfic

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dreadsuitsamus · 9 months ago

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jealous choso... but not just any type of jealousy. post breakup jealousy

things didn't work out for one reason or another, but for the sake of his little brother yuji, who you've helped him raise, you've remained friends! things work out okay enough this way, and for a long time there weren't any issues. you're there for each other when needed, and sometimes it feels like you never split up to begin with.

but you are apart, and that much becomes absolutely crystal clear as you prepare for your first date after the breakup of your six year relationship with choso.

"you... have a date?" choso frowns softly, adjusting the phone between his shoulder and ear as he dries off the dinner dishes. he'd called to see if you'd come over to watch the new hour long special of yuji's favorite cartoon, only to be shot down rather shyly.

"well... yeah." you murmur.

choso's eye twitches. he'd bet any amount of money you're wearing that little black dress, the one that hugs your curves and shows off those delicious thighs, and you've no doubt paired it with those sexy stilettos that give your ass a bit more of a pop... "with who?"

"a guy i met at work." you fiddle with the hem of your dress. "it's nothing serious... just some dinner."

my ass!

still, choso does his best to swallow down the bitter flavor in his mouth. he should be happy for you! "hm. have fun. you need a ride?"

"no, he's picking me up."

oh fuck that

"okay. send me your location anyway."

sighing, though with fondness, you concede and hang up the phone. and as soon as choso's phone pings with the information, he's tying his hair up and making another call.

"sukuna, i need you to watch yuji for a couple hours."

and it takes some haggling, but soon enough the eldest itadori brother is over and choso is gone, flying out of the apartment parking lot like a bat out of hell and to the restaurant. spotting you and your "date" across the room, choso grabs a menu and settles at a table he can still see you at. the glower on his face is murderous as he takes in just how gorgeous you are, and just how much you're no longer his.

it's been a while since the breakup, but he still isn't prepared for this. it's just not right, seeing you with another man. he doesn't know you like choso does! he doesn't know how you like your grilled cheese, what side of the bed you like to sleep on, how you like to be held in strong arms...

he never should've let you go.

the vein at his temple threatens to burst just as much as his biceps do through the sleeves of his t-shirt. you're laughing. he's charming you and it's working. his girl, his baby is at dinner with a man that's doing all he can to get under the skirt of that dress.

admittedly, choso would love to be under that skirt too. it's been... a while.

flicking his amber eyes over the top of the menu, choso smirks as you decline the dessert menu and slips out of the restaurant. he'll catch you before you can leave with the schmuck, and then you're all his. he waits at his car, watching until you're stepping out of the restaurant—

his phone ringing is a bit unexpected.

slowly raising it to his ear, you're speaking before he has a chance.

"you know, you're really bad at hiding in plain sight with all of that brooding."

clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, choso bounces his leg a bit. "yeah, whatever... had to make sure you were okay."

"mhmmm." you laugh softly, and choso rolls his eyes.

"well if you're calling me, clearly your date is a bust."

"how couldn't it be?! there was a big, sulking man shooting daggers from the corner at us!"

"not my fault he's a coward." choso shrugs, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "come on now, i'll take you home."

"you'd better! you scared off my ride."

"my ride's better."

in the car, choso drives right past your apartment complex, and you tug at the hem of his shirt. "you missed the turn, cho."

"did i?" he hums and gently takes your hand, tugging you across the bench and into his side, driving one-handed while his other arm slings over your shoulders.

"mhmmm." leaning into choso is still so easy for you. "and where's yuji?"

"'kuna's watching him."

"oh, i know that one cost you."

"'nother week with yuji." choso shrugs; it's not much of a loss for him, truly. he never quite relaxes when sukuna has their little brother for his week.

"so not all that much in the long-run."

"i actually gain more time with no gray hairs this way."

you hide a laugh into his neck and choso presses a soft kiss to your temple. "cho... why'd you come out tonight?"

"guys don't like their lady goin' on dates with other men." choso mumbles, a blush spreading along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

your lips linger against his neck, lipstick marking his fair skin through your mumble. "we broke up a year ago, choso."

your ex pulls over, parking the car before scooping you into his arms and laying you down on the bench with plenty of hot kisses to follow. "mm... i changed my mind."

"oh really? well, you'll still have to change mine."

choso just grins, and his methods of convincing you make dealing with sukuna's attitude a walk in the park.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #choso x reader #jjk imagine #x reader #reader insert #considered doing smut but opted not to this time

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tsuvvy · 10 months ago

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Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 4

Safe

You learn the meaning of safety, even if you might not feel it. And Cassandra learns the feeling of what it’s like to have a little sibling.

Warning: Mentions of blood, mentions of abuse, Cassandra might be a little ooc, I kind of struggled with this chapter and don’t really like it, but I hope you guys enjoy

Word Count: 3k

You laid in bed staring up at the ceiling in the bed. Damian had left a little while ago.

“I will be back, do not try anything,” he had told you sternly before he'd exited the door.

You sighed, sitting up. Ignoring the soreness in your arms. You looked down at the ground when you swung your also but less sore legs off the side of the bed. You looked around the room. You didn't feel threatened, or like you were in a cell. But you did feel like a trapped animal. Like a dog in a crate.

You hated it. You hated feeling like that.

You kept ignoring the pain as you pushed yourself off of the bed and used the bedside table as support as you let the soreness in your legs fade for a moment. You looked around. The room was pretty bare, not a lot going for it. There was a tv on the wall. A potted plant on the dresser, one in a corner of the room too. Damian had left the cushioned seat he chose for his seating close to the bed where he had moved it. The room had a color theme of a calm maroon which took up the bedsheets, the rug on the floor, the cushioned seats, and the walls. Then a lot of the furniture was a mahogany brown.

You pushed off the bedside table, slowly walking towards the door. But it was locked. Of course he’d locked it when he left. You turned, looking for anything you might be able to use to unlock the door.

You walked toward the closet and opened its mahogany doors, looking at the variety of clothing. The clothes were nice. They were plain, but nice. You grabbed the sleeve of a nice suit jacket, looking for any cufflinks. You found none. You reached into the pocket. You felt something fall into your hand and you pulled it out. Bingo, the cufflinks. As you walked back to the door you broke off the end piece of both of them before you kneeling down to get a better eyeline of the door knob. They’d changed the knob so it locked from the outside rather than the inside. But that wasn’t a problem.

The end of the cufflinks were sharp now after you had broken off the ends. You stuck both of them within the lock of the door. You were patient as you moved them around, waiting until you finally heard the ‘clink’ of the door unlocking. You looked down at your clothes. It dawned on you that they were different. More comfortable, actually. A pair of plain gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. You were too busy keeping your guard up to ever notice.

You put the cufflinks into the pockets of the pockets and turned the knob of the door quietly. This time, it did actually turn. You quietly closed the door behind you, looking from side to side. The hallway was long both ways. Where should you go?

You chose right.

You began walking slowly, trailing your hand against the wall as you walked. The mansion was obviously well decorated with paintings along the walls, potted plants on small tables in some places. There doors you passed. None of which you found any interest in. Even the one that was slightly agape. You had peeked in, though. It was dark, only illuminated by a lone computer, but no one was in there, so you moved on.

You paused, staring forward toward a door on the wall you had your hand trailing along. You heard the familiar hits of fists and kicks on punching bags. You’d grown up around them. Your father, David, forcing you to train night and day. Refusing to let you quit until you fainted. It was like a cycle. One you hated. But you’d never lost your temper. Not with your father.

You peeked into the room. It was huge. Full of an assortment of exercise equipment. But it was neat and orderly. And in the middle of the room was a fit woman. One you recognized.

She wore just a pair of plain sweatpants like you, and a black sports bra. Half of her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. You quietly stepped in, staying near the door. You watched her. It was easy to tell she was frustrated and had been at this for a little while. Her bangs were sticking to her forehead with sweat. Her knuckles were red and very irritated, maybe just a few punches away from starting to bleed. And there was a sheen of sweat coating her arms and neck and cheeks.

You opened your mouth, but for a moment nothing came out. You shook a bit as you tried to bring the speech out of your throat and mouth. And finally, in a shaky voice, you called out to her. “Cass.. Sandra..?” You stumbled over her name.

Cassandra’s head whipped to you. How had she not heard you? Well.. With her escaping, she assumed David must have trained you even better than he had ever trained her.

“How did you get out of the room?” Cassandra asked, her brows furrowing. “Where is Damian?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the cufflinks that now had sharp edges from you breaking the ends off to pick the lock of the door. “Damian leaved.” That wasn’t the right way to say it, but Cassandra didn’t say anything. She understood what you meant and she’d been in your predicament with the speech before.

“You’re mad.” You said simply.

Cassandra looked at you, “I..” She looked to the floor for a split second, “I’m not mad.” She said.

“You are.” You said simply. Cassandra stayed quiet this time. You didn’t look to be carrying any threat or malice in your stance or expression.

“Your hands,” You spoke a bit unsure. Unsure of if those were the correct words. But you pointed to her hands. Blood dripped from her knuckles. They weren’t gushing, but it was never ideal to have your knuckles bleeding.

Cassandra looked at her hands. She hadn’t even realized. But it surprised her you even pointed it out.

“You're hurt..” You’d learned a bit from your time with Damian in your room. A few words, not a lot.

“I..” Cassandra paused, letting out a breath as she looked back at you, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Not.” You said simply.

Cassandra did a double take. “Not…?” She asked, a bit confused.

“Not worried.” You clarified simply. Cassandra let out a breath of a subtle annoyance. You were such an enigma. And she was already frustrated to begin with.

Cassandra, much like you usually did with others, kept you in her peripheral as she turned to a bench and grabbed a cloth off of it. She started gently wiping her knuckles with it. The once white cloth begins to turn red with the blood.

“Dad is mad at you,” You told her. Cassandra froze, looking at you in the corner of her eye.

You looked at you fully. It was hard to read you. But you didn’t look mad right now. “I know..” Was all she said. Her voice is quieter. She didn’t want to talk about him. She wanted him out of her head.

You looked to the floor. “Why leave?” You asked.

Cassandra let out a breath, looking to the floor herself before looking at her knuckles again. They were damaged. She’d need to wear bandages for a little while. “He was cruel.” She said, “I was cruel.. I didn’t want to be. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to kill people.”

You were quiet. “Dad is cruel..” You agreed quietly. This whole time your voice had still been carrying that unsure shaky lilt to it. But it lessened a bit.

“He is..” Cassandra nodded subtly. She looked at you for a moment. She wanted to know what was going on in your head. It looked like a lot. But she couldn’t see what it might be. If it was bad or not. You didn’t have any expression on your face. “Did he hurt you?” She asked.

You looked at her. But you stayed quiet.

“What’s your name?” She asked softly, tilted her head slightly.

You stayed quiet.

“Can I come closer?” She asked.

You stayed quiet.

Before Cassandra could ask another question after a moment of silence, she saw a small and subtle nod from you. It took a moment before she did. She took a few steps towards you and stopped. You were a bit closer, but still quite a ways away from each other. You looked over at her.

“This okay?” She caught your gaze. A soft and subtle smile on her lips. You looked at her, then to the floor for a second. It looked like you were fighting with yourself about something. Cassandra’s eyes widened a bit when you took a small step forward. Sure, it wasn’t a lot. But you stepped closer to her.

You were a weird kid, one moment trying to kill everything and one you see. The next you're calm and rational, wanting to trust, wanting to let your guard down. Cassandra couldn’t read you well, but with you stepping closer, she at the very least realized that much.

“Name?” Cassandra repeated her question softly and more simply for you.

You looked up at her. Should you? You shouldn’t. You could almost hear your father in the back of your head. Telling you not to. Telling you it’ll have consequences, bad ones. Telling you you’ll be punished for doing it. Telling you that you better not.

“Y/n.”

“Y/n?” Cassandra questioned, blinking as she took your name in. You nodded slightly. “Y/n..” She whispered this time. Her little sibling. Her little sibling she’d known nothing about, even their existence.

“He’ll be mad..” You muttered, looking to the ground.

Cassandra looked at you again. “Dad?” She asked. It made her nauseous to call him that.

You nodded.

“Hey,” Cassandra spoke, she knelt down to meet your gaze better. She saw you tense. Your guard was up again. “It’s okay.” You were taken aback. She was so gentle. Cassandra could see the flicker of hesitance in your expression. “He’ll never get to you again,” she said, “You are safe here, you won’t be going anywhere.”

“Safe…” You repeated quietly.

“Do you know what that means?” She asked. You shook your head. “Would you like to know?”

She watched you carefully, waiting for any type of answer you might give. But you stood still, staring at her like a deer caught in headlights. But, finally, Cassandra caught a nod from you.

“Safe means the opposite of danger,” You thought about it for a moment. You looked at her, your brows furrowed, telling her you were still confused. “When you are safe, you aren’t in danger. So right now, you are safe. But when you are out in costume killing people, you are in danger.” You stayed quiet once she finished explaining a little more simply for you.

“No..” Your voice trailed off. “Danger?” You looked at her. “I not danger?” Cassandra understood what you meant.

“Mhm,” She nodded gently, “You aren’t in any danger. You are safe.” She enunciated the word, hoping it might help a bit for you to maybe understand how to say it.

“Sa.. S.” You struggled.

“It’s okay, take your time,” She soothed.

“Sa-a. S.” It was an easy word. But Cassandra guessed you were scared of failure.

Having grown up with David herself, she knew what he was like when he saw failure, especially in those he would be teaching. He was cruel. Again, she could only guess what he could have done to you, but what she had in mind of guessing wasn’t good, not one bit.

“That’s it,” Cassandra smiled gently at you. You stared at her, your lip shaking subtly. You weren’t going to cry, she knew you wouldn’t. She knew the signs well enough. “Safe.” She repeated for you, showing you how to say it once more.

“Sa-a-fe..” Your voice was shaky, broken.

“There you go!” Cassandra said softly, “You got it!”

You perked up, looking at her surprised.

“You did it, good job, Y/n!” Her smile just got sweeter and more kind.

This was weird for you. Praise, kindness, calmness. It was all so weird. David had never been so gentle. You never got praise when you were to do something correctly. All you would get was a ‘try harder’, ‘you can do better’, or ‘not good enough’.

“Sa-Sa-afe..” You said again, a little bit more sure of yourself this time.

“Yeah, good job!” Cassandra congratulated you. Praising your accomplishment.

“S-Saf-e..” She hummed, nodding her head. She smiled softly still. And in turn. You couldn’t help the way your lips curled upwards too. It was weird. You’d never really smiled before. Maybe a few times as a baby before you had gained consciousness. But, not in a very very long time.

“S-Safe..” You finally said the word fully. Maybe a subtle stutter at the start, but you said it in full.

“You did it! Good job, Y/n!” It was weird. All of this was. Your lips curling upwards. Hearing your name accompanied by praise slipping off her tongue.

“How do you even plan to find the guy, he’s been invisible for years.” Steph pointed out, looking over the men in the room with her arms crossed.

“Well, we know he’s alive, which is a start.” Bruce spoke up.

“Why are we helping this kid again?” Jason asked, a scowl on his face.

“Jason, just because you were caught off guard and beat into the ground by a little kid younger than Damian does not mean we are going to just throw them in some jail cell in Arkham.” Tim spoke up, not wasting his chance of really rubbing in the man’s defeat with an amused smirk as he did.

“Do your job.” Jason told him sternly.

“Oh, aren’t you supposed to be looking for David to? You’re the one just standing around asking annoying and pointless questions.” Tim looked at him with a smirk. Jason scowled at the boy.

“Enough!” Bruce announced, looking at the two with a stern scolding look. “We are starting at the last traces he’s ever left.” Bruce looked to Stephanie, addressing her concerns and confusions.

“The kid?” She questioned.

Bruce shook his head, “It’s clear we won’t get anything from them.”

“We should still keep that option open, though,” Stephanie spoke up again, gesturing her hand in the air as she spoke. “Who knows, they might open up the more comfortable they get, if at all.”

“Yes, I know that,” Bruce nodded, “We were planning on it already. But we will be starting at the last place we found a trace of David.”

“Which is?” Stephanie questioned. Bruce turned to look at Tim at the bat computer.

“Ace Chemicals,” Tim answered and finished for the two after pulling up the case files of the specific case that David was last involved in to their knowledge.

“What was he doing there?” Steph’s brows furrowed.

“We aren’t insanely sure what he was doing there. But we know there was an illegal trade of weapons and some poisons.” Tim said, “He might have been doing some bodyguard stuff or dealing some of the weapons, we don’t know. We just know he left evidence of himself there, but we were never able to trace him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Steph nodded slowly, “So, how are we supposed to go off of probably the tiniest bit of evidence anyone has been able to muster up in recent years?” Stephanie asked again, looking to everyone in the room.

“The only option we have is the kid.” Jason spoke up.

“Any suggestions on getting them to talk?” Tim gave him a deadpan expression.

“Listen, don’t give me attitude, kid,” Jason scowled at me, “I’m just pointing out the obvious here.”

“The only way we’re going to be able to get them to open up at all is by giving them time,” Damian announced. “They’re terrified of everything. We just need to be patient, as hard as that is going to be.”

Everyone was silent for a little while. They knew he was right. They could get information out of you. You just needed some time to realize no one here would hurt you. You were a little kid, one that’s obviously been mistreated, no one needed more than a glance to realize that. You would warm up with time. Just like a stray dog.

You were scared and used to what you know. But you’d just need to learn anew.

“Doesn’t David Cain have ties to the League of Assassins?” Dick abruptly said.

“He does.” Damian answered.

“Why not look into League of Assassin files, we might find something.” He proposed.

“Jason, you go to Ace Chemicals, double check for any sign of David Cain.” Bruce ordered, “Dick, you look into League of Assassin files. Stephanie you keep Cassandra out of this, I don’t know what she’ll do if she ever finds her father.”

“Yes sir!” Stephanie nodded.

Bruce continued, “Damian you’ll keep watch on the kid, they’re most comfortable with you than anyone else here. And Tim you’ll stay on the batcomputer and look through files and try anymore dna samples you might be able to think of.”

“Alright,” Tim nodded.

“What’ll you do?” Dick asked his adoptive father.

Bruce was quiet. He didn’t say anything. He looked to the batcomputer. “Get to work.” He dismissed the group without answering Dick’s question.

“I’m back.” Damian entered the room, slowly as to not startle you.

You didn’t say anything. You just stared, watching him walk closer with a full glass of water in his hand.

Cassandra had made sure to get you back to the room safely, not letting you wander anywhere else throughout Wayne manor.

You were hugging your knees to your chest.

“Safe..” You said softly and abruptly.

Damian stilled in his movements, staring at you a bit surprised. And you stared back with your blank expression.

“Good job..." He told you softly.

<- Chapter 3 Chapter 5 ->

@redh00dsbf @02006 @shikanosn @rainnyydaysworld @notsaelty

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creativesnehalshop · 1 year ago

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New York Tee

All tips t shirt available

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luvismenu · 18 days ago

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chap: 14 — push comes to shove pt.1 ✎ ,, index

warnings: some violence (punching, slapping, etc.) like boyfriend mv vibes hehe

wc: 5.2k+

note: this chapter ended up being pretty long, so i decided to break it into two parts. i know i said i’d update sooner, and i’m really sorry for the delay,, i got sick (still not fully recovered, but i’m managing lol) anyway, have fun reading!! thanks for being patient with meee y’all are the best 🤍

the music is loud, the kind that vibrates through your chest, and the room is dimly lit with hues of neon lights bouncing off the walls. yoongi’s place is packed, a mix of familiar faces and strangers, and the atmosphere is lively, buzzing with conversation and laughter.

you step inside, scanning the crowd. you opted for something simple tonight, a black dress that wasn’t too flashy but still hugged your figure just right. paired with a delicate silver necklace and minimal makeup, you looked effortlessly put together. it wasn’t meant to stand out, but there was an understated elegance to it, pretty in a way that didn’t try too hard.

you told yourself maybe it's a bad ideato come, but here you are, searching for a familiar face to make this feel less awkward.

you came here alone. because why wouldn’t you? it’s not like you have a long list of people to bring along. jason isn’t exactly your friend either, you’re starting to get tired of this whole “act” you’ve been putting on.

it feels childish now.

but was he making it any better?

you don't even wanna think about him right now.

you spot yoongi in the living room, a drink in his hand. he looks different tonight. no plain t-shirts or oversized hoodies. instead, he’s in a sleek jacket, skinny jeans and his hair neatly styled. it catches you off guard for a moment.

you weave through the crowd to get to him, and he greets you with a wide smile.

“you’re here!” he chimes, sounding genuinely pleased.

“hey, yoongi,” you say with a small smile.

“come on, let’s get you a drink,” he says, already turning towards the kitchen. you follow after him, trailing behind as he makes his way through the bustling party.

“oh, i don’t really wanna drink tonight,” you mumble hesitantly.

“don’t worry, we’ve got non alcoholic stuff too,” he says with a grin, glancing back at you before continuing towards the kitchen.

as soon as you step in, you see him.

jungkook.

he’s leaning against the counter, a drink in hand. his black shirt fits him perfectly, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos on his forearm. his hair is slightly messy, but it only adds to the way he looks tonight— so fucking good.

his eyes flick up, and they meet yours. for a second, the noise of the party seems to fade, leaving just the two of you locked in that brief moment.

he’s the first to look away. slowly, he raises his drink to his lips, taking a long sip as if he hasn’t noticed the way your gaze lingered.

you snap out of it, forcing yourself to turn towards yoongi.

“here you go!” yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn back to him. he’s holding out a glass, a playful smirk on his face.

“yoongi,” you whisper harshly, leaning closer so only he can hear, “you said he wouldn’t be here!”

“did i?” he says, like he's amused.

“yoongi,” you glare, your tone warning him, but he only shrugs, sipping his drink like he’s enjoying the chaos.

“i don’t recall saying that.” he raises an eyebrow like he's innocent.

“you totally did,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

he grins, leaning against the wall. “well, maybe i thought it’d be good for you two to talk. y’know, settle... whatever this is.”

“there’s nothing to settle,” you snap, though your eyes unconsciously dart towards jungkook. he’s laughing at something a guy next to him is saying.

that fucker. how is he so happy?

“really? because the way you’re looking at him says otherwise,” yoongi teases.

you glare at him, taking the drink from his hand. “you’re the worst.”

“thank you, i try,” he says, unfazed, before taking a sip of his own drink. “just... tthink about it, yeah? you’re not doing yourself any favors by avoiding him.”

“i’m not avoiding him,” you lie, sipping the non-alcoholic drink.

yoongi’s shrugs. “sure, whatever you say.”

you roll your eyes and move past him, heading towards the other side of the room. the last thing you want is to stand here while yoongi reads you like a book.

as you weave through the crowd again, you accidentally bump into someone.

“oh, sorry,” you mumble before looking up and it's—

“jason? w-what?” you stammer, caught off guard. of all the people, you didn’t expect to see him tonight.

“oh hey, ___!! my dearest!” he slurs, swaying slightly.

great. he’s drunk.

“what are you doing here?” you ask.

“i’m friends with yeri, and yeri is friends with jimin, and jimin is friends with yoongi, and sooo i am here!! what about you?” he asks, his words slightly jumbled.

“oh...” you hesitate, mostly because you don’t know any of the people he just mentioned. “that’s great, i’m friends with yoongi, so...” you trail off, forcing a polite smile.

jason makes an exaggerated "o" face, nodding as if everything suddenly clicks into place. “got it. makes total sense,” he says

before you can respond, he claps his hands. “i’ll be getting more drinks! you stay here!” he announces and stumbles off somewhere

you sigh, shaking your head slightly when a voice from behind startles you.

“who the fuck is that?” yoongi asks.

“just a classmate,” you reply, turning to him.

“you invited him?” he asks, clearly surprised.

“what? no! of course not,” you say quickly. “apparently, he knows one of your friends.”

yoongi hums in thought, glancing toward the kitchen where jason disappeared. after a pause, he looks back at you. “well, did you talk to him?”

“jason? yeah, i just did. you saw us—”

“not him, you idiot. jungkook,” yoongi interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to answer.

yoongi waits for your response but you don't give him any. “are you planning on talking to him, or are you both just going to keep this cold war going?”

“it’s not a cold war,” you mutter defensively, taking a sip of your drink to avoid his gaze.

“could’ve fooled me,” yoongi quips, clearly unimpressed.

you frown, gripping your glass tighter. “i don’t want to, okay?”

yoongi’s expression shifts slightly, his frown mirroring yours. “why not?”

you glance over his shoulder, and your heart sinks. there she is again. the woman you've been seeing him with a lot these days. she’s making her way to jungkook, her giggles carrying over the noise of the party as she approaches him with the same bright smile that always makes your chest tighten.

“looks like he has company already,” you mutter, glaring at them both before looking back at yoongi. your irritation is written all over your face.

yoongi follows your gaze, glancing behind him to see what—or rather, who—you’re talking about. when he spots a woman leaning towards jungkook, laughing at something he’s said.

yoongi sighs.

“really?” he mutters, clearly fed up with whatever game the two of you are playing. before he can say more, jason reappears, interrupting the moment.

“i’m back!” jason declares, holding up two drinks triumphantly. he flashes you a bright smile, his enthusiasm nearly contagious.

you force a smile in return, trying to focus on him. jason leans closer, his voice raised to be heard over the noise. “so, what were we talking about?” he asks, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

but it’s hard to pay attention. because you can feel jungkook’s eyes on you.

he notices everything. the way jason leans closer to you, the way his hand lingers on your arm, and the way you smile, even if it’s forced. his jaw tightens, and his grip on his glass stiffens.

he looks back at the woman in front of him, trying to focus on her words, but his attention keeps drifting to you. he hates how easily you’ve managed to get under his skin, and he hates even more how much it bothers him to see you with someone else.

“what the fuck are you doing?” yoongi whisper yells as he steps up to jungkook, his tone sharp.

“what are you talking about?” jungkook asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

before yoongi can respond, mia, who’s been hovering nearby, chimes in, “is there a problem?” her tone is overly sweet, though there’s a hint of curiosity behind it.

“i need to talk to my friend here,” yoongi snaps, barely sparing her a glance. mia blinks, clearly taken aback, but eventually steps away with a soft, “okay...”

once she’s out of earshot, yoongi turns back to jungkook, his voice low but firm. “what are you doing, jungkook? you’re supposed to talk to her tonight. and who the hell is this? do you seriously think flirting with some new girl is going to make ___ talk to you?”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling around his glass. he takes a steadying breath before responding. “i don’t know why mia’s here! i didn’t invite her. i just saw her walk in, and now she’s sticking around. and i’m not flirting with her,” he grits out, his eyes darting to where you’re standing with jason.

his gaze darkens, his voice dropping further. “unlike ___, with that guy again. i don’t even know what she sees in him to keep inviting him everywhere.”

yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she didn’t invite him, genius. from what i heard, he came with someone else. probably a mutual friend.”

jungkook pauses, caught off guard. “oh,” he mumbles, his frustration momentarily replaced with guilt.

yoongi shakes his head. “maybe stop jumping to conclusions and actually talk to her? before this gets even messier.”

jungkook exhales heavily, glancing at you one more time. “easier said than done,” he mutters.

you're dancing with jason.

his hands rest a little too firmly on your waist, and your own are draped loosely on his shoulders. it feels close—too close—and awkwardly uncomfortable. but he had insisted, practically begged, that you dance instead of standing awkwardly against the wall.

the music shifts to something soft, slower, and less chaotic, and you’re both swaying, though your mind is elsewhere. you try not to think about how unsteady he feels, his movements jerky. he’s clearly had too much to drink, and you're silently praying he doesn’t throw up on you.

“this is turning me on, not gonna lie,” he slurs, giggling in a way that sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

you scrunch your nose in distaste, forcing a polite smile as he twirls you clumsily. during the spin, your eyes accidentally meet jungkook’s across the room. he’s leaning against the wall, his drink in hand, but his gaze is sharp, fiery. his jaw clenches as he watches you, and the way he's looking at you makes you falter for a moment.

you gulp, suddenly feeling like you’re crossing a line. maybe this was too much. maybe yoongi was right. you should talk to him, clear the air before things spiral further out of control.

but just as you decide to step back, ready to distance yourself from this unnecessary drama, you feel jason’s hands slide lower. far too low.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you snap, pushing him away immediately. he stumbles back, blinking at you with confusion.

“what?” he slurs again, smirking lazily. “i thought you wanted this. you want me, right?”

he moves forward, his hands hovering near your waist again, and you take another step back, your heart racing in frustration and unease.

“jason, you’re drunk. stop it,” you warn, your voice firm.

but before he can close the gap again, a blur of motion overtakes the scene. a strong arm swings forward, and suddenly, jason is stumbling backward, clutching his face in shock. the sound of the impact echoes through the room, drawing gasps from everyone nearby.

your eyes widen as you process what just happened.

jungkook is standing in front of you, breathing heavily, his fists clenched tightly.

“stay the fuck away from her,” he growls, his voice low and deep.

jason, still clutching his nose, straightens up, blood dripping slightly as he glares at jungkook. “what the fuck is your problem dude?” he yells, and without a second thought, he manages to stand up and lunge at jungkook.

and jungkook doesn’t hesitate. as jason lunges towards him, his fist connects with jason's jaw before he can even get close. the impact sends jason stumbling back again, crashing into a nearby table. glasses clink and drinks spill as the crowd gasps louder, and a few of them cheering for them to fight.

“jungkook, stop!” you shout, but he’s already advancing towards jason again.

thankfully, before he can land another punch, yoongi and two other guys rush towards him, grabbing jungkook’s arm. “enough, jungkook,” he says sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos.

the two guys follow close behind, quickly positioning themselves between the two men. the silver haired guy crouches by jason, helping him sit up, while the blonde hair guy places a firm hand on jungkook’s chest to hold him back.

“calm the fuck down,” the blonde guy says, his voice low but commanding. jungkook glares at him, his chest heaving, but he doesn’t make a move to push him away.

“this is not the place for this,” yoongi adds, his eyes darting between jungkook and jason. he exhales sharply, clearly frustrated. “jimin, get him out of here before he causes more trouble.”

“on it,” the silver haired guy; jimin mutters, helping jason to his feet. jason groans in protest, but jimin’s grip is firm. “let’s go, dude. you’ve had enough for tonight. taehyung help me,” jimin calls out to the blonde guy.

jason throws one last glare at jungkook before letting jimin and taehyung lead him away.

yoongi turns to you. “you,” he says, nodding towards jungkook, “take care of him. get him to calm down before he does something even dumber.”

you blink, stunned. “me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yes, you,” yoongi says impatiently. “you’re the only one he’ll listen to right now.”

jungkook doesn’t argue, though his jaw tightens at yoongi’s words. you hesitate for a moment, but the tension in the room is palpable, and you know this isn’t the time to question anything.

“fine,” you say softly, stepping forward. “come on,”

jungkook glances at you, his gaze softening just a fraction as he lets out a shaky breath. without a word, he follows you out of the room, away from the crowd and the prying eyes.

you’re in a bathroom with jungkook. the tension is thick, the air heavy with unspoken words. your eyes fall to his knuckles, noticing the faint smears of blood.

“sit,” you say firmly, crossing your arms.

“where?” he asks, his tone flat, though there’s a flicker of defiance in his gaze.

you sigh, pointing to the empty counter near the sink. “there.”

with a reluctant shrug, he pushes himself up, sitting on the counter as you grab a clean cloth and wet it with warm water.

“show me your hands,” you say, holding out your own.

he doesn’t move, just stares at you, his jaw clenched.

you frown. “don’t be a jerk now, jungkook. just let me see.”

he finally scoffs, his voice filled with bitterness. “oh, i’m the jerk? really?”

you pause, the cloth in your hand dripping slightly. “yes, you are. what else do you call a guy punching someone in the middle of a party?”

his gaze sharpens, frustration flickering across his face. “you’re really gonna act like you likef his hands all over you?”

his words hit you like a slap. “it wasn’t like that,” you mutter, your voice quieter now as you look away.

“yeah?” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his tone cutting. “because it was clear that you didn't like it. i mean, what are you doing? laughing with him, letting him get close... what the hell is that about?”

you glance back at him, meeting his piercing stare. “you don’t get to talk about letting people get close,” you shoot back.

his jaw tenses, and for a moment, it seems like he’s searching for the right words, but nothing comes. instead, he exhales sharply, leaning back slightly on the counter.

you take a shaky breath, “she was practically attached to your side the entire night. was that for my benefit? huh?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his knuckles curling slightly. “this isn’t about mia,” he says lowly.

“and it’s not about jason,” you fire back.

you're right, it's about us, he wants to say, the words resting heavily on the tip of his tongue. but he doesn't.

the silence that follows is heavy, the only sound the faint dripping of water from the cloth. you take his hand gently, finally cleaning the blood from his knuckles, your movements softer now. your brows furrow when you don’t find any visible bruise or injury beneath it.

“there’s nothing here,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, as you examine his hand closely.

jungkook notices it too, tilting his head slightly to look at his own hand. “guess it wasn’t my blood,” he mutters.

you glance up at him, your lips pressing into a thin line. “you hit him hard, though,” you say quietly.

his eyes flick to yours, something unreadable passing through them.

“he fucking deserved it,”

silence, again.

“this isn’t getting us anywhere,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

he watches you, “then what do you want, ___? because i’m tired of this. of us pretending we’re fine when we’re clearly not.”

“you think you’re the only one who’s tired of this?” you snap, your brows furrowing as you glare at him.

jungkook’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. “oh, so now you’re the victim?” he shoots back

“i’m not saying that!” you huff, crossing your arms. “but you act like you’re the only one affected. do you think this is easy for me?”

he scoffs too. “you don’t make it seem like it’s hard. you’ve been parading around with jason like nothing happened!”

“are you serious right now? what about you? you're with miss ‘missing in action’ every time i see you!” you counter, your voice rising slightly.

“that’s not the same, and you know it!” he snaps, leaning closer, his chest heaving.

“why? because you say so?” you fire back, refusing to back down.

“because i don’t want her! i—” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair, “fuck, you're so stubborn”

“and you’re fucking impossible!” you protest, your voice trembling with anger.

the air is thick and suffocating. his eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, neither of you move, breathing hard from the argument.

then, suddenly, he leans forward, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips crash against yours. it’s not soft or gentle— it's messy and desperate and maybe a little... angry.

you hesitate for a second, your mind spinning, but then you give in, clutching at his shirt as you kiss him back just as angrily. his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as you stand between his legs.

you pull back first, your chest heaving as you both stare at each other, wide eyed and breathless.

“what the fuck are we doing?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“i don't know,” he mutters

before you can kiss him back again, the door swings open, and yoongi stands there, staring at you both. his eyes take in the scene; jungkook’s hands on your waist, the way you’re practically in each other’s faces.

you step back quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. jungkook rubs a hand over his face, clearly annoyed.

“i am not letting you two fuck in my house,” yoongi says flatly

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “we weren’t doing anything.”

“yeah, nothing,” jungkook adds, stepping off the counter to stand beside you, though he avoids looking at yoongi.

“good,” yoongi replies, his tone sharp. “because that's not why i sent you here."

you frown, confused. “what?”

yoongi falters slightly, realizing how that sounded. “no, i mean—well—”

“so you both set this up?” you ask. your gaze shifts to jungkook, who shakes his head quickly.

“no, no, i—” he stammers.

“look,” yoongi cuts in, holding up his hands, “i lied about jungkook not coming, but i had nothing to do with the whole jason situation. that wasn’t me. but it's good that you're finally talking, right?”

you let out a frustrated sigh, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “unbelievable,” you mutter, brushing past yoongi to leave the bathroom.

“___, wait—” jungkook starts, but you’re already gone.

yoongi watches you storm off, then turns to jungkook with a pointed look. “well, that went great.”

“not helping,” jungkook mutters and runs after you.

as you walk briskly to the front door, your heels clicking against the floor, you hear jungkook calling your name. the sound of his footsteps grows louder as he catches up to you.

“___, stop, let’s talk. please.” his hand reaches out, grabbing your arm gently but firmly.

you shrug him off, letting out a bitter laugh. “now you want to talk? how convenient.”

“___, stop!” he says again, his tone sharper this time as he steps in front of you, forcing you to face him.

you gasp, startled by his sudden movement, your chest heaving with frustration. “don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” you snap, pointing a finger at him, your anger boiling over.

“oh, but it’s fine when you do?” he fires back, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. his words hit you, and for a brief moment, you falter, your breath catching in your throat.

“don’t you see how fucked up this is?” he continues, his voice low but intense. “we’re just acting like children, throwing tantrums instead of dealing with this like adults!”

your eyes narrow, your heart pounding in your chest. “and is it my fault that you started liking me when we both said this was supposed to be nothing?”

his jaw tightens, and he falls silent, your words sinking in as he stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“you like me,” he says, his voice steady, and your world comes to a halt.

“w-what?” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. you want to respond, but nothing coherent comes out.

before the silence can stretch further, a high pitched voice rings out.

“jungkook!”

you freeze, and there she is, the last person you want to see right now. mia. of all people, and of all times. her slightly unsteady steps and the way she slurs his name scream that she’s had more than a few drinks.

jungkook sighs as she stumbles toward him, and when she nearly trips, he instinctively catches her. “mia... not now,” he mutters, shooting a quick glance at you.

you fold your arms, your expression hardening. the irritation bubbling in your chest is hard to hide as you watch them

“what do you mean ‘not now’?” mia giggles, clinging onto him like he’s her lifeline. jungkook gently tries to push her off, keeping her at arm’s length.

then her attention shifts to you. “who’s this?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she wraps herself tighter around his arm, like she’s staking her claim.

oh, this bitch.

you plaster on the fakest smile you can muster, your eyes narrowing just slightly as you look at jungkook. “tell her jungkook. who am i?” you repeat, your tone cutting.

jungkook sighs. “this isn’t what it looks like—”

you let out a humorless scoff. “i’m ___. yoongi’s friend,” you say, each word laced with venom as you glance between the two of them.

mia’s face lights up in relief. “oh, thank god! for a second, i thought you were one of those obsessed girls trying to steal my jungkook,” she giggles, her words slurred.

both you and jungkook frown at her.

“mia, you’re drunk,” he says firmly, trying to steer her away, but she pouts, clinging tighter.

your hands ball into fists at your sides as you try to keep your temper in check.

calm down, ___, this isn’t worth it, you tell yourself, but it’s a losing battle.

“you know what?” you say sharply, spinning on your heels. “i’m leaving. have fun dealing with... whoever this is.” you wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

as you turn to leave, mia’s giggling voice stops you in your tracks. “whoever?? i’m gonna be his girlfriend soon,” she says, her tone smug and dripping with drunken confidence.

you pause, your body stiffening. slowly, you turn back around, and there she stands, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

fuck it.

without thinking, you stride back towards her, the forced calmness in your expression shattering. before she can react, your hand connects with her cheek in a sharp slap. the sound echoes, and she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide.

“what the f—” mia begins, but you don’t let her finish.

you lunge at her, pushing her down to the floor as your hands grab for her hair. she screeches, her own hands flying up to pull at yours, and suddenly, the two of you are in an all out brawl on the floor, pulling hair and flailing.

and just like before—when jungkook had punched jason—the energy in the room shifts. people edge closer, forming a loose circle around you, their curious and excited murmurs filling the air. some look amused, others shocked, and a few are already pulling out their phones to record or take pictures.

“___!” jungkook’s panicked voice cuts through the chaos, his eyes wide with horror as he watches the scene unfold. he rushes forward, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you off her.

you struggle in his grip, your breaths coming in short, angry pants. “let me go!” you yell, trying to lunge at her again, but jungkook holds you firmly, his voice frantic.

“___, stop it! what the hell are you doing?”

mia scrambles to her feet, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and rage. “she’s crazy!” she shouts, pointing at you as she straightens her hair.

“mia, just leave,” jungkook snaps, “now.”

she stares at him for a moment, her mouth opening to argue, but the look in his eyes silences her. with a huff, she stumbles away, muttering and cursing under her breath as she disappears into the crowd.

you’re still fuming, your body tense as you stand in jungkook’s hold. slowly, he loosens his grip, his hands falling to his sides as he stares at you.

“what the fuck was that?” he asks, his voice quieter now but still firm.

“she fucking deserved it,” you snap, crossing your arms and looking away.

jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. “you can’t just do that, ___.”

“well, maybe if you’d handled her sooner, i wouldn’t have had to,” you bite back, glaring at him.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, his gaze softening slightly as he watches you. for a moment, the two of you just stand there as you try to catch your breath.

“what the hell is wrong with you two?” yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip as he appears out of nowhere, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

both you and jungkook turn towards him like kids caught sneaking out past curfew. jungkook sighs and runs a hand through his hair, while you fold your arms across your chest, refusing to meet yoongi’s glare.

“is talking that hard? seriously? this is the second fight you guys have caused tonight!” yoongi exclaims, his arms gesturing wildly as he steps closer.

“i didn’t start any—” you begin defensively, but yoongi’s sharp glare cuts you off mid sentence.

“oh, don’t even try that,” he snaps, pointing a finger at you. “you know what you both did,”

you do.

you falter, your mouth opening and closing as you try to think of something to say, but nothing comes out.

“and you,” yoongi turns to jungkook, his voice heavy with exasperation. “what is wrong with you? couldn’t you stop her? or at least not let this escalate? do you have any idea how ridiculous this looks?”

jungkook frowns, clearly not liking being scolded. “what was i supposed to do?”

“how about not letting her lunge at someone like a wild animal?” yoongi retorts, throwing his hands up in the air.

“i did stop her, didn't i?” jungkook protests.

you glare at jungkook. “don’t act like you’re so innocent. you’re the one who—”

“enough!” yoongi shouts, and both of you immediately shut up. “i don’t care who started what or why. this isn’t kindergarten. you’re both grown adults, so fucking act like it.”

you glance at jungkook, who looks equally chastised, and for a moment, you feel like two teenagers getting scolded by their dad.

yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i don’t know why i bother with you two. you’re like oil and water- no, scratch that, you’re like fire and gasoline. one spark and boom! chaos.”

“yoongi, it’s not—”

“don’t,” he interrupts you, holding up a hand. “i don’t want to hear it. all i want is for the two of you to grow up, talk it out, and stop punching people. is that too much to ask?”

both of you mumble something that vaguely resembles an apology, but yoongi isn’t having it. “no, no. don’t give me that half assed apology. i want this fixed. now.”

“how are we supposed to—” jungkook starts, but yoongi cuts him off again.

“i don’t care how. just figure it out. but not here. go somewhere else and sort out whatever weird, unresolved… whatever this is between you two.”

he waves his hand between you and jungkook, then sighs deeply. “and for fuck's sake, don’t cause another scene, or so help me, i’ll lock both of you in a room until you figure it out.”

with that, he storms off, muttering under his breath about how he needs a drink and maybe some new friends.

you and jungkook stand there in silence for a moment, awkward and unsure of what to do.

“well,” jungkook finally says, his tone dry, “that was awesome, thanks, ___.”

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “shut the fuck up,”

he rolls his eyes.

“whatever, let’s go before yoongi actually locks us in a room.”

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop @myjungkookthighs

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#jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #fanfic #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook smau

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

Note

And Carlos having to watch in Abu Dhabi as they get to publicly be together. Maybe that’s why he crashed out in FP2, she was on his mind…

This is now canon.

Can it be an epilogue?

Lady in Red {4} || CS55 & CL16

Summary: It's the final event of the season and plans are being made for winter, but first there's some mind games going on at Ferrari Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, bj, fingering, toxic behaviour WC: 2.4k One || Two || Three || Four

Charles felt your fingers slip away from his as you neared the entrance to the track. Confused, he reached for them again and looked at your reflection in the car window. Turning away from the lines of fans waiting for a glimpse of the drivers, you met his green eyes. “Sorry, force of habit,” you apologised sheepishly.

You had confessed everything to him when he tried to kiss you at the end of the night in Vegas. Ever the gentleman, he had walked you to your room but when he leaned closer, just like you wanted him to, the words had tumbled out. He knew everything; how you had been played by Carlos and, even worse, what you had done knowing he was in a relationship.

Lacing your fingers tighter, he raised them to his lips and kissed them. “You don’t have to hide with me.”

You smiled at the truth and leaned into his side as the car came to a stop. “I know.”

It felt strange stepping out into the spotlight with all of your clothes on. You were used to the wind kissing your skin through the thin lingerie you were being paid to promote with your body, pretending you weren’t freezing cold when night fell. It was comfortable to walk hand in hand with Charles, in a fairly plain dress that you had chosen. You weren’t here for business, it was purely pleasure.

“What are your plans for the break?” you asked as he settled into his driver's room.

He pulled his t-shirt off and traded it for the fireproof long sleeved shirt you had grabbed from the shelf. Your eyes lingered on the toned skin that disappeared beneath the shirt and he combed a hand through his hair that had messed up. “My plans or our plans?”

“I didn’t know we had plans,” you said coyly.

He kicked off his jeans and smirked as you hid the fireproof pants behind your back. His body pressed to yours as he dominated your space, reaching around your back and catching your hands in his much larger ones.

“Then we will have to change that, chérie. Unless you have something already planned?”

He pulled you closer and dipped his head to yours, kissing you until your body relaxed and your hands released his clothes.

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you sighed jokingly, smiling when his lips tugged up again.

“Don’t go out of your way,” he said sarcastically as he pulled his fireproofs up and jumped to get the tight leggings into place. “I would hate to be a nuisance.”

“Such a pest,” you noted, dropping onto his couch and tucking your legs up. You rested your chin on your knees and watched him sip from his bottle to keep hydrated. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do you like skiing?”

“Never tried. I’ll probably be terrible and complain about the cold,” you admitted with a laugh. “I hope you are a good teacher.”

“The best, chérie.” He winked your way as he pulled his racing suit on, shrugging the shoulders up so he could close the velcro collar. When he had his boots on and his balaclava in his hands, he bent down and kissed you goodbye. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles had done well to avoid Carlos for most of the week. The two drivers had been on separate media panels and had barely spoken outside of team meetings or whatever silly games they were told to play by management. Those had been tense to say the least.

There was no avoiding him however when they finished FP1 and spoke to the media. They had both finished their interviews at the same time and were heading in the same direction to hospitality.

“Did your girlfriend tell you about me? About the things we did?” Carlos goaded his teammate as they walked along. They both smiled and waved to the fans and the cameras but Carlos’ one was straining under the force of his.

“She told me everything, but we all make mistakes,” Charles replied calmly, his smile never wavering as he signed autographs for the young fans. “That’s all you are to her, a mistake.”

“We’ll see about that: once a whore, always a whore.” Carlos threw his arm over Charles’ shoulders and pulled him closer, slapping his chest patronisingly. “You’re vanilla, Chuck. Vanilla is boring once you’ve had a bit of spice. Why do you think they call me Chilli?”

Carlos pushed away with a laugh and left the Monegasque with the words playing on his mind. Charles was still thinking about them when he met you in his driver's room. He closed the door a little too hard and you frowned at the change in him. He had been smiling in the media pit, proud of how the first practice went, but now he was sour as he started to strip his clothes off.

“Is everything okay?” you asked as you touched his back lightly, feeling his move out of your touch. “Oh, okay. I’ll leave you alone then.”

You grabbed your handbag and reached for the door but Charles stretched over you to plant his hand on the top, the press of his chest against your back. His lips brushed the shell of your ear and his other hand snaked over your hip, drifting down your abdomen. “Am I boring?”

Your head fell back to his shoulder as his fingers followed the shape of your body and slipped between your legs. “No,” you whispered as you remembered he had asked you a question. “Did Carlos say something?”

Charles' hand disappeared as he pushed away from you with a huff. “Were you seriously thinking about him?”

“I think you were,” you pointed out as you turned to face him and leaned against the door, crossing your arms. You stared at him for a moment and he looked away first, brushing a hand angrily through his hair - but the anger wasn’t aimed at you.

“Fuck, he got in my head.”You crossed the room and caught his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the beard he sported. “Forget about him, Charles, I’m with you. You’re good for me, healthy.”

“Vanilla,” he muttered as he twisted his face away and sighed.

“I’m going for a walk,” you murmured as he sank into the couch. “Give you some space.”

“Wait,” he said as you opened the door. “Come back.”

“I will, soon. Promise.” You closed the door behind you before marching across the motorhome to the other driver room and pounding your fist on Carlos’ door. “Open up.”

It swung open quickly, like he had been waiting for your visit and smirked as you stepped inside. “Hermosa, you look disappointed. Does Charles leave you unsatisfied?”

“I am disappointed, Carlos,” you said as you crossed your arms but quickly unfolded then when his eyes fell to the swell of your breasts. “Do you really have nothing better to do with your time?”

“There’s one improvement I can think of, and it isn’t talking, cariña.”

Your hands turned to fists at your side as he undressed you with his eyes, his tongue rolling across his bottom lip. “Don’t talk to Charles, don’t talk to me, don’t even think about me, okay?”

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly. “Hard to do, he’s my teammate.”

“You’ll find a way, or Rebecca will find out the truth. Wouldn’t that be fun? Imagine that, Carlos, she would drop you in an instant and once again you would be all alone - because I won’t be answering your call,” you threatened coldly as you took a step closer. “I will be too busy on holiday with my boyfriend - the one I will fuck in every possible way so no one could ever call him vanilla again.”

“He’ll never be enough,” Carlos called out as you stepped towards the door. “That thrill, of knowing you might be caught, you’ll never get that with him.”

“There’s other thrills to be had,” you smirked over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll take a page out of your book and mess with your girlfriend. I could send Rebecca that two piece you loved so much. You remember, the red one, delicate, lace. The one that had you on your knees begging to fuck me in. Yeah…I think I like this new game, it’s just so thrilling.”

“You're not wearing red today,” he muttered.

“No, I’m not being paid to support Ferrari, I’m here for Charles.”

You left him unable to articulate a response and closed the door behind you with a dark smile. Charles was where you left him, fidgeting with his rings, and his head snapped up when you walked in.

“You went to him?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely curiosity that filled his tone and he patted the space beside him.

“I did,” you confirmed, taking the seat he offered. His hand laced with yours and he settled them on his thigh as he leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. “I needed to clarify some things that he didn’t seem to understand.”

“I didn’t mean to push you away, or pin you to the door.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Was kind of hot though.”

Charles laughed nervously. “Yeah, it was. Would it be alright if I did that?”

You peeked up under your lashes to see him looking intently at you. You didn’t realise he felt he needed permission but your heart skipped a beat over the fact he asked. You hadn’t really had that before and your body burned in response as you shifted on the seat to straddle his hips. “Yes, Charles.”

“Not too vanilla,” he teased, but the laughter never reached his eyes.

“I don’t know why you are so hung up on that,” you tutted. “Vanilla isn’t an insult. It’s classic and timeless, and perfect for all occasions.”

“I suppose so,” he mused, half convinced.

“You know what wouldn’t be vanilla?” He shook his head and watched you sink to the floor between his legs. Your hands found the waistband of his fireproofs and dragged them down as he lifted his hips. You wet your lips at the sight of his semi that was growing harder by the second. “Letting me do this, with the door unlocked.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted but before he could think better and ask you to stop your lips sealed around his cock and the only sound that escaped was a sated sigh. “Putain, tu te sens si bien.”

You hummed at the taste of him in your mouth and you pressed your tongue against his shaft as you took him deeper. Incoherent French filled the room and you delighted in the sounds as you ignored the need to breathe. There was nothing prettier than rolling your eyes up his body to see the complete awe on his face as he watched you pleasure him, your name on his lips. Not a nickname or an endearment, your name, because you weren’t a secret to hide.

“Je vais…je vais foutre,” he moaned loudly. His hands gripped your head and he snapped his hips up, choking you with his cock as he buried himself in your throat. A thick stream of cum filled your mouth as he sagged back into the couch, his cock twitching as you milked every last drop on your tongue and swallowed it.

You sat back on your heels pleased with yourself. He was thoroughly relaxed as he curled his fingers to draw you back up onto his lap.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his confidence completely restored. “I’m sorry I have to get ready to go, chérie, or I would happily return the favour.”

“I can wait,” you hummed as he started to tease you with his fingers anyway. He eased one into your cunt to find it already wet and ready for him, then he added a second and pressed his thumb to your clit. “Someone might walk in,” you whispered, but it turned to a moan at the circles he drew around your clit.

“Someone might,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying the idea as much as you were.

His fingers worked you to a frenzy and you rode your hips over them as you chased your release. He swallowed the cries of your release with a deep kiss, his tongue dominating yours and sharing the taste of his musk that coated your tongue. Lifting his fingers to his lips, he held your eyes as he licked them clean and your pussy clenched at the sight.

“That’s not vanilla,” you said as you bit your lip and climbed off. “Not vanilla at all, baby.”

He grinned at the compliment and tucked himself away before standing up too. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles didn’t stop smiling that night. His practice may not have had the top time but it was still a positive indicator that he was going to have a good pace for the race and better yet Carlos had crashed out. They had passed each other in the media pit and Charles didn’t have the ability to hide his smirk as he watched his teammate saunter off with a scowl on his face.

“I don’t know what you said to him, chérie,” Charles laughed at dinner with his friends, Carlos’ table much more reserved on the other side of the restaurant. “But I haven’t seen him that quiet, ever.”

“I just reminded him of his values,” you said with a sweet smile, and you fluttered your eyelashes too. “And what will happen if he tries to fuck with us again.”

“God, winter break can’t come soon enough,” Charles said as he took your hand and kissed it before draping his arm over your shoulders. Carlos shifted in his seat, eyebrows furrowing at you before he did the same to his girlfriend. “I don’t know if I will even want to leave the chalet.”

“One ski lesson with me and that might be the wise decision.”

Charles shook his head. “You’re not getting out of it, I told you, chérie, I’m the best.”

You smirked as your hand came to rest high up his thigh under the table. “Yes, yes you are.”

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