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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year

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Line of Sight [3]

JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN X READER

Summary: Jake gets competitive. You happen to find that incredibly sexy.

Warnings: language? frank conversations? mostly just fluff <3

Notes: PART THREE AT LAST !!!!! thank you so so so so so much to @roleycoleyland for the encouragement and friendship during the very long writing process for this one, this is for u hehehe <3

Masterlist

You have to stop and blink down at your phone in confusion when it starts ringing at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon. After complaining last weekend to Hangman that you didn’t have his phone number, he’d made sure you didn’t leave the bar without it.

You never expected that he would be the one to call first.

“We’re going mini golfing at six.” Hangman informs you matter of factly down the line, not even giving you a chance to greet him when you pick up.

“Yes, hello, Hangman, it’s good to hear from you, too!” you say as if talking to a preschooler. You can practically hear his eyes rolling as the sound of a phone being adjusted crinkles in your ear.

“It’s just Jake,” he ignores your attempt to tease him, and for a moment your heart sinks in an all-too familiar way. “And get ready, it’s already five.” he adds, his tone full of faux sternness.

“Is this your way of being nice to me? I think I liked it better when you ignored me…” you joke, rolling your own eyes. On the other end, Hangman is silent for a beat and you think he must have stopped moving entirely, because all background noise has ceased too.

“David has invited us for a double date, apparently he didn’t get enough of his ass handed to him last week.” He says then, as if suddenly remembering this fact. You start, jolting in your spot, your features automatically turning down.

“He what?!” you demand, before suddenly realising Hangman must have exchanged numbers with David at some point, how else would they have organised this apparent double-date.

“We’re going mini-golfing with David and Yas. We’re going to destroy them, remember?” He asks as if you’re the one losing your mind.

“Yeah! At pool, Hangman! You already did that! I don’t wanna go mini-golfing with David!” you try your best not to sound like you’re whining, but even you can hear that it's a lost cause. Wherever Hangman is, you hear him tut and let out an exasperated breath.

“It’s just Jake. Besides, you said, and I quote sweetheart; ‘nothing left to bury’. I’ve got tone and now I’m just confirming the kill!” he reasons, but it only serves to confuse you slightly.

“Why are you being so insistent about this?! He’s my ex!” you stress, voice rising just a little in your frustration.

“Exactly!” Hangman’s volume matches your own, and it quickly silences any other protests you might have. You might have heard him get rowdy at the Hard Deck before, but you have never ever heard him raise his voice above a friendly call.

He doesn’t speak again immediately after that, and it’s quiet for so long you have to pull your phone away from your ear to check if the call is even still active. Just when you’re about to relent and apologise for shouting, Hangman sighs again, and you can almost perfectly picture him dragging his hand down his face.

“Just let me do this for you, alright? You won’t even have to do anything except look real pretty and maybe kiss my cheek whenever I get a hole in one!”

You have to blink at his sudden switch up, both seemingly pleading with you and blatant flirting within the same ten seconds.

Your mind still lingers on what he’d meant by ‘exactly’, you struggle to understand why he’d have any particular skin in this game any more. He’d already trounced David last weekend, maybe you were mistaken, but you can’t help but feel this new rouse is too much effort for a guy who seemingly didn’t care to acknowledge you properly for the first year you knew him… still, no matter how much you hated the idea of wasting a night in David’s company, or even worse, wasting Hangman’s limited down time before he was shipped off somewhere again, the idea of spending it with the aviator of your affections, watching him thoroughly wipe that condescending smile off of David’s face, is fast growing on you.

Softly you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding until now.

“Are you sure?” You ask softly, falling victim again to your need for this man to just like you. Hangman scoffs and you hear what sounds like keys.

“About the kisses? Absolutely.” He replies too fast for it to not have been slightly planned, and you can imagine his smirk now. You realise you shouldn’t count yourself short, a month ago you’d never been on the receiving end of one of his infuriating Cheshire grins, but these days it seemed to be the only expression he wore around you.

You roll your eyes and huff.

“You should be so lucky.” You say with absolutely no conviction.

“For my smokin’ hot girlfriend to fawn over me every time I humiliate her piece of shit ex-boyfriend for her? I’d agree. I would be very lucky, sweetheart.” Hangman’s voice is surprisingly effective down a crackly phone line, deeper and with an inflection you aren’t sure of. As if he knew something you didn’t. You find yourself surprised by how much it doesn’t annoy you, how much it instead makes you want to jump his bones here and now. You were much too aware that half your desire for Hangman to look at you twice was because you had a crush the size of his ego, but you’d become so used to his cold treatment of you for so long, that feeling a sliver of arousal shoot through you is almost strange.

“I really like mini golf.” You tell him abruptly, desperate to distract yourself from that line of thought. “In my hometown, we had this incredible putt-putt place, it was honestly plucked from Disneyland or something. It was that cool…” you ramble on, reminiscing about the good ol’ local Holey-Moley.

“Did you go a lot?” Hangman asks, his voice unreadable. You let out a sad little laugh and shake your head even though he can’t see you.

“Nah. I remember I always wanted to go for my birthday when I was a kid, but the cost was through the roof. When I got a bit older I guess… I guess I could have gone but, more importantly I’m not sure it’s so fun to go mini-golfing alone.” You chortle at the thought, but part of you wishes you’d done it, at least once.

“Mmh. No smoking girlfriend to kiss your cheek when you win.” Hangman says, and you can’t help yourself, you laugh loud and unabashedly. You think you can hear him chuckle too, but it could have been peaking static for all you know.

“Golf is at six. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at ten to, alright?” Hangman tells you, his voice not exactly soft, but not demanding like it had been earlier either. You hum, but before you hang up you call out.

“Wait, Jake?” You hear shuffling, like perhaps he hadn’t heard you.

“Yeah?”

You pause, unsure of exactly how to say what you want to, and choose to settle on the simplest way.

“Thanks. David sucks.” You tell him gratefully. You hear silence for a moment before his voice comes back again.

“Don’t mention it. We hate that guy.”

—

As it turns out, you didn’t need to worry much about seeing David or him making you feel any type of way. It’s only when you and Jake have settled at the venue’s bar and ordered a round that his phone buzzes sharply and makes the blond frown down at the screen in front of him, before he pockets it again.

You watch him take a hefty swig, and still frowning, he fixes you in his gaze, making your stomach involuntarily flutter.

“David and Yas aren’t coming.” He states. You struggle to read his tone, though you think he might sound a little annoyed, and the fluttering in your stomach immediately ceases.

“Oh.” You say dumbly, blinking rapidly down at your hands, and then to your drink. You also take a big sip, now avoiding your companion’s eyes as you let the disappointment roll through you.

After a few moments you feel a large hand land on your back, between your shoulder blades, and you glance over to eye it’s owner, who seems to be doing his best version of apologetic while rubbing his hand in soothing motions up and down over your sweater.

“Hey, that’s a good thing isn’t it? We hate that guy,” Jake asks, his eyes flicking back and forth over your face, but you aren’t sure what he’s looking for. You hum, noncommittal, and down another large mouthful of your cocktail, missing the way Jake’s lips turn downward at your reaction.

All too soon his big hand is gone from your back, and you almost cringe at how much you miss not just the warmth, but the feeling of his touch.

“I’ll take you home, if you want me to,” he says, tone unreadable to you now, and you can’t help but look up at him again. Jake stares back, his brow furrowed, but he bows his head a little to the side when you meet his gaze, now avoiding you.

“I just thought…” he trails off, shutting his mouth sharply, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he stares over your shoulder.

You feel the urge to comfort him then, as you realise this whole mess is Hangman’s version of doing a nice thing for you. It occurs to you then that he’s aware of how obvious this fact must be to you in the light of things not going to plan, and almost want to laugh at the idea of him feeling shy about how much he’s really willing to do for people he likes. It makes some sense, considering you’ve seen how little he’ll do for those he seemingly doesn’t.

You do crack a smile at the thought of him trying to hide how much he cares, and make a note to watch for it in the future.

“What? That you’d get away from being destroyed by my slice?” you ask, pushing off the bar with a combative smirk. Your words immediately draw his attention again, and almost like you’ve uttered the magic phrase, his whole demeanour switches up. He’s smirking now, in that infuriating way that makes it seem as if he knows something you don’t, and where you’ve stopped leaning, he takes it up, resting his palm flat on the bar so that his bicep flexes impossibly taut. Briefly the ridiculously bulging muscle draws your eye, and you can’t help but ogle him slightly, from his arm up to his neck and by the time you reach his eyes, you know you’ve been caught.

Jake’s smirk is almost mean with how wide it is, and you nearly jump when he leans in to you slightly, cocking his head derisively.

“Honey, I would love to be destroyed by your slice,” he tells you like it’s a joke you clearly don’t get. He knows he has your attention now, and he makes a show of finishing off his beer, taking the opportunity to get even closer to you when he places his empty bottle down, his eyes purposefully looking you over. You think he must enjoy how wound up he makes women, and considering you told him the last time you saw him that he made you hot and bothered, he appears to be pulling out all the stops. You take a deep breath, and quickly finish your own drink, enjoying the way he dares his hand back to your body, once more at your back, but this time he drops it lower, easily turning you so you can grab your clubs and begin putting.

“I have to warn you though,” he continues, never moving too far from the spot right behind you, even though the venue is packed full. “I’m known to be a bad sport about these things. Too competitive,” his voice holds an element of humour still, but it’s receded enough that you can hear the real hesitation in it. It makes you wonder if he’s had dates in the past go poorly because of something similar. The idea makes you scrunch your nose as you approach the first putting course.

When you turn around to reply, Jake seems just as taken aback as you at your sudden proximity, not entirely unfamiliar, though it feels different from the last time against the pool table given that his hand still lingers at your back, now seemingly holding you together. You stare at one another for a moment before you remember what you were going to say, hesitating for a few seconds longer before committing to telling him.

“I like that– about you, I mean,” you manage to say without stuttering, your confidence growing some when he can’t seem to stop a small frown appearing between his brows at your words. “I like how confident you are… you don’t have much doubt about your ability, and…” you trail off a little as he meets your gaze, looking almost bewildered that you would be so open or honest about such a thing. It almost makes you laugh again at this silly man and the games he likes to play, never really saying what he means.

“I think it’s kinda hot when you’re good at things, so I really won’t really mind if you’re a poor sport about it…” you admit, laughing a little awkwardly at yourself. Jake seems to blink back to life then, like you’d hit his hard reset button, and his smirk somewhat returns, though it glimmers between a proper smile and his usual cheshire like amusement.

“I guess you can’t lose then, huh?” he purrs. “Also means it won’t matter if I help you like last time.”

You nearly jump when his grip on you tightens briefly, but he quickly brings both his hands to your hips, and turns you back away from him. He gives your waist another squeeze before his hands move to slip down your forearms and then over your own, his grip firm and unbelievably arousing to you. You actually have to force yourself to take in air normally and not let your eyes roll back slightly when he kicks your feet further apart, and his little chuckle lets you know he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“This better be the best shot of all time, Hangman, cause I actually know what I’m doing this time,” you warn weakly, even as he gently pulls your arms back and helps you swing, stunning you slightly when your ball sinks an immediate hole in one on a three par course. You can’t help but pull away from his hold so you can look up at him in surprised shock. Jake simply lifts an eyebrow and returns your gaze, his chest seemingly puffing a little when you settle back against him. He chuckles when he uses you to sink another perfect shot of his own, and you hum, murmuring a quiet ‘well done’.

“And to think I coulda been doing this months ago…” he says after you’ve both moved to the next course, and he’s gotten comfortable once more with his arms draped around you like his only function is to be a very smug blanket.

“I have to say, most men don’t get away with wasting so much of my time,” you say with so much faux haughtiness you almost apologise. Luckily for you, Jake appears to enjoy it when you’re mean, this time one of his arms circles your waist, the other lazily taking a shot that sinks itself just as quickly as the last.

You’re suddenly glad that you’re not playing him properly, for as good as you’d become from practice, you know for a fact you’ll never be this good.

“Don’t want you lowering your standards just for little ol’ me, honey.” Jake says right by your ear, forcing you to repress a shiver.

“Most men also don’t ignore me for the better part of a year, so I guess you’re special,” you reply quickly, though immediately regret it when you feel him shift, perhaps a little uncomfortably.

He doesn’t speak again until after he’s placed his own ball down and is lining up his shot. When he swings it doesn’t go right in, making you look over your shoulder at him only to find his eyes barely focused on the task at hand. He doesn’t even seem to realise he’s got another shot to take, and so this time when you pull away from you, you take his hand, gaining his attention again as you lead him over to where his neon green ball waits.

You see him look between it and the hole a few feet off, but before he can move gain, you tuck yourself back into his chest, where he at last relaxes, though you feel the movement of him swallowing thickly just before he begins lining himself up.

“I didn’t want you to not like me…” he says softly, so quiet you almost miss it.

“You thought I wouldn’t like you if I talked to you?” you say questioningly, leaning up to look at him just as your own words make you realise his exact mindset. You stare at one another for a few moments, before Jake clears his throat, and looks away, taking his second shot and finishing above par even as you keep staring at him.

“What happened to all that confidence, huh? How could I not like you?” you ask, nudging him a little. His eyes snap to yours, and a funny little smirk crosses his features.

“You’re so honest,” he comments instead of answering you.

“Maybe if we’d been on speaking terms for more than two hours total you might have known that,” you roll your eyes. Jake ignores your snark and tightens his hold around your waist.

“Seems you're winning,” he says, guiding you almost blindly toward the next hole, and positioning you back between his arms. “Looks like I can’t lose either.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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nylwnder · 2 years

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i love you, grumpy | cale makar

gif by gabelandeskog

a/n: this a special fic for @gravestrain as part of @antoineroussel ’s winter fic exchange 2k23!!! sorry for the delay, apparently life had more planned for me than i would have liked, but better late than never! i must say i’ve never written the grumpy/sunshine trope before nor had i written for cale yet, so this was a really fun challenge for me! i hope you like it, elle!!! enjoy bb, hugs and kisses <333333

warnings: sunshine!cale x grumpy!reader, when the grumpy breaks >>, some swearing, just fluffy

word count: 3.1k

you couldn’t help but gain a great attachment with the small, kind and rosy boy in your kindergarten class. you were very socially anxious, which is valid considering you were being forced to submerge yourself in just the beginning of an insanely toxic social structure. and for what?

he made everything better. he was so sweet with you, it’s safe to say even too sweet. he almost always focused his attention on you, and you never understood why. when you felt like you didn’t belong anywhere, he would quite literally grab your hand and drag you everywhere with him. you always wondered why he wasn’t like all the other stupid boys playing soccer and bothering the other girls. why he always, at any opportunity, chose to spend every minute of his time with you. he invaded your space everyday with his blaring sunshine personality and even if you bothered him whenever you could, you knew you needed him.

so you and cale grew up together, and you two were always learning every possible thing there is to know about each other. that also meant that you two were going everywhere and experiencing everything together. you could list every single shitty thing that's happened to you so far throughout your life, but then you can also list everything cale has done to help you through it. and it goes both ways. cale often shares his gratitude for your ability to take him out of stupid situations, or help avoid them all together. he can be quite naive sometimes, which always makes you feel the need to defend him because you couldn’t possibly see him not have that fluffy ass smile plastered on his face.

he has come to know you aren’t necessarily the most exuberant person, which is also supposedly a reason for your incapability of keeping relationships (per a handful of stupid assholes). but cale, unlike the others, never minded. he always told you how he loves the way he can break you. since he has, making his favourite sight in the whole world: a smile creeping up on the end of your lips — it’s absolutely picture perfect if he miraculously gets a giggle too. if you must say so, nobody has had a higher “breaking y/n count” than cale himself. he just adds it to all of his other impeccable stats.

once cale left for umass, it was embarrassingly obvious how you began spiralling, and it presented you with an epiphany. the main point: you are a complete simp for him and it’s honestly disgusting. you can’t even say the exact day you fell in love with him, because there wasn’t a day that you didn’t. so in conclusion, cale is the only person you need by your side, because you are entirely positive you would go insane if otherwise. even if you sometimes act like that’s not the case.

so you drove to massachusetts one day to go visit him. that night, you two headed to a campus party where cale ended up quaffing far too many drinks. dragging his mumbley ass to his room, he slumped down and laid half on the bed and half on the floor. you gave out a small laugh, not without rolling your eyes, as he was trying his very best to tell you a story he could barely make out.

that was until he started muttering things about you. you stopped fixing his room and sat on the floor beside him. he turned to look at you, his head dangling off the bed now. “i wanna tell you sm’thing” you nodded, “what does your blabbermouth wanna tell me now?”

he giggled, before he spat out everything he wanted to say, all at once. telling you how he can’t get you out of his mind, how he misses someone waiting for him after games and practices, or the way you make fun of him, and your laugh, “oh that fuckin laugh you have it kills me y/n, in the best way.”

“i think the blood is rushing to your head.” you said, almost instinctively and you didn’t know why. your self-sabotage started to seep in, and you hated how you always made yourself feel as if you aren’t worthy for someone like cale to reciprocate your feelings.

but you were so grateful for his slurred confessions, as it eased your worries of looking like a total fool when you end up telling him what you came to say. he stared looking at you, waiting for your reaction. “do you hate me now?” he asked.

“no.”

“i should’ve just shut up. oh fuck no i messed it up, im s’stupid. ugh you’re always so right i'm such a dumbass. fuck-” he began mumbling, as he sat up and rubbed his face.

“cale stop.” you demanded. “you’re not stupid. you’re stupid for thinking you're stupid.”

“thanks” he said, softly. a pinky shade started to itch up on his face.

you turned to him and looked into his glossy eyes as he nipped on his lip. “okay. i miss you. i need you. i need you so much. i always knew that but i tried so hard to act like i don't. but life’s shit with you over here” you said, while you internally cursed yourself for the incoming wave of tears.

“nobody’s ever made me feel the way you make me feel. i’m not this bitchy, grumpy asshole when i’m with you. you don’t piss me off, not like you might think. no, i love you too much to think you're annoying.” you ranted.

you heard cale sniffle, as you looked up at him you saw tears falling down his face far more than yours — predictable. you laughed at him, reached for his hand and pulled him down to sit with you. “i love you, s’much” he said, as he pulled you in for a tight hug. and you loved it, feeling like you could just finally melt into him after discarding the weight off your shoulders.

cale felt the same. he thanked the far too many beers he had to give him that push. it didn’t end up going as he had rehearsed for years, but he didn’t lose you and he was so grateful about that. “it’s been a privilege that you let me accompany you through everything, all these years. i gotta say it’s something so very special to see you, you, oh you, let yourself be, you, with me. the really you.” cale told you, his head buried in your hair. you smiled, he wasn’t really making sense but you understood.

just as much as he’s always understood you.

—

it’s an average frigid and snowy day in colorado, and you find yourself cuddled up on your couch, watching a show on crave. you were wrapped up in the custom made quilt your now boyfriend gave you when you were both in middle school. it might sound corny, but god it was comfortable.

the freshly decorated christmas tree lit up the dim apartment. it was already mid-december when you were semi-forced to set it up, despite the fact cale originally wanted to put it up in november. cale was in the kitchen cooking up dinner for the two of you. you could hear him humming tunes to himself, something he often did which you love cause he always made sure to remind you, you weren’t alone. even if you teased him that you appreciated his absence when he was on road trips, he knows you always missed his stupid humming or his frequent whining, and yeah even his heart warming hugs that he would always refused to end.

he walks over with the bowls of food in hand. organizing the plates on the coffee table in front of the two of you, he can finally accompany you in finishing what you were watching. not forgetting to gently kiss your temple as he sat down beside you. and you may or may not have devoured his “classic home cooked meal, made with love” faster than cale himself, which he immediately laughed about since you had earlier mentioned you weren’t “that, that hungry”.

your pleasantly snug state started to diminish when cale mumbled the plans for tomorrow. “what? absolutely not!” you quickly stated, as cale made his way back to you. his team was hosting their annual family skate, which you often tried to dodge since cale always seemed to somehow embarrass you in front of everyone with your lack of skating abilities. and now, the catch this year? it would be in a huge outdoor rink.

“oh come on, everyone’s gonna go. it’s gonna be adorably decorated and… don’t forget you still need to learn how to actually skate,” cale says, booping your nose. “and, look, we already finished watching everything on our list, so we gotta make a whole new list and we can do that sunday.”

“no. no, look how cold it is outside! and i don’t recall being chilly in the cozy comfort of my own home.”

you fall back when cale tries to reach his hands out to grab yours. “i’ll give you the warmest hoodie i have so you can add it on top of the 50 layers you already habitually put on. i promise, baby ” cale reasons, as you try to fight him off so he couldn’t pull you up. you shoot him a look as he pouts at you, “you love hot chocolate, with whip cream. and i’ll make sure they have marshmallows too, of course.” he continued trying to convince you along with his sweet smile.

rolling your eyes at him. “fine.”

“fine? yes? perfect! oh honey, you’ll have fun, i promise. don’t worry baby.” he says, pulling you into his chest and kissing you everywhere. you scrunched up your face, trying to move the opposite way of his attacking lips. “you let me fall, makar?” you say, sternly pointing him down and giving him a warning look. he throws his arms up, his cheeks beginning to blush naturally, “i won’t, i won’t. never would. you know that.” you scoffed, “you better say that.”

as you made your way to grab some juice, cale sneaked up behind you. “wanna go to costco?” cale suggests enthusiastically, before snuggling his nose into the crook of your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. you shook your head, “cale, you do know you’re literally the only one that loves going there. not me.”

“lies, you love their selection of snacks and you always eat allllllll the ones i buy. if you didn’t love costco, you wouldn’t eat their — well priced — stuff either.”

“i still prefer sam’s club” you unhesitatingly denote.

cale gasps, dramatically holding his chest as you look up at him. you moved your head down to pour the juice into a cup, and you couldn’t help but break into a tiny smile. he was such a kid.

“y/n, take that back” he whiningly utters. you walked to him, mockingly booping his nose “no”

but you couldn’t hold the smirk back, and cale knew you were just teasing, like always. even if you did hate going to costco, especially because of the impeccably large crowds and the fact that the promoted samples never seem to actually be ready to grab, cale loved it. and you know you always want cale to be happy.

—

the following day, you did not hesitate to grab the hoodie cale mentioned you could use from his closet. as you stand in the mirror, what’s accompanying the sweater and your puffer jacket, is a “heat tech” t-shirt, a thick long sleeve, some long johns below your fleece sweats and your long and fat scarf wrapped around your neck. you also quickly yanked cale’s favourite beanie from his drawer which was a compromise he was willing to make despite having to dig for another hat to wear.

cale couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of you struggling to put your thick boots on with your million layers. “i don't have to put them on, you know.” you taunted him. “no i’m sorry, i’m sorry. let me help you, here” he said, as he got on his knees to loosen the laces on each of the boots.

when he held one out for you, you snickered. “what? what happened?” he asked innocently, looking up at you. “i like it when you’re on your knees. specifically for me.” you say, running your hands through his hair and tugging just a bit. his reaction was predictable, his cheeks immediately turning flush as he cleared his throat and proceeded to tie your laces back together. you often take much enjoyment in getting him all flustered with your suggestive comments. he just looks really cute.

—

once you arrived at the outdoor rink, you found out it actually wasn’t as cold as you made it seem, but you weren’t going to let cale use that against you so you stayed with every layer you had put on. even if a part of you admits that you admire his cheeky smile whenever he knows he’s right.

before heading towards the ice, cale asks you if you want some hot chocolate first, as you noticed many other couples were heading to the little hut. you said you were fine, preferring the idea of smudging whip cream on his face after skating just in case he does end up dropping you.

sitting on the bench, cale helped you put on your skates before his. a few of his teammates were happy to see you. ej had a mischievous grin on his face as he greeted you. “just let me know when you wanna gang up on your boy.” he whispers in your ear, making you smirk and nod. ej was a gem, he always liked how you would affectionately bug cale. and he was always ready to help you.

“you better look like a stanley cup champion out there.” you tell cale as he grabs your hand. he laughed, “oh i will!”

gripping on his forearms, you finally step onto the ice trying to not immediately slip. cale starts skating backwards, as he lightly pulls you in to follow him, in which you do at a seemingly better rate than the first time he took you to a rink. continuing with the movements, and gaining more confidence on the ice, you mimicked some of cale’s skate tricks seeing where it would take you. you simper as you learned how to take a long stride and break on your own with a ‘t-stop’. and then again but with a ‘plow stop’. though, cale catching you before you could fall.

“see, you are having fun.” cale mentions as he smiles, turning to skate beside you again. “yeah yeah. whatever. i mean it’s more fun when you don’t fall.”

doing laps around the rink, you catch ej looking over at the two of you. so you tilt your head, signalling he could start to fool around. but before he could even make his way over to you or cale, your skate gets caught on a dent in the ice making you swing your arms, sending cale falling back.

he fell on his back, his head didn’t touch the ice — but you didn’t know that. “oww” he whines. you turn to him, softly chuckling at the sight of his sprawled out body. but then he closed his eyes, and held his hand to his head, groaning. “oh shit, cale!” you yelp, falling to your knees to look at him. “did you hit your head?? fuck i told you they should give out helmets here.”

“mm god my head is pounding.” he mumbles, trying to get up. “don’t get up, you could have a concussion. you should know that.” you tell him. he groans once again so you start to internally panic. you just pushed, and potentially injured, your boyfriend who has to go back and play in a couple of days. “shit. cale don’t die. fuck don’t die you have a game in four days and i can’t have your coach hating me for this.”

nate comes around, “hey cale, you okay?” he asks. cale doesn’t move, nor says a thing. you shake his arm, and nothing. “cale!!” you call out. he’s limp.

“oh god i killed him, nate. fuck i’m screwed. no cale wake up. please wake up. come on you rosy cheeked sunshine boy. fucking get uuuuup.” you whine at him, shaking his entire body as much as you can.

“BOO” cale yells, jolting up and grabbing you. you let out a tiny shriek, scrunching your shoulders and closing your eyes. he was in a fit of giggles. “CALE DOUGLAS MAKAR NEVER FUCKING DO THAT.” you cry out.

“i got youuuu” he mocks. you smack his shoulder, not as gently. he smiles, “it’s cute that you thought i died.”

“that’s not funny. i thought you smacked your head.”

“it’s kinda funny.”

“no it’s not.”

pulling him up, everyone else laughed at you two. ej truly surprised cale turned the tables on you. nate patted cale’s back before you started heading over to go get hot chocolate.

“two please.” cale orders before shaking off the snow on his pants. the lady hands you both your cups and you head over to the bench. “so you didn’t hit your head?” you asked cale quietly, looking at him with soft eyes. he smiled, “no, and you didn’t see so i took advantage.” you sneer at him.

as cale blew his hot chocolate, you scooped a bit of the whip cream and hid your hand. “hey, it’s pretty h-” cale began saying before you took a small sip and acted like you burned your tongue. you whimpered in pain, shutting your mouth. “hot it’s pretty hot. are you okay?” he asks, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

that’s when you lifted your hand and smeared the whip cream all over his face, cale gasped. “y/n!!” he exclaimed, wiping off what fell on his eyes. you started laughing at him.

“how dare you. i didn’t even let you fall”

“it’s funny.”

he laughed, despite the way he was still cleaning his face. “it is funny.”

“glad you think so.”

he grabs your cup and moves it behind him with his own, “that’s enough for you.” you still had a smile on your face. he moves his finger and dabs a bit of whip cream from his face onto yours. so you grab his blushy cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. his lips were warm and soft and you couldn’t help but feel all lovesick inside. “i love you” you murmured. “i love you more, grumpy”

[ join my taglist if you enjoyed reading! : click here <3 ]

#the winter fic exchange 2k23 #cale makar #cale makar fic #cale makar imagine #cale makar fluff #cale makar x reader #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fluff #nhl x reader #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey x reader

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 days

Text

WIP word game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

this game literally had me bouncing in my seat!!! thank you so much to @the-unforgivenn and @hellfire--cult for the tags!!! i'm gonna knock both out on the same post here (also both your words are delicious)

my words are: BITE and PRESSURE

possible spoilers for so mordor it is, so scarlet (it was maroon), and the moon will sing (i loved you like the sun) below the read more <3

also for this game, i'm not entirely sure who's already been tagged and who hasn't, so i'm just gonna tag anyone i think would enjoy this! also tagging up here so there's no pressure to scroll all the way through my snippets if you don't want to haha

no pressure tags: @corroded-hellfire @jo-harrington @andvys @take-everything-you-can @littlesubbyflower @eddiesxangel and honestly anyone else who wants to take a go at this!! <3

your word (if you wanna join) is: HAUNT.

But the girl deserves her honesty, and so she whispers, “I thought it was just PTSD.”

Something about it is easy – there’s a relief when the whispers of truth trickle a bit louder, rising until Willow finally pours out everything that only one other person could possibly understand. Steve wouldn’t understand, Robin couldn’t possibly understand, Eddie would only try desperately to understand – but Max? Max gets it. Max doesn’t look at her like she’s crazy when words fall from her lips about the nightmares, sparing as many details as possible while still communicating the point.

...

“I don’t understand why the front cover of some stupid ass magazine is so important,” Eddie grumbles as he follows you now, both of you deciding to stand and not yet sit in the empty chairs on the closest side of what must be Matt’s massive desk, “The tabloids run rumors about my dating life all the time-”

“Exactly.”

...

There’s no more quick remarks for her to add. With his unnecessary permission and subtle reassurance of his protection, she’s taking off around the wall of shrubbery, heart pounding out of her chest.

I don’t have my weapons.

...

Even after all that the two of you have been through, you can’t resist that inherent urge to protect him.

You can’t quiet the voice that whispers that you still care for him, and you still want to be there for him, even at your own destruction.

Paler knuckles, tightening fist. The invisible leash is practically choking Wyll now.

...

Really, after Astarion’s feasting on her, she may be more magic than blood at this moment.

And that magic serves as a security blanket, a layer of armor to hopefully replace all the physical leather she’s left behind on the beach, as she hears the sound of an unfamiliar woman in camp.

...

Eddie had kept you a secret.

Especially now that I know the truth.

Or spun you into a blatant lie. You don’t know which one is worse.

...

She’d tore her way through the process of grief in record time. She’d clawed herself out of those depths in order to be there for her mom, to return to being a daughter worthy of having survived that night with Parker. Nightmares, the gnawing hole in her chest, the way she still couldn’t meet her mom’s gaze when Parker became a topic of conversation – that was just residual shock waves. They would pass one day. These symptoms would pass one day. She had been so sure of it.

...

She knows somewhere in the shadows, Astarion’s daggers have been drawn.

“You’ve caused quite the commotion amongst gods and devils alike, if I’ve heard correctly from the whispers of the Hells.”

Time stops. Aruna’s blood freezes. All the magic dies beneath her skin, right along with the air in her lungs.

...

Until the space behind your eyes aches. “The headline went viral online, right?”

“Yeah,” guilt seeps into Matt’s words, “It did.”

“Have they figured out who I am?”

...

“Room. Now.”

Of course, you don’t.

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion.

...

Eddie scoffs as he shifts uncomfortably, “Maybe I’m just inspired.”

“I’m sure you are,” Matt readily agrees, “By her.”

what have we learned, you ask? that i do not like starting sentences with the letter R, apparently.

#tag games #i haven't been on tumblr a whoooole lot the last day or so (especially today) so i really really have no clue who's been tagged!!#sorry in advance if you already have been!#i tried to give enough context in each one so you can tell *which* story it's for? maybe?#and gasp. look at that. mordor breadcrumbs. SEE!!? she ain't dead (yet)#seriously finding the r sentences was hell on earth #e and s was easy thank you eddie munson and ocs using she/her pronouns i guess

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riddle-me-ri · 2 years

Note

Ri you absolute goddess thank you for blessing us with your pengy colony 🥰💋 I would like to request a fic of just one, and any one of your choosing, penguin and the aftermath of their NNN (maybe their breaking point or when December rolls around? 👀)

I just really wanna see some pengy smut 🥰🥰🥰

A/N: asdfgg anon, anon, I..I’m flattered but you’ve really gotta stop comparing me to an actual ethereal being, I'm nothing of the sort at all lmao. And honestly I was stuck dead in the water trying to choose just one Pengy for the aftermath of the No Nut November event but thankfully this other request came in to answer that for me so I'm combining the two lol Hope that’s cool with both of you anons!

Trigger Warnings: Explicit Sexual Cotent (piv intercourse, vaginal fingering, bites, daddy kink, groping, commando) and strong language

Word Count: 2.0 k

Reevesverse/Farrell Penguin x F!Reader - Winner's Circle

The tension was so strong and heavy you could cut it with a knife. It was like a tightrope between the two of you. Both of you were standing in the middle seeing which one would finally fall. Finally give in to the temptation you've challenged yourselves to.

It'd cause some sparks to fly.

It'll add some pining, yearning back into the relationship.

It would wound you both so tight neither of you could stand it.

Oswald played it much more cool than you did. However, you knew deep down he was seething.

The way he would clench and unclench his fists. You saw him bite his knuckle when he watched you walk away from him once.

He must have been so tensed and hardwired that he didn't even realize.

It was December. The both of you have won.

Now, to reap the rewards.

Things were beginning to settle down at the Iceberg Lounge, well…as settled as they can be for an all night club.

You sauntered your way up to Oz’s office. Ignoring the leering eyes at you in your new black cocktail dress with a slit up to your thigh.

A new piece. Oswald hasn’t seen it yet. But he will and you won’t have it on for much longer.

You knocked on his door. Silently, hoping Carmine wasn’t lounging in there, lamenting on and on about Gotham, how things were, how they are, what they used to be, what he wanted them to be.

“Door’s open, come on in!”

You slightly gasped at hearing his voice. Like you hadn’t heard it earlier that morning, but like you haven’t heard or seen him in months. You were also delighted that you couldn’t hear any other voices or movements in his office.

“Hey there, stranger…” You hummed as you walked on in. You closed the door with the weight of your body. Once closed, you made the quick premeditated decision to lock the door.

“Hey, swe-” Oz looked up to finally look at you. Taking all of you in, and in your new dress. His eyes widened, eyebrows going up while his jaw dropped.

“W-When’d you get that? I know I didn’t get it for ya…I’d have you wear it sooner.” He shuffled some more papers on his desk. He opened a drawer and plopped them in there.

You giggled. “I got it for me…for you…both of us, I guess if you think about it.”

You cat-walked your way over to his desk. Oz’s eyes never left your body, a small sly grin slowly growing on his face. You rounded the desk to where you stood just in front of him, perching yourself up on his desk.

You wrapped your legs around his chair and pulled him in closer to you. Instinctively, he grabbed your ankles as you pulled him in. He lets out a breathless chuckle at your antics.

“You’ve been a cruel tease since we started this thing…” He muttered.

“Like you haven’t either…but we don’t have to tease each other anymore…at least not to the degree we’ve been doing.” You grinned.

Oz quirked an eyebrow at you as he began slowly crawling his hands up your legs from your ankles to your knees.

“Is that so?”

“You mean in all the things in this spiffy little office of yours…you don’t have a calendar?” You gestured to around his desk, but still keeping an eye on his hands that are at your knees and slowly going up to your thigh.

“You sayin’, I won?” He quirked his eyebrow at you.

You leaned forward, tightening the hold your legs had around his torso. You brought your hand up to hold the side of his face, your thumb caressed his cheek.

“We…We won, baby…” You leaned in further, your lips just centimeters away from his scarred lips.

In a breathless whisper you said, “...and it’s time for our prize.”

Oswald collided his lips with yours. You held his head closely, as if to refrain him from pulling away too soon. You softly nibbled on his lower lip, sweetly but assertively asking for access which he permitted to you eagerly.

As you two continued to passionately make out, Oswald’s grip on your thighs got tighter, you could almost feel the beginning of bruises start forming. You could also feel the slight motion of one of his hands creeping further up and under your dress.

Your kiss was broken as the two of you slightly gasped at the other small surprise you had under your sleeve.

To his bewilderment, when he reached your cunt, there wasn’t anything keeping his fingers from your lower lips.

Oz inhaled strongly through his nose as he leaned his head back. “You are gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You giggled as your hands moved from around his head to around his neck. “Or keep that ticker of yours in check. Keep your blood pumping.”

Oz chuckled. “Oh it’s pumping…just not to my heart…”

You snickered mischievously, pride absolutely gushing out of you. You leaned back in to rekindle the kiss from before.

Recovered from the shock, Oz made due with your surprise by slowly rubbing along the outside of your folds, gathering some slick that’s pooled there.

Your moans against his lips caused Oz to chuckle heartily. He slowly broke the kiss by leaning away but only so he can lean back in and kiss your cheek. After planting some sweet kisses to your cheek, the kisses get sloppier as he went down your neck. Softly suckling on random sections of your neck and along your exposed shoulder.

Your hands wrapped tighter around his neck, your hands gripping the short black hairs he had left on the back of his head. Oswald slowly stood up slightly kicking his chair to the side, as he puts his full weight against you.

You loved it when he did this, whenever he leaned against you, towered over you, just to be completely smothered by Ozzie. Someone so warm, tender, and safe.

You convulsed as you felt his thick middle and index fingers finally enter inside you. Slowly, he began pumping them in and out. Meanwhile his other hand reached out for the top of your dress. Your dress was sleeveless with a small dipped v-cut, which Oz dug his thumb in to bring the top of your dress down to expose your chest.

Without missing a beat, he brought his focus to your chest. Oz twirled his tongue around your nipple before eagerly suckling it, as his hand provided the same ministrations to your other breast. The pumping of his fingers has sped up a little by this point, every now and then he brought his thumb up to tease your clit.

You were a red, panting, flaming mess at this point. You’re not sure how in the hell either of you made it an entire thirty days without this. You did know, however, that you didn’t want to cum just from his fingers. The challenge has left you constantly on edge, it wouldn’t take much for you to come undone.

“O-Ozzie…” You moaned, desperately trying to form words, let alone a sentence. “Ozzie…baby…please I-I need you.”

His fingers inside you slowed down, as his groans vibrated against your chest causing a tingling feeling.

“Just cause you asked so sweetly…that and I’m about to combust myself.” He grumbled, as he leaned back for a moment to unbuckle his pants and unzip them. He barely had a chance to drag his underwear down before you immediately reached down to grab his cock.

Oswald winced slightly, his member sensitive after a month of no-contact. “Shit, easy, honey.” His hands braced himself on the desk as his knees began to buckle a little.

“Sorry…sorry.” You really weren’t though, you began slowly stroking it. Your thumb running through the slit at the red flaring head.

Oz let you softly and slowly stroke it as he tried to regain his breathing. He leaned back into you, nestling his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. Your legs also supported him to stay on his feet.

After some light stroking, you began positioning him just inches from your entrance. When he felt his head at your folds, Oz thrusted fully into you, not being able to wait any longer.

You both gasped, you’re fairly certain you may have let out a silent cry of relief.

“Oohh shit…” Oz muttered into the skin of your shoulder.

All you could do was nod your head in response. After a minute getting reacclimated to you two being joined together again. Oswald began slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you, slowly pulling out to where just his head remained, only to thrust fully back in. You moans got louder each time he fully rutted himself inside you.

As his pace got faster, his kisses and nibbles along your skin got harsher and harder. Nibbles quickly turned into love bites all across your shoulders, neck, and upper parts of your chest. Your knuckles were no doubt white at the strong grip you had on his neck. Your legs pushing him closer and deeper into you every time he thrusted into you.

“O-O-Ozzie…Oz…f-fuck..” You moaned.

“I know baby, I know…” He kissed your cheek. You turned your head to meet his lips again in another passionate kiss.

You pulled away to tug at another one of his weaknesses.

“Oz…D-Daddy…mmm…f-faster…harder please.” You don’t care how pathetic you sound, whining to him. You were desperate and needy beyond comprehension and only Oswald could provide.

You didn’t think you could get any wetter until you heard the guttural growl Oz let out.

Oswald’s thrusts got faster and harder, filling you up, his head occasionally tapping at your cervix.

“Yes…yes, just like that!” You panted. You attempted to reach your hand down to get some needed stimulation on your clit, but your fingers were pushed away by Oswald’s. His thumb immediately going to work, rubbing tight fast circles at the sensitive nub.

You were for sure on the verge of tears at this point. Your legs slightly going to sleep and convulsing along with the rest of your body. The only sounds you recognize are Oz’s grunts and groans, and occasionally your own moans and soft cries of pleasure.

“Oz…Ozzie, D-Da..mmm..” Your eyes started rolling to the back of your head as your head fell back.

“Let go, honey. Cum for me, baby…cum for Daddy…”

That was all it took for the waves to finally break open the dam. Your nerves amplified to the nth degree, causing every surface of skin to break out into goosebumps and tingle in pleasure. Your legs shook, Oz brought his hands up to them, slowly rubbing them to ease the shakes.

As you hit your climax, your walls tightened around him like a vice, choking him to completion as he came in you before slowly pulling out of you.

You both groaned at the loss of contact, but were both satisfied.

Oswald quickly snatched back the chair that was behind him to sit down and catch his breath. Once the afterglow began wearing off, the two of you began cleaning up and getting dressed. Even as you fixed your dress, Oz still handed you his warm, fluffy winter jacket that was two times bigger than you.

“I’ll let you get away with that once, but don’t do it again, yeah? At least not without telling me…” He wrapped the jacket around you. “A lot of scumbags down there, don’t want any of them taking advantage of ya.”

Your heart swelled. As if you couldn’t fall any deeper in love with this man. It’s hard to imagine the cold-blooded, calculated, violent, mobster that everyone spoke about; The Penguin…was the same person in front of you, who protected you and cherished you like a precious gem.

You brought your hand back up to his face, his hand coming up to keep your hand on his cheek. “Nothing’ll happen, Ozzie, everyone knows I’m yours.”

“As much as I wanna believe that, I can’t count on it.” He kissed the palm of your hand, his running through the valleys of your knuckles.

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, until you perked up.

“So, same time next year?”

“Hell no.”

You busted out laughing. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry I had too…”

“Never again, that was torture, sweetheart.”

You snickered. “But hey, it was worth it for a round in the Winner’s Circle, huh?”

#ri writes #the absolute urge #to title this winner winner chicken dinner #WAS STRONG #but I prevailed #reevesverse penguin x reader #reevesverse oswald cobblepot x reader #farrell penguin x reader #farrell oswald cobblepot x reader #smut #the penguin x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader

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heinzpilsner · 6 months

Text

Okay, I'm back, and this is another part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series! ... Which means we'll try and focus on overanalyzing beach Maiko goddamit as opposed to all the other tempting beach psychological stuff. Yay.

Anyway, today we're going to find out who of the pair actually screwed up the most. Isn't it exciting?

(Spoiler: the answer can be a bit unexpected.)

So, in the last part, Mai broke up with Zuko, and now they're about to meet again in the company of Azula and Ty Lee after... some time (somewhat between twenty minutes and a couple of hours, really).

The pair had an opportunity to calm down and reflect on what happened (and in Mai's case, probably to hear the other girls' opinions), so I'm sure they are different people now!

They both have analyzed their wrong attitudes and relationship mistakes, and now they are wiser, and stronger, and fre...

Zuko: "Where is your new boyfriend?"

Zuko: "My life hasn't been that easy either, Mai." Mai: "Whatever!"

...Nevermind.

But let's not get ahead of events here.

The scene begins with the royal siblings approaching the girls. Zuko walks past Mai with sad expression on his face while she is glaring at his back. Then she looks away with resentment. But then...

Mai: "Hey."

Well, it was very... minimalistic. But it's good to know that Mai reevaluated at least some things here!

...Which ones exactly is an important question though. What if among them was the belief that nice butt is not a reason enough to stay with a guy who can innocently ask you one evening whether you prayed tonight or not?

Okay, okay, I know.

This butt joke was not very minimalistic.

Seriously though, if we leave alone the fact that Zuko is not exactly in the best state for romancing anyone due to him being a cringe-worthy disaster his major inner crisis...

And the fact that Mai clearly should try and find for herself some sources of endorphins which wouldn't depend on how far from a mental breakdown or a high treason her trainwreck of a prince currently is...

And the fact that this whole relationship wasn't such a great idea from the point of compatibility in the first place...

Who of the pair should've made a first move towards reconciliation in the perfect scenario?

Yep, that's a really important question here

I mean, at first it seemed obvious to me that it must be Zuko - since he was acting like an idiot and screwed up the loudest, but...

When I actually tried to analyze the situation through this paradigm, something in the picture didn't really add up. This pesky elusive something kept breaking the general logic, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it for quite some time, you know.

But I think I finally managed to figure out what it was about.

Mai's reluctant little "hey" is the key here, actually.

(It will be a long way, but I hope it will worth it)

Let's look at the totality of facts:

For the whole day, Mai's behavior indicated she doesn't value Zuko all that much.

On this background, he showed her all his ugly sides and gave her not just one, but several good reasons for a break-up.

Just now, he walked past her without stopping to apologize for his words or behavior.

She is clearly still angry at him.

And after all this, Mai, an egocentrical girl with perhaps a bit too much pride, still initiates contact with Zuko.

Doesn't it seem at least a little bit weird to you? It sure does to me.

And, in my opinion, it most likely means one thing...

It was really freaking cold on that beach at night.

... Okay, okay, sorry.

Azula was also a firebender, bad hypothesis.

It means that as soon as Mai got the opportunity to look at her life without Zuko, she suddenly felt that she needs him much more than she thought previously. Like, much more. So much, in fact, that even her pride, resentment and common sense couldn't really beat it.

And yet, she was treating him like a gum that stuck to her shoe. She wasn't grateful for that he gave her nearly enough and took his affection for granted.

So, you wanna know how badly Mai screwed up exactly?

Take the intensity of all cringe-worthy shit Zuko demonstrated today, add to it a little 'hey' multiplied by Mai's pride - and that will be your answer.

Math is so fun.

I always was bad at it though.

I doubt though that Mai herself realized even half of it - otherwise she wouldn't look that angry. I suspect it was mostly her need in itself that made her forget how to be "smart and proud" for once and make a first move.

Except that she probably rationalized it as "Since I'm feeling very generous tonight, I'll give this idiot another chance."

And she is still hoping for Zuko's apologies, so she could graciously forgive him and accept him back.

...Pfffft.

Good luck with this one.

Even though Zuko chilled out quite a bit since the party, until he sees the central belief on which his whole course of actions was based as misconception, he can't apologize for his behavior.

Well, technically he can, but...

"Hello, Mai, Zuko's here. Of course, you treated me like dirt and tried to freaking cheat on me on top after I fed you all the stuff you wanted and almost broke my brain by trying to find at least something about your negativistic ass to compliment... but I a little bit overreacted here. Calling you a big blah was a bit too much, I guess. You're only a small blah. So, yep. It's all I wanted to say. Take care here."

The thing is, Mai didn't really make it clear that she's loyal to Zuko when he doubted it. She only yelled at him for "blowing up over every little thing" without addressing the topic of jealousy directly, and then everything just gone to shit.

And as far as Zuko's knowledge goes, Mai could call her cheating "a little thing". So how exactly he's supposed to understand his mistake if Mai refuses to talk to him properly?

"He could simply use his brain", I can hear someone thinking loudly. Well, it doesn't really seem to be an option at the moment, does it?

You can thank the writer for this.

Mai here is smart though, and smart girls don't explain themselves to their stupid boyfriends even when it actively harms their relationship, apparently.

Fortunately for Mai though, this stupid boy is also lonely as heck. And despite Zuko's "Where is your new boyfriend?" line (which indicates he still resents Mai for her "infidelity" and probably has been imagining in all vivid details how she and Ruon-Jian feed each other fruit tarts since he left the party), he all but runs to her in response to a slightest hint he is still wanted.

Damn, I clearly need to think of some new Mai-related stuff to crack bad jokes about, don't I?

Zuko: "Are you cold?"

So... You're a good caring boy here, Zuko, there's no question about it. But... goddamit.

Is it physically possible to be more love-starved? You could take a leaf out of Mai's book about how to be proud, you know.

I mean, the hell are you doing getting all cozy with her? She just broke up with you! Oficially! After she supposedly tried to cheat on you! Yes, you were an idiot for believing so, but you don't know it yet (otherwise you'd be ashamed of your previous stupidity and wouldn't accuse her again like this).

Even if your reaction was... unnecessary scandalous that's one way to put it, cheating attempt is still a serious transgression (just like breaking up with a partner is a serious act). You can forgive her if you like, but you can't just 'are you cold' it off! You're supposed to talk about it, goddamit!

Perhaps if Zuko just waited a little bit longer instead of moving towards her, Mai would actually overcome her pride and explain the situation to him.

But when his relationship needed it most, Zuko's self-respect vanished. Again.

And now Mai knows that she can whistle at any moment and he'll run to her no matter what (not as fast as she'd prefer, admittedly, but they can work on it). Yep, that's exactly the message you need to give a girl who supposedly looks at other guys and believes it's okay to use you as a free service.

(No.)

How do you think you ended up in such a situation with her in the first place, boy? Give this girl an inch and she'll take a mile!

Ugh, whatever. I guess it doesn't make much sense to expect such an awareness from a lonely 16-year-old in his first relationship.

Naturally, getting in response to her huge gracious 'hey' just a pathetic show of care and forgiveness (as opposed to expected tearful repentance), Mai pushes Zuko away again, and thus concludes this segment of beach Maiko interactions. Yay.

The next dialogue of the pair centers around Mai's personality and demeanor, so I guess this is what we'll talk about next time. And... Mai fans, I warn you: it's not gonna be pleasant~ (when it ever was with me though, lol?)

Thanks for your attention!

(By the way, all you've just read could be total bullshit, because the topic is quite complex and that in fact was my third attempt to analyze the situation, muhahaha! Take it or leave it.)

I ignore all notifications.

P. S.: I just realized something. Why it's zutara but Maiko for me? It's kinda contr-intuitive given my preferences, I suppose. But I just feel like this. Maybe it's about difference between something familiar and alien. I'm not gonna change anything anyway - it would be too stressful for my autistic brain right now, lol.

R.I.P., Akira Toriyama.

#atla #zuko #mai atla #anti maiko #what is it with me and long sentences today

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magpigment · 1 year

Note

duck or ape by roar and i dont wanna die by the unicorns are SUCH good songs for william my god!! i already had those songs on my radar but man do they fit him. Also i would love to hear any and or all of your reasoning for your william playlist!! 👁

this got longer than i thought and i still didn’t finish it so i might go back to this at some point and expand upon or add certain things BUT for now, enjoy!

ok so! not all of these will have explanations, and some will only have explanations, but most will have lyrics that specifically remind me of wiwi and a brief explanation. hope this is cohesive enough!

william wisp:

dead now by forrest day

ok listen. listen listen listen. this entire song? literally william to a T.

'Save the rest for another day like this Your mind has gone blank, you're dead now You're dead now

The flames I lack, maybe never coming back Under attack, I'm dead now I'm dead now

You creep, you've grown too cold to sleep Your eyes grow wide, you're such a creep You've reaped, you've sown, your own you keep You creep, you freak, you've blown it

You're alone, you're alone, you're alone, you're alone You're alone, you'rе alone, you're alone, you'rе alone [cont.]

All right, you've grown too old to fight Your life is shown in different light You laugh and toast your final night You laugh too late, you've blown it'

this entire song fits not only his first death but his slow loss of function over the next few years and his general uncanny effect on other people and how they perceive him AND how he perceives himself. i cant even articulate how much this song IS HIM in my brain.

momento mori by fish in a birdcage

'Like a muzzled hound I'm tied and bound A wild beast crying for release I want my mouth so I may howl And share with silence of the trees Ashes to ashes dust to dust Filling up my coffee cup One way to shake me up I never wanted to sleep My bones became a drip Now that I've had my sip After a little taste I never wanted to sleep'

ONE: wolves. TWO: in my head this is more or less how he never wanted his powers, much less to die for them, and how he tries to cope w them after the fact

oh! starving by car seat headrest

'Goodbye, secret files When I'm gone, all this information will die'

'Cats crawl into gutters Just at the sight of me You guys got mad skills I just got mad (I'm not happy unless I'm unhappy)'

this bit specifically is very william to me, because like. especially in early seasons he was pretty vocal about his view of himself as just some guy vs dakota and vyncent, with his powers not being some grand thing and his own struggles with heroism and morality. you guys got mad skills is to me about how he views dakota and vyncent, and i just got mad is about how his own abilities only ever served to make him worse off and how he feels like he could never use his own powers for good things (ep31-35 for reference)

i hate living by car seat headrest

'I wish I was drunk I wish I weren't here I need to be more drunk Or be less here And when the cops came Hiding in the back of the closet And these people would not stop laughing They could not shut their mouths Oh Wasn't I the life and soul? No no no'

'You wouldn't think having a good time Would be so goddamn hard You wouldn't think having a good time Would be so goddamn hard You overthink, you don't have a good time You just wait for it to end You don't think you'll ever try something as Meaningless as this ever again'

the comfort of a laugh track by roar

Why is it so hard to speak To people I don't know Is it something that you learn When constantly alone? When did I become a man Trapped inside a ghost?'

'If you could only see me now I know I'd disappoint somehow I'm stuck inside a fantasy Where I could be all you would need'

'Will I live in shame of the things in the past that I should have done for you? And is it possible to forgive all the ignorant ones if they're just too young?'

'Fake love, yeah, you know you'll be truly missed Fake love must be some kind of abstinence Let's not make much more out of all of this Let's not, but we still can pretend we did'

poor grammar by roar

'I can't see you when I need to How am I supposed to get through? Method-actor, suffering Try repeating once again, this time with feeling Premeditated like some sick joke Waited all night for you Waited all night for you'

to me this entire song really fits william and vyncent

duck or ape by roar literally this entire song. self explanatory lmao

nights like these by pigeon pit honestly this song just gives me the vibes of the three prime defenders just being traumatized kids and comforting each other and stuff, or specifically during the timeskip when it was just will and vyncent just trying to cope, and then dakota trying to find his place with them again after he gets back.

saintly rows (oh oh) by dear and the headlights OK SO. RELIGIOUS TRAUMA WHO?? not to mention the entire song heavily uses death and religious metaphor near interchangeably, and ghosts are used largely as that metaphor. it lends itself very well to his religious upbringing (even if it's not a super large focal point of his character but clearly both his parents are religious, his first idea for his superhero suit had religious imagery which he ended up not going with, and he, with dubious canon implication, has some sort of actual physical aversion to various religious artifacts or rituals such as bibles and praying, along with how much focus charlie puts on the fact that william keeps bringing up that there is no god) which is super super interesting to me. also the song has several allusions to being unable to sleep, paranoia, loss of oxygen and by extension the ability to breathe, 'Caskets for hands bury your plans right next to your songs', 'Out come the gaunt ghosts of your thoughts,' and generally being plagued by some sort of ghostly figures which cause paranoia which in william's case could be the wisps or some sort of extension to how he perceives himself. either way i think the song fits a lot!

im not crying. youre not crying, are you? by dear and the headlights

'Did the seesaw nights put their hands on you? I can't really say, I can't really say Are you swinging from the eaves in a tasteful noose? I can't really say, I can't really say'

in my mind this section fits with how he died the first time, following the wisps in the woods and falling and not wanting to fully admit to himself that he died that night

'You're following a flashlight down utility halls And then you mumble to yourself that this has all been your fault And oh, you're not laughing, you're not laughing, are you?'

this fits with his incessant need to solve mysteries and his tendency to blame himself

'Then the howls and moans pour from the black and it's a sea of blank faces straight to the back Aggressively mediocre in every single way Yet you're the only reason that they came'

this fits with when they went to the spirit world, his own identity crisis and his feelings of inadequacy in comparison to the rest of the team, and being unable to rectify that his own abilities help, and that even without them his friends would still want him around the rest is just like. vibes? and scenes in my head lol.

harness your hopes - b side by pavement

'And the freaks have stormed the White House I moved into a lighthouse It's on a scenic quay, it's, oh, so far away Far away from the beginning, the shroud is made of linen The yearling took the purse, the goth kid has a hearse Heart-breaking, earth-quaking'

'Minds wide open truly Leisure, a leisure suit is nothing It's nothing to be proud of in this late century And I'm asking you to hold me just like the morning paper Pinched between your pointer, your index and your thumb It's a semi-automatic, believers are ecstatic You see the way they cling, the cold metallic sting And I'm living in a coma for Donna de Varona The harness made of hopes, the lovers on the ropes Nun is to church, as the parrot is to perch And my heart's wide open Truly'

i dont wanna die by the unicorns

'I spotted the glow over the mountain, tonight My turn to turn in just when the weather's getting nice I predict: I die in a plane crash I see it now, I die in a car on tour And there's no one to stop this Nobody to loosen death's firm grip on me Doo doo doo doo I die It's true Doo doo doo doo I die And so do you My prophecy is almost complete My finger's on the pulse (But where's the beat?) We don't wanna die in the ocean (Drifting out to sea) We don't want to die in our sleep (-ing bags) DEATH: buckle up boys, we're going for a little ride Death! I just want one more breath! Can you grant me one more please?'

all the dying by mother mother

this entire song just fits him very well i think? especially with his upbringing in deadwood being able to see things that werent there and being able to see ghosts, and how prevalent death was in his life from even before he died

NOT TO MENTION ITS ALSO LIKE HOW HE VIEWS HERO SOCIETY AND HEROISM AS A WHOLE. and his general viewpoint on his own powers and his disdain for his powers especially in association with mallard etc etc

'When I see the damned in their dire straights Damning all the men with those american names I said don't damn the man, damn your hand For makin' a fist and shaking it all around Damn the hand, damn your hand Oh, you can damn the butchers and damn the beef Oh, you can damn the flies in all the heat Or you can damn the dying and dying and dying ♪ Dying and dying and decomposing Dying and dying's for real Dying and dying and pounds of posy Dying and dying's forever When I hear the crying of a siren in the night I think of piles of writhing people, fighting for their lives I see an image of a body, broken and beet red I hear the acappella angels singing for the dead I think of all the butchers and all the beef I think of all the flies in all the heat I think of all the dirt that lays a bed for bones I think of all the words that get written on the stones I think of all the surf that come crashing over souls I think of all the dying'

figure in the background by snake pool rather self explanatory methinks

friendly neighborhood poltergeist by rory webley

self explanatory also, but imo this fits very well with williams crush on vyncent

villains pt1 by emma blackery

'So I'll go I'm better off alone Run and tell them that the villains on my list They're the reason I've been pulled so low Monster, monster, I feel like such a monster Tell them I've been saved But the devil walks amongst ya, amongst ya I'll be the ghost the haunts ya You've seen my demons but you weren't really supposed to You've got me locked up but I'm not like you I'll be my own escape route, you know I'll get you caught up Got my attention I'll make you my victim'

'I don't feel anything Because I became possessed and obsessed With the idea of revenge Where you going now? Everybody's looking at you 'Cause you set yourself on fire just to light up the room'

youre not welcome by naethan apollo

'I can't believe you used to truly scare me You were like a ghost story told to keep me weary But I never listened, no, I slept good 'til morning And when our paths finally crossed, I didn't heed the warning Then push, push, push, push Yeah, you pushed me to the edge I used to dread the thought of falling quickly But now I just wish that you'd send me off that ledge So I can finally fucking take you with me'

basically this can be about his tumultuous relationship with the wisps, mallard conway, or the hero agency as a whole, or a mix of the three! however, i mostly associate this segment with his tie with the wisps and how badly mallard wants him to embrace it (especially the 'i used to dread the thought of falling quickly' because of how william died the first time, and then the 'now i just wish youd send me off that ledge' with him falling down the slope of morality in e31-33)

dead! by my chemical romance

'And if your heart stops beating I'll be here wondering Did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life And if you get to heaven I'll be here waiting, babe Did you get what you deserve? The end, and if your life won't wait Then your heart can't take this Have you heard the news that you're dead? No one ever had much nice to say, I Think they never liked you anyway'

'Wouldn't it be grand to take a pistol by the hand? And wouldn't it be great if we were dead? And in my honest observation During this operation Found a complication in your heart, so long 'Cause now you've got (now you've got) Maybe just two weeks to live Is that the most the both of you can give?'

'If life ain't just a joke Then why are we laughing? If life ain't just a joke Then why am I dead? Dead!'

grave digger by matt maeson

'I can't run to you, Father I need love ♪ I can't talk to you, Mother I know it's got you caught up But your sweet sinless sensation is not my style And I'm not giving up But tell me if I run away How long will I bleed? Tell me if I run away How long will I bleed? ♪ Colors blend They're all black and white ♪ Goddamnit, I cannot bend I'm all shriveled inside'

'Ain't no point in tryna pick-a me up when I'm down Yeah, you can stick out your hand And you can lean towards the ground I'll be tryna suck all of the liquid out the dirt Tryna catch a curve Digging my own grave'

hand me my shovel, im going in by will wood and the tapeworms

'My soul was crushed like a tall boy Underneath the boots on the curb And I'm still picking up my molars And putting them back in my face My name was soiled by a last call spill With a backwash swill and the blackout killed me Sober on impact from a fall from grace Take the road on higher ground And tell me, "Don't look down, you'll fall and break your back" But that just reminds me how there's more to be found beneath the black! This is not enough This is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough This is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom (Gotta get to the bottom of this) (Gotta get to the bottom of this) (Gotta get to the bottom of this) Take you with me'

'Looking up, we see the point of entry Between where we are and we've been Looking down, I could say Heaven sent me Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!'

'Gotta gotta gotta get, gotta get, gotta get Gotta get to the bottom of this If it kills me!'

this entire song describes william's need to solve mysteries to a T dude.

hope this made some iota of sense, and sorry for the lack of explanation on most, i just couldn’t figure out a way to properly articulate it 😭 anyway hope you enjoyed lol, i’d love to hear others thoughts and additions if they have any!

#dandy talks #jrwi #jrwi spoilers #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi william #william wisp

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pinkanonwrites · 2 years

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A request if you’re feeling up to it, any twst characters you want arguing with the mc (they’re both crushing in each other but it’s not gone anywhere so far) and the mc just gets frustrated and yells “YOU WANT TO FUCK ME SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID”

PLEASE this is hilarious. I picked a handful of characters I thought it would be the most funny with.

GN! Reader, NSFW-ish (Only the topic, not the actual content of their replies)

"Please! You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid!"

"WHAT!?!" His voice hits a pitch usually only reserved for calling dogs. This is usually how your dynamic goes, to be honest, trading sharp words back and forth until you say something that sends Riddle into a spiral of fluster and embarrassment, barely able to string together coherent sentences in his adorable rage. This is just... A new level for him. You've seen Riddle get red, but this is red.

He can't help it, he instinctively casts his signature spell on you. Doesn't matter if you've got magic or not, that "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" is already leaving his lips and leaving a massive, heart-shaped collar hanging from your neck. It's his natural argument-ender, though the connotations in this particular case are much more embarrassing than usual.

He's tossing and turning all night that night, constantly playing back those words falling from your lips and sending him once again down a spiral of heat and humiliation. This cracked open a door in his mind he'd been desperately trying to avoid opening, a big locked door labelled 'REPRESSED FEELINGS' and now he has no clue how he's gonna talk to you like a regular human being the next time he sees you.

Chokes on his tea mid-sip, having brought it to his lips to punctuate his sentence as a final "I got you." Little did he know you had the most Azul-breaking retort locked and loaded, and you only needed a few little words to completely shut down all higher function in his brain. Nd now he's got tea all down the front of his clean-pressed white shirt. Lovely.

You're probably too busy laughing at his spit take to see just how completely embarrassed he was, both by your statement and his retort. "I-I will be charging you for the dry cleaning bill!" He snaps back, but that only makes you laugh harder. God, he must be so red. Is it hot in here? Why is it so damn hot in here? The fluster seems to stay with him, a hint of red high on his cheeks for the rest of the day.

Every time he talks to you from that point on that interaction is gonna be lurking in the back of his mind. Just snickering evilly and waiting for the moment he lets his guard down so it can fluster him all over again. But it's for the best, because it does eventually get him to finally start prodding that the unfamiliar emotions he feels for you, carefully unraveling them to decipher just what they are and how he wants to handle them.

You stop this boy dead in the middle of his sentence, and if he's carrying anything he's definitely going to drop it. Sure, your playful bickering/flirting could get a bit heated from time to time, but Epel never expected you to pull that one on him.

"Y-You wish!" He tries to retort, but the clearly embarrassed pause was there way too long for both of you to not consider the connotations. "...Anyway I gotta go I'll text ya later bye!" He makes himself scarce as quickly as possible, if only so you can't see how red his cheeks are turning as he all but sprints away.

Once he's alone he's kicking himself though, for his inability to look any cooler or say anything smoother than a stuttered and clearly embarrassed response. Maybe if he'd had the perfect retort he could figure out where exactly the two of you landed in your weird flirt-fight relationship, and if there was anything that could nudge it over to the next stage. Nothing to do about it now though except cover his face with a pillow and yell until his voice went hoarse.

Add this phrase to the extensive list of "How to send Idia Shroud into cardiac arrest in twenty words or less." Because his retort is so panicked, so loud, and so laced with humiliated denial that it would be fair to assume that Idia certainly thought he was about to die, and just had to clear the air before he did.

He's shrieking and flailing in response, and you'd almost be a bit offended about how vehemently he denied the thought if it weren't for the fact that you knew already that Idia was just like this. He'll probably throw something at you if he's got something soft, a pillow or a plush from a favorite anime perhaps. It whips towards you with frightening accuracy, nearly taking you off your feet as Idia pulls the collar of his sweatshirt up to cover his blushing face. Not that it does much, considering you can see his flaming pink hair.

He's got cripplingly low self-esteem, to I think he feels dirty for even considering thinking about you in such a way, like he's tainting your image with his perverse thoughts alone. Unless you flat out tell him you like him it's doubtful to go anywhere, not because he can't read your signals but because he simply refuses to get his hopes up and risk humiliating himself.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #epel felmier #idia shroud #riddle x reader #azul x reader #epel x reader #idia x reader #twst headcanons #my writing #anon

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

482 notes · View notes

missgeniality · 4 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

222col · 4 years

Text

Online Dating

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sam sets Bucky up for a dating app, and he meets Y/N.

Word Count: 1,168

“This is ridiculous Sam, why are you making me do this?”

Sam set Bucky up for online dating. Bucky wasn’t too pleased. “Right, picture time.” Sam picks up Bucky’s phone and starts snapping some photos of him. “Go stand over there.” Bucky mumbles a ‘for god’s sake’ under his breath and moves by the window where Sam has pointed. He adds them to Bucky’s profile and enters a few questions for him. “What’s your favourite book?” Sam asks. “The Hobbit.” Sam gives him a puzzled look. “How the hell do you know the Hobbit?”

“I read it in 1937. When it first came out.” He just sighs and adds it into the profile. “We need to add some of your interests.” Bucky pauses, he only knows his old interests, from before he was frozen. He wasn’t up to date with any new things yet, he hadn’t found the time. “We’ll just put some generic stuff.” Sam types on his phone quickly, and puts it down on the table. “Done.”

Bucky picks up the phone, scanning his new profile. “38?” He questions. “Well, we can’t put your real age, can we?”

Bucky Barnes.

38.

Into working out, drinking, watching movies, dancing, reading.

Favourite book? The Hobbit.

Favourite film? The Hobbit.

“But I’ve never seen the film,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Well you can watch it tonight then, can’t you.”

Night owl or morning person? Night owl.

Old-fashioned or young at heart? Definitely old-fashioned.

Ideal date? Movie and drinks.

“I guess that’ll do. Ahh, Sam, it’s making a noise, what did I do?” He shakes his head and snatches the phone from Bucky’s hands. “It means you have a match.” Sam clicks a few buttons and shows Bucky. “See, she matched with you. It means she’s interested. Her name is Y/N. Do you want to message her?” Bucky nods his head. “How do I do that? Phone message Y/N!” He shouts directly at the phone. “Oh my god, no.”

Sam spends the rest of the afternoon teaching Bucky how to use dating app, and eventually all the other apps on his phone. “Is this why you don’t answer my texts? Because you don’t know how to?” Sam laughs slightly. “I am 106 years old, Wilson!”

Once Sam has taught Bucky how to work his phone and left Bucky to his own devices, the app makes another noise. Now knowing what this means, he opens it up to see he has a message.

Hey there, I must say you look so familiar! - Y/N

Hello, it’s lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m not sure why, guess I just have one of those faces. - Bucky

You must! It is a lovely face nonetheless. - Y/N

Why thank you, doll face. Yours is just as lovely, if not more. - Bucky

Oh, aren’t you a little flirt Bucky! - Y/N

They spoke all evening. They ended up having a lot more in common than Bucky had expected. Y/N even proposed the ideas of going out to drinks later on in the week, Bucky thought it was a fabulous idea. They planned to meet on Friday, at 8pm at a bar close to both of their places.

“So, tonight, huh?” Sam teased, Bucky had told him all his updates, well, more like Sam forced him to tell him all his updates. “Yes. I’ve already planned what I’m going to wear, I feel like a 14 year old school girl with a crush.” Sam laughs and pats him on the back. “I’m not surprised, she’s gorgeous and it’s been a hell of a long time since you’ve been on a date.” These words are such a relief to Bucky. “She’s probably just as nervous as you.”

“NATASHA! Where is my black dress?” Y/N screams, rummaging through a pile of clothes on the floor. “You have about 20 black dresses, Y/N. Be more specific.” Natasha yells back from another room. “The one with the mesh sleeves! I need it for my date tonight!” No luck in the growing pile, she heads to her roommate’s closet and starts searching. “There it is, you little thief!” Natasha hides her laughter. “Oops.”

When Y/N finishes getting ready, it’s 7:15pm. She’s way too early to leave yet, the bar was only a 10 minute walk. Natasha pours herself and her roommate a drink and the two of them sit at their table. “Why won’t you tell me who you’re going on a date with?” Nat questions, sipping her beverage. “Because you’ll search them up, and do a background check like you always do, and then tell me not to go, But I really like this one, I wanna work him out on my own thank you.” Y/N sticks her tongue out sarcastically and takes a gulp of her drink. “Fine. But if you’re not back by the morning, I’m organising a search team for your body.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N replies. “Oh you are so dramatic, Nat. He’s a really nice guy.”

Bucky arrives first, just before 8pm, and is seated at a table on the balcony upstairs. He sets down his jacket, and the bunch of flowers he brought for Y/N and sits down. He orders two drinks, and waits patiently for her to arrive. He can’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down. His phone buzzes, it’s Sam. ‘You got this, Soldier!’

“Hi, I’m meeting someone,” Y/N tells the hostess, and is escorted upstairs. Bucky stands when he see’s her, a wide smile appearing on his face. The hostess helps her remove her coat as she goes into hug Bucky. “Hey, it’s so great to see you in person!” She smiles, and goes to sit down. Bucky tucks her chair in for her and then sits down himself. “I just ordered us two random drinks, I have no idea what’s in them,” He says shyly as the waiter brings over two fruity looking cocktails. “Looks delicious!”

“Nice selection, Mr Barnes,” Y/N says, nodding her head after tasting the cocktail. “Damn, you’re right, I did well with these.” Bucky replies after tasting his. She giggles at his comment. They chat about anything and everything. It was as though they’d known each other for years. Eventually, it’s time for them to head off. Bucky insists on walking Y/N home.

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N says, arriving at her place, standing outside the door. “I wanted to, Y/N.” Bucky replies, joining her on her doorstep. “I had a really lovely time tonight, I would adore seeing you again, angel.” Y/N nods her head in agreement. Bucky leans down, as Y/N leans up, their lips meeting in the middle. They’re both so caught up in the kiss they don’t even hear the door open.

“Barnes?!” Nat exclaims as she opens the door. “Romanoff?! What are you doing at Y/N’s house?!” Y/N furrows her brow, deep in thought. “What are you doing kissing my roommate more like?!”

“Ohh, I’ve seen you around Nat’s work. That’s why I thought you looked familiar.”

726 notes · View notes

mickey-henry · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky’s been flirting with you, but hasn’t taken it further than that. frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: occasional swearing (but not much) and frustrating flirting (I’d be melting if it was happening to me). besides that, this fic is pure fluffy fun.

author’s note: hello there! this is my second fic; I’m very excited to post it! I found the header image here, and if you want to listen to the song I reference in this fic, you can listen here. bold text indicates singing, while italicized text refers to inner thoughts. likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Bucky Barnes is an acquaintance at best. The two of you rarely work together, and with conflicting schedules, you see little of each other around the compound. On a random Friday in April, however, something changes in you. The moment is nothing out of the ordinary. You’re sitting on the couch in the main living space, re-reading one of your favorite books. Bucky has just returned from a mission; you glance up to see his exhausted expression. He catches your eye, winking with a smile, before walking to his room. Your heart flutters and your head freezes at the response. “Oh, no,” you think to yourself. “Maybe that was a one-time thing? I don’t actually like him, right?” Wrong.

Ever since that night, the mere presence of Bucky Barnes drives you crazy: his stunning blue eyes that squint ever so slightly when he smiles, his adorable nose that crinkles when he laughs, his pillowy lips that you lose yourself in, his fluffy hair you can’t help but imagine running your fingers through, his scruff speckled jawline that you wish would brush along your hands, cheeks, anywhere really. He occupies your dreams; you can’t escape this man even if you try. Today, he drives you crazier than usual. He stands in the compound's kitchen in a tight black t-shirt, one that leaves nothing to the imagination. This is the first time you’ve seen him in short sleeves, in anything other than tactical gear. You can’t help but stare as he prepares his lunch. The shirt hugs his frame tight, accentuating his biceps that had no right to be that big. “Gosh, he must spend hours in the gym to look like that.” You then notice the vein in his right arm protruding from his skin, tracing it with your eyes. You didn’t think he could become any more beautiful, but here he is before you, incredible as ever.

You’re pulled from your reverie when Bucky calls your name. “Yeah?” you reply, barely masking the startled stutter in your voice.

“Pass me the salt?”

“Oh! Sure, of course,” you muster, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of you as you hand him the salt shaker.

“Thanks, doll,” he flirts with a smile, the same one he gave you that night when he got back to the compound. You nearly choke. “Bucky Barnes called me a term of endearment?!? Holy shit.” Your heart swells and you look down at your glass in a desperate attempt to hide the blush creeping its way across your cheeks. “Goodness gracious, I respond this way from a simple word?” You couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if he touched you.

It didn’t take long to find out. The following day, you stand in the kitchen prepping your lunch, singing softly along to the song playing from your phone. Bucky appears soon after. He stands close to you for a moment, closer than necessary, but of course you don’t mind. He has just showered; his cologne lingers in the air, intoxicating you. Somehow, you keep singing along, showing no sign that your mind is elsewhere.

“Ugh, he smells amazing. This man has too much power over me; this is ridiculous! I don’t even remember what I was doing—”

“You have a beautiful voice,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you softly reply, your heart racing at his praise.

“Let me get by you real fast, doll,” he says, moving to walk behind you.

“There he goes again with the pet name. My god, could this get any worse—”

He places his hands gently on your hips as he moves beside you. Electricity travels through your whole body; you’re internally screaming at his touch. His hands feel better than you imagined. Even though the contact lasts only a moment, the effects of his touch linger after, leaving you speechless.

You hear a musical chuckle from the man behind you. “Is he teasing me? It sure feels like it,” you wonder. There is no way that he can’t see the effect he has on you. Before you can even formulate another thought, he touches you again as he moves back to the other side of you. “That was definitely on purpose; certainly he wouldn’t do this by accident. Right?”

Your eyes linger as he finishes putting together his lunch. He catches your gaze and smiles. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before leaving the room. “Okay, that answers my question; that was very intentional. What am I going to do with myself?”

You don’t know how much longer you can take his teasing. Throughout the week, he ups his antics, calling you pet names more than your own, stealing touches whenever he can get away with it, smiling whenever you make eye contact. The tension is insatiable; thoughts of Bucky follow you everywhere. You decide to take matters in your own hands; Bucky did not seem to be planning to make a move anytime soon. If he is going to tease the hell out of you, you might as well get some payback.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Tony’s announcement of Friday night karaoke gives you a wicked idea. However, for it to work, you need to recruit help. You know just who to ask. It doesn’t take long to find Sam and Steve; they spent a ton of their free time sparring in the gym. They seem to be at the end of their workout, their movements slow and sloppy, relying on witty retorts to throw off the other. They stop when they notice your arrival.

“Hey!” Sam says with a smile, hugging you as you approach. You squeeze him tightly, even with his sticky sweat coating his arms. You greet Steve with a hug too.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Steve asks as you let go.

“Can I ask you guys something? And you promise you two won’t laugh at me? Especially if I'm reading this wrong?”

“Of course,” answers Steve.

“Yeah, for sure,” replies Sam.

You hesitate for a second, taking a deep breath. “Does Bucky like me? I swear he does. He keeps teasing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I think I am practically in love with the guy at this point, he’s so beautiful and—”

You stop as the boys exchange glances and begin laughing.

You cross your arms, hurt. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me! I can’t control how I feel.”

“No! Wait! We aren’t laughing at you!” Steve says between giggles.

You furrow your brows. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Bucky’s obsessed with you,” Steve answers after calming his laughter.

“God, yes, you’re all he talks about nowadays,” Sam adds.

“What?! He does? Why? Are you shitting me right now? Because that would be really freaking mean—“

“No! Of course not,” Steve insists. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“And the pet names he gives you?” Sam adds.

“And how he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately?” Steve finishes.

Now you feel stupid for even asking. Of course you noticed all of those things. They were all you ever thought about. “Well, yeah, but maybe he does that with all the girls.”

“What girls?” Sam retorted. “The only women who are here often enough to cross paths with him are you, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda’s with Vision, as weird as that is, but love is love. Natasha shoots daggers at anyone who looks at her with love in their eyes. That leaves you.”

“Why in the world would he like me? Of all people? He’s out of my league,” you sigh,

Sam’s scoff pulls you from your thoughts. “Bucky? Out of your league? He’s a crazy ex-assassin with emotional issues! If anything, he's out of your league.”

“You’re a catch, why wouldn’t he like you?” Steve assures.

Steve and Sam always know just what to say to make you feel better. “I guess you’re right,” you admit with a defeated grin.

“So, you know how Bucky feels. What are you going to do about it?” Steve asks.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“We’re listening.”

You divulge your plan to them. They smile, hyping you up.

“Dude, I’m so down!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands in excitement.

“You think this will work?”

“Definitely,” Steve assures. “This is going to be amazing!”

“Okay then, we’re doing this. Let’s go find Bucky. Time to initiate phase one.”

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky is sitting on the common room couch, flipping through a book when he sees you, Sam, and Steve enter. He exchanges a glance with you, smiling as your eyes light up. The three of you sit down. You’re sitting next to Sam, closer than usual. There’s a brief moment of silence before you speak. “Sam, are you going to karaoke night?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss everyone’s drunk-ass singing for the world.”

“Will you be my duet partner?”

This catches Bucky’s attention. He looks up from his book. Why the hell were you asking Sam to sing with you? You normally ask the girls...

“Sure thing, baby. It’ll be a ton of fun!” Sam smiles.

Baby?! What?! How dare he call you a pet name, his girl, right in front of him? Well, you may not be his girl yet, but Sam knows how he feels about you. What the hell is he thinking?

“Yay! This’ll be so fun!” You hug him, grabbing his hand before continuing, “Wanna practice with me in a bit?”

“Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Sam answers, kissing your knuckle before letting go of your hand.

Sweetheart?! What the fuck was going on? Did he miss his shot? Would Sam really do that to him? Bucky can barely handle his swirling thoughts. He storms out of the room without looking back.

Steve can’t help but laugh once Bucky is out of earshot. “That worked a little too well, wouldn’t you say so?”

“That wasn’t too far, was it?” you ask with a worried expression on your face.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He’ll just come on even stronger now. He won’t give up on you that easily,” Sam assures you.

───────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky can barely contain his anger as you step on the stage with Sam, giggling and smiling at your karaoke partner. Jealousy engulfs him. He can barely listen to the start of the song, ignoring the catchy beat blasting through the speakers. He doesn’t recognize the song, but looks up from his drink when you sing, “Hey Bucky boy, what you doing tonight? I wanna see what you got in store."

He looks right at you. Did she just say Bucky?

Sam echoes, “Hey, hey Bucky!” Well, that answers his question.

“You're giving it your all when you're dancing on me. I want to see if you can give me some more,” you continue, twirling your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“You can be my man, I can be your girl, and we can pump this jam however you want,” you sing, swaying your hips to the cadence of the lyrics.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“Pump it from the side, pump it upside down, or we can pump it from the back and the front,” you wink as you finish the line. Bucky sits up suddenly, crossing his legs, his face turning beet red. You smile, knowing the plan was working. Steve laughs from beside him. He keeps his eyes glued on you as the two of you continue the song, utterly entranced. You look him right in the eye as you end the song, “I want you tonight.”

You saunter over to where he is sitting after high-fiving Sam, confidence filling your chest. “So, what did you think of my performance, Bucky?”

You yelp as he grabs your hips and pulls you down to sit on his lap. His voice deepens, “you’re such a tease, you know that right?”

You laugh. “I’m the tease? Really? You’re the one who just pulled me onto your lap and taunts me with flirtatious remarks and smiles all freaking day. My god Bucky, make a move already—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in for a kiss, his flesh arm grabbing the back of your neck. The team whoops and cheers.

“Glad you finally made a move, Bucky,” you pant as your lips part from his.

“Best decision I ever made in my life, doll.” Before you can respond, he kisses you again, the karaoke bar fading in the background as you finally embrace the man of your dreams.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mickey-henry #bucky barnes fic #my fic: hey bucky #mel's writing

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

reigniting

SUMMARY ⇾ your hate for your dance captain (and ex-best friend) melts and evolves into something more for the night. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ smut (near the end), car s*x, swearing, angst in backstory RATING ⇾ mature FOR ⇾ @markleesflathead

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ yes i’m bitter that most of my fics in ask form don’t show up in tag so i might have to post them as individual fics hhh || @markleesflathead idk how this ended up into car s*x but i’m sorry if it isn’t what you really expected slkfmd also i’m v flattered to be one of your fave writers *_* thanks for the bday wishes!!

“I missed this.”

Mark suddenly says into the air after catching his breath from all the laughing he just did. With the hand that’s been resting on the steering wheel since he parked the car fifteen minutes ago, he swipes his thumb against it.

Your laughter subsides too, turning your head in the passenger seat to get a good look at him.

The closest street lamp isn’t near enough to cast a light to see all his features clearly, but you don’t need much lighting to see the waver behind his bespectacled face, nor the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

“I missed you,” he whispers softly, then matches your eyes with a tilt of his head.

The beginning was simple. You and Mark, best friends since middle school, about to attend the same university and were going to do everything together, including extracurriculars.

Which included the university’s main competitive hip-hop dance team, since both of you were on your high school’s too.

From what you heard from upperclassmen, every year, the team offered at least five spots open. Of course, Mark and you were confident in yourselves and each other to make the team.

But during your first year, only one spot was available on the team.

The straining of your friendship began to slowly occur, since you saw less of each other in order to train more individually for the auditions.

And when the auditions happened, there was a new tension between Mark and you. Still friends, but competitiveness was a prevalent wall between you two.

The wall grew larger, tangled with vines of jealousy and bitterness, when Mark received the spot, not you.

Both parties tried hard to keep the friendship afloat, but it eventually came crashing down.

“You’re just fucking jealous that I got in and you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you said. “and I should be, because I’m the better dancer.”

“As if.” he scoffed. He spat out the next words venomously—

“If you were better they would’ve chose you, but you’ve just never been as good of a dancer as me.”

That was the last time you spoke to Mark... for a while, at least.

When second year came by, you decided to prove him wrong and obtain a spot on the team. Successfully, you did, but partway through the term, the captain dropped out and, to your dismay, Mark was given captaincy.

Fast-forward to today, Mark constantly gave you shit during practices and you knew it was personal.

Sure, you could’ve quit, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. However, you always did wonder why he didn’t decide to kick you off the team when he had the power to do so.

Following one practice, Mark ordered you to come by the studio on a separate night for a talk. He claimed it to be extra training, but you were mentally prepared for him to finally remove you from the team.

However, you were wrong and the unexpected happened—the wall between you two began to crumble. The hostile professionalism during the extra session grew into an area of familiarity, remnants of a lost friendship. After the session, Mark swallowed his pride and apologized about what he said back then, even offering to take you out to dinner.

During the meal, both of you caught each other up on the last year or so, and at the end of the night, Mark drove you home.

Laughing, smiling, and talking with you like the last couple of years were a nightmare faded into nothingness.

And you didn’t mind it, because you missed him too.

But instead of telling him that, you nibble on your bottom lip and rock your head forward with a small smile.

Continuing the conversation from where you left off, after Mark agreed to stop giving you such a hard time during practice, you say, “Can I ask you to stop doing one more thing during practice?”

“What’s up?”

“Please, for the love of God,” you say with your hands clasped in a prayer. “Stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting.”

A hearty chuckle escapes from Mark, leaning his head back into the headrest. “Why is it distracting?”

“You know why!” you exclaim, beaming. “I know you do it on purpose!”

He cocks an eyebrow playfully. “And why would I do that?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "Because I know the oh-so humble Mark Lee still loves it when he gets attention."

The driver runs his tongue over the bottom of his teeth in a smirk, hand still on the steering wheel.

"And what about you?” he retorts. “You must still have a thing for arms if you think it's distracting."

You gasp inaudibly, unsure of how he could still remember that tidbit after all these years, and you twist your upper body to inch near him, glaring at him accusingly. "Is that why you do it?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." he shrugs nonchalantly. Leaning closer to you, parroting your stance, he adds in a teasing whisper along with a squint of his eyes.

"You'll never know."

There’s a passing beat as your eyes lock, one that carries the weight of the years of loving each other as friends, hating each other as enemies, working together as dancers, and everything in between.

A moment of connection that represents what everything has been working towards to for a long time, even if you never thought you’d have the chance to ever have Mark in your life again.

His look falters for a millisecond, flicking to your lips, then straight back to your eyes as if he shouldn’t have done that.

The corner of your mouth lifts slightly.

"Are you going to kiss me, Mark,” you whisper daringly. “or are you going to keep staring?"

You’re awfully aware of both of your breathing. Yours, heavy and wanting. His, light and barely existent.

"How do you know I wanna kiss you?" he croaks, a small crack in his voice underlying his question.

Because maybe a little part of you always wondered what it’d be like for Mark Lee to want to kiss you since you were kids—for him to send you that anxious starry-eyed yearning that could send your heart into cardiac arrest.

And now, from first-hand experience, you know it really does.

You hold your breath and question back—

"Am I wrong?”

The tension in the air snaps. He’s fast to cup your cheeks and crash his mouth into yours. Soft lips move in tandem with yours as you rest your hands on his shoulders, lightly tugging at his body.

The first, tender kiss is quickly thrown aside, along with your shirts. The desire escalates immensely and you’re suddenly straddling him in the driver’s seat, now pushed back to give extra room for both individuals.

"Should we slow down?" you ask offhandedly at one point while Mark’s mouth leaves a hot trail down the side of your neck. At the same time, his fingers glide and grip onto your bare waist, making their way to grasp your breasts.

Mark jerks away from your neck and carefully caresses the back of your head. "Do you want to?"

"Mm-mm,” you hurriedly shake your head and drag him into another strong kiss.

The exciting rush continues to run through both bodies present. When you return to the passenger seat momentarily to rid of your pants, Mark shimmies his bottoms and briefs down to his ankles and pulls a condom from his glove compartment.

“How often do you have car sex?” you joke, straddling him once again after he wraps himself.

In his reclined position, Mark looks up and scans your body quickly, both indulging in your natural beauty and in disbelief that you are here with him right now, after all these years.

“Hey, a guy’s gotta be safe—fuck, God.”

All quips and logic are thrown out the window when you sit on his length.

You have one hand pressed against his defined stomach, the other on the car ceiling. Bouncing with no end in sight, you allow the pleasure to enrapture your senses. Muffled whimpers reverberate against the inner side of your wrist as you feel him deeply with every movement.

On the other hand, Mark tries his best to keep his focus on you, but the intensity breaks him down. He groans in pace with your moving body, and he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Mark—” you cry. You rip your hand from the car roof and, without thought, frantically push it against the driver’s window, smudging the frost that all your collective breathing conjured up. You’re surprisingly already coming undone, and so is your lover beneath you.

“I’m close,” he pants thickly. His hazy gaze attempts to meet your half-lidded eyes, but you’re losing control. All you can do is barely nod and as you’re about to bounce more vigorously, Mark releases your waist and raises himself upward, clutching your back and neck to lock lips fiercely with yours.

You barely can thrust against him, but you don’t need to at this point, because the kiss is simply enough to draw out his climax.

You’re pulled back to reality after a few moments, panting with your foreheads tipped against one another.

“And to counter your question from before,” Mark grins, still breathing heavily. “I’ll only stop rolling my sleeves up during practice if you stop tying your shirt up to show off your waist.”

You try to stifle a smirk, but it can’t be helped. You reply to him with a flutter of the tip of your nose against his.

“No deal, captain.”

nctsworld’s birthday week celebration!

#mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nbwc2021 #nctcreations

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swtki · 3 years

Text

In The Dark - D.M

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw! Fem! Reader.

Summary: Draco gets lucky in a dark closet

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, swearing, semi-public sex, underage drinking if you aren’t in the UK, party, SoftDom! Draco,praise kink, Hook up sex, no previous relationship between the two parties, Oral (m),.

All characters in this story are 18 in an AU where the war never happened.

The music drilled harshly into my ears, making me wonder why I even came to these bloody things. Sure, Slytherins were known for throwing the best parties with the finest firewhiskey in all the castle, but that didn’t make it necessary for me to attend. I hardly drank, I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of the other Slytherins, it would be in bad taste as I had an image to keep. The Malfoy’s could never be anything but perfect, but if everyone around me was pissed - did it really matter? It’s not like they would notice if I let loose a bit, or even if I nursed one small drink.

“Seen Parkinson ‘nywhere?” Blaises voice pulled me out of my thoughts, he had leaned in close to me and when I turned to his voice I was taken aback to see him so close. I turned my head back around, slumping in my chair.

“‘M not her keeper. The girl could be in Germany by now and I doubt she would’ve tipped anyone off, ‘s not unusual for her to disappear.” The tall man laughed, gripping my shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Why’re you so interested anyway? Didn’t think you wanted to shag the girl that badly.” Blaise shook his head.

“It’s not Parkinson I'm interested in. It’s her friend, she’s bringing a Ravenclaw girl.” I raised my eyebrow in suspicion, “She must be superb for Parkinson to overlook her house, no?” I tilted my head in an unsure response. We never invited non-Slytherins, hell sometimes we didn’t even invite Slytherins.

I stood from the smooth velvet chair, pushing my way past people as Blaise followed me. I poured pumpkin juice for myself in one of the crystal glasses. Blaise topped his drink off, I scoffed at him. “Don’t make me drag you back to the dorm when you get so pissed you forget your own name.” He frowned at me - unamused by my joke as it was a sensitive topic; The December Party Incident.

“There,” He calls out, I snap my head in the direction, “That’s not at all how I pictured her, you know, Ravenclaws aren’t usually into anything other than their own classes.” Blaise had a point, the girl who stood next to Parkinson wasn’t like the usual Ravenclaw. She wore a black dress that cut off at the knee and showed most of her collarbone. Though simple, she was striking in it. She and Parkinson walked over to us at the make-shift bar.

“Right, this is Y/N. She bites.” the more familiar girl said, stepping away to see to her empty glass.

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you.” I say, scooping up her hand and laying a kiss to the top, like a true gentleman I might add. She pulled away from me, wiping her hand on her skirt.

“I know who you are, you made my life a living hell for years one through four. I’m not even one of the Potter Possy.” I fell pale, embarrassed at her comeback. Although, I found myself intrigued and impressed by how fiery she was.

“Potter Possy?”

“Are you surprised that Ravenclaws came up with that name?” she said, slyly. I decided I liked her in that moment. She was interesting, she was unlike the others I was so used to surrounding myself with. I offered her a drink, to which she declined and said she was one of Parkinson’s keepers for the night, and then we went our separate ways. I went back to my chair, and she went back to Parkinson. Except, I couldn’t help but keep an eye on the girl. Something about her made me want more - no need more. Her perfume, her eyes, the feeling of her soft hand in my own, I was hooked to say the least.

Eventually, she detached from the group and sat in the couch next to me, how convenient. She had her cheek propped up on her fist, looking around the room. “Why are people so bloody boring, isn’t the point of a party supposed to be for fun?” I laugh at her words.

“Yeah, suppose so. I’m just here because I have to. Any one of these idiots die and it's somehow my fault by proxy.” That was my comment that sparked a full on conversation.

We talked for hours, about her family, her home, her friends in Ravenclaw that would obliterate her if they knew she were there with me. I looked at the large clock on the wall. “Merlin, it's two a.m and these animals haven’t even begin to calm down.” I mumbled.

“Do you wanna maybe - get out of here? Not too far of course.” She winked at the last bit.

“Alright, not too far though.”

“Not too far, now come along.” I laughed and followed suit.

She brought us out to one of the corridors, cool air slapping me in the face. I followed her down, getting more and more confused by the minute. She stopped and turned towards me, a blank look upon her face. “Alright, what are we doing here, darling.” I quickly regretted my words as my cheeks went hot. The last word just rolled off my tongue. I saw her smirk in the dim light as she slowly walked towards me. I didn’t dare move, I wanted to see what she had planned.

“I just,” her soft hand slid up my torso, yanking my tie so that my head was level with hers, “thought we could entertain ourselves.” Softly, she kissed me. It was electric and suddenly the cold air around me was no longer there. I only focused on the brilliant woman in front of me. She leaned in close to my ear, “if that’s alright, Mr. Malfoy.”

Something snapped inside, leading me to grab her waist and push her into the closest room. It was pitch black, I’d guess a storage closet as there were no windows. Our hands roamed each others bodies, lips colliding in what I can only describe as a violent way. Her hands worked to undo my trousers as I worked on the top half of her.

“Can you get on your knees for me, darling?” I asked, blindly feeling my way around her tits. I felt her body shake slightly, she was nodding yes. She giggled, lowering herself onto the floor. My trousers were pooled around my ankles, the girl in front of me was working my cock with her hand.

I gasped, my hand flying into her hair, “Fuck, wish I could see what you were doing, I bet you wish you could see how good you’re making me feel.” I felt a wet and warm sensation on the tip of my cock, her hand was still stroking me. She made good use of her tongue, but I knew she could do more. “Come on, Sweetheart. I know you can make me feel so much better, just go a bit farther. Wanna feel your pretty throat around me.” her hands grasped my thighs, as she went farther, her nails digged into my skin. Slow at first, she bobbed her head, making a gagging noise that only drove me crazier. I couldn’t see her, but I had been dreaming of how she would look in this position all night. She drove her hands up from my legs to my lower hips, earning a low groan from myself. “‘M gonna cum, darling,” the tension in my stomach grew tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. She pulled her mouth off, giving me a wet hand job.

“Please cum on my face, give me your hot cum, Mr. Malfoy “ I lost it with that phrase, my hips twitching as I felt her stay still. The small space was filled with my desperate pants.

“Wow. That was brilliant. Merlin, I reckon you deserve a reward for being such a good girl” I grabbed her face and could feel the smile decorating it. She stood up, and I went down to the floor, making my way to her lower half. “Wearing a skirt to a Slytherin party, was that another Ravenclaw thing?”. She was going to answer, but within seconds she was putty under my tongue and fingers.

#harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader #harry potter preferences #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter lemon #draco malfoy #hp x reader #hp headcanon #hp smut #DM smut #tom felton smut

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writerpeach · 3 years

Text

Blind Date

LOONA Choerry X Male Reader

8153 words

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

masterlist

“Oppa, how long has it been since you’ve dated anyone?” Son Hyejoo asked, seemingly out of the blue as she loudly slurped on her milkshake, stirring the leftover contents with her large straw.

“I don’t know, Hyejoo. I don’t keep track of things like that.”

Hyejoo pointed her strawberry milkshake directly at you, unsatisfied with your answer. “Then that means it’s been too long,” she said, her triangle lips forming a pout.

You rubbed your forehead, knowing once she brought something up she wasn’t going to drop it.

“Why do I need to date anyone when I’m lucky enough to rail you every day?” you playfully replied, causing her nearly to choke on her frozen drink.

“Oppa, not so loud!” she said, kicking your shin. “I won’t be around all the time now that I’m starting a new job. And you need some variety in your life. You’re going to get tired of fucking me.”

“That’s impossible.”

You couldn’t say you agreed with her on that. Hyejoo was the perfect friend with benefits, beautiful big tits and perfect thick thighs, the prettiest mouth and the tightest pussy that you spilled yourself inside several times a day, you couldn’t imagine needing anything else.

“I know just the person to set you up with, oppa. She’s single and one of my closest friends, I think you’ll like her.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

Hyejoo wasn’t going to take no for an answer, refusing to back down as she grabbed her phone and swiped through it.

Finding what she was looking for she showed you her screen, an equally gorgeous girl that looked the same age as her with innocent eyes and a sweet smile.

“She’s cute, but you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense, oppa. It’s time for you to stop being so needy and find a girlfriend,” Hyejoo said.

“Needy? Unless I’m forgetting something you’re the one who loves slobbering on my cock first thing in the morning,” you said.

“Hey! It’s called breakfast, and it’s not my fault you get so hard in the morning.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it is,” you said, as you were met with another kick to the shins.

“Ow!”

“It’s settled, I’ll set you two up on a blind date.”

“Blind date? But you just showed me her picture,” you said, tilting your head in confusion.

Hyejoo sighed audibly. “You’re hopeless, oppa. Don’t you want to know what she looks like?”

“O-of course, but-”

“No buts, oppa. Except hers, her butt is very nice,” she giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

“Don’t worry, she’s very sweet, I think you’ll get along well. Her name is Yerim and she always puts out.”

✦✦

“You look good, oppa,” Hyejoo said as she fixed the collar of your shirt.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your pants as you took one more look in the mirror

“You smell good too. I told you that cologne was a panty-dropper," she said as her lips curled in a smirk.

You sighed loudly. “Hyejoo, I’m not meeting this girl just to get laid. You wanted me to get a girlfriend, right?”

"No, I'm pretty sure you wanted this, actually-"

Hyejoo pressed a finger against your lips. "Shush, oppa. Are you nervous?”

“Y-yes, it’s been years since I’ve been on a date.”

“Wanna have a quickie before? Burn all that stress all inside me?” Hyejoo jokingly said.

“...Are you serious?”

“Of course not, you can’t be dependent on me anymore, oppa. Plus, you need to save that load for Yerim.”

“Hyejoo!”

She smiled mischievously and patted your bottom, making sure nothing was out of place for your date.

“Have some confidence oppa, you’ll do great. Yerim will love you. Now get going, you don’t want to be late.”

✦✦

It was unusual for Hyejoo to put in this much effort, typically spending her days lazily on the couch checking her phone.

Everything was planned carefully. Hyejoo had picked the restaurant based on your favorite foods, the time, and the day, even showing up to your place an hour before to make sure you looked your best.

Keeping up with the notion of this being mostly a blind date, Hyejoo didn’t tell you much about Yerim. They shared the same age, although Yerim was months younger. They had a similar body type and lighter hair, and if you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken her for a younger sister.

You were still nervous about the date, but trusted Hyejoo’s judgement and hoped you were about to waste this opportunity that you had been given to meet a new girl. You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the taxi and headed into the restaurant, trying to calm your shaky hands.

The restaurant was larger than expected looking from the outside, equipped with a bar and seating area as you scanned around for your date.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?” One of the hostesses asked, but before you had a chance to answer you heard an adorable voice interrupting.

“Over here!”

You were quickly blindsided by a cute girl that matched the picture that Hyejoo had shown you, abruptly wrapping her arms around in a tight hug.

She had a petite frame with brown hair, a tint lighter than Hyejoo and wore a modest black dress and heels with her hair styled perfectly.

“You’re Hyejoo’s friend right?” she asked, the smile on her face brighter than the sun.

“It would be a little awkward if I wasn’t now wouldn’t it?” you teased, gently nodding in response.

“Oh, well if you weren’t then I would just be hugging a cute stranger,” she said. “I’m Yerim.”

Cute? You thought to yourself as you were broadsided by this ball of happiness. “Come on, let’s eat!” she said, grabbing your hand as the hostess led you to your table.

You were both seated at a romantic candle-lit booth, letting Yerim sit down first as you took in the atmosphere of the restaurant. Hyejoo had picked the perfect place.

The waiter handed out menus and filled glasses to the brim with ice water as you looked over the laundry list of food, unsure what you were in the mood for.

“What’s good here?” Yerim asked the waiter, batting her eyelashes as her vocal tone grew higher.

“Our sushi and steak platter is very popular here. We have several different types to try paired with our signature sauces.”

“Steak? I love steak!” Yerim said, her mouth salivating just thinking about it.

“Me too. And sushi,” you said, as Yerim nodded to the waiter.

“I’ll bring it right out then,” the waiter said, scurrying away with a polite bow.

“I can’t wait!” Yerim said, licking her lips as she carefully unfolded and placed her napkin on her lap.

“It’s nice to meet you. Hyejoo has told me a lot about you!” she said, keeping a beautiful smile etched on her lips.

“Oh, has she? That seems a bit unfair, she didn’t tell me much about you. You’re much cuter than the picture she showed me.”

Yerim giggled as she opened her straw, placing it inside her glass and playing around with the ice cubes before taking a small sip, careful not to mess up her lip gloss.

The two girls were quite the contrast to each other. Hyejoo wasn’t one to care about most things, you found it difficult to pry her away from her gaming chair for anything but food and sex. Yerim on the other hand was hanging on your every word, finding any word you said the most interesting thing in the world without a hint of dishonesty.

Quicker than expected the food arrived, and you both dove in without hesitation, armed with chopsticks like a hunter stalking a prey.

The two opposing foods meshed perfectly. Raw sushi made with fish so fresh it might as well have been served directly out of the ocean, complimenting tender meat that literally melted in your mouth, cooked to perfection and seasoned, salted without excess. You swore you heard Yerim moaning out loud as she took her first bite.

Sharing food with a girl so full of energy was a wonderful experience, her company only adding to the delicious flavor. You were so focused on the fresh sushi that you barely had the capacity to register Yerim unapologetically taking the last piece of steak quicker than a deadly samurai and shoving it into her mouth proudly.

“Ah, you really must be Hyejoo’s friend,” you said sarcastically, frowning at her meat thievery.

"Mmm! There's nothing I love more than juicy meat in my mouth," Yerim said, without a hint of subtlety to her words.

She shamelessly went in for another piece of sushi, trying to add another piece of loot to her food heist as you quickly blocked her chopsticks with your own, denying her the satisfaction as you claimed the last spicy tuna roll for your own.

“Hey! That one was my favorite!” she protested, pursing her lips as her cheeks puffed as she watched the claimed prize disappearing into your mouth.

“Mine too! It was delicious,” you boasted, wiping your lips with the cloth napkin before folding it back on your lap. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me not to ask if you wanted the last piece.”

Yerim wasn’t one to stay mad for long, unfolding her arms as the signature brightness returned to her face. “The steak was better anyways,“ she said, giggling and sticking her tongue out.

Time flew by as you learned more about Yerim, hours had felt like minutes as they passed,

ending the meal with the biggest slice of cheesecake you had ever seen.

The waiter came by to drop off the bill as you scooped it up, not bothering to look at the total as the time spent with such an adorable human was priceless.

“Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” Yerim said, and you couldn’t quite tell if she was teasing you or not.

Leaving a generous tip, you walked Yerim outside the restaurant, both of you equally full from both the delicious food company as the temperature had dropped, the cool crisp air blowing every which way.

“Thank you for a fun night, Yerim. I’ll let Hyejoo know she picked well.”

Yerim’s cheeks reddened and tilted her head down shyly. “Ending the night so soon?” Yerim said, the disappointment in her voice clear as the night sky.

“Well, it’s getting late and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, silly,” she said, hitting your shoulder as the wind blew through her beautiful hair. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look even more gorgeous, illuminating her milky white skin.

Yerim closed the distance little by little until your noses were almost touching, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes.

“I had a really fun night too, but it doesn’t have to end here you know...” Yerim said, giving you a quick peck on your cheek.

Yerim was practically throwing herself at you as you gulped, swallowing down saliva nervously.

“Aren’t you going to invite a cute girl back to your place?” she abruptly said, taking charge of the situation.

You snapped out of it and weren’t going to let Hyejoo’s efforts go to waste. “O-of course. Would you like to go back to my place, Miss Yerim?”

“Of course! I thought you would never ask!”

The short taxi ride back to your place was filled with palpable sexual tension, neither of you muttering a word since you both left the restaurant. Yerim opted for her actions to speak for her as she rubbed your thigh the whole time.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and held the door open for Yerim as she stepped inside, swiveling her head as she looked around. She kicked her heels off and rubbed her feet, happy to be freed of them as her bare feet walked on the carpet.

“You have such a nice place. It’s cleaner than I expected.”

You didn’t know what that meant as you got comfortable, slipping your shoes off as you grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” she replied, awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room until you gestured for her to take a seat. Yerim sat down excitedly, pulling her dress down and crossed her legs as you sat down next to her.

Yerim turned her body towards you and placed a hand on your knee, her full attention yours for the taking as her bright doe eyes lit up.

“This was the first blind date I’ve been on,” Yerim said, leaning in close enough that you could smell her cherry shampoo.

“Me too. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes! I’m still full from all that steak.”

You felt weak in the knees at Yerim’s beauty, the possibility that such a beautiful girl existed seemed to be good to be true. You hesitated to make the first move, but Yerim had it covered as she mounted your lap, wrapping her legs around your waist.

You felt the electricity in the air as Yerim’s lips brushed against yours, meeting for the first time as the sweet taste of her entered your mouth, reminding you of an unforgettable candy.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, the kiss breaking after just a few seconds, leaving you longing for more after just a tease.

“Keep kissing me and I’ll let you see how pretty the rest of me is,” Yerim said, once again without any subtlety. Your hands snaked around her slim waist as your lips met again, her tongue introducing itself and playing around with your own.

“Not bad,” Yerim said as she came up for air, her eyes drunk on lust already. This close you were able to distinguish all the features of her face, her dead drop gorgeous eyes, her cute nose, her luscious lips, it was all a complete package.

“You’re really pretty, Yerim,” you said, complimenting her again as her face reddened and the pale color of her cheeks faded.

“T-thank you,” Yerim said, running a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down.

“I wasn’t planning on dating anytime soon, but Hyejoo talked me into it. I even got this new dress for the occasion.”

“It looks really good on you.”

“Thank you! I think it’ll look even better on your floor, though,” Yerim said, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

You had no response in return, suddenly rendered speechless but her forwardness.

“It’s my first time. You’ll be gentle, won’t you?” Yerim asked, the innocence in her sparkling eyes shining through.

“W-wait, really?” you asked. Hyejoo didn’t certainly mention something so vital, and Yerim had just dropped this so casually on you that you didn’t know how to react.

“Isn’t it every guy's fantasy to pop a girl’s cherry?” Yerim asked, as she bit the tip of her fingernail.

You scrambled for words to find when Yerim began giggling uncontrollably, trying to save the last of her charade as she placed her hand over her mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Yerim said, as you felt all the color fading from your face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not actually a virgin. I am a good girl though,” she said, as she started grinding herself on your lap.

“Are you? I don’t think this is what good girls do, Yerim,” you said, grabbing her waist to hold her in place.

“Of course! I’m always a good girl…”

“We’ll see about that.”

Yerim’s expression never changed, her eyes keeping the same innocent look in them as if trying to convince you of her words. You moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck in several places, diving in and gently sucking on the sensitive skin that you found there, causing Yerim to gasp loudly.

“Take me to the bedroom. I think you’re getting excited,” she teased, as blood had begun flowing to your pants, causing an erection to form that she had felt.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, her gorgeous face a hair's breadth away as you lose yourself in her eyes.

Yerim nodded without hesitation, cupping both sides of your face and swiping her tongue against your lips, taking one more tender kiss, the taste of her lips lingering.

“Yes, I want it. I want you to fuck me,“ she whispered into your ear, her expression finally changing as her eyes opened wide. The innocence was gone, swallowed up by lust as she dismounted your lap and stretched her arm out as you led her to the bedroom.

“Wow, so this must be where you and Hyejoo have all your fun together?” she said, exploring the large bedroom with her eyes.

“Here, the bathroom, the shower, the couch, the kitchen counter…”

Yerim feigned surprise for a moment, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Where are we going to have fun together?”

“Wherever you would like.”

“We can start here,” Yerim said, closing the distance and went in for another makeout session as her slender fingers unbuttoned your shirt, fingers tracing your chest.

“Hyejoo left the part out about you having such a nice body,” Yerim said as she planted a wet kiss on your chest, slipping your shirt off your body as she tossed it away.

“Can’t let her spoil everything about me can we?” you said, exploring her body with your hands, cupping her backside with both hands and grabbing a handful of cheeks.

“It’s my turn then,” Yerim said, turning away from you and letting you see the backside of her little black dress. “Help a girl out?”

You let out a deep breath as you approached, grabbing the top of her zipper’s dress and pulled it down in one smooth movement, exposing her bare back. Yerim turned back around with the shyest of smiles, slipping the dress off her body as it piled at her feet.

Yerim rested her hands on her wide hips, presenting her tight body that was more mouthwatering than the meal you shared earlier. Underneath her dress she had on a cute purple bra, showing a hint of cleavage with matching underwear as she spun around and let you see her the thin piece of fabric nestled in between her delicious asscheeks.

The curves of her body competed with that of Hyejoo minus a smaller chest, competing where it mattered with delicious succulent thighs that you couldn’t wait to get your hands on.

“Like what you see?”

“I do. Is this what good girls wear?” you asked as you pulled her in close, hands wandering around before finding her backside again, squeezing her ass firmly.

“Y-yes! I’ll show you what a good girl I can be,”

Her eyes were filled with excitement as she kept them on you the entire time as she slowly lowered to her knees, staring at the bulge in your pants now at eye level.

“Can I?” Yerim asked with widened eyes, demonstrating her ability to wait for permission as she patiently waited. You gave the go ahead with a simple nod, and she swiftly undid your pants, yanking them down to your ankles as the bulge in your boxers became more prominent.

Yerim was quick to free your shaft from its constraints, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your boxers as she divested them from your body. Blood had rushed to your throbbing shaft as it was freed, almost smacking Yerim’s adorable face as it was met with the cool air.

“Wow...” Yerim said as your revealed cock met her gaze, hungrily admiring every last inch of it as she couldn’t keep her mouth closed. Her fingers wrapped around it, forming a tight fist and pumped up and down slowly, precum dripping out of your slit already as you throbbed in her hand.

Yerim had no time to waste, giving a few soft kisses on your tip as she flattened her tongue at the base of your cock, painting slow upward strokes with her wet tongue, swirling against your leaking slit and collecting every drop.

“Mmm, yummy!” she said, and without hesitation she parted her lips with your shaft, taking you into the warmth of her mouth, sucking on your swollen sensitive tip.

“Oh... f-fuck,” you moaned out, your toes digging into the carpet as the pleasure took over, shooting up your spine. Yerim’s mouth was nothing but pleasurable, delivering radiating warmth as her puckered lips wrapped around your shaft, feeling like the softest silk as she applied a delicate suction and hollowed her squishy cheeks.

You looked up at the lights for a second, trying to distract yourself from the intense feeling of Yerim’s lips sucking you off. It didn’t help much, especially when you felt her warm mouth unexpectedly move deeper, causing you to moan loudly.

You almost regretted looking down, watching as Yerim bobbed her head up and down as she slurped on your shaft, retreating her mouth back when half of you entered her mouth as her playful tongue ran along the sensitive underside of your cock.

“God, that feels amazing,” you said, placing a hand on the back of her head, both to guide her movements and to give yourself a necessary outlet. Yerim took this as encouragement, swiftly sliding her lips up and down your throbbing shaft, leaving behind a trail of glistening warm saliva in her wake.

Yerim looked up, showing the hunger in her eyes, spitting leftover saliva as she furiously stroked your cock.

“Does that feel good, daddy?” she asked, your cock twitching in her small hand, answering for you. Hyejoo had told her one of your little secrets it seemed.

“Please fuck my face, daddy. Fill my throat with this nice cock,” Yerim pleaded, letting any last remnants of innocence slip away.

It was hard not to be taken aback by her filthy words that didn’t match her cute features, but you’d be lying if the juxtaposition didn’t send your arousal level skyrocketing.

Taking control of your shaft you rubbed your tip on her soft warm lips, pushing yourself back into the intoxicating warmth of her mouth. You guided Yerim deeper by pushing the back of her head down until her lips met the base of your shaft. With minimal effort you entered her throat, hitting the back of it as it tightened around you and caused her to gag loudly. You instinctively began to withdraw, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise.

You grabbed both sides of her head, moving gently as strands of dark hair wrapped around your fingers as you thrusted in and out of her warm mouth, gradually testing her limits. Yerim kept gagging as your tip stuck the back of her throat, but gave no signal she wanted you to stop, her lustful gaze suggesting the opposite.

It didn’t take long for your self control to vanquish itself, carnal desires taking over as you took pleasure from Yerim, fucking her mouth furiously and slapping your balls against her chin as her round eyes began watering with tears.

“Such a good girl. You like being used like this?” you asked, Yerim unable to answer but smiling with a mouth full of cock, slurping and gagging on every inch of throbbing hard flesh.

You never stopped your rough treatment of Yerim’s pretty mouth, ruining her makeup that was no doubt meticulously put on as she tried to tame her gag reflex to no avail. You could see by her watery eyes how much she was enjoying this, dripping down her thighs as she kept her mouth open for you to encourage your forceful use of her throat.

Yerim’s hands didn’t stay idle as they worked the clasp of her bra, discarding it from her body to free her perky tits, only strengthening your erection. She held on to your thighs to brace herself, slobbering on your shaft as you kept her throat filled, taking every thrust like a champ as messy drool spilled out of her lips and coated her bare chest.

Your senses were overwhelmed as Yerim had been turned into a mess, her beautiful face now stained with tears and drool, hair disheveled and out of place. You couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer or you were liable to finish much sooner than you wanted to, forcing her head down and holding her there for several seconds before mercifully withdrawing your shaft from her messy mouth.

Yerim came up for air with several loud gasps, messy strands of spit connected your glistening wet shaft to her smiling lips.

“You really are a good girl,” you said, using your stiff cock and slapping her face several times with your wet shaft as she continued grinning from ear to ear.

"I wasn't lying…"

“I want you on the bed. I’m still a little hungry.”

"Of course, daddy!"

Yerim was quick to obey as she climbed up and crawled on the bed, lying flat on her back as she spread her legs for you, offering herself up like a scrumptious meal.

"Come taste me, daddy," Yerim beckoned, biting her lip as she rubbed her pussy through her skimpy panties, showing off the wet spot staining the front of her crotch that only grew the more she touched herself.

Yerim's perfect body was almost fully unwrapped for you, and you couldn’t take anymore and needed to see every inch, wanting to get in between those thighs you couldn’t stop staring. You joined her on the bed and peeled her panties off without hesitation down her sexy legs, revealing her bare pussy and the prettiest set of lips that were dripping with arousal.

"Beautiful," you said as you laid flat on your stomach, positioning yourself and spreading her legs wider as Yerim blushed in response.

“T-thank you, daddy.”

You grew tired of staring and wanted to take action, planting several kisses on Yerim’s bare thighs in different places, never putting your lips on the same part of skin twice. She squirmed at your touch as you teased her, placing your mouth dangerously close to her pussy but refusing to touch her center.

"D-daddy, please-"

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” you asked, swiping your tongue against her luscious thighs to taste her creamy skin, lapping up juices that had already spilled out of her core and sampling them.

“Eat my pussy, p-please, daddy.”

“You’re cute when you beg. I’m gonna make you do more of that,” you said, lowering your head in between her open legs and giving one slow swipe of your tongue against her pink dripping slit.

"O-oh f-fuck, daddy," Yerim moaned as you gave several licks repeatedly, exploring her wet tolds with your tongue. You slipped your tongue inside her juicy pussy, gathering her delicious nectar on your tastebuds and gave a few swipes against her cilt before sucking on it.

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” you said, slurping on her swollen clit as you felt the warmth of her thighs on either side of your face, wrapping around your head and squeezing. You looked straight into Yerim’s round, lust-filled eyes as you ate her out, watching her bliss overtake her features as you lapped up all her leaking juices, drinking up every drop.

“F-fuck, you’re really good at that,” Yerim cried out, her hips bucking with a mind of their own. You brought a finger inside her dripping wet cunt, then a second short after, thrusting into her tight little hole as you kept your lips secured around her swollen clit, slurping harshly on it.

“That feels so good, o-oh my god, please d-don’t stop, daddy…”

Yerim grew wetter and wetter, your fingers being drenched with her slick as you messily ate her out, her thighs squeezing your head tighter as her breathing became shallow. You kept eye contact as your fingers plunged to the hilt, the warm walls of her cunt squeezing your wet fingers, not letting you go.

“J-ust like that, I’m so c-close, f-fuck!”

You kept firm pressure on her clit as her moans grew stronger and longer, lips suckling harshly on her sensitive nub as you helped her chase what she was desperate for, drinking in her nectar as it filled your mouth.

“D-daddy, I-I’m going to cum!”

Yerim suffocated you with her thighs as you kept your lips on her clit, fucking her with your fingers without mercy as grabbed onto your head, pushing you deeper into her delicious pussy as she couldn’t take it any more.

“O-oh, oh my god, daddy, I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s muscles tensed up as her toes curled, flooding your mouth with her sweet succulent honey. Her hips bucked uncontrollably as you helped her hit her peak, her thighs trembling around your head, smearing her juices all over your lips and chin, drowning you with her pleasure.

It was loud and messy, an unforgettable clmax for Yerim as you helped her come down from it gently, slurping with less force and removing your lips from her sensitive clit. Your fingers however, stayed deep inside her as her thighs lost the power they held around your head.

“I want you to cum again for me,” you ordered, pumping your fingers furiously inside her dripping tight hole, her wetness sucking you in.

“I-I can’t, p-please, daddy, I’m still sensitive…”

“You said you’re a good girl didn’t you? I want you to cum one more time.”

You had no plans of letting up, both fingers buried to the hilt inside Yerim’s pussy, keeping up the stimulation on her body as you felt her cunt pulsating again. The wet squelch of her warm hole filled the room as you never stopped moving, keeping her pussy filled as tears welled up in her sparkling eyes as you demanded another orgasm out of her.

“Cum for me, baby, I know you can do it. One more time, I want to see how wet you can really get.”

“P-please, I-I, f-fuck, o-oh fuck!”

Yerim was a beautiful squirming mess, her thighs covered in her own juices as she let out desperate gasps and moans, the intense stimulation overwhelming her body and all her senses.

“D-daddy, p-please!”

You weren’t planning on stopping until you got what you wanted and what Yerim deserved. Your wrist felt like it was on fire as fingers were kept curled inside her heat, moving frantically with one goal in mind.

Yerim barely had time to register the growing knot in her abdomen, still focused on the intense aftershocks running throughout her body that she quickly came without warning. Her orgasm was much stronger as slick juices gushed out of her sensitive pussy that forced your fingers out of her as she squirted all over you and the bed, staining the sheets and leaving a dark mess on the bed.

Yerim shook uncontrollably as her second consecutive orgasm winded down, you helped her out by caressing her thighs to calm her down, rubbing her pussy with your palm.

“P-please, s-stop, I can’t take anymore, p-please,” she begged, and you had your fill, ceasing any form of contact as her sounds of gasping heightened, her chest uninterruptedly heaving up and down.

“Good girl. Are you okay?” you asked, making a show of cleaning your fingers off with her juices.

“Y-yes, I’m fine, daddy. That was intense, I’ve never had anyone do that before,” she said, struggling to form full syllables.

You patiently waited for Yerim to regain her composure, giving all the time she needed. It took several moments for the trembling in her body to control itself, as the lustful gaze in her eyes returned, and you knew that meant she was ready for the next step.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?”

“If you insist,” you replied, getting into position as your knees pressed against the still drenched sheets as you maneuvered in between her spread thighs. Yerim pushed her knees up and feet flat on the mattress as the anticipation of what you both desired was at an all-time high.

Gazing into her eyes with your cock in hand, you eagerly lined yourself up with Yerim’s pussy, sliding in between the warm flesh of her drenched pussy lips, stalling your desires to enter her body. You parted her folds, playing with her slippery flesh and refusing to do anything else but tease her entrance.

“P-please, put it inside me, daddy. I’ve been a good girl.”

“You have, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.”

Yerim whined audibly as your cock loitered around her inviting opening, spreading her juices around and denying her the pleasure she desperately sought. It wasn’t going to be that easy for you to give in.

“P-please, please fuck me, daddy. I’m so wet, I need to feel your cock inside my tight little pussy!”

“I don’t think you really mean it,” you said, watching the desperation in her eyes as you slapped her clit with your cock. Yerim squirmed as you nudged the tip of your cock against her hole, teasing penetration but stopping at the last moment, leaving her unsatisfied and empty.

“P-please! I can’t take it anymore, please fuck me, daddy!”

You felt like you could go on like this forever, but your own self-control was being tested as the more you teased her the more you wanted to be inside her. Yerim continued to plead and beg, reduced to a desperate whiny mess and starving for cock as you looked straight into her eyes and slid inside her in one smooth stroke, parting the wet hungry lips of her cunt.

“O-oh my god.”

Yerim opened her mouth to let out a moan, her eyes struggling to stay open as flesh entered inside her. She tilted her head back as she was finally given what she craved as the tip of your cock disappeared inside her heat. Yerim was overwhelmingly tight, her walls suffocated your cock and you wanted to savor such an unforgettable feeling for as long as you could, lazily moving your hips.

You started out slowly, wanting Yerim to earn every single thrust. Her silky wet walls felt heavenly around your shaft, her warmth so intoxicating as you slid in and out of her pussy at a gingerly pace. She felt so wet, so hot, so tight inside that you couldn’t help but keep your pace slow at first, wanting to drown in all the intense sensations that flooded your body.

“Your pussy feels so amazing,” you said, as Yerim’s body tested your patience as you slid an inch deeper at a time, until you had bottomed her out. Her wetness was so prominent that you were able to move inside her effortlessly, her messy juices lubricating your sluggish thrusts.

“Do you like how tight I am, daddy? I’m much tighter than Hyejoo aren’t I?” Yerim asked as she adjusted to your length, keeping her desperate eyes glued to your own as you began to move more forcefully inside her, fueling your desires to give her everything and more.

“You’re so big, daddy. I want to be pounded senseless, ruin me please!”

“You have such a dirty little mouth don’t you, baby? I’m starting to think you aren’t a good girl after all,” you told her, upping your pace and fucking her harder as you grabbed her warm thighs, slipping into the wet depths of her hot constricting cunt.

Yerim feigned the hint of surprise on her face as she moaned, arms by her side and holding on to your bed sheets as she relaxed into the mattress.

“T-that’s not true, daddy. I’m not a bad girl…”

She struggled to keep her eyes open as pleasure took control of her body, and you felt no need to hold back and began pistoning your hips, pounding her pussy and stuffing her full of cock.

“I don’t think you’re a good girl. But I think you’re a little slut,” you said as you gave her the hardest thrust of the night, making her gasp at how deep your cock fit inside her.

“I-I’m not a slut, I’m a good-ah!”

Yerim’s denial was interrupted as you lifted her luscious legs into the air, draping them over your shoulders. You were able to hit spots you couldn’t before, thrusting carelessly into her pussy as the bed became an orchestra of noisy squeaks and audible moans.

“O-oh fuck, right there! just like that, daddy!”

You had no plans on stopping now that Yerim had unshackled the chains of desire, hugging her legs while your hips went wild as you drove yourself repeatedly into her comfortable warm hole.

It was impossible to concentrate on anything else with how good she felt and the never-ending wetness that smothered your shaft as you established a perfect rhythm and looked directly into Yerim’s eyes as you stretched her out.

“Such a good little slut, taking this cock so well,” you hissed, feeling her pussy clench around your cock at the second use of the word she swore she wasn’t, her body betraying her. Yerim let out wordless gasps and moans as you kept the momentum up with no end in sight.

Yerim’s moans grew and grew as your rhythm sped up, her flushed skin becoming warmer to touch as you kept her filled airtight, her walls pulsating around your drenched shaft.

“You’re going to cum again?”

“Y-yes, I’m so close! Please don’t stop…”

“You can’t. Not until you admit what a slut you are.”

“B-but I’m not...I’m a good girl I promise!” she said, desperately trying to keep up the act.

You slowed down your thrusts at the result of her defiance, practically at a standstill, resting inside her.

“N-no, wait! P-please, I’m so c-close. Let me cum, please, let me cum, daddy.”

You refused until she gave you want you wanted, only thrusting into her body every few seconds, driving her crazy.

“Say it. Tell me and I’ll make you feel better than you ever have before.”

Yerim was left with no other options, frustratedly grabbing on to the sheets as the fire in her abdomen kept burning.

“I’-I’m a slut. I’m a needy little slut that needs to cum!”

“No, you’re a good little slut. Now cum on my cock,” you corrected, reestablishing your pace and driving every inch of hard flesh inside her. Her walls clenched almost painfully tight, her wetness growing as you pounded her into the mattress.

“D-daddy, I-I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s orgasm didn’t dawdle, her toes curling into the sheets as her back arched, taking every inch of flesh into her wet pussy. You fucked her straight through her strongest orgasm of the night, her legs shaking in your hands as she came hard. If your sheets weren’t ruined before she made sure they were.

“Good little slut” you purred, letting her legs drop from your shoulders gently as your pace slowed down, caressing her face as her glazed over eyes could barely stay open.

“D-don’t you need to cum too, daddy?” Yerim asked with several shallow breaths, doing her best to form a sweet smile. You leaned forward and kissed her, tasting the cherries on her lips and watched her chest slowly heaving up and down, almost hypnotizing you.

“Not yet. I’m not done having fun with you.”

Letting her rest for a moment you slowly withdrew from her drenched pussy, watching your shaft glistening with her juices in the lights as you left her body empty, whines escaping her lips. Hands on her hips you nudged her as she turned over, getting on her hands and knees.

Yerim settled into position, displaying the naked curves of her body, ripe for the taking. She granted you all access to her delicious bent over body, her head resting on the mattress and her plump ass raised in the air.

Her pretty pink lips were still splayed open after your treatment of her, but you were just getting started, rubbing your painfully hard shaft between her warm buttcheeks as you prepared yourself to enter her pussy.

Yerim’s skin was so soft as you used her cheeks to massage your throbbing shaft, you couldn’t take much of being outside her. Not wasting time you lined yourself back up with her tight hole, poking against her entrance again with no plans to keep her waiting, needing to find yourself buried in her smothering warmth.

Taking a deep breath you looked at the pleading look in Yerim’s eyes as she patiently looked over her shoulder. You popped your hips and slid in an inch inside her dripping heat before letting the rest sink inside.

Yerim gasped as her pussy swallowed up your cock hungrily and refused to let you go, enveloping you in a familiar warmth and wetness as she lowered her head, fingers wrapped around in your sheets.

“Such a tight little slut, aren’t you? You want daddy to pound this tight pussy?”

“Yes, daddy! Don’t hold back this time, okay? I can take it!”

There wasn’t any reason not to give Yerim just what she asked for as you placed your hands on her supple cheeks, squeezing the soft flesh and kneading it, pressing your fingertips into her warm flushed skin.

“Fuck me!”

Yerim was just every bit demanding as your mutual friend and fuckbuddy Hyejoo, and if she wanted to be treated the same you were going to oblige her. She was all yours and you were going to make the most of it as you started at a rapid pace, finding a harsh rhythm and drove yourself deep inside, making her scramble for a tighter grip on the sheets.

“You’re so fucking wet. Good girls definitely don’t drip all over my cock like this.”

Yerim couldn’t find a response, answering back only in lustful erotic moans as you increased your pace, moving your hands to her wide hips and squeezing her flesh hard enough to bruise in the morning.

“Harder! F-fuck me harder, daddy, please!”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Yerim so impossibly tight that it almost hurt as you plunged every single inch of flesh in her, making sure your hips smacked against her big ass, causing her plump cheeks to ripple in time with your thrusts as she arched her back high.

“Oh f-fuck, you’re so deep! H-harder, daddy!”

“So needy,” you said, gripping her hips even tighter to pull her back against your cock, slamming into her pussy without mercy and using no wasted movements. You flattened your palm and gave her beautiful tight ass a hard smack that echoed across the room.

Her pussy clenched in response as she let out a loud gasp, and you gave her another slap on the other cheek as her walls tightened around you, threatening to push you out of her body.

“F-fuck!”

“So you’re a slut that loves to be spanked, huh? Hyejoo left out so many things,” you said, smacking her ass repeatedly in the same spot until you left a faint handprint on her pale skin.

“Y-yes! I’m a naughty little slut that loves to be spanked and used!”

Your smacks against her plump ass grew harder, her tender flesh rippling with each flick of your wrist. Yerim’s walls clenched each time you smacked her delicious ass, the mixture of pain and pleasure causing her natural juices to flood down her thighs.

“P-please don’t stop!” Yerim begged, looking back at you with desperation as you saw tears had formed in her eyes. You gave a brief moment of respite, massaging the sore reddened skin until she signaled she was ready for another round.

You struck her cheeks with more force, winding your arm back to deliver slap after slap, making sure you hit the same part of her ass as found the handprints that made such an easy target. Her sensitive skin grew a brighter shade of red with each smack, each harsh slap made her wetter and wetter.

You looked down at your handiwork, your cock disappearing into between bright red buttcheeks that you found it impossible not to want even more out of her body as you pulled her arms behind her, grabbing her dainty wrists with a tight grip.

“I’m really going to fucking ruin you,” you growled, pounding away into Yerim as if it a fire had just been lit inside you, dropping all sense of self control as your animalistic urges took over.

You were anything but gentle, fucking Yerim with the harshest thrusts your body could give. Shortly after sweat began to drip down your forehead, misting over Yerim’s naked back.

“Th-that’s so good, you’re fucking me so well, daddy!”

Yerim could barely keep it together, her pussy dripping like a faucet as she found it hard to think straight, all thoughts ceased except the hard throbbing cock ravaging her cunt without any care.

“F-fuck, d-daddy! You’re gonna make me cum again!”

Your breathing grew as shallow as hers, the loud slap of hot flesh against hot flesh filled your ears alongside Yerim’s lustful moans as your hips smacked her ass, your sweaty bodies clinging together.

“Cum for me. Cum again for me you greedy little slut.”

It only took until your sentence had ended. Yerim was teetering on the edge and your words and actions pushed her over it, unable to control herself any longer she selfishly took her fourth climax of the night. It was the weakest of the bunch but still no less satisfying, toes curling in the mattress as her orgasm jerked her whole body, and had you not had control of her arms it would have been easy for her to fall face first into the mattress.

Her wet hot pussy squeezed your cock so hard that you prepared yourself to follow in her footsteps, giving into the mind-numbing pleasure and released the grip on her wrists. Your hands found their rightful place on her hips as you pounded her pussy as long as you both could stand it.

“I-I’m gonna fucking cum too. Where do you want it?”

“Yay! Cum inside me, daddy! Please, I need my pussy filled so badly, p-please!”

You had just enough time to wait for her response, your body not waiting much longer, finding it harder and harder to breathe and it was impossible to leave the warmth of her silky dripping cunt.

Looking down between your legs, you used all your remaining energy as your cock disappeared in between her cheeks, no longer fighting the urge to hold back anything as the sweat on your bodies increased, as did the harsh sounds of your bodies slapping against one another.

You reached your peak with ease thanks to the vigorous use of Yerim’s body. It was just too much to handle as your pulsating shaft erupted inside her, moaning loudly and sending shot after shot of thick semen into the suffocatingly tight walls of her heavenly wet pussy.

Using all the energy you had left you finished up your final thrusts, slowing down the movement of your hips and ensuring not a drop was left. You were both exhausted, tired gasps and heavy panting filled the room but you couldn’t help but give her backside one more squeeze as your cock rested inside her.

“You came so much...it’s so warm…”

Once your senses had recovered and you withdrew an inch at a time as your depleted cock slipped out of Yerim’s freshly fucked pussy, leaving a stream of thick milky cum leaking out of her that dripped down her thighs, mixing with the already prevalent juices that had ruined your bedsheets.

You had just enough energy to let your tired self plop on the tortured mattress, Yerim crashing on top as your sweaty bodies melded together in a mess of limbs.

“That was amazing…” Yerim managed to mutter out, drained syllables barely leaving her sweet lips in a coherent sentence, her head resting on your chest while you draped an arm over her back, pulling her in tight.

“Do you want to clean up? My shower is big enough for two,” you said, making Yerim drip between her messy thighs again as you fixed strands of sweaty disheveled hair out of place.

“I can barely move,” Yerim giggled, flashing a weak smile.

“Don’t move then. Take all the time you need.”

“This was a wonderful date. Thank you, daddy.”

Yerim quickly fell asleep in your arms, out like a light. You were about to follow her until a buzz on your nightstand interrupted you from doing so.

Hyejoo deserved some credit, and you’d had to thank her in the morning. For now all you could do was drift away to sleep, thankful for the amazing night with Yerim and also that she wasn’t a snorer.

#loona smut #choerry smut #loona #choerry #reader insert #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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