#may have indulged in some content tonight for reasons

[the-kipsabian]

[owlwithanapple]

You’re Late ❤️‍🔥👄

Content : Adult Content/Romance/Passionate

Characters : Bruce Wayne x Y/N

Bruce: Dinner🖤?

Y/N: Ok♥️.

A man and a woman, spending some time together in bed, neither sex buddies nor lovers. Beyond friendship, maintain an ambiguous relationship, enjoying the bitter and sweet time. The taste that you have only tasted once, the process is deeply engraved in your mind.

For attend the date tonight, you pay great attention to elegance and temperament. You put on a delicate makeup, curled your hair, chose an elegant and noble dress, matched it with a pair of stilettos.

You arrived at the place early, which was the live music bar that Bruce chose. The atmosphere was great, the service attitude and environment quality were great. You sat down close to the stage, while waiting for Bruce arrive, you ordered a glass of water.

You know, waiting for someone may be lonely and sad. But when that person appears, you will feel indescribable joy and peace of mind. You are willing to wait, but may not be able to wait until he appears. You spent the most precious two hours here, he didn't respond to a single phone call.

"Miss, would you like to order?" The considerate waitress stood next to you.

You choked up, with countless sorrows in your heart, but still keep smiled and said, "I'm sorry wasting your time here. Give me a black pepper lamb chop and a portion of mashed potatoes."

The songs played by the live band very beautiful, with melodious and rhythmic melodies. You sit there quietly listening to every song. Music is a good medicine that can heal the soul, but you don't feel anything.

You tap fingers on table and say bitterly, "I'm so free."

The waitress refills drink and looks confused, "Huh?"

Because of waiting, you gradually think about it, and you are still indulging in fantasy, which is ridiculous. Everyone will willingly wait for someone until they meet. You have wasted a lot of your youth, why do you repeat the same mistake again.

You sorted out emotions, stood up and walked backstage, shaking your hair as you walked, exuding a breath of confidence and vitality. Remind yourself all the time are shining, as dazzling as a star.

When you get backstage and see the band about to go on stage, you step forward and gently tap one of the members on the shoulder, smiling and asking, "Do you mind having more singers?"

The band members looked confused. "You want to go on stage? Why?"

You stood there and smiled slightly. "I was stood up."

They gathered together discuss for a while. At this time, the lead singer went to rummage through the boxes and found a microphone handed it to you. "Shall we sing together?"

You curled your lips and smiled, nodded slightly. "Of course."

It was your turn to go on stage with the next band. The lead singer noticed your stiletto heels , he took the initiative hold your hand lead you to the stage. You sat on the chair to adjust the microphone, while the other members adjusted their instruments.

"Ahem, we have a new friend in our band today." The lead singer looked at you with a gentle look.

You shook your hair, smiled confidently, waved and greeted everyone, "Hello. Just call me Rosie. Today I will sing a few songs with the band."

The people in the audience applauded and cheered, and some even screamed. In your low mood, someone accepted your willfulness and a group of people tolerated your shortcomings. It's good that he didn't come. You like to have fun like this all night.

"First of all, this song is called You Are The Reason. It's a gift for my new friend Rosie." Suddenly he said this. You covered your mouth but smiled. The lead singer flicked his tongue a few times then snapped his fingers. The members played the music, the music sounded and you two swayed to the melody.

He held the microphone tightly, humming slowly to the rhythm of the music, looking at you with a gentle and firm look. You closed your eyes listened to the beautiful melody lingering in your heart. The prelude was shocked by his beautiful voice.

The whole world seemed to be enveloped by his singing, so beautiful and harmonious. The audiences sang together, the music and singing blended together to form a wonderful atmosphere. You put the microphone to your lips and sang with him.

I'd climb every mountain

And swim every ocean

Just to be with you

And fix what I've broken

Oh, 'cause I need you to see

That you are the reason

As your soft, flower-like voice and singing sounded, the audience burst into warm applause. The lead singer's eyes stayed on you, he held your hand tightly sang the song with you until the end before letting go.

The audience and the band members gave you applause. It was incredible that so wonderful and full of energy. You applauded with them. Immersed in this wonderful atmosphere, Bruce stepped in and noticed your face became solemn on the stage, and there was another woman holding his arm.

"Wow..." You smiled helplessly.

"What's wrong?" The lead singer patted your shoulder.

"Nothing. I want to play drums." You smiled slightly.

"You can?!" The lead singer was surprised.

"Who are you looking down on?" You took off your high heels and ran to the drummer, he gave you his seat. You picked up the drumsticks and played with them in your hands, then hit a rhythm on the drum. You winked at the lead singer confidently, he stood up and opened arms to clap his hands.

"Rosie! You are the best!" He pointed at you and shouted.

You raised the drumsticks and shouted "One more song!"

This is the first time Bruce saw you singing and playing drums here, the scene was very charming, you were a flower blooming in the crowd. He felt very guilty and had very complicated emotions. He completely forgot about the date with you. Two hours had passed, you still at the place.

"That girl is really amazing, right, Bat?" Selina took his arm.

Bruce rejected her tactfully and avoided her physical contact. He couldn't take his eyes off you at all, he fell in love deeply with your charm "Yeah."

She held Bruce's face and faced her "Where you looking at? The girl ? She is young and energetic."

He looked away coldly "I guess."

Selina noticed Bruce didn't see her, and said sarcastically "Bat? What's wrong? You are so absorbed in looking at that young girl."

He looked at Selina and said coldly "It has nothing to do with you."

You thought Bruce was different, believed he would come, just like last time. He did come, with another woman. From a distance, couldn't hear the conversation between the two, and they seemed unhappy. The woman dumped Bruce and left, leaving him alone enjoy your stage performance.

Waiting is so painful, it brings back your unpleasant memories. When the music started again, even your breath was colliding, you enjoyed the swaying steps, and every moment the music sounded, kept venting your emotions and feelings in your heart.

It was late, the happy time was over, the audience who spent time with you had left, the band members were packing up and preparing to leave, the music bar was closed, and you were left alone on the stage, looking at Bruce in his seat.

The lead singer whistled over, "Rosie, I take you home?"

You shook your head and declined, "No thanks."

"Mr Wayne, we're closed." The waitress said nervously.

"I know. Lend me this place." Bruce looked at you silently.

It was quiet, with only two lights on. There was no one around, you and Bruce were staring at each other. He walked towards you, kneeling on one knee to put on your high heels for your bare legs, and you willing to get down from the chair.

"Two hours. You are so cruel." You looked disdainful and hypocritical.

"I'm sorry." He just treated me coldly.

You were ready to leave, a hand grabbed your arm and pulled you into his arms. He hugged you tightly and buried his head in your neck. His breath was transmitted to your neck, which was puzzling.

"Are you happy with her?" You asked with a disdainful tone.

He calmed down and thought about it before speaking, "I talked to her about work."

You broke free from his arms and told him seriously with a dissatisfied expression, "Work? Are you sure? She doesn't look like that."

"Y/N. Listen to me."

When he was about to continue, you stopped him impatiently, "Stop. You left me here for two hours and I haven't started to argue with you."

He scratched his hair and sighed, "I'm sorry."

You crossed your arms in front of chest and stamped left foot helplessly. There were a lot of dissatisfied and unconvinced words in mouth that wanted to burst out, felt so disappointed but speechless. He is not what you expect, you take yourself too seriously.

When calmed down, you heard footsteps approaching, he was walking towards and stopped in front of you. He gently moved your hand, held your upper hand with his left hand, and hugged your waist with his right hand, our bodies close to each other.

"I haven't forgiven you yet." You looked away unsatisfied.

"I didn't ask you to forgive me. I just want to dance with this beautiful woman in front of me." He guided you to follow his dance steps step by step.

You looked into his deep eyes "Who is she?"

He smiled faintly, as if there was something hidden in his expression. You moved slowly and steadily with his dance steps until he said calmly "She is my ex-girlfriend."

You stopped and looked at him indifferently "Why you two here?"

He noticed that you had stopped and locked his eyes on you "Work. She and Batman are both people who act in the dark."

You nodded and smiled, "She is the one who made you late for two hours."

He hugged you tightly in his arms, slowly stroked your back until stopped at your waist, "I owe you a good night."

His tone revealed unspeakable pain, you hugged him and patted his back gently, "I am waiting here like a fool."

"You are not. The moment I stepped in and saw you, I fell more deeper than before." He let go of you and fingers gently stroked your cheek.

You held his hand on your cheek and stroked it gently, he moved closer to your face, and was felt on your face. You blinked and looked at him, and gaze were locked each other.

"She will jealous." You said teasingly.

"I don't need to know, I want you to be jealous." He left a kiss on your lips, he broke the kiss and looked at you again.

You hugged him and tilted your head to smile. You bit his neck, although it was just a light bite, but you didn't let go until satisfied. He had no intention of pushing away, and you heard him laugh softly.

"Are you satisfied? My love." He pouted and smiled, his hands restlessly touching your hips.

You pouted your lips to smile cutely, "You owe me a good night. I want you with me today until I satisfied."

He laughed and looked at you, "I'll listen to you."

You thought about it and took his hand pull him away. In the middle of the night, he held your hand tightly. You led him to a Japanese barbecue roadside stall and ordered two beef skewers to take a bite.

"Wow. Eat this?" He watched you eat the skewers.

You handed him "I like it."

He leaned down to chew a bite, his eyes lit up, "Not bad. Delicious. Give me another bite."

You ate all "Oops. Sorry."

He lowered head and laughed, then came close to slapped your butt, took out the money from his pocket and ordered two more, "My love, so naughty."

You took the initiative to bury his arms between your breasts and poked his face with fingers, "You are even worse, just teaching you a lesson."

He took a bite, pinched your face turned it to him, then passed the food in his mouth to your mouth and licked your lips. You chewed the food, he was fanning the flames, your confident look became shy.

He took another bite and chewed it, smiled confidently, "Delicious?"

You swallowed it and licked your lips once, "It's delicious."

The thick, slightly drunk and sweet atmosphere was ignited in an instant, he fanned the fire of desire and ignited it, your seductive and incomparable sexy temptation, he couldn't resist the desire in his heart and pulled you deep into the alley.

He pushed you against the wall, put his hand under your skirt between thigh, his fingers exploring your skin. You looked up at the sky and moaned with pleasure, he was playing with your clitoris through a layer of underwear.

"Fuck - Bruce -." Your sensitive clitoris was rubbed by his fingers until it was soaked, he inserted two fingers and kept fucking, make you feel excited in an instant.

He looked so proud, it was the most satisfying when he fucked you so wet with two fingers. He unzipped his zipper and showed his cock, you really wanted to be held tightly by him and fucked.

He looked like a big wolf wanting to eat a rabbit. He took out fingers that covered with your love juice and looked satisfied. He said in his magnetic and deep voice, "Turn around."

You obeyed and turned around. You raised hands and placed them on the wall. His rough hands pressed your hands against the wall. You bent down and raised your hips. He lifted your skirt and pulled down the panties. His cock rubbed your private parts until it was filled with your love juice and then inserted it.

His cock came in directly. The feeling made your legs sore and weak, but was very pleasant. You kept moaning, letting his cock hit you violently. He reached into your underwear and kneaded your breasts.

"Ah—fuck—there—Bruce—." In this position, his cock hits your insides so good, making you climax repeatedly and moan non-stop. He slaps your buttocks without any rest, the feeling reaches your private parts.

You climax and ejaculate love juice inside your body, but he doesn't intend to stop or let you catch breath. He increases the intensity and thrusts quickly, fucking you harder, and you feel his collision inside your body.

One night in a quiet alley, your unbridled moans can be heard. The two of you can't resist the temptation, and boldly take a unique and romantic adventure, making love in the alley without restraint, enjoying this intense process without scruples.

Time passed bit by bit, until his cock was at the edge, his movements were faster and bigger, he pinched and rubbed your nipples, his cock kept pushing deep inside you.

"I can't hold it anymore - fuck!" You moan louder as reach climax. You pinch your hands. He come directly inside you. His cock stays inside you. He leans on your shoulder take a breath. You feel the thick and hot semen staying inside.

He lets go of your hands and hug your waist tightly. Leans on your shoulder to take a breath. You touch his hair and say naughtily, "Don't forget take it out."

"Hahaha. My love, you are so comfortable and suitable for me." He lifts your hair and kisses it gently. At this time, he notices your hairstyle has changed, from straight hair to slightly curly hair. "Your curly hair is also beautiful.".

"Thank you. Today's dress is not wasted." After finished, he pulled out his cock. During the process, you stood for too long. Once relaxed, your legs were weak and couldn't stand steadily. He quickly came forward to hold you and took the opportunity to kiss his charming lips.

Today you are wearing high-cut lace panties. As soon as you put them on, can feel a sticky feeling in private parts. It is the stuff from him. Some of it has even flowed out between your thighs. You feel so shy and helpless that can't clean it up right away.

You can feel the liquid flowing as soon as you move a little. Your legs are sore and weak. You pull Bruce and ask, "Hold me. I can't walk."

He curled his lips and smiled when he heard your request. He bent down and picked you up in a bridal hug. Fortunately, there was no one around. Otherwise, exciting to have sex outside, but it would be embarrassing to be discovered.

You were swinging legs leisurely and suddenly heard him say, "My love, your new high-cut lace panties?"

You were dumbfounded that he actually noticed it. You poked his cheek, "Dear Bruce, do you like it?"

The corners of his mouth slightly raised, "You are really good at choosing. I love it."

You smiled slightly, "You actually noticed it."

He winked at you, "I also noticed your bra is blue."

You laughed until tears came out, "Fuck you."

"Come home with me tonight, I want to hold you to sleep." He suddenly mentioned to you.

"Hm... OK." You smiled slightly.

— The End —

[sylacris]

— chrysanthemums.

elbert greetia x gn! reader

content: sfw ; angst ; character study ; mild(?) spoilers for william’s route ; victorian flower language ; self indulgent (screw plot)

(partially) inspired by: tonight you belong to me by patience and prudence

word count: ~754

a/n: first ikevil fic, trying to wrap my head around the characters …

Of course Elbert knows you belong to Will.

After all, you were the most beautiful when you're with him. He's seen the image many times throughout your stay in the castle. The way you light up when William enters the room, the lift in your voice when speaking to him, the love in your eyes when William is reflected on it.

The way that William is the reason for your beauty.

If the gods pried into his brain and search for the question he's asked the most—the question thought to himself in fitful nights of longing and early morning blues, something that even Elbert feels guilty of admitting through words— it would be:

Why?

Why you? Why William? Why not him-

That was the thing he has been trying to find the answer for ever since his own eyes landed on you that night. A robin caught in a gathering of villains, like a single white rose in a bush of red. He had almost wanted to pluck you and keep you to himself. Until William’s voice chimed in, recognizing you, and you, who shared the same sentiment.

A month passed by in a blur, it was easy for Elbert to get lost in time. But he would always remember the determination in your eyes in that meeting regarding the papers detailing the “crimes” of William Rex. Your eyes shone with a beauty brought out by the King himself.

You'd almost caught him marvelling at the sight of you.

He wanted to help, one way or another. However, the Crown could not move under the name of the Queen, or in large groups due to the risks in secrecy, so he asked Alfons to act in his stead.

“Your ability is suitable for infiltrating the enemy headquarters… May I trouble you to go with them?”

In the end, he's aware of why it was William you chose. It was a fact that he knew deep down in his heart, something he'd rarely acknowledge and yet will resurface everytime his mind wanders to the thought of you.

William Rex is everything that Elbert Greetia isn't.

And in that very fact alone lies Elbert’s own tragedy. One that'll slowly eat him up from the inside until there's nothing left but the remains of a monomanic yearning.

Not every beautiful thing could be his, Alfons would poke in the playful manner that he usually dons. But perhaps his words do hold weight in this situation.

It's alright, he can settle for watching from afar.

(No he can't. His curse could never allow it. He wants, he wants, he wants... And that was how his destiny wrote itself in tragedy.)

Elbert knows of the fact that he's awful at suppressing his tendencies. Hands that can't be kept to himself, always wandering to something he'd desire, it was usually a question of when he'll have it- rarely a question of if, up until now at least.

Those same hands that desired more, now held yours in a slow waltz.

"Al informed me that William went out on a mission... I was… quite surprised to find out that you did not come along with him."

"It's because it's quite late, and William insisted that I stay behind tonight."

step, step, step.

A dance across the garden, that was his invitation. Indulging in the opportunity that arose in William's absence. It was Elbert’s own way of satiating his want.

(though it will never be enough)

Some part of him feared that by interacting with you like this, he'd yet again desire for more. More than a longing stare across the dining table, more than a dance in the garden, more than just his hand in yours.

“How about you, Lord Elbert? You seem troubled these days.”

“...Ah, how so?”

And just as both of you reached the middle of the pavilion, you let go. The coldness setting on his hands faster than he'd like in the absence of your warmth.

And in the next breath, you'd take your leave- greeting the wistful earl a goodnight. Heels clicking as you step out of the pavilion and into the moonlight, until you were nothing but a distant figure, one he did not take his eyes off until you'd reach the confines of the castle, your silhouette disappearing from his sight

And once again, he stood alone in the garden pavilion.

The yellow chrysanthemums looked bitter under the moonlight, and he knows that those same flowers would never bloom in an azure hue.

© sylacris. 2024 —

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: Taking care of Hwa after a long day of...everything

WC: 1k

Content: Fluffffffff (all fluff, so much fluff, it's like cotton candy, pure sugar, oml)

AN: My first fic! Something short and sweet to ease into this. :> Enjoy my selfish indulgent fantasies about caring for mother Hwa.

Also MASSIVE thank you to the loml @malldreamprincess for making the moodboard, I love her so much, omg she's amazing

Also also listen to Hwa's cover of "Angel Baby" while reading this. If ykyk

It's been a long day for everyone. Especially long, since it felt like everything had been booked at once. Photoshoots (yes, multiple), an interview, a performance, and ending the night with brief recording.

It was already 11:30 when Seonghwa went into the booth. His body was screaming at him to sit down, but he knew if he did, he might not get back up.

So despite his eyes threatening to close, he continued with the recording.

You watched him from outside, a few feet away from an equally tired, if not more so, Hongjoong. You'd followed Seonghwa through most of the activities, and just going everywhere had you tired. You couldn't fathom the tiredness the guys were feeling.

And how often they had to endure it. This kind of day wasn't a rarity, but it wasn't common either. Their full album was going to be out in a few months, so obviously they needed to work on it. But they had other things to do, and that so happened to all be in one day.

Your heart ached as you watched your boyfriend tiredly try to record his lines, and kept fumbling on words because his mouth just couldn't make the correct shapes.

Hongjoong sighs, looking up at Seonghwa through the glass. “We have time tomorrow. You should just get to sleep.”

“But if I get done tonight, I don't have to do it tomorrow,” Seonghwa protests, in the strongest voice he can manage, which isn't much.

Hongjoong hangs his head, drumming his fingers on the desk. He looks up at you after a few seconds, and it hurts to see the light in his eyes all gone. He was about to pass out right there in his chair.

“Please go convince him to sleep, he's gonna pass out before he gets it right.”

You nodded and looked at Seonghwa again, his eyes beginning to flutter, his body swaying.

You get up from your chair and walk around the booth, going to the door and stepping inside. Seonghwa saw you coming, but he didn't move. He didn't even take the headphones off. You decided to do it for him, and to your surprise, he didn't protest. He may have already been asleep standing up, from how still and quiet he was.

“Tokki,” you call softly. Seonghwa finally shows signs of life, looking at you through his dark, silky hair. You brush his hair back and hold his cheek, to which he immediately leans into, his eyes snapping shut. “Please come back with me. You look like a zombie.”

“I need to-” He tries to speak, but you put your thumb over his lips.

“Hongjoong said you could do it tomorrow. It's okay, we can go back.” Seonghwa opens his eyes to look at you again, and just like Hongjoong, there’s no light in them. Dark pools of nothing. It almost scares you.

Seonghwa thinks about it for a few seconds, but he knows what his answer will be. He truly had no reason to stay awake when they have time tomorrow. You know it’s some unfortunate insecurity, and the demand from this industry he's joined, making people believe he’s more than he is.

To you, he's already everything he needs to be.

Seonghwa eventually nods, and you smile, pulling him into your arms. He hugs you back, leaning on you, nearly passing out right there. You keep him awake a little while longer, and help him out of the studio, and back to his dorm room.

When you make it back to his room, you're nearly carrying him. You make Seonghwa sit in his desk chair, and he instantly falls back into it, his head rolling back.

“Tokki, can you hold on just a little longer?” You ask, pulling his head up. He just hums, and you tap his cheek, making his eyes open. “I wanna take your makeup off, okay?” He nods, small short nods.

You sit on his lap as you carefully take off his makeup, carefully going over his skin with the cleanser. His arms are draped around your waist. A comforting little motion that means nothing to him, but so much to you.

Seonghwa, again, is falling asleep in the chair from your gentle touches. “Just a little longer,” you remind him, running a cotton pad across his eye. He hums in response, melting into the soft touch. You're holding his cheek with your other hand, making sure he stays in place, but it's just lulling him to sleep faster.

You finish removing his makeup and he whines when you pull away. “I'll be right back, nae sarang, I just wanna change your clothes, okay? You deserve to be comfy.” Seonghwa whines again, not caring about any of that. He just wanted to fall asleep in your arms. He could've been wearing combat gear, he'd still pass out just as comfortably.

But he stays awake a few minutes more as you strip him of his clothes and change him into his blue satin sleep set. As he feels it against his skin, he realizes that this is much more comfortable than his day clothes, and he's grateful for your effort.

Honestly, he's always grateful to be taken care of. Being the oldest of ATEEZ, he's obviously seen as the parent figure (mother, typically), and it gets exhausting.

So when Seonghwa found someone who was willing to spoil and care for him as much as he cared for his members, he swore to never let you go.

You quickly changed into one of his hoodies to sleep in, and finally helped him into his bed. He instantly cuddles up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his head on your chest.

“I got you, jagiya,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

“Saranghae,” Seonghwa mumbles back, squeezing you tighter.

You smile down at him as he passes out on your chest seconds later. You still watch over him, until your eyes snap shut, and you both are sleeping through the night.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[tehriel]

I saw your post about taking writing requests and wanted to try my hand! If it doesn't vibe with you and you don't want to do this request, that's ok!! My request: Phantom x gn!reader where it's a rainy, stormy day at the ministry and not much is happening so Phantom and reader find something or more than one thing to do to entertain themselves throughout the day? Thank you so much if you do decide to do this!! Wishing you a good day/night <3

I got you friend~

Made Phantom chaotic bored and seeking attention.

Was a fun write~

It went very spicy, so over 18 please my friends and the mature-rated is below the line but the explicit is on AO3

Reader is afab non-binary, body bits do be described in the explicit, if that gives the ick, completely understandable

Hope you enjoy it c:

The wind was an unhappy banshee. Less of an ominous howl against the windows of the ministry and more of an “AAHHHHAAAHHHH EEEEEEEEE,” followed by dog whistling. Rain threw itself at the ornate roofing. The sky was straight up, slapping the cathedral, and it stood proudly at the top of its hill, flipping off the storm clouds with the inverted cross atop its steeple.

Phantom sighed loudly and rolled onto his stomach, eating a face full of antique ministry rug. He was very close to the open fireplace. Ghouls loved a fireplace—it wasn’t that they were feline, more that cats were demonic.

“You good bud?” You placed your warm mug down to ask.

You didn’t get an answer, so your eyes left the page of your book to see he’s raised a thumb. His Switch had run out of battery only ten minutes ago. The ministry may have been defiant to the last—but power lines were only ever looking for a reason to go down.

“What am I doing with my life?” His voice was muffled on the carpet.

Ten minutes and he’d already hit an existential crisis. It might be a record. “You and I are ghouls doing very important house-sitting while everyone else is on tour.” You scanned for your reading spot and wriggled into your nook of the leather couch, finding it.

“What do I dooooo?”

You put your finger on your spot, “At least one of your guitars isn’t electric; play some Wonderwall or something—dudes love playing Wonderwall.”

He rolled to the side, and his big calf eyes had gone dull. “Come on, you know I love Wonderwall—so rude.”

You smirked into your book; you did know that.

He harrumphed, stood up, and sauntered toward his den.

What a creature. You knocked down five pages before you heard the beginnings of Wonderwall—he’d be content for hours. But he wasn’t. He strummed quietly for a while, then he sang—then sang it again loudly. Whatever he was looking for, it wasn’t a wonderwall.

Despite all this, you got lost in your salacious book, and your tail lazily batted the couch.

‘Tucker tucker tucker tuck’. They were ghoulish, skittering, sock-covered footsteps on floorboards. You didn’t look up—he tracked down the hallway and back again. His steps caught speed, and then you heard him slide against the polished floor. “New record!” You heard him cheer at some point.

You were determined to read this book to the disgustingly raunchy finish.

“Hey, _____.”

“What’s up, amore mio?”

He didn’t say anything.

You sighed, tracked your spot in your book and looked up from it again. “Love?”

Phantom looked you dead in the eye, sitting on the coffee table. His light grey skin was speckled with cute moles. His noir haircut let it flick in any way it pleased.

 He bit into a banana, skin on, halfway up the shaft. 

He chewed it.

You blinked and went back to your book.

You heard him gag.

You wouldn’t laugh—you saw what he was doing then. Your sweet puppy-eyed ghoul was looking for attention. You would usually indulge, but perhaps your devilish nature was showing tonight.

“______, come dance in the rain with me~” he jumped up after a while.

Thunder shook the defiant building. “I don’t think that’s rain; I think it’s a power wash setting,” you murmured to your pages.

“Sounds fun~”

“Sounds wet.”

“No, you sound wet,” he said childishly.

“Do I?” You wouldn’t crack a smile, “While it is that kind of book, Amore, I’m nowhere near the good stuff yet.”

His eyes narrowed on the cover as if he’d named it his rival. “Can’t be that good…” he muttered, and you heard him walk behind your couch to pry.

You skipped back to some pages you’d read the night before that had… left a lasting impact.

There was some time before all he said was, “I see.” But his voice was not alright, so he pulled away quickly.

“You good, Tom?”

There came only grumbling as he disappeared.

Things eventually began heating up in your book; you got a fair way in before you heard ‘tick….tick…..tick’ behind you on the stained glass window. You begrudgingly pulled yourself from your smutty dream world to look over and through the pane. 

Phantom was out there in the rain throwing small rocks. He saw you look, and you watched him spin in it and splash in a puddle. He was right; it did look fun. You couldn’t be tempted. You didn’t negotiate with terrorists. You did watch him for a while, his black tail streaming behind him as he ran. Phantom knew he was cute. Endearing dork. Sometimes, you just wished he’d tell you what he actually wanted, not what he thought you wanted—it seemed he was all too used to ignoring his own needs and feelings. He was a bit of a hopeless case.

You loved him. 

You turned back to your book—whatever he wanted, he could ask for himself.

It was some time before you saw him again. You heard him drip back into the room, then some wet rustling and the slap of wet fabric landing on the coffee table.

You glanced to see his back was bare, silhouetted and sat by the fire as the world had grown darker, dripping wet from the rain. His hair was weighed down and stuck to the back of his neck as it trickled down his back. So that’s how he would do it?

Then the little shit shook himself out, sending water spray everywhere.

“Eh! Phanta!” You squealed.

“Oh, sorry, ______,” he grinned apologetically over his shoulder, his sharp teeth glinting.

Your eyes narrowed. He did have a pretty back; it was speckled with freckles and had cut shoulder blades. He wore his black uniform pants low. You might have wanted to run your fingers against that defined spine of his. But this was a taunt.

Using a degree of willpower, you shifted your gaze back to your book, and whatever happened in the pages only got hotter—well, that was unhelpful.

You felt his weight against the couch as he came to drip beside you. Your nose crinkled from the wetness of it, but you relaxed anyway. Then you felt his big, wet head rest on your shoulder. Dark eyes trailed your book while black claws grazed your thigh.

He was a ghoul that needed a lot of care and attention. You knew this. It was very hard not to give in to it.

After a lengthy admission of feelings, the too-perfect male heartthrob was getting on his knees before the geeky boy who had helped him overcome his academic failures. You swallowed. You knew Phantom was reading too. His tail flickered against the couch. You turned the page. His claws at your thigh dragged rougher.

“_______,” he whispered softly.

“You okay, my love?”

He didn’t answer. 

You found the point in the book that you were up to, pointed to it, looked over, and drowned into the dark depths of his eyes. 

His brows were knitted.

You knew what he wanted—he only had to ask.

He looked down and shook his head, “I’m good.” He stood and walked away.

You sighed, watching him return to his den. Did he not think you wanted him? When he appeared again, you would crumble for him—he was only torturing both of you at this point.

That time never seemed to come. You finished one of the raunchiest sex scenes of your life, and you looked up to find he was nowhere to be seen. There was only the angry rapping of rain against the church’s facade. You placed your bookmark in your book—so this was his next ploy, then? You would have to go find him?

You tracked the phantom puddles like ectoplasm towards his den. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. His den was a cacophony of stolen gems from an abandoned Halloween store in town. It smelled like licorice all sorts, and caramel apples on Halloween night. He was on his gothic four-post bed with its red and black velvet lashings. Guy just wanted to be Legosi’s Dracula. 

His back was to the door, bare spine curled, the point of his tail hidden and likely in his hands.

It looked like he finally died of boredom.

“Phantom?”

He huffed.

“There something you wanted?”

He didn’t say anything.

It was like approaching Howl in his castle while he moped. The bed dipped as you came to sit beside him. “What do you need?” You prompted again.

You watched his wet, saggy head shake.

Ah, darling. “You want me to go?”

His head finally shifted to look at you. Of all the puppy eyes. He whispered your name, his chest rising as his breath deepened.

“Phantom,” your brows drew. You were going to give in—he had to know you wanted him, and still… he had to trust you would catch him if he took that leap. You shook your head and began standing; he’d given you no answer.

“Stay.” He caught your wrist and shoved you to the mattress hard. You heard his heart leap at what he had just done. His eyes went a little wide. 

You looked up at him, just as surprised as him at what he had done.

“Uh… sorry…” his brows drew. “I’m… not sure what I’m doing with myself. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You did try to eat a banana with the skin on,” you nodded up at him.

“I don’t think that was too far outside the realms of normal for me.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you chuckled. “You feel like telling me what you want yet? You know you just have to ask, right?”

He hummed and hid his face in the crook of your neck, hair still damp against your cheek.

“Tom?” You ran a hand over his nape.

“I want you,” he muttered. 

“What do you want to do with me, Amore?”

His only reply was to graze your neck with his teeth—suppose that’s all you would get. The book had left you feeling hot and sensitive; you swallowed, and he drew a soft noise from your chest.

The lightning tattooed the image of his body looming yours against your eyelids.

“Did you not think I wanted you?” You ran your claws down his back, making him shiver against you.

He huffed. “My brain is not always my friend,” he admitted and licked at your throat.

You traced fingertips down his abdominals and lower. “What is it saying now?”

He searched your eyes; it seemed he was deliberating whether or not to say something. “That you’re too kind for your own good… that you would do this with me out of pity.”

“Pity, hm?” Your heart hurt for him. “Think your brain underestimates how fucking selfish I am,” your smile twisted to show your teeth. “I sent the sisters fucking home to the convent so you’d only look at me.” You growled, and your tail flickered against his calf.

His pointed ears turned violently red. “Oh.” His body heated against yours.

“I’m not usually so territorial,” you clawed softly at his back. You weren’t with the other ghouls in your pack. “I want you to tell me…”

“I want to taste you, and I want you to…” You saw the labour of his breath in his shoulders over you. “Cum on my cock.” He withdrew from your throat to find your eyes. His had darkened to pitch, “I need it _______.”

Finally. 

[localplaguenurse]

Chex's Masterlist

A list of the fics or headcanons I’ve written! I may have missed a couple of headcanons here and there because they were just one off questions from the ask box. Mostly wanted to keep track of the long lists. 

Some of my fics have suggestive or mature content. Read the tags, proceed with caution, and if you can’t read this stuff for one reason or another, best to move on. Also, in case you're wondering why a lot of my oneshots have to do with Pantalone; I love him and he is my muse.

Have fun!

Ongoing Fics

You've Got My Eyes: Zhongli/Reader slowburnish fic where Reader is a single mom in Inazuma after a one night stand with the man of the hour; ongoing

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting: Dottore/Reader angst fic, aka the "dottore divorce fic" where Reader is sick of feeling neglected and unappreciated by her husband; ongoing

you are someone i have loved, but never known: Pantalone centric fic where Arlecchino finds a baby left on the steps of the House of Hearth; ongoing and slow to update

Falling Head over Heels: Pantalone/Male Reader where Reader is an author with retinitis pigmentosa (hereditary degenerative eye disease), pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7

Complete Fics

it’s all that i can give to you, my dear: Pantalone/Reader smutfic, a sequel to take all you can, give nothing back; completed

As Gold as the Ginkgo Trees: Morax/Reader arranged marriage slowburn set during the Archon War; completed (see also: the ginkgo trees masterlist with all my other headcanons/fics/aus)

Oneshots

Little Helper: Pantalone family fluff oneshot, technically Pantalone/Reader but it’s not really the focal point

Catch of the Day: Zhongli/Reader Mermay oneshot

that is enough: Fear and Hunger angst oneshot where Cahara returns home after... everything goes wrong. Please read the tags before reading.

Hold on Tight: Pantalone/Reader smut oneshot where someone goes a little overboard during sexy times.

Pretty in Pink: Hwei/Reader smut oneshot, and the only league fic I'll write

zero days until the party: My take on the bite of '83, child death warning

Have Your Cake and Eat It Too: Pantalone/Reader smut oneshot I wrote for my birthday where Pantalone gets bored at his own party

Playing strip poker with Pantalone: Self explanatory. Not really smutty, mainly silly, but still suggestive so you know the drill

The Price for Greed: Dragon Pantalone smut oneshot that has been sitting in my google docs for too damn long

an act of kindness: Pantalone oneshot where he's too tired for sex, so you give him a bubble bath. Starts spicy but doesn't go full smut, mainly domestic fluff.

Or You Lose: Modern era oneshot where Pantalone is a nightclub owner, and you're tasked with assassinating him.

i lie in your arms tonight: Pantalone oneshot where you're training a new recruit and things go horrifically wrong. Character death and angst heavy.

Stress Relief: Trans Pantalone/Male Reader smut, horrifically self indulgent

Keep Your Ego in Check: Male Harbinger Reader/Pre-Fatui Pantalone smut that is porn with wayyyyyy too much plot

"It fits you.": Short Pantalone/Reader request where he's jealous

Last Minute: Pantalone/Virgin Reader smut

An Unexpected "Guest": My submission for the 2024 Fatui Con "x reader" fic category

A Debt Repaid: You rescue young orphan Pantalone

Original Writing

a stone in the wall: Original horror story about walking through a serial killer's house, please mind the tags

Headcanons/Ramblings

Pantalone health headcanons

Assorted Pantalone headcanons

Pantalone domestic fluff

Assorted/sorta modern Dottore headcanons

Pantalone being husband material

Pantalone appearance/self care

Modern Dottolone

Arlecchino/Pantalone/Reader NSFW

Casper First Time NSFW Headcanons (A Date With Death)

[bihansthot]

My little ham is being extremely cuddly tonight and I am very here for it, I was very sad earlier because I can’t remember what Jäger smells like anymore. I find myself smelling Denny often hoping I won’t forget him too. For some reason I’ve been thinking a lot about Jäger’s final moments lately which prompts trying to remember what he smelled like, what he felt like and I just can’t remember, all of those memories are wrapped up and laced with so much sadness and trauma I just can’t separate them. I don’t know what’s bringing these feelings back up lately, maybe because I haven’t been feeling well and have been unhappy because I feel unwell. I need a nice distraction and neither of the guys I’ve been seeing are providing it. Maybe I need a hobby? Writing seems too constricting lately and not fun. I’ve been thinking about crocheting again but a) I have to learn again which no biggie YouTube taught me when my niece was born 15 years ago, it can teach me again, b) I have no clue what to make? I’d make something for Denny but he has so many clothes lol I guess he can always use more? Maybe cute hats like Good Boy Ollie has? Denny deserves all the cute clothes and hats, he’s such a good baby. I don’t deserve him.

In non depressing dog stuff I made some video game resolutions for the year that I’m not sure I’ll accomplish. If you’ve followed me for a very long time you know I also love Soulsborne games, I’ve beaten DS3 and Elden Ring but my resolution is to beat the DLC for DS3, I want to beat Malenia and Placidusax in Elden Ring and finally play Bloodborne. I’ve never played Bloodborne despite absolutely loving it. The problem is I haven’t touched DS3 since I beat it so I can’t remember how to play it and Elden Ring I’m reasonably confident I can beat Placidusax but Malenia woof waterfowl dance am I right? THB I had enough health to tank most of it if I could avoid at least one but it’s her stage two form scarlet rot dive bomb that killed me. Admittedly I’ve only tried Malenia 2 or 3 times, my partner got Let Me Solo Her themselves to beat Malenia for them. I don’t know where to start though, I have to restart them all from the beginning because I’m on PS5 now, I guess I should go in order? So Bloodborne first? I’m so scared though everything is so fast 😭 I’m a big dumb, clunky over level and use the biggest axe in the game type player and I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up. I don’t know if I can do the DLC I don’t know if I can beat Lady Maria or the Orphan of Kos but I guess I’ll try. Wish me luck y’all, I’m not embarking back into Soulsborne until I 100% Season of the Cryomancer though and of course this will have no bearing on my MK lust/content or anything, I don’t really have Soulsborne husbandos/waifus though I guess there’s boy Anri and Vicar Amelia (yes I’m a monster fucker, deal with it) oh oh and my precious stingray boyfriend Lorian, I don’t write for any of them or self ship with any of them so there will still be lots of dumb egg jokes. Don’t worry I’m in no way taking a break from MK I’m just indulging in another franchise I love deeply too, multitasking. So I guess just a heads up that there may be an influx of rage posts about Soulsborne bosses lol Or me professing my endless love for Greirat and Boc lol Will I ever go back to Baldur’s Gate 3?? Who knows! Probably not tbh I don’t like anyone other than Gribbo and Scratch not to mention I’ve seen my partner put just hours into it. I’ve seen the game and maybe I’m just bad at it but it’s just not fun for me which is why I’m going back to Soulsborne games lol I’ll tag my posts with “Soulsborne” if you don’t wanna see my rambling about the games though but like I said I promise I will still be all MK all the time after all it’s my true love ❤️

This has been a pointless Sol rambles, thanks for reading 🩵

[happy-tori-friends]

fate (khloe aliapoh ffxiv and rng) has decreed that i must post a preview of that self indulgent crossover with my silly omegaverse original work. one may notice some similarities to rwby (team names being acronyms, kemonomimis being called creatura (which are just bootleg faunus). this is because it was very heavily inspired by rwby (well an rp that was a crossover with rwby and something else). really, is it an original work if it's a bunch of things i went 'wow cool. im gonna take inspiration from this' and then. made a patchwork quilt. this is only a fraction of what is planned. before the story there will be some notes that may help you to understand

here is information about bloody war (fun fact: this title is stupid. i dont even know if there will be a war) that may be helpful for this section.

everyone has two blood colors - a main and a secondary, which is marble into it. this gives them cool powers.

the guardians of blood are this cool organization that defeats teros (aka bootleg grimm). you must be 13 or older to enroll in one four academies, but the most common age range is 17-20 (minors also need their guardians permission). usually, training takes two years but ti can take longer if one fails exams. once you have graduated, you are free to move to base on sanguine island (it comes with free housing.) for some reason you can then become a professor and teach shit (i didn't think this through tbh)

frost's guidance is in kaldsne, forest's illumination is in luctis, sea's sanctuary is on the gemsea isles, and night's shadow is in kagayatsuki. there are more countries than that but those are the four with training academies (the others got destroyed).

yes there's a white fang rip off it's called the ichor of the wild it might not come into play at all but... i really wasn't original at fucking all lmao.

theres also maiden rip offs. their the seasonal monarchs. their secondary color is a type of gold. but they dont come into play here right now. (except for the fact that miaki and hibiki are the fall princess and fall guardian. but they are only mentioned. whats a guardian. wait and see. why is princess and not queen. dont ask questions past me is stupid)

omegaverse but i make my own rules (i did Not mention it at all in this part tho). this was supposed to be fucking smut guys. it was supposed to be smut and then my stupid idiot dumb ass decided 'WaHt iF I WeNt tHrOuGh eVeRyThInG FrOm fIrSt mEeTiNg tO PoSt-gRaDuAtIoN WhEn tHe pOrN TaKeS PlAcE' like a moron and now here i am. still haven't written anything nsfw. the entire point of this bullshit.

@guardians-of-blood is the account for bloody war. it is on ao3 on my main pseud (AnemoVictorious)

splendont's from the gemsea isles. lifty and shifty were from luctis but stowed away on a ship to kagayatsuki and got taken in by a farmer.

team sfre = sapphire

this is stupid really stupid but it's my self indulgent heathen bullshit

okay i think that's good enough.

Two years ago, Splendid decided to attend Frost's Guidance Academy, where he became one of two leaders of Team SFRE, the other being his future boyfriend, Flippy Blair. At that point, Splendont was content with where he was and, though his abilities could be useful in combat, he didn't really think it was for him.

And yet here he was, a new student at Night's Shadow Academy. Older than most of the other new recruits at 23 years old, but he didn't really care about that. It wasn't even a big epiphany he had that made him decide to do it, he just wanted a  change of pace and scenery.

Kagayatsuki was nice enough - the weather was more mild compared to the hot summers of the Gemsea Isles, and despite being in the capital city of Yoruhoshi, the light pollution was surprisingly not that bad. He'd looked at them through the window, but tonight he wasn't all too tired. If he snuck out at night back home, his parents would scold him even if he was a grown man, but here nobody really cared.

There wasn't likely to be anyone else out this late at night either, so he made his way to the rooftop, the lighter and pack of cigarettes within his pocket just begging to be used. He didn't do it often, especially because his parents and Splendid frowned upon it, but sometimes he would smoke, just to have something to do. He didn't have an addiction by any means, it was usually only one or two every few months but it was sort of comforting to do something considered taboo.

He opened the door, already grabbing one cigarette and the lighter from his pocket as he left the building and saw the expanse of the sky over the rooftop. 

“Shit!” He heard a voice say. “I told you we should get off campus.”

“If we go off campus, we're more likely to get ID'd,” another, very similar voice, responded. Maybe a bit higher pitched. “Does it matter though? You forgot the lighter.”

“How'd we get ‘em in the first place? That's right. Fake IDs. Believable enough to get us cigarettes.” The first voice responded, clearly a bit agitated.

Once again his super-hearing caused him to hear things he didn't intend to. If only power limiters could limit specific aspects of one's ability, but alas. They limited everything. No getting around it if he wanted to use other aspects of his blood's ability.

It seemed these two were underaged and trying to smoke. Splendont didn't care - he, too, had done such things in the past, and had gotten caught. He turned towards the voices, and found two raccoon creatura  with messy green hair. One wore a hoodie, and the other a fedora and a bomber jacket. They both had similar shoes and ripped jeans, and the fedora-wearing one seemed to be irritated. From the back, they looked to be basically identical, save for clothing. Twins, maybe?

Well, it wasn't hurting anyone other than them, was it? Splendont approached, lighting his own cigarette as he did so. He then held out the lighter to them. “Here. I'm feeling nice right now, I'll let you borrow this for a second.”

The two turned to face him, and he saw their faces were basically identical too. Definitely twins. Their eyes were a brilliant golden color, which widened, and then narrowed, though the one with the fedora took it, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it before tossing it to his brother, who barely caught it and did the same, before gingerly handing it back to Splendont, though hesitating slightly.

“Thanks,” the hatless one, the second voice he'd heard, muttered, and Splendont nodded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and walking away, settling not that far from them.

Maybe he was curious about what they had to say, and maybe his super-hearing had a use when he wanted gossip or something like that. He tried to seem like he wasn't listening in, at least for a while, curious about what they'd say.

“You could've pocketed that,” the voice belonging to the fedora-wearing man spoke.

“Why bother? It's just a lighter. And we promised we'd try and stop.” The other responded, and Splendont raised an eyebrow, looking over at them

The fedora wearing one let out a snort. “Hah! Lifty, do you really think that Miaki and Hibiki would know, let alone their dad?”

So it seemed the hatless one was Lifty. Considering the weird names in his family, including Splendid's boyfriend, he wasn't too surprised at the oddity of the name. He did recognize the two that were mentioned - members of the first team formed in the year. They had different last names though. Maybe divorced parents.

“Shifty, he's staring. I think he can hear us,” Lifty murmured, giving Splendont another name.

Whoops. Oh well.

The redhead snorted, deciding to pipe in now that they were aware. “Duh. I gave you a lighter when you were whispering about needing one. It was kind of obvious, wasn't it?” he hummed, making his way closer to the two. “Not that I care what you do, though. I got grounded and chewed out for doing something similar, but I'm not going to pass on that pain to you.” He approached the one with the hat - Shifty, and extended a hand and offered an introduction. “Splendont Astra. You could say I'm a little late to the Guardians party ‘cause I'm 23, but I don't regret it.”

The other's eyes were narrowed as he took the hand and shook it, and they remained staring at him even as he did the some for his brother. “Shifty Steele. That's my stupid brother Lifty.”

“Hey!” Lifty protested as he pulled his hand away, punching Shifty in the shoulder before taking a drag of his cigarette. He seemed much more open than the other, but distrust was still evident on his face. “So… do you need something?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Splendid took in another puff smoke. “Eh. Figured I'd talk to some kindred souls. Smoke together awhile. Better than doing it alone. And if anyone comes up here, I'll take the fall.”

“Cool. A scapegoat,” Shifty murmured, “Can't really say no to that.” It was clear he wasn't all too interested, but was allowing it nonetheless.

His brother, however, looked him up and down a few times before offering a hesitant smile. “Well, we were told we should make friends,” he let out a sheepish laugh before turning to his brother. “And before you say ‘how are they going to know’, if we just keep trailing behind them or hanging out by ourselves, Miaki and Hibiki are going to realize we haven't made a single friend besides them yet.”

“I'm fine playing the part of someone you befriended,” Splendont chuckled, breathing in the nicotine. “Makes me look better than some guy that always keeps to himself too. You get to fool those two and get a scapegoat for smoking and stuff. Win-win situation.”

Lifty let out another laugh, tail swishing beside him. “Yeah! C'mon, Shifts, don't be a stick in the mud. Splendont seems kinda cool! Maybe… maybe we won't even have to lie to them, and we'll have a real friend.”

“Ugh, you're so annoying. Fine,” Shifty scoffed, shaking his head. “You're such a people pleaser.”

Their conversation continued for a while - mostly talking about how things had been since they arrived at Night's Shadow - how Lifty and Shifty were expecting to be on a team with their friends and got surprised at the first assembly, how their courses were going, and some rumors they'd heard passed around. Eventually, the two could barely keep their eyes open, and Splendont walked them back to the dorms. He made sure to snag their numbers first though.

As Splendont found himself back in bed once more, he couldn't help but smile slightly. Considering that they were likely underaged and he could infer from what he'd overheard that they liked stealing, Splendid would hate these two. He'd just have to leave out details when he told his brother that he'd made some friends.

[mommygrll]

Filling The Void (With Myself)

Tonight has certainly been a time. Not that I did anything novel or unfamiliar, it's all too familiar. So, story time!

Sometime around midnight I was perusing The Apps, answering messages with the same stock responses I've developed over the years but not seriously seeking to make anything happen. Then, a beckoning, a guy I've fucked around with in the past(happened to take my virginity at 18 as well, kind of an older predatory figure. Goes to show you the kind of things I allow into my life) messages me "I would fuck u right now" "U can't sneak out for half an hour". In the past I've met similar requests with a resolute, if reluctant, "no" but today was particularly unstimulating and I felt particularly empty so I decided "fuck it".

Sneaking out went off without a hitch, my dad's a deep sleeper, but it was a bit more effort than I like to put into my self-destructive excursions. Nonetheless, I persisted. My suitor was waiting for me, after all, and I'd really hate to disappoint.

I reach my destination and knock at the door, just once, I figure he must be expecting me. He takes a little too long to open the door but, eventually, it inches open. My beau, a grown man in his own home, reaches for his phone to show me messages he'd sent me while I was en route.

"He's here" "He's sleeping" "We have to be quiet" "Ok" and finally, "Where are u". I was taking too leisurely of a stroll, it seems, I'd foolishly indulged in smoking a cigarette along the way.

I suppose I may be remiss for not asking but I figure it's implied that, when one invites someone to their home for sex, the intention would be to actually have sex with them. What ensued was me remaining deathly silent, which was not difficult to achieve, as my beau bent me over a kitchen counter and had, well, the good time he was looking for.

I was then silently ushered out and told to text him when I got home, I guess he might care after all. Nonetheless, this was not the only demeaning I'd subject myself to tonight. Buckle in, dear reader.

After sneaking back into my own home and showering off a bit of the shame. I check my texts. I've been, or at least I thought I was, "talking to" this guy for some weeks. To be clear, I thought that some vague level of romance was occurring. For context, I've never been involved with anyone in that way but it's never happened, for reasons you've probably surmised. Anyway, I thought this might be a fun first to accomplish in my 21st year. I'd gone so far as to formally introduce him to my (Jamaican-ass) parents, putting some skin in the game y'know.

So I see a message from this guy and my brain lights up a little. I check the contents and I'm reminded of what we'd been talking about this evening. He's on a trip to another city, to spend time with his "future boo" and I've so demeaned myself as to ask questions like "What's he like?" and respond "Oh, what a catch" as I hear his praises. He genuinely does sound like a cool guy, if the messages are to be believed.

It's at this point that I take some pause. I often take pauses like this, part of my paradoxical nature is my incredible self-awareness but crippling inability to actually make any changes to improve my condition. So not only am I constantly doing things that make me hate myself, I'm aware the whole while, on some level, that I'm fucking up. The results will never give me the feeling I'm looking for.

I mean what kind of fucking cuck am I? I don't really care what a catch some stranger is. I don't even really wanna know about the excursion at all! Most of all, I'm in disbelief that I've been paying constant attention to this guy, helping with essays, homework, studying for courses I've never even taken just in the hopes that he'll like me. I'd hoped that maybe he'd see something in me that I can't see. A worth I haven't discovered. Evidently, he hasn't and I can't really blame him. If I choose to twist myself into knots just for the chance that I'll be chosen, why should he stop me? Isn't my eternity quest for his heart just a product of my own narcissism, anyway?

So, it's time to face facts. None of this is worth the effort, especially not being strung along like a dog for someone who can, and evidently is, doing better.

So, what now? I guess I'll just bask in my nothingness and try to find pleasure in the joys I neglect to chase foregone conclusions.

Ew, gross.

[zbeez-outlet]

Just Call Me Blue

Levi x FemReader

Modern AU

Reader has Tattoos and Blue Hair

NSFW 18+ Only

Word Count: ~12k words because I can't help myself apparently

Concept: A rare night out proves to be way more interesting than the book he'd been planning to finish on his nightstand

Summary: Clubbing isn’t really his thing, but every once in a blue moon Levi lets his friends dress him up and drag him to a bar to loosen up a little, at least as much as he can. Maybe a few drinks here and there, some mindless conversation before settling the night with a shower and a warm cup of tea – at least that’s what he planned until the moment he sees flashing blue hair and a garden blooming on smooth skin. Colorful. Beautiful. Soft. Everything he’s not, but he’s suddenly curious to follow the paths of petals and leaves, to see if he can name every flower.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Levi POV, introvert/shy reader, cursing, smut, oral (f. receiving), praise, a lot of teasing, mutual masturbation, switch Levi/reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, drinking (not drunk, sober consent), going home with a stranger/one-night-stand (be safe, make good choices, share your location!) (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

A/N: My first smut fic with an idea I've had for a while now! My requests are open, check out submission guidelines for more info on what kind of requests I take. This is a safe space! If you want to discuss a request, have questions, or just want to chat, my asks and messages are always open. As always, thank you to all of my readers and followers! I love hearing from you and seeing everyone interacting with my work :)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT BELOW 18+ CONTENT

The whiskey is smooth and a little woody on his tongue, pleasantly chilled from the ice and about ninety percent of the reason he agreed to come out tonight.

Erwin bribed him with top shelf liquor and the promise of keeping Hange distracted in exchange for an hour of social interaction amid their friends and some too loud music. With nothing but a book waiting for him on his end table, Levi figured it wouldn't be too painful to humor his long-time friend. The way his shoes slide across spilled drinks and the sticky counters have him immediately regretting saying yes. A heavy hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from leaving immediately.

"C'mon Levi, you gave me your word. One hour," Erwin reminds him, shouting in his ear over the clashing music and mingling voices, as if Levi forgot their deal. Didn't forget, just seriously considering rescinding his commitment.

Instead, he offers a disgusted snarl and shrugs the massive hand from his arm. "As long as you keep your end. Top shelf, open tab."

Erwin rolls his eyes, impressively enunciated by his bushy arched brows. "Of course," he says agreeably as if the request isn't entirely outrageous. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone tonight. Actually socialize for once."

Levi contemplates ordering an entire bottle just to spite the man.

While he may have promised to stick around for an hour, he made no such promise about indulging their mundane conversation topics or, heaven forbid, getting trapped between sweaty hormonal bodies on the dance floor. Levi keeps to the edge of the club, daring to lean against a wall that he hopes is cleaner than the tables and seats — just to be safe, he discretely wipes the surface as a last-ditch effort to protect his gray turtleneck from any possible stains.

He tries not to wince at the way the music pulses in his chest and behind his eyes as he scans the crowd. His friends have all scattered among the writhing bodies. Mike and Nanaba found a not to private corner to grind on each other, a sight that has Levi's lip curling in distaste. Everyone seems playfully drunk, not yet sloppy but loose and confident enough to not care how they dance or scream along to the music. Erwin is being crowded by a handful of bright-eyed and airily tipsy young women with flushed cheeks and wondering hands. The arch of his brow and easy smile says he doesn't mind the attention. Though clearly not all of them are interested, Levi realizes when he spots a flash of blue lingering on the outskirts of the little gathered group.

You're standing off to the side with a small furrow to your brow, hair slightly curled and brushing along the tops of your shoulders and the blue that caught his attention a moment ago. It's a soft unnatural shade, sugary like a blue raspberry slushy. You don't look particularly happy by your friends being so easily distracted by Erwin, though not mad or annoyed either. Just...awkward, like you don't know how to stand in a way that looks casual instead of uncomfortable. In one hand is a drink that you've barely touched, something dark and probably bitter if he had to guess. Your other arm is crossed protectively over your middle like you don't want to risk bumping into anyone.

He knows the feeling.

You're wearing a white sundress, which normally he wouldn't expect to be appropriate clubbing ware, but the light fabric drapes nicely over your figure, cinched at the flattering curve of your waist and flaring out over your thighs. The dress is a nice contrast to the rest of your look. He can't pick out all of the little details from this distance, but your arms, legs, and neck are covered in colors and intricate lines.

Now, Levi doesn't have any tattoos. He's never been particularly fond of the idea of permanently marking his body like that, but he could appreciate the artistry behind it.

A moment later, Levi's shaken from whatever daze had him trapped on the bright colors decorating your skin and the well-loved high-tops on your feet. It's Hange, of course, dancing manically as they drag Moblit behind them, arms waving and hips rocking with alcohol and bad rhythm. Moblit is amusingly exasperated with his partner, an indulgent smile pulling at his cheeks that quickly turns to panic when Hange's boisterous moves lead them directly into your unassuming form. Levi barely refrains from flinching when your drink topples from your grasp, spilling down the flowing skirt of your dress and dripping down your left leg. The glass doesn't shatter, which is a small mercy.

Levi has already made his way to the bar, trading his whiskey glass for a couple of clean rags, some club soda, and a cup of water before making his way over to Moblit's flustered apologies as he tries to dab your dress with soiled napkins and your gentle reassurances that it's not a big deal. Which Levi would agree that it's not a big deal if your drink hadn't been dark and your dress white.

He silently offers one of the rags soaked in the club soda, only speaking when you seem confused. "For the stain, so it doesn't set in right away." He has to lean in to be heard over the pounding pop song the DJ thought would be a good idea. The flowers blooming along your skin are far clearer at this proximately, intimately designed across the curves of your skin and bright with color. Part of him wants to trace the petals, count the leaves and name every flower that reminds him of his mother's love for the plants growing up. Most of him realizes those thoughts are creepy, especially without even knowing your name, so he pulls back entirely.

Your timidly sweet smile is enough to sway any discomfort he may have felt initially at being so close. Levi tries not to linger on the feeling of your fingers brushing his when you accept the cloth.

And then Hange is draping themself over his shoulders, smelling like Redbull and vodka, making his nose scrunch. "That's our Levi, ready and waiting to fix every mess." They pinch his cheek, risking their fingers getting caught between his teeth. "Our little clean freak."

Levi covers the flush that threatens to warm his neck by pushing Hange off of him and towards the still frazzled Moblit.

"Well, I'm grateful for the help. This is one of my favorite dresses." Your voice is only just loud enough to be heard over all the other noise. "I'm gonna head up to the bar, let them know there was a spill." You make a special point to look him the eye when you accept the glass of water he's holding out to get rid of the stickiness on your leg. "Thank you, Levi."

He likes the way you say his name, wondering a moment later what yours is.

Levi watches you thread through the crowd, dodging elbows and skipping over tripping hazards with the expertise of a well-practiced introvert. It makes him ponder what brought you here, a crowded and decidedly not introvert-friendly space. He's reminded of his and Erwin's deal, wondering if you had made a similar agreement with the friends who haven't even noticed your accident or your absence, giggling and twirling their hair between sips of lemon drops and flirty banter.

"You should go talk to her," a voice attacks his eardrum, and once again he's batting Hange's breath from his face. "C'mon, Levi, live a little! You're clearly interested!"

He frowns at the idea of being 'clearly' anything, but resolves that talking to you would be a far better way to spend the rest of his hour here than babysitting his friends or staring passively at the crowd.

When he gets back to the front, you're wiping down your left leg while idly chatting with the bartender. His eyes catch on the detailed combination of yellow sunflowers and red snapdragons intertwining from your ankle and disappearing up under the hem of your sundress. The lines are dark and the colors bright, glistening as you drag the wet rag along your skin, shadows and highlights done so professionally that for a moment he thinks he could pluck a bouquet from your skin and offer it in greeting. There are different flowers along the rest of your visible skin, intentional combinations of colors and only a handful of species he can name. He wonders what they mean beyond their vibrancy and pretty shapes, why you chose them to grace your skin forever. He wonders if your skin is really as soft as a flower petal.

Levi shakes himself from those thoughts by the time he takes the empty stool beside you, looking first to the bar tender. "Whiskey on the rocks," Levi orders, nodding when the man holds up the same brand he picked before, then he looks to you. "What are you drinking?"

You blush prettily under his gaze in what he thinks might be embarrassment or maybe just shyness. "You don't have to–"

"Think of it as repayment," he interrupts, trying to offer what he hopes is a calming twitch of his lips and not a grimace, "for the one my friend spilled all over you."

"Um, sure, that would be nice." You give out smiles easily, eyes shining in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol. Levi likes the way it teasingly flashes your teeth and dimples your cheek.

"So what'll it be?"

You pause, anxiously chewing on your lip. Levi tries not to stare. "Well, I don't go out like this often, so I had my friend choose for me. A Long Island I think, but...not really my taste. Too strong." You wince like it's a crime not to like a drink.

It sounds like your friend just wanted to get you drunk, regardless of your tastes.

"How about something sweeter?" He offers, already running through a list of the drinks he knows Hange likes when they're in an especially festive mood. When the bar tender places his whiskey down in front of him, Levi taps the counter. "You have stuff for a Melon Ball?" When he nods, Levi orders one for you and adds it to his tab. Well, Erwin's tab.

"What's in a Melon Ball?"

"Sweet Midori, which is like a concentrated melon juice infused with liquor, some orange juice, and only about a shot of vodka. Very sweet, not super strong. I think you'll like it."

You gift him another smile and he wonders if he should start counting how many he can pull from you tonight. "I look forward to trying it then, Levi."

While waiting for your drink, Levi wonders how he can keep the conversation going. Not that the silence is bad, it's actually strangely comfortable, but he also finds he likes the sound of your voice. "You mentioned you don't go out often," he starts in what he hopes is a casual tone. "This a special occasion or just peer pressure?"

"A little of both, if I'm honest." You stop there, fiddling with your fingers in a way that shows you're a little anxious, out of your element. But you're still smiling, the curve of your lips genuine enough that he's sure it's not out of curtesy.

He tries something that he hopes is a little less invasive. "What should I call you?"

"Call me?"

"You know my name's Levi, obviously. What about you?" Levi sips at his whiskey, eyeing the way your blue hair tickles your cheeks and hides your face just enough from him to be shy. "Doesn't even have to be your real name if you don't want. You could be anyone."

You hum, clearly thinking about the pros and cons of sharing your real name. He's curious, of course, but he's not about to force anything out of you. "You can call me..."

"What about Blue?" Levi dares to reach out, twirling some of your hair on his finger. It's softer than he thought chemically colored hair would be. Like silk ribbons. He drops the strip before he accidently gives into the urge to run his fingers through the rest of your hair, surely a step too far at this stage, though he can't quite hide his smirk at the pink spreading across your cheeks.

"Um, yeah...yeah, that's fun. Blue," you repeat as if to taste the name on your tongue. "Just call me Blue."

When the bar tender sets the Melon Ball on the counter in front of you, he offers you both a sly grin before moving onto the next drunk guy slurring for another round of shots for him and his friends. The drink is an electric green color and smells like sugar, promising to stain tongues. Levi watches with an encouraging lift of his brow as you hold the glass and take a generous swallow, cartoonishly giving the drink an honest try.

Your lips pucker and you giggle, tongue darting out to lick an excess drop at the corner of your mouth that he suddenly wants to taste, knowing it'd be sugary with syrup. "Wow, that's delicious." He pretends not to notice your little satisfied sigh.

"Better than the Long Island?"

"Dangerously better."

He muffles a huff of amusement behind the rim of his glass, taking another slow woody sip of his whiskey. "So, Blue," you playfully scoff at his emphasis on the new name, "what are we celebrating?"

"Hmm?" You hum around another sip, tilting your head curiously.

"The special occasion?"

"Oh! Right, um, just a promotion at work." You wave off the accomplishment, tracing the rim of your glass with a delicate finger. "I think they all just wanted an excuse to get wasted, so I promised them one drink. Now here I am."

You raise your glass, smile brightening when he clinks his whiskey to your melon ball in a little toast. "Here you are," he repeats lowly, almost as if he hadn't meant to say it. "I made a deal too. One hour to get them off my back." Levi points over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at how easy it is to spot his friends, towering and drunk and verging on sloppy.

"They seem...fun," you offer kindly, barely holding back a chuckle at the way Hange commands the dance floor.

"That's a very nice way of saying they need to be institutionalized." When you laugh this time, it's with your whole body. Head thrown back, shoulders shaking, teeth shining. Levi wishes he could sneak a picture, but the moment's passed before he could even finish the thought.

"At least they keep life interesting!"

"There is that," Levi hums, lips pursing because you're not wrong. Dullness is certainly rare, especially where Hange and their antics are concerned.

You turn more completely towards him, bare knee brushing against his dark slacks. Your legs are crossed daintily, orange and red on the left contrasting beautifully with the violet and blue petals clustered among green leaves on your right leg. Hydrangeas and lavender he thinks, with a smattering of white baby's breath. Some of his mother's favorites. A rainbow of different kinds of flowers bloom from your wrists to over your shoulders, though they fade into grayscale roses from your collar and up the slope of your neck.

"An hour, huh? I could spread one drink over an hour," you mutter shyly, an almost coy smile pulling at your syrupy slick lips. Levi unconsciously licks his own, craving something sweet.

Levi dares to shift a little closer, the warmth of your legs bleeding into his own, and he leans forward so he doesn't have to compete so much with the crowds and the music. The way you mimic him, resting your chin on your palm and bending closer as if to share a secret, shows him that he hasn't overstepped any boundaries. "We have a promotion to celebrate, after all. What do you–"

"Oh oh oh, wait! I want you to guess!" You bounce in your seat, biting your lip to contain an excited smile.

He raises a brow. "Guess?"

"You were going to ask what I do, right? We can be anyone, just like you said." Your eyes shine, and Levi is having trouble looking away. "You make up Blue, and I'll make up a whole new Levi!"

It's a silly, juvenile little game, but he can't find a reason to brush it off or tell you no. Not with your dimpled cheek that he wants to kiss or the anxious twist of your hands. "I'll start," he decides, tapping his glass.

You nod, sitting up straight in your seat to pose. Shoulders back, chin up, grinning as you overplay the part and wait for his assessment. Levi looks you up and down, less so because of any possible clues about your job than because he wants to follow the paths of vines and leaves and petals along your skin. The easy answer is tattoo artist, but that feels too simple, too expected.

"You're a cook in a fancy French kitchen, recently promoted to Sous Chef," he eventually announces, a proud smirk curving his cheek at the surprised laugh that bubbles from your chest. "Was I close?"

"Doesn't matter, tonight I'm Blue," you raise your glass in another toast, smile wide, "and Blue is a sous chef, apparently." You take a sip and he spots the green tinting your tongue. "Alright, alright, my turn!"

He strikes a similar pose, sitting strong in his chair. He shivers at the way your eyes drag across his form, wondering if you felt the same heat, the same intensity under his gaze as he does under yours. You seem the slightest bit flustered, shy and teasing at the same time. "Thoughts?"

"A hand model."

Levi pauses, not expecting such a specific response. He'd been prepared for something a little more mundane, like an accountant or something as equally boring. "A hand model? What makes you say that?"

And then you're touching him, reaching for his wrist and running your thumbs along his palm. "You have beautiful hands," you say softly, he wouldn't have heard you if he hadn't been so close, so hung up on your every word. "An artist's hands. Slender, elegant. I can imagine you doing ads for watches or rings."

His skin feels electric under the pressure of your fingers, quick to hold your hand in a gentle grasp when you go to pull away. You see beauty in his hands, he's not ready to let that go just yet. "I like it."

Your cheeks dimple prettily and he's once against struck with the urge to press his lips there, to feel the dip and the softness of your skin. You don't pull back or ask him to let go, which he would in a heartbeat if you did, instead your palm settles nicely against his own, warm and welcoming and his just for this moment.

You hum, a low melodic sound that Levi feels in his own chest, and you tap his shin with your worn converse to break the distracted lull you've both fallen into. "So, where does Blue live?"

That's how the two of you spend the hour, coming up with little details for your made up selves. Heads bent conspiratorially close, trading small laughs and outrageous whispers. You never let go of his hand, even when he squeezes every now and then. Tracing your knuckles and the inked petals on your wrist. Dahlias and carnations and lilies of all colors. You just smile and blush and come up with some new hobby for this alternate version of himself.

According to him, Blue lives in a small cottage in a village just outside of the city. She enjoys commuting to work by train, listening to classical music while she sketches everything from other people on the train to the passing scenery to little nonsensical doodles. She has a vegetable garden that she cares for religiously, most proud of her tomatoes and peppers. And a cat named Sprite that curls up on her shoulders and keeps the mice from her produce.

You ooh and ahh at his construction of your character for the night, not giving away how close he may be to the truth but clearly enjoying the spin of his words.

According to you, Levi lives in one of those big and fancy two-story apartments in the heart of the city. Sleek, modern styles that are easy to keep clean and organized — clearly you took note of Hange's comment about him being a 'clean freak.' But you take it in stride, not turned off by the quality but rather spinning it into a trait to be proud of. He scoffs when you declare he drives a motorcycle, swallowing any confessions with a gulp of whiskey. You confidently say he has a secret love for romance novels that he buries under annotated copies of notable classics and heavy mystery books. And you're convinced he can play the piano, twiddling with his fingers when you say it.

It's all sweet words and lingering stares between the two of you. Levi can't help but watch as you get closer and closer to finishing your drink, an anxious disappointment settling deep in his gut that your time together is almost up. He wonders if you'd let him kiss you before disappearing into the crowd and back to your life away from the little fantasies you've built between intertwined hands.

"Looks like that's your one drink," he says when you finish the last few drops of melon liquor, trying not to sound as disheartened as he feels. "And it's the end of my hour."

You pout, bottom lip jutting out that he wants to suck between his teeth. "I guess you're right," you sigh, leaning into his palm when he risks tucking a wayward strand of bright blue behind your ear. "I should probably wrangle the others anyway."

"Or..." he says before he can stop himself, biting down on the sudden desperation between his teeth, "just let them have their fun for the night."

"And what about me?" There's an expectancy in your voice, like you know what he's implying but you're afraid to assume anything.

"Well, and feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is too forward, but we could leave...together?" The request comes out hesitant, unsure in a way he's not used to feeling, and Levi barely holds back a wince.

"Together...where?"

"I, um, I live near here. We could walk..." Levi stops, rolling his eyes at himself and pulling away to put some space between the two of you. "And now I'm hearing how creepy and murdery that sounds."

"No no no," you ramble, reaching again for his arm with an amused teeth-shining smile. He leans into your hold. "I mean, maybe a little, but it's kind of hard not to sound that way these days with all of the horror stories we hear about. Everything is a red flag, even kindness. Especially kindness. But, I like you…kind of a lot, and I don’t want to stop being with you tonight, not yet.”

“Yeah?”

"Yeah." Your eyes drop to his lips and flicker back up to his gaze, his heart fluttering at the quick movement. "I'm choosing to trust you, so don't murder me okay? Let me just tell my friends I'm going so they don't freak out."

He nods, watching you track down one of your friends with an extra little skip in your step. It makes the skirt of your dress ruffle around your thighs and he decides staring isn't the worse crime he's ever committed. Your friends all squeal obnoxiously, hugging you and kissing your cheeks, peaking over at him in very not subtle ways. Levi waves with the softest scowl he has, lip curling when they squeal again. You pull a phone from a hidden pocket in your skirt that he hadn't even noticed, exchanging a few more words and motioning to the screen — he assumes you're sharing your location with them just in case, which is a precaution he respects. He offers a gentle smile as you make your way back towards him, holding out his hand with a small hope to lace your fingers together.

You do.

Levi quickly grabs his jacket from the small coat check at the entrance of the bar, immediately draping it around your shoulders when he realizes you didn't bring a coat. His place is only a few blocks away, but it's night and cold and maybe it's also an excuse to be close to you. He looks above your head as he helps you adjust the sleeves, making eye contact with a grinning Erwin and a bouncing Hange, rolling his eyes and flipping them off as a goodbye.

He should prepare for an interrogation in the morning.

You grab his hand again, threading your fingers through his and walking close enough that your shoulders brush with every step. Neither of you speak much during the walk, save the mumbled directions Levi lets out every now and then. Partly due to a shared nervous feeling, an almost thrilling anticipation for where the night could lead. And partly because the silence is as comfortable as the conversation had been, soft and mutual like you've known each other for years instead of an hour.

It takes about twenty minutes to get to his building, enough time that any lasting effects of the alcohol fade in the chill and the movement. The walk is nice, a handful of cross streets with very little traffic and lanterns lighting the paths. You're humming some little tune under your breath that he likes the sound of.

He leads you up the initial stairs into the lobby of his building, a modest brick structure with only a handful of tenants. The units are spacious and reasonably priced, and he's fond of the quietness in the neighborhood. Every now and then he looks towards you to see if you've changed your mind, if you seem scared or hesitant or uncomfortable, and every time you gift him another one of your soft smiles and squeeze his hand.

In the elevator, you stand close enough that Levi wonders if you can feel the beat of his heart. Racing in his chest, just behind his ribs. He really hopes his hand isn't sweaty. You're warm and soft at his side, and part of Levi is desperate to touch you, to learn the petals traced into your skin, to know you beyond the fun little stories you made up together.

"This is me," he almost whispers, stopping in front of his door. Levi's a bit hesitant to go inside, wondering for a brief moment if the Levi you created back at the bar is more impressive than his modest living. If he'll disappoint you before even crossing the threshold.

"Levi," you call, and he decides this is the moment you change your mind. You'll offer a placative smile, say some nice words, and disappear entirely from his life. He braces himself. "I just want to...know your expectations before we go inside."

"Nothing," he says immediately. Hopes? Maybe. Wants? Absolutely. But he could never expect you to do anything you don't want to do.

"You sure?"

"Of course." Levi pauses, swallowing the eagerness building in his throat when he catches you staring at his lips again. "Do you...expect anything?"

"No!" It's a little too quick, a little too loud, and you grimace. "I mean, not really. Obviously, you shouldn't feel like you have to do anything you don't want to," you ramble, playing with his fingers that are still in your hold. He can't help the slightest amused tilt to his lips that you're still staring at. "It's just - well, I could have just asked for your number if...if all I wanted to do was talk."

Levi's tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip, eyes locked on the soft curve of your cheek that he's wanted to kiss since your first smile of the night. He leans forward, breath shallow as it ghosts along your skin, lips skimming the soft surface like silk. He revels in the stuttered gasp you let out.

"Can I kiss you?" He purrs in your ear, delighting in the little whimper you can't hold back. Levi draws back, bravely bumping his nose against yours and meeting your shining eyes.

You take a deep shaky breath. "Yes."

So he does. And suddenly he never wants to stop.

Your lips are soft, so so soft. He knew they would be, plush and malleable beneath his own. As welcoming and warm as your smiles. Levi starts slow, savoring the sweet sugary taste of the lingering melon liquor, suckling your bottom lip with gentle pressure. He raises his free hand not still laced with yours, trailing his fingertips along the curve of your jaw until he can cup the base of your head and hold you steady against the brush of his lips. You moan beneath his touch, wrapping an arm around his waist until you're pressed together from hip to forehead.

Levi's momentarily startled when he feels your lips part first, tongue darting out to lick along the seem of his lips. He opens up to you, tongue eagerly chasing the sweet craving he's had since that first sip of the electric green drink. Your tongues dance, caressing each other with exploratory strokes, fighting for dominance for only a moment before Levi pushes into your mouth. He traces along your teeth and the roof of your mouth, tangling with your tongue in a way that leaves him tingling all over. Wanting more. Wanting whatever you're willing to give him.

And then he remembers you're still in the hallway, free for anyone to stumble upon. He pulls back reluctantly, pecking your lips again and again as you stifle desperate little whimpers against his skin. Your breaths mix, noses tapping. He keeps his forehead pressed to yours when he speaks.

"You are just...so beautiful." His words are airy, rising and falling with the deep weight of his chest and his want. He tucks another wayward blue strand behind your ear. "Do you want to go inside, Blue?"

You peck his lips again and this time he feels your smile more than he sees it. "Yes please," you whisper against him.

His key embarrassingly slips twice before he manages to unlock the door, a needy anticipation simmering under his skin and prickling with every touch of your fingers despite the thick layer of his turtleneck in the way. He wants it off to directly feel the press of your fingers and your lips and your warmth, but he wants your dress off more if you'll let him.

When he finally gets the door open in the wake of your giggles and his mumbled curses, you both stumble inside with all of the elegance of two tipsy teenagers despite the little amount of alcohol you actually had.

He drops the coat from your shoulders first, hanging it on the hook by your head when he gets caught in your eyes. Pupils blown wide, lips kiss swollen. The air feels thick between you, a heat he doesn't think he's ever felt before, let alone this fast. He wants to chase it to the ends of the Earth.

Levi skims his fingertips across the roses blooming along your collar and the rest of the garden growing from your shoulders all the way down to your wrists. He can name a couple more to add to the collection, orchids and what he thinks are bluebells along the curves of your muscles. The neckline of your dress is low, sewn with intricate lace patterns and held up with flimsy thin straps. He presses kisses over your bare shoulder and up the column of your throat, licking at your pulse fluttering under the petals on your skin. You gasp and sigh, tilting back to give him more access and gripping at his forearms with a longing he mirrors in his heady caresses.

It takes all of his strength to step back, to give up the taste of your skin for even a second. "Shoes off." The whisper is a shattering scream in the wake of your kisses and whimpers and subtle moans that leave him buzzing for more. Levi kneels down before you've even processed his words, slightly dazed from his attention, puffing his chest with pride. Starting with the left, he unlaces your shoe and delicately holds your ankle in his palm while he removes it to set by the door. He goes slower with the right, massaging the muscle of your calf and brazenly kissing the bundle of baby's breath at the inner curve of your knee.

"Levi..." Your voice fractures under his touches, eyes hooded as you look down at him. His name has never sounded so intoxicating. He wants to hear all the ways you could moan his name.

Levi stands quickly, hands grabbing for your waist when he goes for another deep kiss. Searching for your tongue and your taste and your smile.

"Blue..." he groans in a spare breath when your hands come up to wrap around his shoulders, fingers scratching the short hairs of his undercut. You do it again and he swallows the mortifying keen building in his throat. Levi nudges a knee between your legs, hands stroking your sides and itching to pull away your dress. "Bedroom?"

"Yeah, yes," you nod against his cheek, lips dancing across the sharp edge of his jaw. Levi lowers his hands, briefly skimming the flattering curve of your ass and splaying over the backs of your thighs. He lifts you easily, smirking at the squeak that leaves your throat when he encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He kicks off his shoes before he forgets, walking you both passed the kitchen and living room towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. Taking advantage of your height over him, he latches back onto your throat to taste your pulse. He finds a sensitive spot just behind your ear, the only non-floral tattoo on the canvas of your skin. So far anyway. A tiny honeybee, all fuzzy and yellow and thriving amid the pollen of your tattoo collection. The sound you make when he grazes his teeth along the sensitive flesh behind your ear is his new favorite, a high whine that leaves you breathless and keening.

"More, please Levi," you moan into his ear. His pants twinge, stiffening with want and need for your sounds, your skin, your taste.

Levi traces the shell of your ear with his tongue. "I'll take care of you, Baby Blue." You shiver in his arms, legs quivering around his hips before he's even properly touched you. And, God, does he want to touch you.

He's grateful for the dimmer switch in his bedroom, keeping the lights low and warm. Enough to shine golden across your skin. Levi drops you onto the foot of his bed, chasing the feel of your giggles on his lips and pressing you into his soft downy comforter. Your hands are on his neck, scratching at the base of his scalp and pulling him closer. Lips languid and slick, tongues tasting each other. Levi's leaning over you, hands dancing from your arms and down your sides, squeezing at the gentle curves of your waist and tracing the sensitive flesh of your thighs still wrapped around his torso.

He rolls his hips into yours, swallowing your delicious moan with a matching groan of his own. Levi feels flushed all over, heartbeat thundering across every plain of his body.

You pull away from the kiss first, throwing your head back to catch your breath as he continues littering kisses along your collar, your throat, your jaw. He finds that spot behind your ear again, blowing cool air over the wet trail left behind from his tongue.

"Can I go down on you, Baby Blue?" Levi asks with a stuttered breath, squeezing your thighs and rolling his hips again.

"Can...what?" You stop, which makes him stop. He pulls back, meeting your wide startled eyes with a raised brow of his own

"Go down on you? You know, eat you out, oral sex, lick your–"

"I know what it is!" You laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder when his fingers tickle your sides to keep the sound going. He loves the way you laugh with your whole body, just like at the bar. Head thrown back, shoulders shaking with your mirth. Your hair halos around your head, a crown of soft woven sapphires that Levi wants to run through his fingers.

"So," he pecks your cheek, grinning salaciously against your skin, "can I?"

You bite your lip, that familiar shyness bleeding back into your face. "No one's ever...I've never – um..."

Levi offers the softest smile he can, caressing your heated cheek with his thumb. Hiding his frustration that no one's ever treated you well this way, hoping to be the first. "I won't if you don't want me to, but," he pauses, holding the weight of your gaze with his own, "I think it'll feel good. I want to make you feel good. Can I? Please?"

Your eyes glisten, pupils blown. He waits patiently, relaxing you with the gentle press of his fingers on your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks. You lean into his palm, kissing the pulse of his wrist. "Please, Levi," you sigh, the words puffing against his skin, "make me feel good."

"My pleasure." He grins, lowering those few inches to touch your lips together once again. This kiss is unhurried, almost lazy in the way your lips move together. Levi trails down your chin, your jaw, your throat. He licks across the lace of your dress's neckline, lingering on your heartbeat decorated with honeysuckles and daisies. His nose and his fingers trace the fabric of your dress as he lowers himself over the supple curve of your chest, hoping to spend more time there later, and down the soft slope of your stomach.

Levi drops to his knees, encouraging you to scoot to the edge of the bed. "We can stop at any time," he assures, meeting your eyes with purpose. "If it doesn't feel good or you're uncomfortable, just say the word. Okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, clearly hesitant. But there's a glint of excitement, of warm lust and want in your gaze that he knows is reflected in his own silver eyes.

He starts with his hands, rubbing deep circles into your ankles and your calves. "Just relax," Levi puffs against your skin, lips following the dips and shapes of the sunflower on the side of your left knee as he kneads the tense muscles in your legs. He switches sides, sucking at the petals of a blue hydrangea on your right leg, fingers moving up under the hem of your dress. He slowly raises your skirt, nudging your legs further apart to pepper your inner thighs with kitten licks and soft kisses that make you sigh beautifully.

You made a bold choice tonight with black panties under a white dress, a little bow delicately sewn into the lace border. His eye catches the slightly darker patch at the center of your underwear, hiding his smirk amid a cluster of red snapdragons. He sucks at their petals, darkening their color with his lips and his tongue. You sigh shakily above him, fingers curling into the duvet.

"Good so far?" He checks in, dancing his fingers across the lace edges of your panties.

You nod, choking on a breath when he runs his tongue along the seam of your thigh. "Yeah, Levi, so good."

"Keep telling me, okay Blue? How good my kisses feel." He presses his lips just above that little bow on your panties. "My hands." He kneads your inner thighs, spreading them just a bit wider and brushing the goosebumps on your skin. "My tongue." Levi flattens his tongue on that precious growing wet patch, moaning when your fingers tangle in his hair, your breathless keen music to his ears.

"Oh my god, Levi," you whimper as he slowly laps at your covered pussy, hips moving against his mouth. "Feels good, so so good."

He presses his palm on your abdomen, halting your little thrusts with a gentle pressure. His thumb dips under the top of your panties, rubbing at the sensitive skin there. "Can I take these off, Baby Blue?"

"Mhmm, please Levi," you whine, hips stuttering under his hand. "Wanna feel you, wanna feel good."

"I'll make you feel so good, pretty girl, I promise." Levi kisses your covered pussy one last time, fingers slipping under the elastic and pulling them down your legs. He tosses them somewhere to the side without much thought now that you're bare in front of him.

Levi hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, lifting them comfortably onto his shoulders so he can get closer without straining your hips. "Such a pretty pussy, baby girl," he breathes over your lower lips, diverting to kiss at the bare seam of your right thigh again, licking at a blossoming lavender flower.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he promises into your skin. The sight of your folds, wet and puffy and waiting for him, has a lustful ache building between his own legs. "And you're all mine tonight, Baby Blue, all mine."

He focuses around your most sensitive part first, licking at your mound, kissing the outer lips of your pussy with a tenderness that leaves you wet and aching before him. Generously, Levi lays a teasing kiss on the hood of your clit, delighting in the sudden jerk of your hips and the high squeal you can't muffle with your lips.

You wine, desperately trying to wiggle your hips against the pressure of his hand and his lips. "Stop teasing, Levi..." you trail off in a sudden gasp when his tongue flattens against your pussy, licking from the base and flexing up to your bundle of nerves. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling those beautiful sounds he wants to hear so much.

Levi stops, pulling back from your intoxicating taste. Sweet, a little salty, uniquely you. He almost laughs at your frustrated groan. "Let me hear all your pretty little sounds, Baby Blue. Helps me know what feels good."

Your hand drops back to the bed, fingers curling and lovely moans shaking your chest when his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks at your nerves, swirling the hardened tip of his tongue all over your bud. Your thighs quake around his head, trying to close from the pleasure but held apart by his shoulders while his palms keep your hips still. Levi lowers his mouth, lapping at your wetness, savoring your taste. He kisses your pussy like he kisses your mouth, languid and thorough and repeating the motions that have your legs spasming and your voice high. His tongue pistons into your wet velvety walls, starting slow until you're begging him to go faster, harder.

The slick between your thighs coats his lips, his chin. You're dripping with want and pleasure that he swallows like a man starved. When he licks back up to your clit, covering the sensitive bud of nerves with his lips, he moans. You shoot up, gasping at the vibrations of his voice on your clit, fingers carding through his hair and pulling. He groans at the sting, eyes rolling and tongue licking more fervently.

"Levi Levi Levi," you ramble, trembling under his fingers and his lips. He grips your thighs tighter. "So close, Levi, 'm so close...gonna cum, gonna–"

"Cum for me, Blue, wanna feel you cum on my tongue." Levi sucks firmly at your clit, head shaking back and forth in a way that has you wailing through your first orgasm of the night and your hips bucking repeatedly against his hold.

"Fuck fuck fuck, Levi so good, so – fuck!" You dissolve into unintelligible moans and murmurs and praises, legs shaking, fingers gripping at his scalp. He rides you through it, lapping at your folds and slurping up your slick, chasing the sound of those delicious moans like his life depends on it. As you rut against his mouth, Levi's right hand releases your quaking thigh and moves towards your entrance. He gathers your slick and easily slides his finger into the plush of your gummy walls. "Ah ah! Nnngh, Levi..."

He kisses your inner thighs, left hand massaging your lower abdomen to help you relax from his intrusion. "Gonna stretch you out all nice for me, pretty girl. Prep you for my cock, okay?" His finger thrusts into you slowly, getting you used to the feeling. Curling up with every push inward, probing your walls for that spongy spot he knows will make you see stars.

You whine, hips wiggling and breath shaking. "Nnngh want more Levi, so good...want, want–"

"What do you want, my Baby Blue? Tell me."

"Wanna cum, cum again, ah ah! Want...'nother finger, want your fingers Levi."

"Only good girls get another finger. You're so tight for me, Blue. So wet and perfect. You gonna be my good girl?"

"Yes!" You gasp, trying to push towards the second finger teasing at your entrance. "Yes Levi, 'm good – your good girl, your Baby Blue! Please, please—!"

Levi grins against your thigh, his own hips straining and bucking with want as he slips a second finger into your heat. Your juices have puddled in his palm, slicking his knuckles. "So so good for me, pretty girl," he moans, adding a third finger to stretch you nicely and picking up his pace when you keen, little mumbled praises slipping from your lips. He hooks his fingers, finally finding that special rough spot inside you that has you crying out in pleasure. "Right there, baby girl? That the spot?"

"Yes yes yes! Fuck right there, don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop, Levi—!"

His fingers curl and rub, focusing on that sensitive rough patch, and his lips latch back onto your clit. He sucks your bundle of nerves, tongue swirling the hardened bud as he fingers your wet pussy. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans of pleasure and the wet squelching of his fingers and tongue. Existing between your thighs is his new favorite place to be, soft and pliable and warm.

Levi hadn't planned for the night to go this way, hadn't planned to find someone beautiful and kind and funny. Someone that could have such a chokehold on his heart and his mind and his body in just an hour. Part of him is terrified for the night to end, for the sun to chase away the sultry shadows of this night, for you to tell him this one night between your thighs is all he'll get. He savors your taste, your sounds, the feel of you beneath his fingers like little treasures and smothers the hope of someday knowing your real name.

Being in the moment is far better than those confusing thoughts.

You fall over that precarious pleasurable edge when he moans around your clit and his fingers brush inside you just so. This one is clearly stronger than the first, and he watches in awe as your thighs shake and your hips convulse, head thrown back in ecstasy as you groan and whimper through your orgasm. His movements slow, now languid firm strokes to draw out the euphoria as long as he can. Flat lazy laps of his tongue and drawn out motions of his fingers as you gush from the intensity of it all.

It isn't until you're pushing at his head, hips jerking from the aftershocks, that Levi releases your pussy from his ministrations with a satisfying pop, giving your clit a last peck. A 'see you later' kind of kiss. His fingers slip easily from your walls and he licks the last of your slick from his lips and his fingertips, swiping the back of his hand across his chin.

Grinning salaciously as he watches you catch your breath, Levi rubs your still shaking thighs, leaning up to kiss from your jaw and up towards his favorite spot behind your ear. "How was that?" He breathes softly, ghosting the words across your forehead.

You laugh, pressing close, fingers laced together over the short hairs of his undercut. "That was perfect, absolutely perfect."

This time, you kiss him first. He knows you can taste yourself on his tongue, the air between you heady and thick with tension. Your hands wander down the back of his clothed neck, over his shoulders, and settle at his waist. You bunch the fabric of his sweater, tugging upwards with a new desperation in the wake of your orgasms.

He grins against your mouth, helping you untuck the fabric from his dark slacks. While he separates from the kiss long enough to pull off the sweater, your fingers are busy at his belt and the button of his pants. The turtleneck is cast aside, the belt following. Levi stands to step out of the slacks, now bare in front of you except for a modest pair of black boxer briefs.

Now, Levi's always been pretty proud of his body and for good reason. He works hard to take care of himself and it shows in the firm plains of his chest, the chisel of his abdomen, the strong muscles in his thighs and calves. He's lean but strong, skin unblemished besides a handful of scars life thought important to grant him. He has every reason to be proud of his body...

Yet, as you stare at him with dark eyes he cannot read, Levi swallows the sudden nervous energy building in his throat. Not to mention the way you linger a little too long on the obvious bulge in his briefs. He fights the urge to cross his arms or reach for a blanket. Instead, he forces a false confidence into the cadence of his voice.

"See something you like?" He hates the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, sounding arrogant and awkward and wrong. But you laugh, so he counts that as some kind of win.

You reach forward, still seated on the edge of the bed with your dress now resettled over your thighs, and rest your hands on his waist. Your thumbs rub tiny circles in the V of his hips. You stand, now chest to chest with him. His skin burns under your fingertips, ripples of goosebumps immediately alighting across his body as you dare to explore. Pressing delicate shapes into his abs, ticklishly skimming his sides, tracing letters he can't focus on into his pec just over the beat of his racing heart. Levi's eyes slip closed, just relishing in your touches.

"I think you're beautiful, Levi." He feels the words in your breath as it ghosts over the sharp ridge of his collarbone, itching to lean a millimeter forward to feel your lips on his skin. "Since the moment I saw you under those flashing lights," you kiss up the column of his throat so lightly he wonders if he imagined the softness of your lips, "coming to my rescue with club soda and napkins. You made me so nervous."

Levi sighs at your gentle touches, relishing in your sensual words and the way they paint praises into his skin. "Nervous? Why?" He can't even be embarrassed by the deep heavy breaths he needs to speak, anticipation building the more you touch him so achingly slow.

"Because you're clearly out of my league."

"Hardly!" He scoffs, cracking his eyes open to find you already watching him, smile teasing yet somehow tender at the same time. Air catches in his throat.

You raise a hand, fingers gliding through the fringe across his forehead, messy from your desperate grip just a few minutes ago. Your palm rests on his cheek, his lips seeking the pink dahlia on your wrist. "I think you might just be out of everyone's league."

He wants to argue, to spew poetry about how lovely you are, to use words that are far too inappropriate for the few hours you've known each other. Instead of falling victim to that humiliation, Levi recaptures your mouth with his own. The kiss is needy and firm and you reciprocate just as enthusiastically. Your hands roam each other's bodies, feeling everywhere but never feeling enough. You tug him closer by the hips, and Levi gasps as you press against the hardening heat in his pelvis.

Without him even realizing, you've switched positions with him and he startles for only half a second when you push him onto the bed. The shocking moment passes when you climb on top of him, and all he can think about is the way you straddle his hips, the way your white sundress cascades over his dark bedding, the way your blue hair curtains around him when you lean down to kiss him. All the ways you consume him in the curl of your smile and the warm shine of your eyes.

Your hips roll over his hardness, making him groan deep in his throat. "Wait wait wait," he stammers, scrambling to still your movement against every want in his body. You stop, leaning back with a concern so raw and compassionate that his chest aches. "You didn't do anything wrong," Levi assures quickly, caressing your cheek. His lips quirk up. "Maybe a little too right, actually."

Eyes flickering over his face, you nod at the honesty he pushes to the forefront. "Then what?" He can feel the way your thighs tremble impatiently.

Instead of answering, Levi braces you on his lap with one hand, stretching the other towards the drawer of his nightstand. He rummages for a moment until his fingers lock on the foil square he was looking for. "Didn't want to get too caught up in the moment," he mumbles, dropping the condom onto the comforter by his head for easy access.

Your eyes are hooded, flashing between him and the condom with a speed that has his heart thundering. "Bit presumptuous, hmm?"

"You think so?" He rolls his hips beneath you, both of you groaning at the much needed friction on your cores. Levi curses his briefs, the only fabric between your heats, wishing he could feel you bare against him.

Something like fire burns in your eyes, hands roaming his chest. When your nails scrape along his pecs, you clearly notice the way he shutters beneath you. And when you graze over his nipples with the pads of his fingers, you smirk at the little keening sounds he tries to swallow. You lean down, running your tongue along the subtle red marks left behind be your nails, wrapping your lips around his right nipple while your fingers tweak the left. It's a sensation he's not used to, the tingling warmth that comes from you playing with his nipples, but he likes it. Likes the little sparks of pleasure that shoot from your lips sucking the pebbled bud down to his hardened length. His hips buck up into you.

You switch sides, humming around his left nipple, fingers scratching at his abs. "You're so soft, Levi," you murmur against his skin. "Could spend all night just touching you like this."

And he wants you to, he wants that more than almost anything. Anything except to feel you. His fingers dance impatiently at your dress. "Can I take this off, huh Baby Blue? Let me see you? Touch you?"

At your nod, Levi is quick to sit you both up. He gathers the laced cotton fabric. bunching it up around your hips before slowly lifting the sundress up. There are bouquets on your hips he hadn't noticed before, too beautifully distracted to catalog the newest flowers on your skin. White chrysanthemums and purple hyacinths on your left hip contrasted with the vibrant orange marigolds and white magnolia's on the right. You raise your arms so he can fully remove the dress, fingers immediately going to the clasp of your simple white bra before he can take the honor. When the fabric drops away, he's as drawn to your exposed skin and pert nipples as he is to the the banner of dandelions and daffodils that decorate the undersides of your breasts. You seem suddenly shy, wrapping your arms around yourself to hide from him.

He kneads his thumbs into your biceps, pressing his lips to your forehead. "You're a work of art, Blue. Every part of you sculpted perfectly. I wish you wouldn't hide from me." Levi kisses your cheeks next, the tip of your nose, your jaw, your chin, and finally your lips in a chaste sensual touch. "Would it help if...you weren't the only one naked?"

His briefs are still on, the last barrier. It feels like the final line to cross. But you nod, fingers already hooking into the elastic. Levi raises his hips and helps you pull the last bit of cloth from his body and tosses them aside with the rest of your clothes.

You're staring again and he now understands why you covered yourself, fighting the urge to do the same.

Before he can overthink, you're reaching down to wrap a hand around his length, making him choke on whatever words he was going to say. He doesn't remember, only the warmth and softness of your hand clouding his mind. Levi's cock isn't huge, but he is long, slightly curved towards the tip and well groomed. Your grip is firm, not too tight but squeezes him just enough to feed that burning ache, and he cries out when your thumb brushes the weeping red head. His hips buck without his permission as you spread his prespend along his length.

The extra slick helps you move faster, now jerking him off with an enthusiastic flourish. Your thumb focuses on a particularly sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, threatening his flimsy restraint when you start whispering sweet little nothings against his ear. "You feel so good, so hard for me Levi. All for me, right? All mine tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah all for you...ah—!" Levi whimpers when your other hand goes down to squeeze his balls, that familiar tightness building deep in his core.

To keep from losing control entirely and blowing his load before he's even been inside you, Levi distracts himself with your heaving chest right in front of his face. He kisses your sternum first, lathing at the skin between your breasts because it's bare of ink and so so smooth. He sucks a mark into the skin there, tongue tracing the heated inflamed hickey with a possessiveness he shouldn't feel this fast. Your hands are still busy between his legs, tugging him, rubbing him, making his vision blur with pleasure.

Levi gives your chest the same treatment you gave his. Licking and tweaking your nipples with his lips and his fingers. Sucking more little marks into your breasts. His fingers trace the sensitive underside of your chest, cupping your breasts gently and squeezing to hear those musical moans of yours.

"Condom, Levi, get the condom. Want you inside me," you sigh into his ear, hips wiggling as your hands still piston around his cock.

The condom is in his hand before he's even thought to move, tearing open the foil with his teeth. He pinches the top, sliding the rubber over his length with ease. You encourage him to lay down with your palms on his chest, scooting up his body to slot your hips together. You haven't even touched him yet and you're already dripping, thighs glistening with your slick. Levi's chest rumbles when you press your soaking folds against his cock, rolling up and down to prep his length with your wetness.

"That's it, Baby Blue, just like that." He places his hands at your waist, thumbs circling the petals inked on your skin. "You ready, pretty girl? Ready for my cock?"

You nod rapidly, reaching down to position him at your entrance. "Yeah Levi, ready for you, want you inside so bad."

"Go slow, okay? Just relax, deep breaths, don't hurt yourself."

He can tell you're still sensitive from before, breathing deeply with tiny whimpers between exhales as you painfully slowly lower yourself. His head passes that first ring of muscle, his abdomen flexing from how tight you are despite using three fingers before to stretch you for him. You're wet enough that he glides in smoothly, your gummy walls hugging him like a vice and it's taking every ounce of strength not to just thrust upward those last few torturous inches. It feels like hours pass before you're fully sat in his lap, pelvic bone to pelvic bone.

"You're so deep, Levi...feels so good—!" You squeak when he wiggles his hips the slightest bit.

"So tight Blue, squeezing me so well." You're hunched over him, breathing deeply as you get used to him inside of you. He brushes a messy strand of blue from your forehead. "Move when you're ready, my sweet girl."

Levi thinks you might just be the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen, shining with sweat and lust above him. Blue hair mused, lips swollen from his kisses. Nothing about this feels like just fucking, like a meaningless one-night-stand, but it's impossible for it to be the other thing. Right?

Those dangerous thoughts fall away the moment you start moving. You start with small, shallow thrusts. Both of your moans filling the room as you raise yourself higher and higher only to lower yourself just as slowly. You take him deep and hard, but so unhurried like you want to memorize the ridges of his cock against your inner walls. The space between you is damp and sticky with sweat and arousal.

Levi groans at a particularly hard thrust, thighs tensing as he tries not to buck up into you. He wants this to be at your pace, but fuck if the slowness of it all isn't killing him just a little bit. "Can you go faster for me, Baby Blue? Please?"

And you do with a keening, "Mmhmmm!" You speed up until you're practically bouncing on his lap, breasts jiggling with the movement, eyes scrunched shut. Your hands are braced on his shoulders as you ride him. "Ah, ah! Nnngh, so good, so close Levi. Can't – need you, please. Need you, Levi—!"

He rolls you both over so your back presses into the mattress, hooking your legs around his hips as he thrusts into you. "I got you, I got you. Gonna take such good care of you, sweet girl..." Levi snaps into your heat quickly. "You feel perfect, the perfect little pussy! So tight for me, taking me so well! This pussy was made for me, don't you think Blue?"

"Yes yes yes! Just for you Levi!"

"Gonna ruin you, gonna make you cum...you wanna cum?"

"Please—!" You draw out the word on a strangled moan, wiggling against his thrusts as you chase that high. "Wanna cum, want you to make me cum—! Ah, ah, nngh—!"

Levi had raised your left leg, hooking your knee over his shoulder, and the new angle meant that every thrust grazed that special spongy patch inside of you. He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swapping groans and spit between your messily tangled tongues. You cum when he sucks at the honeybee tattoo behind your ear, wailing and shaking through your orgasm so beautifully Levi's tempted to take a picture. He keeps up the brutal pace of his hips, right hand snaking to your puffy abused clit to rub maddening little circles.

"Oh my god, Levi—! Fuck—! So much, so good...!"

"C'mon, one more Baby Blue. You can give me one more, can't you?"

Your head thrashes from side to side, tears building in your eyes. "Don' know, don' know!"

"Yeah you can, you can give me one more." Levi speeds up his thumb on your clit, adding enough pressure that your thighs shake around him. "Love to watch you cum, pretty girl. Could watch it all night, every night."

"Please, please, please..." you ramble between unintelligible praises and whimpers.

Levi swipes your hair from your face, pressing his forehead to yours. "Look at me, Blue." Your eyes flutter, staring up at him with pupils blown in ecstasy and tears trailing down your cheeks. His nose nudges yours, breath ghosting over your lips. "Cum for me."

You tumble over that edge with a scream of his name. That tight band of pleasure inside Levi snaps and he follows you into bliss. It's white hot behind his eyes, tingling from the tip of his head and down to his curling toes. He prolongs the feeling, chasing that heat with deep purposeful bucks of his hips and slows drags of his thumb over your clit. You're practically sobbing beneath him, rutting your hips for those last drops of euphoria, milking him for all he's worth.

Blasphemously, he never wants to leave the heaven between your thighs.

"T-too much," you stammer, giggling as you nudge his hand from your clit, lacing your fingers with his far stickier ones without a care in the world.

He slows his movements, catching every last one of your whimpers between his lips, until he's still and softening in your trembling heat. Levi pulls out with great reluctance, rolling to his back beside you.

And even now, the silence between you is as comfortable as if you've known each other for years.

He'd hesitate to say wow, but..."Wow."

Your head swivels towards him, the cutest most satisfied smile on your face. "Yeah, wow." You're still trying to catch your breath, chest heaving and shining with perspiration. "You made me cum four times."

"I did," he chuckles, raising a brow. "What? Do you want to cum four more times?"

"No!" You laugh, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Just...wasn't expecting it, I guess."

Levi turns on his side, reaching to run his fingers through your hair and leaning in to kiss your cheek. "You deserve to feel good," he says like it's fact, because it is, and swallows any other dangerous words that threaten to escape his throat. "Stay with me."

Except those words apparently.

You smile warmly like you always do. "I'd like that," you whisper, leaning into his palm. "I was hoping not to pay for a cab tonight anyway."

He's not sure if he's glad or disappointed you think he means just for the night.

"I'll be back in a minute." Levi pecks your lips before disappearing into the bathroom. He starts by removing the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the bin. He gets a wet rag and cleans himself up, reaching for a fresh pair of sweat pants that hang low on his hips. He quickly brushes his teeth and washes the stickiness from his face and hands. No time or energy for an actual shower. Grabbing another washcloth, he wets it under the warm tap, refusing to look at his reflection lest he's forced to confront something far too lovesick and complicated.

When he saunters back into the room, you're tapping at your phone, presumably to update your friends so they don't worry about you in the morning. He briefly wonders if any of them managed to snag Erwin for the night.

You startle slightly when he swipes the wet cloth on your inner thigh, gently cleaning between your legs with a probably unprecedented amount of care. He makes eye contact, silently asking if you want him to stop, but you say nothing, just gift him another one of your easy smiles and spread your legs a little wider.

"Thank you, Levi," you say when he finishes, and he's grateful when you don't comment on the way he tenderly rubs your skin with his thumb.

"Of course." He steps towards the dresser, pulling out one of his best oversized t-shirts, soft from age and use and his favorite fabric softener. And a pair of boxers as well. Modesty and all that. "Here," he sets the clothes in your awaiting hands, half tempted to toss them away at the idea of you covering up. "I keep single-use toothbrushes under the sink for when Hange crashes here, if you want. Use anything in there."

You kiss his cheek as a thank you and it leaves his skin prickling. He resists the urge to touch the spot like a teenage girl with a crush.

While you're getting ready for bed, Levi tries to clean up a little. He collects all of his wayward clothes and tosses them into the hamper. He replaces the comforter, wet with your shared sweat. with a fresh blanket, making a mental note to wash it tomorrow. He eyes your dress and panties, deciding it's not a step too far to fold them neatly and leave them on top of his dresser. You know he's a 'clean freak' after all.

Lastly, he grabs two unopened bottle of water from his fridge, one for himself and one for you. He walks back into the bedroom, spotting you already getting cozy under the covers, and he barely holds back an elated smile. Though he can't do much about the way his heart flutters.

"Drink." He holds the bottle out to you, delighting in another one of your soft laughs.

"Yes sir," you salute, and Levi tries very very hard not to react to that. That is something to explore another day — if there is another day.

Levi takes his place on the other side of the bed, settling under the covers on his back. He's surprised when, once you've finished half the bottle of water, you curl into his chest. Head on his shoulder, arm winding around his waist, leg twining between his own. He loves it, but doesn't say it, doesn't show it, just wraps an arm around you and rests his chin on the blue crown of your head. You smell like his lotion and his toothpaste, and beneath that you still smell like sex.

How can something feel so nice and so terrifying at the same time?

A lot occurs to Levi in this moment, but one thing stands out above all else.

"Are you ever going to tell me you're real name?"

You adjust beneath him, craning back so you can meet his gaze. Your smile is coy this time, all teeth and dimple and mirth. "I don't know, I kind of like Blue."

"Me too, but..." Levi pauses, taking a deep courageous breath, "I'd like to know the real you. If – if that's something you want too."

He holds his breath as he waits for your response, counting the seconds as he tries to read your expression, but you're giving nothing away. He thinks his lungs may collapse when you finally speak.

"How about over breakfast?"

Levi blinks, calming his racing heart. "Yeah," he says eventually, feeling soft and mushy and like nothing anyone has made him feel before. "Breakfast sounds nice. I know a place, bit of a drive though."

"On your motorcycle?" You ask cheekily, grin widening at the long telling stretch of his silence. You shoot up, fingers pinching his sides at your victory. "I knew it!"

And when you fall into a fit of giggles, face shining under the dim lighting of his bedroom and lips looking oh so inviting, the only reasonable thing Levi can do is kiss you again.

[fangirlshrewt97]

RRR Fics Masterpost

If AO3 would be easier, you can find my works here.

Updated on 10.05.2023

RRR Fics

1. Beginning to Feel Like Home: A cute moment of Bheem realizing how comfortable he feels in Ram’s apartment. 

2. A Promise Forged By Betrayal (Ram Version) (Bheem Version): Exploring their thoughts right after the whipping scene/escape scene. 

3. Never Known Anyone Like You:  My take on what happened between Bheem winning the dance off and the cut shot to Ram carrying him on his back.

4. Perfect Treat for a Heatwave: Short and sweet fic where Ram introduces Akthar to a new treat! 

5. Straying into My Heart: A funny one shot featuring an adorably oblivious Akthar, a cat, and a jealous Ram who is also very confused. 

6.One More...For Luck: A 5+1 fic with Bheem kissing Ram 5 times, and Ram returning the favor.

7. Jewelled Marks: A soulmate identifying marks AU with a lot of angsty Ram content. 

8. Biding My Time (Yours is Coming Soon): My take on Ram’s thoughts from the scene of Malli and Bheem’s escape to Scott’s death.

9. Late Night Indulgence: A short companion piece to one of my incorrect quotes. 

10. Criminal Cuteness: A tooth-rotting fluffy piece featuring a sleepy Ram and an indulging Bheem.

11. Stick to What You Know (Ram Version) (Bheem Version): Two separate prompt fills that were of a similar nature. 

12. Beautiful Sunrises, Cruel Ironies: Funny/fluffy fic that turns angsty. Akthar takes Ram for an early morning ride, a conversation is half had, and Ram gets angry at the universe’s cruel twist of fate. 

13. Watermelon Crush(er): A semi-crack modern AU where Malli sees a video on social media and convinces Bheem to recreate it. Ram takes vital damage to his HP.  [Part 1 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

14. Let’s Witness the Stars Tonight: Two late night instances where Ram and Bheem enjoy the night sky. 

15. Shells, Waterfalls, and Memories: A fluffy piece where Bheem takes Ram swimming, and they talk and remember being kids. 

16. Not Enough Words (To Say Thanks to You): Based on the prompt “I’ll bandage you”, Ram shares some words he has been withholding from Bheem, expressing both his regrets and his gratitude. 

17. Come Rest Your Weary Head: Honestly, just the boys falling asleep. Fluff to the max. These two don’t get enough sleep. Or at least Ram doesn’t. 

18. Caught You: A genderbent!Rambheem fic.

19. Lean On Me (I Know This Feeling): A hurt/comfort fic where Bheem is grieving the loss of a friend, and Ram tries to help him. 

20. A Very Reasonable Fear: When there is a small scare with Ram’s biggest fear, Bheem volunteers to help him overcome it. 

21. Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery: Ram’s missing a few things. Malli decides to put on an act. The others are just there for the fallout. 

22. Bheem - The Hunter: A prompt fill fic, basically Ram sees Bheem during a hunting trip. Bheem realizes he may have a chance after all. 

23. Terribly Thought Out Help: When Malli gets in trouble at school, she asks Ram and Bheem to go meet with the teacher...It goes like you’d expect.

24. When Does The Caged Bird Sing?:  Essentially following Bheem and Malli from their escape to Malli starting to heal from her trauma.

25. Why A Rose?:  A gift from Jenny has Bheem befuddled, leaving Ram to explain it to him. And to receive a gift in return.

26. Playing with Elephants:  As they are trekking through the forest, Malli spots something that leads her and the boys on a quick detour to find something very interesting. It all turns very fluffy once they find what they are looking for.

27. Marking Me Onto You: Ram thinks Bheem got hurt. Bheem just got a new tattoo. Ram experiences a lot of Feelings. 

28. By The Light of the Diyas: Basically Ram remembering his family in the days leading up to Diwali through an old tradition

29. Messy Mango Munching: A kind of sequel to Watermelon Crush(er) where Ram gets his revenge with the help of mangoes.  [Part 2 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

30. Christmas Checklist Confusion: Another entry with Modern RamBheem featuring them getting their Christmas gifts in order.  [Part 3 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

31. Maiden Trial: A Bheem x Kala Bhairava story featuring gender expression exploration and cross-dressing. [PG-14]

32.  A Dream Come True: An adorable one-shot set in an A/B/O universe featuring RamBheem being besotted over their daughter (and each other).

33. The Burden of Atlas: A Hurt/Comfort fic with Bheem feeling too many things, and Ram letting him know he doesn’t have to do it alone 

34. Honey Gold Eyes and Tiger Cubs: Kid!Bheem meeting a tiger cub.

Dhruya (Dhruva (from Dhruva) x Daya (from Temper)) Fics

1. Nap Time, ASP garu!: A cute little prompt fill based on an image prompt from @burningsheepcrown. Dhruva tries to relax, fails, Daya to the rescue. 

2. Smoke Curling Around Us: Another fic inspired by a @burningsheepcrown doodle. 

3. About The Two of Us: A follow-up to “Smoke Curling Around Us”. The morning after, they have an important conversation. 

4. A Rosy Surprise: A follow-up to “About the Two of Us”, Dhruva receives an unexpected surprise at the station that throws him for a ride!

5. Of Fears and Butterscotch: The next entry in the Dhruya Saga. Dhruva receives an unexpected package and it brings up some feelings the boys work through. 

6. I’m Right Here: Daya has a nightmare of a past event. Dhruva offers comfort.

7. Terrible Bedmate Behavior: Just a fluffy piece of some shenanigans that happen at 4 in the morning.  

8. Grumpy Cat Attitude: A rough encounter at a party has Dhruva grumpy and Daya trying to cheer him up.

9. Manali Memories: The boys take a trip and make priceless memories.

Jairava (Jai (from Jai Lava Kusa) x Bhairava (from Magadheera)) or JaiHarsha Fics

Tale As Old As Time [PG-14] - Whole Work on Ao3, Act 1(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11), Act 2 (Part 12, ...)

TAOAT’verse One shots:

1. Drunk with Affection: Basically Drunk!Bhairava being very affectionate and Jai not being able to handle it.

JaiRava One-Shots

1. Intertwined till the End: An AU with Dark!Jai. Warning: Major character death

JaiHarsha Fics:

1. My Best Friend and My Brother

2. Afternoon Delight [PG-14]

Siddhara (Siddha (from Acharya) x Veera Raghava (from Aravinda Sametha Veera Raghava) Fics

1. Because I Knew You: An introspective character study of Siddha and Veera Raghava, where they are in their journey towards healing, and the impact they have already had on each other.

RPF Fics (Ram Charan, Jr NTR, Upasana Konidela, Lakshmi Pranathi, SS Rajamouli, etc.)

1. DILF Jakanna?: So we all know our favorite director is maybe not the most up-to-date on his internet slang right? My take on what could happen if he was faced with a particular term, and the reaction from our heroes.

2. A Family Photoshoot: Inspired by one of Tarak’s photos from Japan, a little speculative fic of what might have happened around the time of the photo.

3. A Dog’s A Heavy Burden: A cute little drabble featuring Rhyme, Upasana, Ram Charan.

4. Rest Among Thigh Skies: An RPF where the four men of the RRR crew end up falling asleep in the place.

Story Summaries (These are “summaries” or plot synopsis for long fics that I am not planning on writing, but am sharing if anyone wants to use them as inspirations for any of their fics. I just ask that you let me know if you will be using an idea!)

1. JennySita Story Summary: Rather than a full fic, this is a detailed story synopsis of a JennySita rewrite of the movie.

2. Dhruya 1940′s Film Noir Synopsis

3. Malli, Lacchu, & Jenny Synopsis

4. RamBheemJenny Canon Remix

5. Charak New Looks Mafia AU Summary

6. Tarak and Abhay Fluffy One-Shot

Feel free to send me prompts, but I am already working off a list, so I cannot make any promises of prompt fills. And please let me know your thoughts on my fics! I’d love to hear feedback, just so I know what people are enjoying and how to put more of that into the future stories!

[sixeyesgojo]

jjk characters handling your period

Summary: “What do you mean, no baby this month either? Okay, suffer then.” - your damn uterus

Pairings: Gojo/Megumi/Nanami/Naoya/Toji x Reader

Content warning: the monthly bloody nightmare your uterus puts you through and the whole shebang that comes with it, language warning, suggestive themes, explicit warning for Toji (you’ll see why)

A/N: purely self-indulgent because I suffer. @megumifushi and @sukirichi , my gals, I gotcha. Also dedicated to all readers who suffer from the same fate (may it be right now or not). Also: Yes, absolutely open the video I linked in Megumi’s part (it’s safe, I promise).

Gojo Satoru

You turn and turn in bed uncomfortably. Something isn’t right, you think and it’s not the fact that Satoru is missing next to you. Not knowing immediately irritates you. All of a sudden you become painfully aware of your lower region. Yes, of course it had to be that time of the month. You just knew you already stained your panties and perhaps the sheets haven’t been spared either. Getting out of bed, then realizing it was already past noon, you sprinted to the bathroom. Fuck, moving fast was not a good idea. 

Having changed the sheets and your stained panties, you made your way to the kitchen. Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, but at the same time you feared. Smelling food, let alone tasting too much of it, was a slippery slope – either your nose would protest or your stomach, no in-between. Regardless, you had to eat; or were you supposed to starve to death because of this? Not in this lifetime. “I AM BACK!” an annoyingly loud voice rang through the apartment. You groan and turn around. “Fuck off, Satoru,” you say. Your irritation flaring up for seemingly no reason. “Stop being so motherfucking loud. My head feels like it’s going to split in two and my pussy is fighting the crimson war right now,” you snarled at him.

“Oh honey, seems like I called the right shots then,” he declared proudly and held up a bag filled with... snacks? “I already called in sick for you for the next few days,” Satoru continued to explain as he wrapped his arms around you, “and I’ll be by your side 24/7 for the next two days. We’ll do fun stuff. How does movie night with lots of cuddling for tonight sound?”

“Why are you so nice to me right now?” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Simple: I don’t want to be castrated by you,” he whispered back and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Fair enough. What will we do tomorrow?” He stayed silent but pulled out a black card out of his sleeve. You gasped.

Fushiguro Megumi

Ping. A notification. Quickly, you scrambled to get your phone to see what that was about. You desperately needed some distraction right now. The pain was too much. Your boyfriend Megumi had gone somewhere you didn’t know. All you knew was that your boobs were sore, the sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric were already too much. In addition to that, you also experienced period cramps, resulting in back pain as well. Life was not easy at the moment but at least you could lay in bed for today, doing absolutely nothing.

Unlocking your phone, you saw a new message from Yuji: “omg look at this???” [Video link] It was a video of 42 seconds. There was a cute seal – probably the cutest and fluffiest seal you have ever seen – and background music. It may have only lasted 42 seconds but it definitely triggered some happy feelings inside you; it was so pure and you loved the energy of the clip. Perhaps these feelings were a bit too intense and overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It wasn’t even a sad video, was it?

You buried your face in the blankets, weeping as if someone just broke up with you. Through your loud crying, you did not notice the door opening. A jangling noise could be heard from your nightstand. Instantly, you shot up to check for intruders but luckily, it was Megumi. A frown spread on his face. “What happened?” he asked as his thumbs wiped your tears from your cheeks. You showed him the video, still sobbing, “Look at the seal... It’s so c-cute. I just... got emotional because it really t-traveled the world. This cutie deserves the whole world...”

“And so do you,” he bluntly stated, “now take the ibuprofen I brought you for the cramps and rest up.” As a matter of fact, he not only brought you painkillers but a hot water bottle and food as well.

Nanami Kento

“No, give me that. Lay down and rest. I can dust off the shelves on my own,” his deep voice commanded. If there was a man that screamed “male wife” it was definitely Nanami Kento, particularly when it came to you being on your period. You weren’t allowed to do anything in the house, except for very light chores. With good reason. “Kento, I can do–” Yeah, no, it wasn’t possible and Kento knew it too well.

You weren’t lucky when it came to period symptoms. Besides excruciating back pain, extremely sore breasts and headaches, you also had the luck to suffer from dizziness every single time you experienced the monthly nuisance. The first time you even passed out. In fact, it had happened several times. And that was precisely how Kento decided to not let you do anything. Still, you felt bad to leave everything to Kento. His work already demanded so much from him and here you were, being babied and even spoon-fed. You didn’t even have to cook your own meals or wash and iron laundry.

You had barely said those words when the unwelcome whirling sensation took you over again. Your feet wobbled, you were in danger of crashing to the ground. In a flash, Kento was by your side to steady you. “I told you not to overdo it.” He cupped your cheek with his warm hand. “Sorry, Kento. I’ll... just rest for a minute.”

Zenin Naoya

Period pain? Laughable. Naoya thought it was pathetic. A woman – these already weak creatures – having period symptoms was a mystery to him. What could possibly hurt about bleeding a little? He couldn’t understand. Your pitiable and sorry state was only another inconvenience to him. Not that you hindered him in any way – you were obedient enough to be quiet and complain as little as possible – but he absolutely despised seeing that annoying expression of pain on your face every time he had to look at it.

Hell, he didn’t even want to engage in sexual activities with you during that time, even though he had randomly picked up somewhere that it might help. Not that he wanted to help you, it was your problem and yours only, not his. “Stop looking at me with those eyes. It’s disgusting,” he remarked condescendingly as he got dressed for wherever he had to go. “When will you be back?” you croaked out but he totally ignored you.

“Women are so damn weak. It’s so fucking pathetic, I almost want to give you a hug,” Naoya gagged. He was about to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of your face that was contorted with pain. In long strides, he made it to one of the cabinets, fished out a tiny box and threw it on the bed. “Tsk, you better get well soon so you can serve me again, dumb bitch.”

Fushiguro Toji (soft)

Work hadn’t been treating him kindly: not yesterday, not today, not ever. Although he was highly capable and never failed to exceed himself, all Toji truly wanted to do was to go home. When he finally made it through the door, he called out, “Am home.” Usually, you would come running to greet him but when nothing but silence greeted him, his hand instantly moved to the cursed creature lingering on his shoulder. It was suspicious. Did enemies manage to find this hideout? Where were you? His hands started sweating.

Stealthily, he approached the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw your form in front of the counter, hunched over in pain. Dropping his offensive stance immediately, he quickly strode over to check on you. “Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked, hesitatingly putting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, grimacing with pain, “Oh, Toji. I didn’t realize you were home yet. Sorry, I’m not done cooking dinner yet, I just feel so nauseous, exhausted and my entire back  and shoulders hurt so much. It’s so sore.” “I see.” He nodded, understanding what was happening. Suddenly, he lifted you effortlessly. You squealed, “Toji!! What are you doing?!” “Taking care of you,” he promised. “But dinner!” “Don’t care.”

Making his way to the bedroom, Toji laid down with you on top of him. Something about his warmth already made you feel better but as his large palms rubbed your back in circular motions, you felt as if you were in heaven. Toji’s ministrations soothed the pain so well, you almost let out a moan. Now that the pain didn’t overshadow all the other symptoms anymore, the drowsiness took over. “Toji, ‘m tired,” you mumbled; eyelids fluttering already. “Then sleep. I’ll take care of dinner later,” he whispered. You only hummed in response, already far too gone. Slowly but surely, his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Taglist: @megumifushi​ @gojos-mochi​ @assbuttbaek​ @bleueluna​ 

[lubdubsworld]

Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC 

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so ) 

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes] 

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond. 

Everyday began much the same. 

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work. 

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point. 

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes. 

But not today. 

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little. 

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?” 

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way. 

It had been eight years ago.

 A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg. 

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back. 

But the nerve damage stayed. 

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches. 

But it wasn’t something I could hide. 

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed. 

The girl who couldn’t walk. 

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place. 

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.” 

I smiled a little. 

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said . 

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly. 

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole. 

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran  marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered. 

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy. 

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large  portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed. 

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be. 

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company. 

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son. 

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing. 

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me. 

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad. 

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it. 

It was a brutal sort of realization. 

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change. 

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate. 

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed. 

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.  

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking. 

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.                                                              

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me? 

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone  and of course, how little he cared about me. 

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid. 

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him. 

There was a reason. There had to be. 

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to 

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days. 

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me. 

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant. 

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

 Finally. Now he can’t leave you. 

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in. 

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face. 

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here? 

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped. 

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me. 

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms. 

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the 

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?” 

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare. 

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively. 

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated. 

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned. 

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking. 

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists. 

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would. 

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes .  I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked. 

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away. 

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened. 

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt. 

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “ 

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly. 

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway. 

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

 Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it? 

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were  a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to 

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it. 

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day. 

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked. 

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch. 

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared , 

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously. 

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left. 

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either. 

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate. 

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place. 

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me. 

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting. 

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name. 

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. 

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something. 

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed. 

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?” 

He exhaled sharply. 

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I’d been standing for too long. 

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled. 

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint. 

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened. 

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head. 

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore. 

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly. 

 Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

 I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out. 

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost. 

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath. 

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a  thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it. 

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face. 

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.” 

Silence. 

“Have you told your parents?” 

I exhaled sharply.

“No.” 

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him. 

“No.” I said softly. 

He sighed. 

“Alright. Should  I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?” 

I laughed. 

“How very practical of you..” i said. 

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

 This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly. 

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted. 

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us? 

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently. 

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?” 

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt. 

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.” 

I turned away. 

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down. 

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest. 

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing. 

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling. 

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought. 

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control. 

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

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

previous - masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look, who's here!"

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

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

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

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

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

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

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

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

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

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

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

What the actual fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would never work.

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

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

Now you really need to get drunk.

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

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

Everything he does.

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

Sort of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're on the verge of tears.

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

Why?

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

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

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

Of course, you'd call him.

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

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

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

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

"No fun at all."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The app says what?"

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

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

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

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

"What does the message say?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Junggoo-"

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

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

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

"You just said that!"

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

"Oh." Makes more sense.

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

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

"Fucking invite me then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

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

"For fuck's sake!"

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

Why doesn't it mortify you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're lying."

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

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

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

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

"This one sucks ass."

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

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

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

"Am not, you are."

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

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

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

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

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

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

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

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

"Your stupid toy."

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

"Never told you to buy it."

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

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

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

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

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

"See?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So is-"

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

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

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

"It sucks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's what I heard though."

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

Oh. My God.

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

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

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

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

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

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

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

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

"Are you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait-"

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

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

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

"Uh?"

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's not."

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

"It is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? Why not?"

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

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

Fuck.

You are doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

"I think so..."

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

"Why would you stay?"

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

"There's an option for that?"

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

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

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

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

"But if you stay-"

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

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

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

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

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

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

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, indeed."

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

"Your whole existence is awkward."

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

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

"You put your earbuds on."

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

Fine.

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

"Put the thing on."

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

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

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

"Oh. Do you now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you still dressed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[windblooms]

Hi!! Could you do headcanons of Diluc, Kayea, Childe and Zhongli with a s/o who is touch starved but is too shy to intimate physical affection please? Thank you!💙

decided to answer the two of these in the same ask since they have similar personalities for the reader, and they evolved into scenarios.  hopefully what i’ve written is all right!

edit: to the second anon, i’m sorry, i don’t know how people write more than 500 characters in asks. ㅠㅠ  is it maybe a submission . . . ?

childe:

as a very perceptive individual, childe would pick up on your hesitations relatively soon, however won’t say anything about them outright.  

while he may ask you if something’s wrong whenever you reach out, but self-consciously pull away, or when you’re on the verge of words but can’t bring yourself to speak, he won’t pry into your meekness. 

he knows that some people prefer to keep things to themselves or away from others – he’s a prime example of this himself.  so he doesn’t want to push you, but will continue to keep mental tabs on when you shrink away, or backtrack after you sound as if you’re going to ask him something.

if the trend continues for a while, he’ll eventually sit down to talk with you about it.  he’ll discuss with you patiently, not wanting to invade past things you might not want to share just yet, but he still tries to find the cause of your hesitancies so he can better understand you.

“there’s something bothering you, isn’t there?” he leans forward across the table, and rests his chin on his hand.  “you can tell me, you know.  i’ll try and help you with it.”

as you take your time to answer, he grows increasingly concerned, but still wears a poker face to not influence you as well.  across the table, he’ll slowly reach out his hand as a means of comfort, and clasp yours when you don’t pull away.

you begin to speak about your uncertainties, and childe listens intently.  ah, so that was it – now that you mention it, the two of you don’t hold hands much, or really touch each other.  he had assumed that’s how you preferred it, little to no physical touch.  but now that you’ve explained why you’ve concealed those wishes . . . 

“i’d be more than willing to hold you.”  childe’s words are soft, and he manages a small smile to encourage you.  as soon as your face flushes, though, he can tell that there’s something else you want to say.  so he pauses, expectant, but you still seem nervous.

he takes a gander and speaks.  “we can start off slow, if you want . . .  actually, anything you want, you can tell me.  you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed.”

from there, the two of you work out what you want.  you both agree to take it slow, since this will be a first for you; small touches against each other’s fingers as reassurance, and taps against his shoulder when you’re too nervous to outright ask for his attention.  he also has something of his own to suggest:

“there’s some custom that mondstadtians have,” childe ponders aloud suddenly.  “hm – something about tapping three times, meaning ‘i love you’?”

at his notion, you become bashful, and look down towards your lap.  you know where he’s going with this, and at your reaction, the snezhnayan chuckles, unfolding his hands from atop each other to squeeze yours in demonstration.

“one, two, three.  it’s just gonna be between us, all right?”

diluc:

diluc is arguably one of the most emotionally reserved characters in all of mondstadt.  sure, he’s got a sense of dry humor and wit whenever he feels snarky enough, but when it comes to personal sentiments?  he keeps them behind lock and key, with the exception of passive aggression.

if you’re self-conscious about asking for affection, such as when you’re about to reach out to tap at his hand yet pull back at the last instant, you find him looking at you expectatntly, his notorious half-lidded gaze fixated on you.  if there’s something you want, you’ll ask for it is his mentality, since he assumes that the two of you are both comfortable enough in your relationship to do so.  and relationships are built around trust.  so why are you hesitating?

that is to say, he doesn’t stare at you until you crack.  after a few seconds, he’ll look away, and resume whatever he was doing beforehand.  if it were anyone else, he’d most likely ask them verbally what they want, since there’s no use in prolonging the time, and he’s an impatient man. 

he makes a conscious effort to be more gentle with you.  he can’t quite tell if you appreciate it though especially in these scenarios, since you always chew at your lip and refrain from looking at him afterwards.

diluc will only allude to these instances.  he’ll ask “is there something you need?” or “is something the matter?”  he has no experience with physical affection of any sort, at least since his father all those years ago.  so he’d be quite lost with your circumstance; he doesn’t know at all what you want unless you make a verbal indication as to what it is. 

one day, in the privacy of his office, he senses your fingers just near his forearm.  diluc looks over in time to see you clasp his coat rather shakily, but your hold is there nonetheless.  much like usual, he’ll peer at you with a half-lidded gaze, although this time he addresses how skittish you appear. 

“something the matter?” he’ll say as per usual, but this time he isn’t vague; he’s referring to your sudden committance to reaching out as opposed to pulling away.

“ . . . just wanted to hold you.”  your confession is a mere whisper, but your boyfriend still hears it.  the two of you sit in silence for a bit, before he turns his body and puts his hand on the side of your head, pressing gently so that you lean flush against his arm. 

you’re speechless, however the circumstance doesn’t need words anymore.  content with you hugging his arm, and now understanding your wants, diluc continues to work as you drift asleep against him.  while there’s still a ways to go, as he’s sure that this isn’t the only desire you have, it’s surely a start.

kaeya:

the astute captain that he is, kaeya can hone into your desires with relative ease.

before you can retract your hand after reaching out, he’s already grasped it in his own.  you’re caught off-guard, not expecting his agility, but his grip isn’t firm or unpleasant; it’s gentle, as if he’s caring for glass.

he lowers his face so that the two of you are eye-level.  “no need to be shy.  it’s just us.”  kaeya’s reassurance is playful at first, until your contemplative silence queues him in on the severity of your timidness.

he’s concerned: is there something serious that’s bothering you?  he’d just assumed that you wanted to hold hands, or lean on each other.  for how long it takes you to speak, he’s thinking the worst: is a coworker bothering you?  are you ill with a fever?  kaeya’s eyebrows furrow, and he immediately speaks again.  “what’s wrong, precious?  tell me, please.”

looking up at him, you realize that he has the wrong impression.  tenderly enveloping your cheek with his hands, rubbing your skin with his thumbs, you sink into the affection – but he’s got the wrong idea.  

“i-it’s fine,” you begin, and he blinks rapidly.  “just . . . wanted to, uh,” you nudge further into his hands, and squeeze his arms gently, “ . . . touch you.”

ah.  your meekness makes sense now, although considering your personality, his initial guesses probably wouldn’t have been far off.  nevertheless, kaeya indulges you, even if you both continue the circumstance in silence.  it’s evident that you’ve been holding back this request for a while, and as much as he loves to tease and would like to in this moment, he doesn’t believe now is an appropriate time.

so, kaeya continues to stroke your face, soothing away your nerves.  his other hand clasps yours in your lap, giving you the time and affection you crave.  

he finds your vulnerability endearing, but there’s guilt on his conscience: why have you been nervous to approach him about this, and why did he not pick up on it sooner?  not that he expects you to come for him for everything – kaeya just theorizes that there must be some reason as to why you appear so touch-starved, and he’s thinking the worst about such a reason.

“feeling better?”  he inquires, still cradling your face, and he pulls you into a hug.  his warmth is reassuring to you – the security that you’ve longed for.  if this is what affection feels like, you’re not sure that you’d ever want to pull away.

“yeah.”  hesitantly, you lift your face from his chest, but your arms remain around his waist.  your boyfriend grins slightly, and ruffles your hair, pushing your bangs aside so he can kiss your forehead.

“tell me about it.  we can figure this out together.” 

zhongli:

about three weeks into your relationship is when zhongli receives questions from hu tao: “hey, you and y/n don’t touch each other at all.  i know you’re ‘professional’ and stuff, but jeez – not even hand-holding?  thought it’d get more exciting at this point.”

and while he initially thought of her remarks as rude – your relationship isn’t any of her business – it did prompt him to consider her words.

specifically, she’s right: while he’s generally busy at wangsheng, he strives to make time for you whenever possible.  and in that time, never once have either of you touched each other.  he’s never minded, since he’s admittedly gone without it for so long and is used to life without it – but it’s the modern age, and isn’t it customary for liyuens to . . . ?

so he takes it upon himself to ask you over dinner.  he’s made bamboo shoot soup for you tonight, and as you sit across the table from him, finishing the dish, he speaks so candidly it nearly makes you choke on your last bite.

“would you like to hold hands in the market tomorrow?”

“what?”

zhongli makes a strange face.  he knows you heard him, so why do you also look startled, and are averting your eyes?

he repeats himself nonetheless, and while you do answer him this time, it’s by mumbling under your breath.

“ – odd question,” is how you start, and your boyfriend folds his hands underneath his face, yet doesn’t rest his chin.  “um, sure.  yeah, sure . . . ”

you most definitely do not sound sure, but it’s in a way that further perplexes him.  you look . . . thrilled now?  he can see that you’re refraining from smiling – the corners of your mouth flutter – but why?  zhongli doesn’t recall saying anything that would be good news . . .

“is something the matter?” the archon supplies instead, to which you shake your head.  your hands are in your lap.

“ah, no.  what you said just came out of no where.”  an unconcealed smile from you now, and zhongli finds himself relaxing.  if you’re certain, that’s all he cares about.

he stands up, and prepares to take your dish to the kitchen.  before though, he makes sure to bring you up to your feet, and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“may i kiss you?”  he asks, suddenly, unexpectedly.  he sees you nod, the slight pressing of your lips together, and gives them a quick peck before retreating; zhongli can still taste the slight bamboo left over.

when the two of you draw away, there’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks.  once more, you seem giddy, however this time he doesn’t have to ask why.

“i’ve never done this before.”  there’s trepidation in your voice that causes his brows to furrow slightly.  “so . . . it’s all right if we start out slow, right?”

“of course,” zhongli doesn’t hesitate to respond.  you could mean so many things, and he isn’t sure which you’re referring to: initiating physicality with him, or maybe that you’ve never had a partner before . . . ?  but he doesn't dwell on that.  “your comfort is what matters.”

in the market the next day, zhongli finds comfort in the slight tugs on his coat sleeve from your fingers, and the smile that beams on your visage.