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amywritesthings · 4 months ago

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press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops.

You know it isn’t.

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?”

You hate yourself for a second.

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop.

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately.

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

— —

“Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall?

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side.

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!�� you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth.

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

— —

The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

— —

Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training.

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate.

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage.

Luckily, the screen is intact.

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast.

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat.

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone.

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously.

You can’t speak.

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #press four for more options

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months ago

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Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?”

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before.

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him.

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink.

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away.

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?”

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping.

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad.

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too.

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway.

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.”

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply.

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours.

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water.

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him.

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys.

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable.

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.”

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it.

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way.

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand.

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening.

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv.

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.”

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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p0orbaby · 2 months ago

Text

I’d Probably Still Adore You with Your Hands Around My Neck

summary: leah has a secret

warnings: SMUT 18+, sub!dom, bottom!leah

a/n: your request is my command

word count: 1.6k

It starts with a look. A subtle one, really, just a quick flick of Leah’s eyes, down and up, like she’s checking to see if you noticed. But you always notice.

You’re observant like that. Like a hawk, or maybe more like a cat, because there’s something inherently smug about the way you register these things. It’s how you caught on to Leah’s little secret in the first place.

You’re in the kitchen, and she’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through something utterly boring on her phone. Probably an article about defensive strategies or how to perfect her backspin. You’re chopping vegetables, slowly, because you’ve caught on to the fact that Leah has a thing for watching you use knives. It’s not the sharp objects themselves that do it; it’s the way you’re so confident with them, the way you handle everything with this casual precision that borders on reckless but never actually is. You’re good with your hands, and she knows it. Really knows it.

You catch her peeking at you again and decide to test the waters. “Leah, can you pass me the olive oil?”

A simple request. Nothing too loaded. But you notice the way she hesitates before reaching for the bottle. You wait, pretending not to care, but your ears are pricked for any sign of the shift.

She hands you the oil, and you make a point of brushing your fingers against hers when you take it. Just to see what happens.

She shivers.

You almost laugh out loud, but you’re not cruel. Not too cruel, anyway. Instead, you give her a small, almost imperceptible smile, a reward for being such a good sport, and turn back to your chopping.

“So,” you say casually, “anything exciting happening today?”

She grunts, which is her standard answer for “not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.” You wonder, as you slide the knife through the tomato, if she even knows what’s happening. If she notices that with every slice of the blade, she’s slipping further into that place where she’s not entirely in control anymore.

It’s a subtle descent, like someone drifting off to sleep, and you’re more than happy to nudge her along.

“Why don’t you come over here,” you suggest, your voice still light, breezy, as if you’re not luring her into anything at all. “Keep me company”

She pushes off the counter and walks over, stopping just behind you. Close, but not too close. Always so careful, your Leah. Always so measured.

But when you turn around, leaning against the island with the knife still in hand, you see that look again. That flash of something dark and needy that she tries so hard to keep under wraps. You can’t help yourself; you press in closer, until your chest is almost brushing hers, until you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“You seem tense,” you murmur, pretending to inspect her face for any signs of stress. “Rough day?”

Leah swallows hard, but she doesn’t move back. “Just the usual,” she says, her voice low. A little too low.

You set the knife down and grab a piece of cucumber from the cutting board, holding it up to her lips. “Here,” you say, like you’re being the kindest girlfriend in the world. “Eat”

She hesitates again, and you can almost see the wheels turning in her head. She’s calculating, analysing, trying to figure out if this is a trap. But she doesn’t want to disappoint you, so she opens her mouth, and you slide the cucumber between her lips.

Her eyes flutter shut, just for a second, and you have to suppress a grin. She’s such a sucker for this. You’re not sure if it’s the authority in your voice or the way you’re feeding her like she’s some pampered pet, but either way, it’s working.

You take another slice, holding it up again. “Good girl,” you whisper, and this time, her eyes snap open with a look that makes your pulse multiply. There it is, the crack in her armor, the thing she’s trying so hard to hide but can’t.

She chews and swallows, her throat bobbing, and you wonder how far you can push this. How much she’ll let you get away with before she snaps. You’ve been doing this for a while now, playing these little games, but it’s still a thrill to see how much she’s willing to surrender.

You set the cucumber down and grab her hips, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you. “I think you need to relax,” you say, and she nods, almost imperceptibly, like she’s too scared to actually agree out loud.

You lean in, your lips brushing her ear. “Bedroom,” you whisper, and she shudders against you.

She hesitates again, just for a second, before she turns and walks toward the bedroom. You follow, taking your time, watching the way her shoulders tense and relax with every step. She’s trying to play it cool, but you know better. You’ve got her exactly where you want her.

By the time you reach the bedroom, she’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching her. She looks so small like this, so different from the commanding presence she usually carries herself with.

You cross the room and stand in front of her, your hands sliding up her arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. “Lie back,” you say, and she does, her breath hitching as her back hits the mattress.

You climb onto the bed, straddling her hips, and you can feel the way her body reacts to the weight of you on top of her. Her hands twitch at her sides, like she’s not sure what to do with them.

“Hands above your head,” you instruct, and she complies, her fingers gripping the pillow behind her. She’s always so eager to please, so ready to follow orders, and it’s almost too easy to get her like this. Almost.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers, and you feel her body tense beneath you. She’s waiting, anticipating, and you let the moment stretch out, let her feel the weight of your control before you finally press your lips against hers.

She kisses you back with a desperation that makes you ache, her mouth opening under yours, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s trying to tell you something without words. And maybe she is, maybe this is her way of saying she needs this, that she’s been craving this, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

You pull back, just enough to break the kiss, and you watch the way her chest rises and falls, the way her breath comes in short, shallow gasps. She’s already so worked up, and you haven’t even touched her properly yet.

You slide your hands down her body, feeling the way her muscles jump under your touch. “You’re so tense,” you murmur, your fingers trailing over her ribs, her stomach. “You need to calm down”

She nods, her eyes wide and dark, and you can see the way she’s fighting to keep herself together, to not lose it completely. But you’re not going to make it easy for her. Not tonight.

You slide your hand lower, slipping under the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps as your fingers brush against her. She’s already wet, and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that spreads across your face.

“So needy,” you tease, and she lets out a soft whimper, her hips bucking up against your hand.

You take your time, dragging your fingers through her slick heat, feeling the way she shudders beneath you. You can tell she’s trying to hold back, to not give in too quickly, but you’re not having that.

“Don’t hold back,” you say, your voice firm. “Let me hear you”

She whimpers again, louder this time, and you reward her by sliding two fingers inside her, feeling the way she clenches around you. She’s so tight, so hot, and it’s all you can do to not lose yourself in the sensation of her.

You start to move your fingers, slow and steady, and you watch the way her eyes flutter shut, the way her mouth falls open in a silent moan. She’s so beautiful like this, so open and vulnerable, and it makes your heart race to know that you’re the one who gets to see her like this, who gets to make her feel this way.

You pick up the pace, your thumb circling her clit, and she’s panting now, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She’s close, you can feel it, and you lean down, pressing your lips to her ear.

“Come for me,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes.

She cries out, her body going rigid under you as she comes apart, and you keep moving your fingers, drawing out her pleasure until she’s trembling, her whole body shaking with the force of it.

You finally slow down, easing her through the aftershocks, and you pull your hand away, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you watch her chest heave with the effort of catching her breath.

You slide off her, lying down beside her, and you pull her into your arms, feeling the way she finally relaxes against you, her body melting into yours.

She’s still shaking a little, and you press a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering soothing words in her ear as she comes down from her high.

You can feel the way she’s clinging to you, like she’s afraid to let go, and it makes your heart swell with affection for her.

“Good girl,” you murmur, and she sighs, her breath warm against your skin. “You did so well”

She doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles closer to you, and you can feel the way her body is still humming with the afterglow of her orgasm.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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jewelleria · 8 months ago

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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

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dyinbymistake · 27 days ago

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male fantasy

i got a call from a girl i used to know,

we were inseparable years ago.

constance evermore.

oh how billie loved that girl when she was a teenager, she loved her so much she wished she could’ve held onto her tighter and never let her go into the bad world they lived in alone.

constance and billie were close friends growing up, both of the two bonded over having a interest in the musical arts. as billie had said many times, one of her choir teachers never liked her, but he did like constance which is a reason for bringing the two so close.

and ever since the friendship blossomed. throughout the whole beginning of her career constance was there. never leaving billie’s side until an argument drove the two of them to fall apart. constance was so hurt and betrayed and yet billie was feeling the same way. so bad she mentioned it briefly in a song or two.

and it was all over a stupid boy

and that was years ago, it was now october 20, 2024, specifically 12:21 am. constance was in west hollywood with a few friends at some random party, she had no clue who’s it was but she didn’t care until someone behind her mentioned billie now she didn’t even wanna be there, so she left.

the thing was they never said billie was at the party. just the mention of her name ruined her mood. it’s been five fucking years since they last talked and she wasn’t over it. i mean how could she be? half the internet knows verses from male fantasy is about her.

and tv is one thousand percent about her. she knows it herself, everyone does. but no one knows why. everyday those two nights the songs were based on were on her mind and it always brought her to tears.

guilt never leaving and she just wished she never made that phone call. maybe she would’ve been long moved on by now.

like billie was.

constance shivered as she sat on the curb and her cheeks stained with tears mixed with mascara and glitter.

straight out of euphoria type shit

DECEMBER 6, 2018

constance sat next to the blue haired girl. her legs rested on top of her best friend. the two were backstage of a concert billie was invited to. and unfortunately her boyfriend was there.

much to billie’s dismay. constance and q didn’t get along, like ever. but billie being billie never let anyone tell her anything. so constance always kept her thoughts to herself because she hated when billie was mad at her.

but this time she couldn’t take it anymore. the way, billie was sulking in her seat, looking border than ever because it was supposed to be a date, then he invited friends, so she invited constance and it pissed the younger girl off. billie didn’t deserve this.

“i mean like, doesn’t he clearly see i’m bored? connie do i look happy?” the redhead looked at her, out of habit, the first thing she does is admire her best friends face before she nods.

“you and i are equally bored, who even is the performer again?” billie sighed and shrugged “i have no fucking clue, wanna go look for food or some shit? q ate my taco bell”

constance rolled her eyes at that but stood up anyway. she smiled at the girl in front of her as she reached her hands out for her to grab. “maybe they have vegan food”

“hopefully, fries kinda sound good right now though” constance nodded in agreement.

the two sat on the couch eating their shared fries when q walked over, his first instinct was to give constance a dirty look which didn’t go unseen by her, she returned the look to which billie caught this time.

“constance.” she warned, the girl only rolled her eyes. don’t make her mad. she reminded herself. but it continued the whole night.

constantly throwing dirty looks and making comments billie would ignore.

and she couldn’t take it anymore when billie went to the bathroom and q decided to speak up when it wasn’t wanted. “so, when are you leaving? it’s supposed to be me and billie tonight .. and you’re kinda ruining the vibe” constance froze and slowly looked up at him.

“excuse me? i’m ruining it? you brought your stupid friends, if we wanna be dumb then blame it on something else but i am not ruining this, you did. and just so you know this is a horrible birthday date idea. billie deserves better so do fucking better asshole”

he stared at her in shock and disbelief, every few seconds his eyes shifted from her to behind her. “what the fuck are you looking at?” she turned frustrated, her eyes widened when they met billie’s angry ones.

“bil..” she began, but the girl was already walking away, constance rushed after her.

“billie stop.” “what the fuck was that? why would you yell at him like that, he did nothing wrong constance!” she scoffed under her breath, billie’s ocean eyes glaring at her.

“you seriously cannot be mad at me, bil i did nothing but defend you and myself, i wasn’t lying when i said you deserve better! i mean look at this? the concert hasn’t even started and he brought his friends like really?”

“never did i need or ask you to defend me so just stop! he’s my boyfriend, as my best friend you should respect that. if you have a crush on me and you’re trying to break us up just say that” “you cannot be fucking serious”

billie shrugged her shoulders, her face blank while constance stared at her, arms crossed and in disbelief. billie’s eyes avoided hers knowing she’d immediately see how hurt constance looked.

but billie wasn’t in the wrong right?

“you’re my best friend, i don’t have a crush on you. i’m sorry for trying to be a good friend but maybe i’m done trying, so go back to your boyfriend, i’m going home. text me when you realize how fucked you sound”

she never texted, constance didn’t reach out either. both too stubborn to text each other. it went on for a whole year of this.

billie hated it, she hated everything going on. she regretted that night a lot, looking back on it now that she was older and matured. she was one thousand percent in the wrong.

so when constance called, a year later, she thought she’d be able to apologize. but she didn’t, the call felt like six seconds long.

JANUARY 6, 2020

billie didn’t speak much. “tell your fans to leave me alone” was all that was said. billie felt stupid for thinking it could’ve been that she missed her and wanted billie to apologize.

but maybe billie should’ve just reached out first like she was supposed to. “uhm, i don’t know what you’re-” “they’re harassing me still because they still think we’re privately dating and that i cheated or something because i posted my boyfri - billie just speak out” constance sighed in frustration.

the blonde’s heart fluttered remembering how they were so close everyone genuinely thought they were together. and maybe billie did have a crush on constance, maybe she pushed her away because that scared her so she convinced herself constance was wrong.

she’d never been with a girl before, her first kiss was constance, but, they were thirteen and just wanted to practice’. and for some reason hearing that constance was in a relationship hurt.

if she wasn’t a bitch that day, constance wouldn’t be getting harassed because maybe her and billie could’ve been more.

“uhm, i’ll - i’m sorry i’ll say something on my story” she stuttered over her words, constance was silent before a small thank you was heard. “how have you been connie? i heard that you - you model right? for prada”

“i didn’t call to talk like that billie, i have to go. just say something on your story”

thought we’d get along, but it wasn’t so

#Spotify #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #fanfic #fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!oc #imagine #idk man

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mentally-gone002 · 4 months ago

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spencer reid headcannons because i said so!!!!! these are kinda dating headcannons but some general stuff too

a/n: plot twist guys im bored… again… (i’m unemployed and can’t drive so im stuck at home all day) (update: i wrote this two days ago and now i have my license)

———————————————————————

spencer doesn’t catch onto how relationships work very fast

^^^ it’s very much so a “trust the process” with him but when he’s got it he’s good

he likes contact but also hates it at the same time

he has certain borders he doesn’t want crossed so like… if you’re dating him linking pinkies happens more often than holding hands

memorizes things abt you just because (the color of pen you like most or your fav lip balm, just little details)

takes him a minute to get used to like romantic stuff too

so if you surprise him with like… dinner that’s somewhat romantic at home he’s like

“why’re there so many candles?”

or something like that because he’s smart but dumb at the same time

he doesn’t laugh often so when he does you’re all surprised and it perplexes him

i feel like his love languages would be like… words of affirmation and quality time

like yes he’ll get all nervous if you compliment him but he rlly likes it because i feel like he craves it in a way

quality time to him would consist of just being in the same room

^^^ he’d be reading and you’d be finishing work from the day and the only noise is like breathing and page turning and computer keys and he’s just loving it

spencer seems like the guy who would get butterflies in the palms of his hands and he gets like sensory overload from that sometimes

so when you make him happy or flustered he’s gonna be digging his nails into his palm to make the feeling go away because he’s never felt like that before????

doesn’t listen to music very often but he does have a few cds of classical or jazz (music taste is so hard to determine)

he would definitely get surprised when you try and take pictures with him

^^^ you’ll just get your camera and sit beside him on the couch and tell him to smile and he’d be confused because there’s probably not a lot of pictures of him

he writes you notes and leaves them on the fridge or on your nightstand

kisses on the cheek more than on the lips

he knows how to dance

can’t explain it he just does lol

the bau team would find out about you by seeing both him and you out in public somewhere in DC and would sneak a picture and then ask him abt it later at work

if you work with him the whole team knows abt the relationship before you tell them or if you don’t keep it a secret they’re still like “we know” and spencer’s surprised

goes nonverbal sometimes if somethings bothering him

little spoon when he is okay with cuddling

he is a talker okay! so he’ll sometimes just go on and on about something and you’ll just listen because it’s CUTE

he doodles when he’s bored so sometimes he has a sticky note on his desk covered in little pictures

^^^ morgan teases about it so spencer keeps all his drawing hidden in a drawer

he likes to stand in the rain sometimes even though it makes his socks wet (which he hates because sensory stuff) but he likes how it makes everything smell clean

can’t cook but he can bake because it’s just science and he’s a little nerd baby so he’s got baking in the bag

he decorates for halloween a month early and leaves decorations up until thanksgiving

phone calls>>> texts

i feel like spencer would have tics for some reason??? like either his mouth will twitch or it’ll be smth with his hands??

he collects coffee mugs

very subtle sleeper build

loves having his hair played with

he likes cats

teaches you chess and looses to you a few times

he writes abt you in his letters to his mom

^^^ when you eventually meet diana she immediately likes you

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x you

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bindeds · 9 months ago

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⊹・° ｡ㅤ BOYFRIEND VOX / LUCIFER / ALASTOR X FEM READER HEADCANONS ! — now i know alastor is aroace so i am once again making a post that acknowledges that as much as possible, meaning his headcanons can also be seen as platonic and his nsfw section doesn’t involve him engaging in the act of sex. i also made an aroace friendly headcanons post on alastor if you wanna check that out!

contains nsfw (+18) and it will be in a separate section <3 please credit me if you use these gifs!

mlist. request status.

VOX.

this man pampers the SHIT out of you and you cannot tell me otherwise. if you’re out walking in the streets of hell and you so much as look at a branded purse for a second longer than usual, it’s in your hands within the next five seconds. same goes for literally anything—clothes, shoes, sunglasses, books, anything you could want that isn’t a gadget, because he already gives you his latest models—only the finest for his girl.

he teleports to your phone screen whenever you ignore him, and you don’t tell him that you find it particularly endearing. the way he’s just so whiny for your attention that he’d act all petty and crash all your apps so you’re forced to look him in the face.

has the most funniest fucking pet names for you i just KNOW IT HAHA like think shrek’s prince charming. i just know that when you call him from a different room he’d definitely say shit like “just a second honey kisses!” like HAHAH I CAN’T GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD

DEFINITELY loves having you sit on his lap while he works. i just know this man is a thigh grabber.

he loves when you dress in sweater vests, preferably in brighter colors but it’s cute when you use more muted colors as well.

relating back to my first point, this man loves taking you to extravagant AND I MEAN extravagant dates. i imagine one of them would be getting the both of you a literal floating table in the red skies of hell so you can see the entire pentagram from where you dine. he would have the food freshly delivered from the finest chefs he knows but he also seems like the type who would forget your favorite food, then demand that the food switched out with a snap of his fingers.

i’m judging this purely off of ‘stayed gone’ but he has a TON of terrible jokes up his sleeves, and they border on dad jokes at this point. you simply roll your eyes and kiss him for being so silly.

i just know this man comes home to you and WHINES. like, no matter what it is, he’ll always have something to complain about from work and you’re happy to listen to him bitch and moan about the smallest things ever. he also lays down on your lap and you to rub his shoulders and console him, whatever it is. you know he appreciates it because he usually always responds with something along the lines of “you’re right, baby, i do push myself too hard!” and you coo at him while continuing to console him further.

VOX NSFW !

i know he definitely gets irritated when someone interrupts his work but would be so into having sex on the job, and even loves ignoring calls from the vees for you. but of course doing it one too many times has its consequences, and he laughs nervously the one time he backs out. i can just imagine him going, “oh, haha, uh—sorry baby, i uh—listen i know we usually—it’s—FUCK um—just—just five minutes okay baby?”

i know this man’s hickeys feel like tiny zaps on your skin, and the marks reflect that instead of bruises

regarding the ‘sitting on his lap’ thing … you tried riding his thigh once and he DID NOT like that. seconds after you were sitting on his cock, crying his name from how he was just pumping into you mercilessly.

“still wanna tease me on my own fucking thigh, sweetie?” he clicks his tongue and grunts right after, his hands on your waist was enough to leave bruises.

that being said, he makes sure valentino never catches sight of you. the things you do to this man is beyond anything he could have thought and somehow, he feels uneasy at the fact that the way you have sex with him was DEFINITELY porn worthy and the thought of you being on camera in that way makes him want to wrap all of himself around you like a blanket to cover you from all of hell.

LUCIFER.

ironically, this man does NOT give you the world. instead, he gives you casual nights out turned into nights where you share all your secrets with him, and he tells you everything might not be okay now, or ever, but whatever it is, he’ll be right there with you. think going to your favorite diners, cruising and carpooling along the quieter side of hell, screaming at the top of your lungs. this man is all about authenticity. he wants the bond, not the experience.

that doesn’t mean he doesn’t spoil you every now and then—he definitely does research on the best bars in the ring and takes you out every month during your monthsaries and gets you at least 10 different gifts—half of which are little trinkets you and him picked up from your little adventures together.

unironically so fucking good at picking out jewelry for you. you don’t know how he does it, but every time you both visit a jewelry store, you always pick out necklaces and rings and he always comes to you with pieces that just look way more stunning on you. he always insists on being the one to slip the rings onto your fingers or chain the necklaces at the back of your neck, and he always flies up to do it.

he sometimes visits you as a bird and flies through your window. you like stroking his little cheek and it always causes him to transform suddenly which catches you off guard, and he uses this opportunity to kiss you.

he makes rubber duckies modeled after you!! all of them have different outfits from all the times you spend together.

forehead touches. so important for him, he does it so often and it’s nothing short of endearing.

this man COOKS and he COOKS WELL. every now and then when you both stay home he always whips up five-star restaurant grade steak for you, same goes for his carbonara, fish and chips, ramen, fried rice, stew—whatever it is, he loves making it with his own two hands and loves cooking for you.

lucifer makes his own clothes seeing as his hat has a gold snake and an apple on it which only really related to him, and he also has a unique circus vibe to his clothing. he made his clothes out of magic but after meeting you he wanted to get into sewing to make you something from scratch.

LUCIFER NSFW !

i absolutely agree with a lot of lucifer stans on him being a definite switch BUT i just know that if this man tops, he tops HARD. i mean, we’re talking about the angel who successfully seduced not just the FIRST WOMAN to ever exist, but the SECOND TOO. WHILE SHE WAS LOYAL TO ADAM. I FEEL LIKE THAT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF

he’d definitely do a multitude of things while trying out a few kinks to see just what kind of top flusters you. if you like service tops, he found out when he insisted on fingering you right after he’d brought you to orgasm with his tongue. dominant top? he found out when he crawled on top of you and said, “take it off for me, lovely.” all while leaving a trail of hickeys all from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone. the list goes on.

no matter if he tops or bottoms, this man begs, and its especially orgasm-worthy when he does it as a bottom. you’re riding him to your own climax and he’s close too and he goes, “ohhh god fuck please let me cum honey—let me cum please fuck! can i cum can i cum my love? i won’t until you say so oh fuck please baby—”

he knows when you’re pent up. apparently you give of a certain set of cues through body language only he sees and he’s observed it from you in all sorts of situations; going out with friends, sitting in bed with a book, tapping a pencil to your lip—it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. he can tell. and he never tells you how.

seeing as he usually has to fly up to kiss you on the lips, he takes every opportunity he has in bed just to kiss you. he could be going so damn rough on you that the neighbors can hear and he’d still be making out with you so damn hard.

definitely prides himself on cunnilingus. i know everyone mentions this because of the v he made to his lips but it just makes sense for him to do that if he’s good at it! he becomes a grunting, begging, whimpering mess when you suck him off but when he eats you out? you compare it to how restaurants have a signature dish—lucifer’s is whatever miracles he can perform with his tongue.

ALASTOR.

i think this is obvious because he literally hosts possibly the most famous radio broadcast in the entire ring, but this man has a way with words.

“to put it simply my dear, i just never thought the stars could walk on dirty streets, let alone ones that belong in hell,” he sighs with an almost dreamy tone to it as he rested chin on his knuckles, leaning closer to you from the other side of the table with his elbow propped up on it. “but it seems you’re living proof of that.”

you took that as his way of explaining his aromanticism and asexuality to you, even if he isn’t fully aware of those terms yet.

“how did a lovely thing like you end up with a gruesome animal such as myself?”

nonetheless, you and him are partners and he owns it, even if he’ll never admit that it is daunting for someone who has never felt this way about anyone else before. someone who has never liked anyone romantically before. he owns it because he doesn’t want the one person he’s ever loved to slip from his grasp. not when he was just so used to getting what he wants using his own bare hands.

seeing as he is aroace, he doesn’t kiss you directly on the lips but hugs you all the time and maybe kisses cheek-to-cheek.

he listens to your gossip and even arranges dates for you both to properly get together and just dish. he gossips back sometimes too, but not too much as he feels like that would be like treating you like the other friends he has. he’d rather spend this time he has with you focusing on, well, you, not other people’s foolish mistakes. but he sees how excited you are to tell him these things sometimes so, he listens still.

regularly slow dances with you, especially to old romantic songs the both of you like. it’s one of the rare times physical contact doesn’t feel foreign to him as he’s danced with many women, and he actually finds it endearing when you press your head on his chest. it shows that you feel safe around him, and that’s the best thing that could happen for him when you’re dating one of the most feared and powerful overlords in hell.

always does house chores with you even though he could use his powers to just speed up the process. something about cleaning up together just feels so intimate to him compared to physical touch.

ALASTOR NSFW !

he hates being touched, no question about that—but he also doesn’t like to see you pent up. he understands that everyone has their own desires, however filthy they might be—but your own are as good as sacred. you’re the one thing he treasures beyond all others and just as you can’t change the fact that he’s aroace, he can’t change the fact that you have needs.

so he comes up with something just for you; he asks if it would help if he talked you through it. praising or degrading you, whichever you prefer. telling you how much he misses having your hands on his, feeling you close to him. when he says this, he imagines you both dancing as you usually do, but of course, as you masturbate, you’re thinking of something else. this happens when he’s not in the room but he leaves his mic behind to act as a phone for the both of you.

“are you close, love? will you finish for me?” “y-yes …” “good girl.”

i imagine after a while of being with him, he would have seen you naked a few times on accident but he brushes it off well because there’s never anything sexual tied to it. so, when he is in the room while you get off, he’d use his powers to have a glowing green chain around your neck as he pulls your face closer to his.

“do you like it when i do this to you, hm? tell me just how much you relish being my good girl.”

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel gifs #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox headcanons #vox hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #◟𓂅 𓄹 splash zone.#( ✮ hazbin. )#( ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 hazbin hcs. )

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borathae · 9 months ago

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↳ Index [Snippet #47 - Quiet]

"When you and Jungkook have to be quiet because you are at his parents' house."

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: toothrotting fluff, so much domestic loveliness, they're so married y'all, they're so annoying <3, sharing of his small childhood bed, a very mild fight about how little space they have (it's more marital bickering), naked cuddling, Koo gets horny from it, switch!Kook, switch!reader, he is so hot besties, like he such a safe Dom omfg, also a total cutie once he gets subby, good girl kink, good boy kink, having to stay quiet, making out, needy touches, nipple & breast sucking, nipple play, finger sucking, gentle choking (m.receiving), Koo has sensitive nipples, hair pulling, oral (f.receiving), pussy fingering, tiny spit kink, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), he treats her so well after making her cum with his mouth, the smallest strength kink, cowgirl position where he is sitting, loving dirty talk, he cries cause he loves her so much!, he keeps that he loves her as she rides him <3, creampies, some cute lil mess ups during sex <3, sweet aftercare, this is so wholesome and hot and cute, they're in love :(

Wordcount: 9.2k

a/n: this is inspired by anonie's idea 🧡 i'm so fucking obsessed with this couple and most importantly, with this Kook. you guys have no idea how much FUN i always have when i write for them :8 he is such a cutie and i need my future husband to be like him istfg have fun besties ily 🧡

You and Jungkook normally book a hotel room close by when you visit his parents. It is easier and more comfortable that way. However, this time around, the visit was quite spontaneous and your go-to-hotel was fully booked.

“No worries, you can stay with us”, his father assured you on the phone before calling over his wife to talk as well.

“Just tell us what you’ll eat for breakfast and I’ll pop right down to the store to get it”, she instantly said and then proceeded to ask if you and Jungkook were eating enough (you assured her that you were).

And so you agreed. Just a little shy about it, you agreed.

Jungkook’s childhood home was small yet homely. It was located at the border of where country life meets suburban life. A grocery store, drugstore and hardware store were close by, as well as the hotel you always stay at. The roads were well taken care of, but were never busy enough to be of annoyance volume-wise. The neighbours were also very nice and welcoming. The house had a good garden surrounding it and a shed his father uses as his man cave where he always works on his cars and bikes. There was only one floor and Jungkook’s bedroom was closest to the bathroom and office. His parents’ bedroom was on the opposite side of the hallway two doors down.

They welcomed you with loud voices and happy smiles, taking their son into their arms as tightly as they could.

They weren’t good parents when he was young, but you can see that they are really trying these days. You like that. He might not have had parents in his childhood, but at least in his adulthood he can.

They even sat down with him and apologised, which not many parents ever do. You know that it meant the world to Jungkook even if he always pretended that he didn't need his parents. Deep down, everyone needs their parents. So to know that your Jungkookie could hear the apology he needed and witness their growth really means the world to you. He deserves it, your love.

Like always, his mother drags you inside for food after hugging you as well. She chats and babbles excitedly, holding you and Jungkook by your arms. She is walking with a skip in her steps, looking oh so happy to have you with them. His father follows with the suitcases.

You left Bam with your parents for the weekend because the drive would have been too long for him. He will be happy and well taken care of, so you don’t worry too much.

Not that this stops his parents from asking for all the updates and pictures. For the majority of dinner, you have to tell them everything about Bam with pictures included of course. It meant a lot to you because Bam feels like your baby to you.

One thing you really like about his parents (and yours) is how they never pressured you to have children. They asked of course and tried to change your minds a few times, but when they finally realised that you and Jungkook truly don’t want to have children, they accepted it without any sort of retaliation. These days, they treat Bam like their grandson, cooing about your little fur baby as if it was your real son.

The hours after dinner are spent taking walks in the nearby forest and exchanging life stories and laughter. After the walk, Jungkook’s dad kidnaps him to the shed so they could tinker on bikes together, while his mother asks if you wanted to knit. You agreed and so you sat on the back porch in your rocking chairs as you each knitted something for your husbands.

The sun has already set when Jungkook and his dad join you as well.

“What are you making?” Jungkook asks, caressing the crown of your head.

“I don’t know. I tried making a bunny, but it looks like roadkill. It’s supposed to be for you, but it’s ugly. Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning down to peck your cheek.

“It’s not ugly. It’s unique. Thank you, my love”, he says and looks at his mom, “what are you making, eomma?”

“Just a scarf for appa. He is always cold in winter.”

“I am. It’s because winter is cold.”

She laughs. He grins.

He looks a little like Jungkook when he grins like that. It kind of makes sense that Jungkook is always trying to make you laugh. He must have learned from his father, because that man constantly tries to crack jokes to get his wife to laugh. It works most of the times.

“Oh jagi, you are too silly”, she says and stands up, “is it time for the bath already?”

“It is. Do you want wine?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

They are conversing as they leave for inside. Apparently his parents share baths most nights.

Jungkook sits down on his mother’s rocking chair, running his eyes over the view.

“Did you have a good time with your dad?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Did you have a good time with eomma too?”

Jungkook grew up bilingual. So he told you very early in your relationship and that he is fluent in both languages, just as his parents are. When Jungkook is alone with his parents, he speaks Korean with them. When you are with them as well, they switch into your shared language so you wouldn’t feel left out. Small phrases and words still transcend languages however. You think that it is wonderful.

“I did have fun yeah. Except for my roadkill bunny.”

Jungkook laughs, “it doesn’t even look that bad. I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, knitting’s hard.”

“Yeah, I never figured it out. Stuff’s too complicated”, Jungkook says and sighs deeply, sinking deeper into the chair, “yeah, that’s the good life. Crickets, a chilly night, the smell of hay and my beautiful wifey by my side.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Mhm”, he hums, “wanna have a beer?”

“No thank you. I’m not in the mood for alcohol.”

“Okay, yeah I’m not taking one either then.”

“You can if you want to. I’m not stopping you.”

“No, no I’m good. I only would have taken one if you did. But it’s good, I’ve got everything I need right now”, he says and stretches his legs out.

You and Jungkook stay outside until it is time to say goodnight. His parents are in their bedroom watching telly when you and Jungkook officially go back inside.

Jungkook knocks on their doorframe.

They look at him and you standing in the door.

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna go to sleep now. Good night, eomma and appa”, Jungkook says.

“Good night, my son”, his father says.

“Sleep tight, my boy”, his mother says, “and you too, my daughter.”

“Thank you, sleep tight eomma and appa”, you say to which his father tells you to have a good night.

“I’m closing your door already, yeah?” Jungkook says.

“Thank you.”

The door closes with a soft click. Jungkook looks at you and smiles, placing his arm around your waist so he can pull you in for a temple kiss.

“It means a lot that you call them like this.”

“You’re sweet, my love”, you say and lean into him.

“I’m serious. I don’t have a lot of connection to my parents’ heritage, but it’s the little stuff like calling them eomma and appa or sharing traditional food which means a lot to me. I feel really loved by you when you participate as well.”

You smile, stealing a kiss.

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too”, Jungkook says and kisses your cheek, “also, I’m calling dips on the bathroom. Bye”, he says quickly and runs off.

“Hey, not cool. I wasn’t ready”, you call after him, but he merely snickers and disappears in the bathroom.

You wait in the living room for him to finish, watching some random show on the telly. It’s a stupid show, but still entertaining. You even find yourself snickering at some parts.

“Sweetie, the bathroom’s free now”, Jungkook announces himself once he finished his night routine. He is currently walking to the water dispenser on the kitchen counter for a glass of water.

“Nice. Finally”, you say, turning off the show to hurry to the bathroom as well.

He left the door closed so you would have it toasty. He really loves you, doesn’t he? He hates leaving the door closed because of potential mould, but for you he did. You would marry this man again and again if it was legally possible.

He isn’t in the living room once you finish your night routine and his closed bedroom door lets you know that he is already cozied up there.

After getting yourself a glass of water as well, you go to the bedroom.

You close the door and lock it. Jungkook is looking at you over the brim of his glasses, cocking his brow up in question.

“I feel better like this. At least we have a little bit of privacy this way”, you explain.

He nods in acknowledgement and looks back into his phone.

You love how the bedside lamp illuminates his features. He is such a beautiful person.

“You’re so handsome, my sweetheart”, you tell him, watching in delight as his face lights up.

“Thanks yeah”, he murmurs, wiggling his feet under the blanket.

Now feeling good, you make your way to his childhood bed. This weekend is going to be very interesting. Because it is a bed once meant to house a small preteen Jungkook, it is sized accordingly. It is going to be very interesting to share it now that you were both grown adults. You can already feel all his sleep flinching and your sleep twitches annoying the shit out of the other.

You climb over Jungkook. He lifts his arms and watches you with confusion as you scramble over his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“I want the wall side”, you say and grunt as you try to wiggle yourself into the small gap.

Jungkook scoots over a little. Groggily if one may add that little fact.

“Yeah sure, so you can kick me out of bed in your sleep”, he complains.

“I’m not gonna kick you out. I’m a plank once I sleep, you know that.”

“No you’re not. You twitch and kick your feet.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Still. Hey, stop that. You already have enough space. I only have a third left now. That’s unfair.”

“Lies. We’re equal”, you throw back and flip to your side so you are facing him. Your back is squished against the wall. It feels cold even through your pyjamas. You don’t mind because his room is very hot and his blanket very thick.

“Tch, whatever”, Jungkook murmurs and looks back into his phone. He looks a little annoyed, but won’t act on it.

But because you were feeling like a little shit, you want to annoy him more. You poke your finger into his side.

He writhes away, pressing out a quiet “stop that.”

You do it again.

“Stop”, he whines loudly.

One last time.

Jungkook drops the phone in the blanket and looks at you.

“Stop it”, his voice is raised in pitch, his lips pouty, “it hurts, don’t do that.”

“It hurts, really?” you snicker.

“Yeah, it’s uncomfy”, he mumbles, rubbing the spot you poked.

One more time.

“Stop it”, he grabs your wrist gently, “why are you being so annoying? Stop it.”

You break into giggles, gazing up at him.

“No, don’t laugh. You’re not funny right now.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry. You looked pokeable.”

“I’m gonna poke you if you do it again”, he murmurs and picks up his phone.

You touch his waist.

“___”, he whines, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“I wasn’t tryna to do something. I just wanted to caress you”, you whine as well and rub his side softly, “like this.”

“Yeah good. Don’t do the other thing again”, he says and relaxes.

You won’t do it again. Being an annoying little shit is only this fun before it turns into being a bad spouse. You don’t want him to lose trust in you or feel uncomfortable. So you keep rubbing his side as he scrolls on his phone. Soon, you also incorporate his stomach, drawing little circles with your palm and fingertips.

“What are you looking at?” you ask him.

Jungkook flips the phone so you could see it.

“Just funny videos. That one’s not funny, but look at that”, he switches to his likes and shows you a video of two cats fighting. There are speech bubbles appearing on screen as if the cats were talking to each other. They contain silly and funny one liners which are exactly Jungkook’s humour.

He is snickering and laughing as he shows you the video, pointing out the funniest parts by going “and now look at this” before following it up with a laugh.

You have to laugh right with him. Soon you find yourself resting your head on his chest with his arm around you and his fingers scratching your scalp mindlessly as you both look into his phone to watch funny videos. He shows you his likes and together you snicker, laugh at silly stuff or gush over talented people.

You share quality time like this until you both are starting to get sleepy.

“I think I’m gonna pass out now”, you tell him, kissing his chest, “sleep tight, baby.”

“I’m gonna pass out too. The drive really fucked with me”, Jungkook says and places his phone and glasses on the bedside table. He turns off the lamp, then rolls to his side so he could spoon you.

You snuggle back into him, intertwining hands with him.

“It was really exhausting”, you agree, “this is nice by the way. Really snuggly.”

“Mhm yeah, so snuggly”, Jungkook agrees.

This is however, when the interesting part starts to happen. The cuddling is so nice and romantic at first. To be so close and cuddle is wonderful, but then your bodies begin heating up to uncomfortable levels and you can’t do your routine of breaking apart for sleep and the cuddling becomes one annoying thing. Bickering begins. You tell him to move back, while he insists that you could scoot closer to the wall. Jungkook is annoyed about his ass feeling the edge of the mattress and you are annoyed about his hot body boiling yours. Your knees are also hurting in the current position and you can’t move them because there is no space.

“I wanna move. Can you scoot back?” you ask him.

“I can’t, my love. I told you already. I’m literally hanging off the edge already”, Jungkook answers you with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Let’s just-”, you wiggle until Jungkook has no choice but to scoot back, “do that. That’s better.”

“No it’s not. I have no space on here”, Jungkook says and scoots closer. His nose is all up in the nape of your neck this way. He is burning you alive. He is so hot, it’s insane.

“God Kook, you’re literally breathing into my fucking spine. Can you not?” you hiss just a little snappishly.

“Excuse me? I need to breathe. You’re all in my face with your stupid pyjama collar. What should I say?” he throws back and flips it with his fingers

“Hey, don’t touch it.”

“Oh my god, I’m not even doing anything”, he says and moves just a little which ends in you accidentally knocking into the wall.

“Kook, stop that.”

“What did I do now?”

“You kicked me into the wall.”

“You wanted the wall side. I’m literally just moving, oh my god, I didn’t kick you.”

“Yeah you did. You went like this.”

“Hey, don’t kick me”, he says and pokes your side.

“Hey! Stop that”, you flip onto your side instantly, facing him this way.

Your breaths intermingle. Your noses brush against the other, ripping both of you back to reality enough that you just kind of freeze. The silence exists while you and Jungkook stare at where the other is hidden in darkness.

Suddenly you feel his sigh on your face.

“What are we doing? Why are we fighting?” he asks in a soft spoken voice.

“I don’t know”, you speak softly as well, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. Let’s not fight anymore.”

“Yeah, let’s not fight”, you say and touch his chest, “sorry again.”

“Sorry too.”

“I think I’m so irritated because it’s so hot, I’m literally dying.”

“Same. Fuck, the blanket’s grilling me and my clothes are the devil”, he says and sits up to undress.

“Are you getting naked?”

“Yeah, I can’t do clothes. Seriously.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea. I’m stealing it”, you say and sit up to get naked as well.

You and he throw your clothes onto the floor, getting under the blanket again once naked.

“I’m keeping my ass out tough”, Jungkook says

“Really? Aren’t you scared that something’s gonna poke your hole?”

“Why would something poke my hole randomly?” he is snickering.

“I don’t know. You never know, sleep paralysis demons maybe.”

“I’m sure the demon is hot, so they can poke my hole if they want to.”

You slap his chest softly.

“That’s not funny.”

“Why not?” he is snickering.

“Cause I don’t want you fucking demons.”

“Not even if you could watch? Imagine waking up to me getting railed by a sexy, hot demon.”

“You’re not funny”, you murmur and huff out air.

“Are you jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Aww sweetie, don’t be. It’s just my sleep paralysis demon.”

“God, I regret this stupid joke. Whatever, good night I guess”, you say and turn your back to him.

Jungkook touches your waist instantly, whispering your name.

“What?”

“Don’t be jealous. You’re the only one I want poking my hole.”

You snort. He chuckles.

“Yeah good, whatever I guess.”

Jungkook trails soft kisses up your spine until he can kiss your shoulder. His arm is over your waist again.

“You know that you’re the only one, don’t you?” he whispers.

“Yeah, I do. Still, thank you for saying that”, you say.

Now reassured that you aren’t feeling insecure anymore, Jungkook relaxes into the pillow. His chest is pressed into your back, your butt is snug with his crotch.

“Can you feel my dick like this?”

“I can yeah.”

“Okay, good to know.”

You chuckle, “you’re a goof.”

Silence overcomes you and him afterwards. Sharing the small bed doesn’t feel awful anymore. Truly, getting naked took a lot of that heat away. Quite frankly, now you are glad that he is keeping you warm because the room finally feels chilly.

You could fall asleep like this and you probably would have if Jungkook hadn’t called your attention again.

“___?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s only been a few.”

“Right yeah. Hey uhm”, he dances his hand over your waist and hip. You know exactly what this touch means, “I’m a little horny.”

“I know, your touch says enough.”

He kneads your thigh.

“Yeah well, you’re naked and soft, so yeah.”

“And we’re in the smallest bed ever.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Quiet too?”

Jungkook doesn’t have an answer instantly and so you flip to your other side so you were facing him. You run your fingers up and down his pecs, drawing circles around his pierced nipples.

He shivers and shudders like crazy, sighing the softest moan.

“Mhm? Are you gonna manage to be quiet?” you stress.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I know you. You’re a whiny baby when my wet, soft pussy fucks your cock just right.”

“___, jesus fuck”, he gets out and squirms, pressing his legs together, “don’t say that, I’m gonna leak on the sheets.”

You chuckle, “I’m just stating the obvious. You’re not gonna be able to be quiet. Sorry Kookie, but because of this I can’t give you what you want.”

You flip to your other side, grinning to yourself when Jungkook grabs your hip desperately.

“___ baby…please”, he begs in a breathy voice and his thumb drawing swirls on your skin.

If you were being honest, you had been feeling a little horny yourself before Jungkook confessed. You are very down to mingle, but getting him to beg some more is way too much fun not to do it. He is so delicious when he is desperate.

“Sorry, the risk is too high.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic little sob, following it up with a whiney “pleaseee” and his cheek rubbing against your shoulder. He is such a cutie.

“You can’t sway me. My decision is final”, you coo, grinning to yourself.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so, so quiet”, he pleads and begins kissing your neck.

It tingles, sending electricity to your core. You press into him, parting your lips in a silent gasp.

“Please baby, please I’ll be quiet”, Jungkook begs between kisses, upping the game by cradling your right breast in his strong hand. He kneads and massages it gently, rubbing his thumb over your nipple every chance he gets.

“Behave, Kook”, you sigh.

Jungkook purrs quietly, flicking his tongue over the piercings on your ear. He makes sure that it brushes your skin as well so you could feel the tongue he could put to good use.

“Please? I’ve been such a good boy today.”

A fond smile curls your lips.

“Have you?”

“Yeah, so good. Such a good boy. I filled up the gas for you when you went to pee, remember?”

“Mhm, I do remember.”

“And I let you squeeze my butt at the red light.”

“You did let me, yeah.”

“I was a good boy, please”, he begs and gives your nipple an especially good massage, “please can I have a reward, please?”

“Fine, fuck you’re too good”, you give up because you can’t deny him when he is hitting you with The Good Boy. He is too powerful and the goodest boy. You couldn’t possibly deny him.

“Thank you, god I’m gonna fuck you so good”, Jungkook says and rolls you to your back as best as the small bed allows.

His tits are pressing into your arm like this. Fuck, they are so huge. All this working out he is doing really pays off because his tits are gorgeous.

Jungkook pecks your lips before paying attention to your jawline instead. He runs his tattooed hand all over your torso and legs, reminding your skin why his touch will always be the best.

You enjoy the attention with closed eyes and your fingers feeling up his tits as best as possible. So squishy and soft when relaxed, but so hard and strong when flexed. Fuck, he could smother you with them and you would thank him.

“You really want this, don’t you? I’m not forcing you?” he makes sure in a whisper and his gentle fingers caressing your waist.

“Yes Kook, I want this. Just wanted to make you work for it.”

“Wah baby, so mean” he gasps.

You snicker.

“No, don’t laugh. Do you have any idea how awful blue balls are? I was fighting for my life and you were just being a tease? Wah so mean.”

You giggle, hooking your fingers behind his neck.

“I wasn’t being mean.”

“Yeah, you were. God, come here you”, he says and begins nibbling on your jawline, “I’ll eat you up, you tease.”

You laugh and squeak, scrunching your face in happiness. It tickles, but in a good way. A tingly way.

Jungkook hums, smiling against your skin. He loves hearing you laugh.

“Such a tease. My baby’s such a fucking tease”, he purrs, moving his lips to the most sensitive part of your neck while his tattooed, strong hand feels up your waist and hips.

You sigh, melting in his hands. You are still hot, but it feels nice. He is getting you all heated up and bothered. You love being like this because of him, breathing heavier because it is so exciting.

“Mhm? You’re a fucking tease. Making me beg and driving me crazy that way. Fuck”, he moans softly, squeezing your thigh. He slides his hand to your inner thigh afterwards, sending electricity through your veins.

You open your legs further, feeling heat pool where you need him most.

“I’m gonna eat you up”, he rasps and takes your earlobe between his teeth to tug on it gently.

“Kook, fuck”, you get out breathily, arching your back.

“And out”, he whispers, “get it? Gonna eat you up and out.”

“That’s not funny”, you whine, but laugh.

“Yeah it is, you’re laughing”, he snickers.

“Cause you’re silly, you goof.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek, pressing himself closer until his semi hard cock rubs against the side of your leg. He humps it slowly, feeling up your inner thighs with more vigor.

“I need you so bad, babygirl. I need you so fucking bad.”

“Take me. Please”, you beg in a sigh, feeling excitement leak out of you. You are aching. You need him to act soon or else you are going to be the one not staying quiet.

Jungkook presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers a needy curse, before finally breaking away from you to disappear under the blanket.

You feel him grab your hips and fix your position, opening your legs willingly. His head is hidden under the blanket, his strong hands hold your hips. His lips kiss down your inner thighs.

“My babygirl, my fucking queen, my everything”, he whispers and finally, fucking finally, you feel his wet, hot tongue against your pussy.

“Kook”, you get out at a normal volume before you remember where you are, “shit, sorry.”

“Ssh quiet, baby”, he is teasing, smiling against you, “you gotta be quiet.”

“Fuck…” you croak and throw your arm over your eyes, “ah, fuck. God, Kook.”

Jungkook chuckles, burying his mouth back in your pussy again to lap up the sweetness you offer him gladly. He purrs and hums, making it even harder for you to stay quiet.

But this is his plan. You want to tease him for being loud? You dare to call him a whiny baby? He is going to show you how easily he can make you struggle with your volume. The only whiney baby is going to be you and he is going to fucking make you shake on his tongue.

“You’ve got the best pussy”, he says and slurps deliciously, “the fucking best. You’re so sweet, so fucking sweet”, he adds between his hungry slurping. He rests two of his fingers against your pussy, wetting them with eager licks as he worships your clit. Once his digits are wet and slickened, he pushes them inside, forcing shakes through your legs.

“Hmhmn”, you let out, trying so so hard to keep your mouth shut. It’s difficult. His fingers are your ruin.

He has the longest fingers ever. You always forget how long they are until you have them inside you to his knuckles with your body feeling as if it is being consumed by electric flames.

“Kook”, you croak, arching your back as your fingers close around a bundle of his hair.

Jungkook purrs against you, flicking his tongue over your clit messily while his long digits fuck your puffy hole. Your walls are throbbing around him, your g-spot is swelling more and more. Jungkook fucks it out of hiding with how good he fingers your pretty pussy. Good. That’s what he wants. He needs you blissed out.

“Like it? You’re shaking”, he lulls against your clit, licking her eagerly afterwards.

“Like it”, you mewl, wiggling on the sheets before deciding to arch your back again.

“Mhhhm baby”, he lets you really feel his purr, taking your clit between his lips to give her a good, long suck. And as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, he drags his slickened tongue over it in languid, long strokes. He is making the slowest love to your clit, while his long fingers fuck your pussy as if anger motivated them.

The contrast is sending you into a frenzy. Out of all the places he could pick to give you the hottest head ever, he chooses his childhood bed. Where you can’t be loud, where you can’t chant his name and where the biggest torture is how you have to hold back. He is driving you fucking mad.

You mewl and keen, sounding so obviously pained by how quiet you have to be.

Jungkook breaks away from your clit with a nasty slurp, reappearing from the blanket as he sits up just a little. He has a plan and he needs to sit for it. He turns his hand palm-way up and begins drilling his digits into you quickly, keeping his fingers curled so they would stroke your sensitive spot every single fucking pump.

“Koo-” you throw your hand over your mouth, whimpering into it loudly as your legs shake out of control.

Your pussy sounds so wet. The fuck is so rough in the best way.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he taunts, staring into the darkness with blown out pupils. He can feel you shake and squirm. He just knows you are covering your own mouth.

“Mhh mhmh ngmh.”

“Yeah it’s good. Keep staying quiet, baby”, he teases and spits on your pussy. He slips his other hand to it so he could rub your clit with his spit as sinful lube. Quick and skilled. The shakes course through your entire body, he has you fucking burning up.

“Mhm! Ahmgm!” you scream with a closed mouth, arching off the mattress so aggressively his entire bed croaks in protest.

You drop in embarrassment, dragging your hand from your mouth.

“Please stop”, you beg squeakily, grasping his wrist to try and stop him. You can’t, destined to tremble uncontrollably as he ruins you with just his fingers.

“Hurts?”

“No, too hard…stay…quiet pl-please.”

“Who’s the whiny baby now, mhm?”

Your mind scrambles, your legs shake. Fuck, you’re leaking like a fucking faucet on his fingers. He is so mean. It’s getting you off so well.

“You’re so mean”, you mewl and throw your hand over your mouth again to muffle your needy moans.

“The fucking meanest”, Jungkook hisses and lowers his head to your pussy to lick your clit as quickly as his skilled tongue can go. He keeps you spread apart with his fingers so he can reach the best parts. All while he still drills your pussy as if she had a debt to pay.

You grab his hair and twist. Jungkook growls from the tug, furrowing his brows.

“Koo-” is all you get out and then you have to press your hand to your mouth. No more arm over your eyes, you need to silence yourself because Jungkook is making you climax as if you never climaxed before and you could fucking scream.

Jungkook moans into your pussy, keeping his fingers deep inside and moving as you cum all over his pretty face. He had a feeling that your hair grab meant he is making you lose control. Now that it’s his sweet reality, he is hellbent on making it the best fucking experience of your life. That most difficult one as well because he knows for a fact that you want to scream his name, but can’t.

He is so painfully hard because of it. His pretty, perfect wife mewling so painfully tortured just because she can’t scream his name. Jungkook wants to change your life with this orgasm. Holy fuck, he is so into you.

“Stop please”, you soon beg, tugging at his hair in a way that lets him know you’ve had enough.

Jungkook breaks away from your well fucked pussy, kissing his way up your torso. He makes sure to worship every inch of it, using his hands to give you soothing touches. That he spreads your mess this way, neither of you care about.

He finds his home between your legs naturally. The leaky tip of his hard cock rubs over your pussy and lower tummy, but isn’t of importance for now.

Jungkook lingers on your chest a little longer, massaging and kissing your breasts with soft moans at the back of his throat. He sucks and licks your nipples, while between your legs his cock is twitching oh so needily against your tummy.

Jungkook only moves on to worshiping your neck once your nipples are pulsating in sensitivity.

“My good girl”, he whispers, following it up with kisses on each side of your neck. Even your throat he worships, going especially gentle because he knows it’s a vulnerable spot for you.

“Koo”, you sigh, following it up with an exhausted huff of air.

He kisses his way up to your face, adoring every inch of it while his fingers run along your hairline and ears.

“My good, pretty girl”, he whispers sweetly, “how was that, babygirl?”

“Good”, you lull, melting in his safe hands.

“That’s good to hear”, he kisses your heated cheek.

“You were mean.”

He smiles against you, “I was?”

You nod your head, “I wanted to be quiet but you acted like that.”

Jungkook chuckles and kisses your lips mid-smile. He tugs on your lower lip gently, still smiling like a lovedrunk puppy.

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You acted like that on purpose.”

“Mhm”, another slow, obsessed kiss followed with a suck on your lower lip, “had a point to prove.”

“Koo, you’re mean.”

“Mhm yeah”, he agrees and tongue kisses you slowly as his fingers caress your temples. He breaks the kiss with his tongue tracing your lips, “I love your pussy so much. You got me obsessed, babygirl.”

“Mhm Koo…” you mewl and squirm under him happily.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s whispered curse swirls against your lips. You know its origin without needing to ask. His cock is so hard, rubbing against your stomach and your squirming made him aware of how unfucked he still is.

“Do you want me to return the favour?”

His cock twitches, his fingers close a little around your face.

“You wanna suck my cock?” his voice trembled as he asked, his lips nib on yours hungrily afterwards.

“Suck your cock, lick your balls, eat your ass. You name it.”

He smiles against your lips, letting out a raspy chuckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me with your words one day. Fuck”, he bites your lower lip gently, “I’m fucking crazy for you. Can I just stick it in? Please?”

“Yeah, stick it in.”

“I love you, thank you”, he says and reaches over to turn on the light.

You groan in the sudden brightness, squinting your eyes at him. His face is flushed, his pupils dilated, his dark hair messy. You feel yourself falling for him again and again.

“Is that okay for you? Wanna see my beautiful woman when I fuck her.”

“Aww Kook, you’re so sweet. Course it’s okay. Com’ere you.”

“Okay wait, gotta go slow. The space is small”, Jungkook says and begins his grande adventure of fixing himself atop of you.

He manages after a few bumps against the wall with his elbows.

“Okay, okay I got it. Got it”, he says and places his hands on the pillow above your head.

He meets your eyes and grins. You retort it.

“Ready?”

You nod your head, running your hands down his torso so you could push his cock inside.

“Want you like crazy, babyboy”, you rasp.

“Babyboy?” he is stifling a laugh, tingling like crazy because you are dragging his tip through your wet folds. It feels crazy good.

“Mh-hm, babyboy. Fits you ‘cause you’re cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Right. You’re so cool”, you are teasing him, stealing him of his whiney complaint by sinking his cock into you.

“Holy fuck, ___”, he drops his face into the crook of your neck and groans. Thankfully his lips are pressed to your skin because otherwise his noise would have echoed through the entire house.

You grab his buttocks, moving his hips this way.

“Fuck, baby”, he moans, slamming his hand onto the headboard just to drag it down in desperation. Another loud groan tickles your neck, his fingers close around the crown of your head. His arms tense.

“Quiet baby, you’re being too loud”, you coo.

“Quiet, yeah, quiet. Ah fuck, gotta be quiet urgh mhhmhm.”

“That’s it. Gotta be quiet”, you sigh and do the unthinkable crime of sliding your fingers between his buttocks just to rub his hole.

“Fu-”, Jungkook stops himself, sucking on your neck instead. He whimpers cutely as he does it, gripping the edge of the pillow.

“See? Told you, someone gonna poke your hole tonight “

“Fuck, shut up just- why are you so calm? A-ah you have me ahm, ah, fucking ah oh god, can’t talk. Oh god”, he stutters and retorts to whimpering softly and panting for air.

“You’re cute”, you snicker and sigh just for his hearing pleasure, “such a good boy too. Such a good boy”

“Fuck, baby…”

He begins chasing you, speeding up because you’ve got him desperate. He thrusts into you harshly.

Bang!

“Ah, ouchies my head.”

You open your eyes.

“What happened?” you gasp, sliding your hands to his hips.

“I banged my head on this stupid headboard”, he sits back on his heels and hits the headboard softly. He pouts, rubbing his aching head. He slipped out like this, but neither of you mind as his aching head is more important right now.

“Oh god, are you okay?” you laugh, sitting up to cup his head and rub the spot he hit.

“No, I’m not. Hurts”, he mumbles, “stupid shit, ruined the entire flow. I was picking up such a good rhythm too. Stupid.”

“God, come here you”, you say and tilt his head so you could press a kiss to the sore spot, “did that help?”

“Yeah, thanks”, he says with a little pout still present.

You trace it with your thumb, gazing at him.

“I’ve got an idea. Switch with me real quick.”

“Okay?”

“Trust me.”

“I am. Okay fine, teamwork come on.”

You and he make it work. How it happened is a mystery of the universe, but you managed.

“And now?” he asks, sitting where you once sat.

“Now, lean back and relax”, you say and push at his strong chest until his back collides with the headboard.

You climb his lap and sink down on him.

“Baby, oh god”, he croaks, looking up at you with droopy eyes. He places his hands on your hips, giving them a needy squeeze.

“There we go. Right where you’re supposed to be.”

You begin moving instantly, bouncing up and down on his cock with a swirl in your hips. Jungkook parts his lips in a silent moan, arching his back. You know that if you were in the privacy of your own home, he would be noisy as fuck right now. But the only thing noisy is your wet pussy getting stuffed with his perfect cock and his childhood bed croaking from the movement.

“How’s that baby?” you ask him, feeling out of breath because it feels so good to ride him. His groin keeps grinding against your clit, his cock hits all the best spots.

“Fucking heaven…ah, god ah, baby don’t stop”, he sighs, parting his lips to let small moans escape.

“It’s safer too. Can’t have my man bang his head again”, you say as you ruffle his hair with both hands.

He grins goofily, letting his head sort of droop as you completely turn him into puddy under you.

You giggle and cradle his head against your chest, closing your eyes. He hugs you back, throbbing deep inside you.

“You feel so good, oh god”, Jungkook moans into you, grasping you tightly.

“You too, my love…so good…you’ve got the best cock. Fucking love it so much.”

“Holy shit, please don’t stop. It’s so intense, ah god.”

“So good, baby. So good.”

“I love you so much, oh god. Love you, lo-love you s-so much.”

“I love you too, Kookie.”

“I love you, ah ___, I love…love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

Jungkook is a romantic. It has always been that way and will always stay this way. He is a total, soft and proud romantic. You notice it in day to day life in the little things he does or says. And then, when the sex hits the right spot on his heart, it practically bursts out of him. It isn’t rare that your husband ends up chanting the breathiest, neediest confessions of love when you and he are connecting. Tonight seems to hit the right spot for him. He just can’t stop saying it. It spills out of him with each movement, filling your heart with so much love for him.

You hug him closer, slowing down your bounces until you are only rocking back and forth on him.

Jungkook whimpers into your chest, lifting his head just so he can nuzzle into your neck.

“I love you so much”, he breathes out, shuddering uncontrollably.

“I love you too, baby.”

“Oh god, this feels so good.”

“Yeah, feels amazing”, you sigh, playing with his soft hair.

You understand why it is getting to him. You are so close. Your chests are melted together, you can feel the other’s racing pulse, your skins share one warmth and your noses are filled with the other’s scent. You are so close and connected, feeling even more intertwined through the deep, slow movements of your hips.

Jungkook slides his hands under your buttocks and lifts you just enough that he can sit cross legged and deepen the connection even further. He hits his knee on the wall as he tries to change it, mumbling a low “ouch” into your shoulder.

“Did you just hit your knee?”

“Yeah, there’s no space. Just ignore it, it’s fine”, he jokes, making you snicker just as he makes you moan because he sinks you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, Kook.”

“Good?”

“We’re so close, it’s insane”, you croak and press him closer, rocking your hips back and forth needily. He is grinding against your clit, it feels so good. No words can describe how good he feels.

“I know. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Jungkook cradles you in his strong arms and sobs softly against your neck.

“I love you…”

“I love you too…”

From what you have learned, Jungkook needs you to say it back every time when he is in that headspace. No matter how often, how many variations, how loud or quiet, you need to say it back otherwise he gets so, so sad. The three most wonderful words are so, so much more important to him when he is in this headspace and they are also, quite frankly, the hottest dirty talk you could give him. No other words, no matter how nasty and dirty, could get his cock as hard and leaky as your confession of love could get him in those moments.

And oh how hard and leaky he is. How he is throbbing and twitching and filling you up. How his legs are shaking under you.

You lift your head from his neck to breathe, using the moment to litter his shoulder with kisses. He has such a pretty birthmark on it. You love to kiss it. He is yours, every inch of him, every birthmark and scar, every single inch of him is yours. Yours to love, to cherish, treat well and kiss. You could honestly eat him up.

Now aware of your changed position, Jungkook lifts his head as well, meeting your eyes. He is making the biggest, sparkliest doe eyes at you, looking so so in love.

“I love you”, he whispers shakily.

“I love you too”, you whisper back, cradling his cheeks, “mine, you’re all mine.”

“Yours, so yours” he agrees as the galaxies in his big brown eyes practically turn into countless little hearts.

“Mhm, yeah. Mine”, you sigh, swiping your palm down his cheek until you have his throat under it. You close your fingers around his neck without applying pressure. Your other hand still cradles his cheek.

Jungkook moans.

“Quiet, baby.”

“Sorry, oh god it’s so hard”, he whispers and parts his lips to gasp repeatedly.

“Mhhm Kook”, you purr, “mine. I love you so much, sweetheart”, you lull and apply just a little pressure. Not enough to make him dizzy, just enough to let him know you’ve got him.

Jungkook bites down on his lower lip, grasping your waist desperately. His cock twitches deep inside you, his thighs tense under you. You are seriously ruining him. You are.

“Good boy, you’re such a good boy”, you praise, tracing his pierced lip. Not for long because then you already have Jungkook opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue.

You drag your fingers up his soft muscle, feeling tingles deep inside you. This is so hot.

Jungkook sighs and closes his mouth around your digits, sucking on them with pouty lips and big doe eyes. You can feel how his neck tenses from the movement and how much faster his pulse becomes.

“You’re so hot, holy fuck”, you croak, lifting yourself off his cock so you could command him to stretch out his legs.

He follows, getting rewarded with your pussy and your eager hips dancing on his needy cock. You are on your knees for it, using the bounce of his mattress to your advantage to ride him as if it is the last time you ever will. He moans around your fingers, furrowing his brows in utter bliss.

“Quiet baby, be quiet”, you gasp out, feeling breathless from pleasure. His throat under your hand, his mouth on your fingers and his cock deep inside while his strong hands knead your waist and hips. Yeah, it can’t get any better than that. You are fucking obsessed.

Jungkook mewls and keens. You slip your fingers out, resulting in his spit to cover his chin.

“Quiet, come on.”

“It’s, it’s so ah ha-hard. A-ah.”

“Quiet, baby. Just be quiet, it’s easy’, you order, slamming your hips down on him repeatedly. And to make matters worse, you put your slickened, greedy fingers on his left nipple to massage it eagerly. You abandon his neck to lick your other hand and use it to massage his right nipple as well. You twist and pinch, tug and rub, play with his piercings and trace his very tip. You know exactly what drives your husband crazy and you are hellbent on showing him all your tricks.

“Stop please”, Jungkook begs, arching his back, “stop please stop”, he pleads.

“Hurts?”

He shakes his head, “too hard, please.”

“You can do it, baby. Just be quiet, it’s easy.”

“Ah god, ah, aaah” Jungkook mewls and throws his head back, grasping your waist with such desperation he brings it in just a little. He is kicking the sheets as best as possible, curling his tongue in his agape mouth.

That’s where you want him. That’s his best look. You take his swollen nipples between your fingers and rub them in sideways motions.

His abs tense, his huge pecs throb and tighten, his arms bulge as well. You are hitting the right fucking spots and his body reacts in the sexiest of ways.

“Ahng”, Jungkook silences himself by throwing his hand over his own mouth. He scrunches his face, whimpering behind his hand.

“Holy fuck, this is so hot. That’s it, keep quiet. Good boy. Fuck, I love you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes back and squeezes them shut. He sobs your name. You can feel it before you see it on his face. This was too much for him. You are making him climax. Deep, deep inside you and with days worth of hot, creamy cum he is shooting into you, bruising your waist in the process and biting down on his own palm just to stop himself from screaming your name. Tears run down his cheeks, he is arching his back even more. Yeah, you’ve really got him good.

You help him ride it out with a fluttering heart, giving him the best kind of afterglow by cupping his face and pulling it in for kisses all while your hips rock back and forth on his still hard cock.

Jungkook drops into your hands, feeling so far away and yet so, so close to you. His cock is sensitive, but it doesn’t hurt. It is just warm, wet and safe. He is so safe when he is inside you. Your pussy feels so good. Every ridge, hill, crevice and inch. Only you feel this good. Only you. And only you can make him feel this way.

“I love you”, Jungkook gets out shakily, dripping tears from the tip of his perfect nose. You tilt his head up and kiss the tears away.

“I love you too, Kookie. How is my hubby love doing? Comfy?”

“Yes comfy”, his voice is just a little higher in pitch, “feels so good.”

“Yeah, feels amazing. You did such a good job filling me up like this. Making me yours and all. I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too, oh god”, Jungkook opens his eyes, sniffling with shaking shoulders.

“Good?”

He nods his head vigorously, cradling your cheeks.

“I just love you so much”, he squeaks and rolls his hips up slowly, meeting your movements as best as possible.

“Yes love you too”, you sigh, “oh”, your eyes go just a little out of focus, “oh Kook, there.”

“There? Do you like this?” he asks repeating his movements all the way down to flow, speed and angle.

“Yes, so much. Ah Kookie, you…ah feel…holy fuck, so good. Ah.”

“Quiet, baby”, he whispers, making you chuckle breathlessly.

“Yeah, fuck I get you now. Fuck mhm.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

You nod your head, giving his cheeks a squeeze.

“Shit baby. Kookie, I’m close.”

His pupils dilate even more. His breathing speeds up.

“You are?”

“You feel so good”, you sigh and whimper softly, fluttering your lashes, “is hard.”

“Don’t hold back, baby. I’ve got you.”

“No, is hard to, to keep looking at you. Want to look at you as I…ah��I, I cum.”

“Baby…” Jungkook gets out and squeezes your cheeks, “fuck. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love…you…too...Kookie ah please.”

“Let go, baby. Let go. I’ve got you, baby.”

“Koo, ah”, you squeak out, falling into him as your high overtakes you.

You shake and convulse, using his shoulder to muffle your sounds as Jungkook soothes you. He is cradling your head, rubbing your back as he shushes you and whispers the sweetest love to you.

“That’s my girl. I love you cumming on my cock. That’s it. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you, babygirl. You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl, god you’re my good girl.”

Honestly, you blame him for making this orgasm as hard and intense as it is, because goddamn does it feel good to be talked through this way. Fuck, you’re climaxing just from his words. Honestly.

Jungkook makes sure to give you the best afterglow as well by squeezing your hips tighter to his body and giving your sensitive clit warm pressure. You love warm pressure after a high. The comedown is so intense but healing. And as you shudder in his arms, he is tracing your spine slowly, enjoying the moments of silence with closed eyes. You have your eyes closed as well, finding solace in his heartbeat against your chest. It is synced with yours, slowing down gradually.

You are the one to break the silence.

“So uhm, that was intense.”

“Yeah”, he sighs and sighs again, “thank you, I needed this so bad.”

“Me too, baby. Who would have thought that your tiny bed is that good to fuck in.”

Jungkook chuckles, “yeah. The creaking was a little annoying though.”

“I kinda feel like your parents must have heard something.”

“Please don’t say that, I’ll cringe to death.”

You laugh, lifting your head from his shoulder. You press a loving kiss to his lips then wipe his tear-stained cheeks.

“I genuinely tried to be quiet.”

“Me too. You didn’t make it easier. I think I nutted with my nipples, no joke.”

“I can imagine”, you snort and shimmy on his lap, “I’m starting to leak.”

“Sexy.”

“Not sexy. Wet and gooey.”

“Don’t call it that”, he laughs as he helps you slip off his cock. You leak onto his thighs, hissing in distaste.

“God, such a mess. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, let it happen.”

“Don’t wanna let it happen. It’s so messy and wet.”

“Wait, let me”, Jungkook says and reaches for his bedside table. He takes a handful of tissues, “here you go”, he says and hands them to you.

“Thanks.”

You press them to your pussy, climbing off his lap awkwardly.

“Please ignore the noises, air sometimes has its own mind”, you mumble.

“It’s okay, let it happen baby. You know how I sometimes sound after anal.”

You and he snicker in comradery. Yep, being married and comfortable is definitely amazing. Not even the most embarrassing sex noises are embarrassing when you’re together.

“You know, creampies are awesome in the moment, but afterwards? A cramp in the anus”, you say, wiping at your pussy with new tissues.

Jungkook laughs, “at least you’ve got tissues. Remember that one time we fucked in a motel only to realise we didn’t have tissues?”

You are putting on your pyjama just in case you meet his parents outside. If you were alone, you wouldn’t bother.

“And I had to use my hand to catch it? Yes baby, you laughed at me. How could I forget?”

“I only laughed because you were cute as you waddled to the bathroom.”

“Yeah sure”, you say and lean down to peck his cheek, “brb, gonna go piss real quick.”

“Mhm’kay”, Jungkook says with a goofy smile on his lips.

He is still grinning goofily when you come back, resting on his side with his eyes to the door. He is still naked, opening the blanket for you.

“Did you steal the wall side?” you ask him as you get naked again.

“I did.”

“Not cool. I claimed it.”

“And I reclaimed it.”

You roll your eyes fondly, climbing under the blanket. Jungkook wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him instantly. He drapes his leg over your hips, smooching your cheek before nuzzling into your neck.

“You feel cold”, he whispers

“The pee cooled me down.”

“Mhm, is nice”, he kisses your skin, “sleep tight, my sweetie.”

“You too, my love”, you say and turn off the light.

He wiggles and makes a small sound of contentment. He shifts his head a little.

“Psst, sweetie?”

“Yes, sweetie?” you giggle because he is a goof.

“How was it for you?”

“Amazing. I loved it.”

“Me too. Was so good”, he breathes and sighs, growing softer, “I really love you. I do. Yeah, you my baby and boo.”

“That rhymed.”

“Mhm, yeah…” he sighs and exhales deeply. He fell asleep. Of course he did.

You melt into him and drift off in his arms. Maybe sharing a small bed isn’t as terrible as you first thought it would be.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #fanfic: ogc

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chrollogy · 5 months ago

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iv. NEW YEAR BLUES

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: v. Misunderstandings | series masterlist

synopsis: After sending a risky text to Atsumu, you avoid your phone the next morning like a ticking time bomb until curiosity gnaws at your skin but it doesn’t take long before you cave. Thus, with a bated breath, you brace yourself for his response.

chapter content warning: college au, angst heh, shrine visit (poor depiction), implied alcohol use, tipsy reader (maybe a dumbass too), miya atsumu is an even bigger dumbass, hinata mention LMAO, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, miscommunication (it just got even worse. rip.), not beta read.

word count: 4.1k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. woweeee one more chapter and then we’re done ehehehehe >:)

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days—thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :) . .’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept reading,

‘. . . i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind—as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading your favourite manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way. .’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘. . . you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

‘I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.’

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequences of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You assumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

—

taglist (closed)

tags:

@ushijimaschubbs @tsumudoll @starlitsawamura @littlemiyastars @h3art-ablaz3 @eggyrocks @integers @rrosiitas @food8me @schelamski @honeytwo @nyaaa-cat @cherribxio @aloesstuff @bontensh0e @willshebloved @yogurtkags @hyori2 @hibernatinghamster @theepitomeofswag @yawnjjunz @animesimpingismyjob @acowboykisser @rntrsuna @rjreins @prodhyuka @loonalockley @cheesypuffkins87 @kos-misch @iluvaquaphor (kindly turn on your mentions! :>)

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

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dandelions-143 · 3 months ago

Text

Obsession

Minho Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Paring: Rich non-idol Minho x Dancer curvy/midsize fem!reader

Word count: 2,685 k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, you will be blocked if you don’t have an age in your bio or you’re under age. Explicit Content, Sexual Situations, Adult Themes, Substance Use, Strong Language.

Summary: Minho becomes captivated by a dancer named Y/n, feeling an intense connection and possessiveness towards her which leaves Minho coming back for more almost nightly. But is Minhos possessiveness really just that… or is it bordering an obsession.

Minho fell back on the large California king bed. His sweaty back hit the rumpled black silk sheets, causing the fabric to stick to him slightly. He watched as Jisung had a pretty redhead on all fours, taking her from behind. Minho was exhausted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He had just finished, so the exhaustion was a relief. All the tension left his body, at least for a while. He was always tense and on edge, and sex was usually the only way to relieve that tight tension.

Minho reached over to the nightstand to grab a pack of cigarettes just as Jisung finished with the girl. “Thanks, that was amazing as always.” Then Jisung fell back on the end of the bed, trying to catch his breath.

The girl got up from the bed, grabbed her clothes and money from Jisungs dresser by the door. “See you boys, same time next week,” she said matter-of-factly. Jisung smiled and nodded in approval, but Minho just stared at the ceiling, taking a long drag from his newly lit cigarette.

A silence fell over the two men before Minho began to chuckle. “You know, if we keep this up, people are going to start thinking we fuck each other as well.” This made Jisung laugh out loud, his big eyes going even rounder than usual. “It’s not like we haven’t come close before. I mean, a threesome is a threesome.” The men just chuckled at themselves.

To many, this would seem very odd: two grown men who are best friends engaging in threesomes with beautiful women and occasionally very handsome men. But to them, it was normal. They lived harsh lives despite the rich and lavish lifestyles of their parents. These moments of sexual intimacy gave them both a way to release any pent-up anger or tension. They couldn't care less how it looked to the outside world. It wasn't a secret, but they did keep it from their families, especially their fathers.

Minho began to sit up to pick up his clothes from the floor. He needed to get home and shower before meeting up with Hyunjin, who had recently been employed by his father. He felt bad for the guy; his life had been a train wreck lately, and Minho wanted to help him as best as he could. “Where are you going?” Jisung asked as Minho pulled on his black boxers.

“I have to go meet up with Hyunjin. Show him the ropes and get him settled in. You know my dad recently hired him as one of his carriers, right?” Minho said, pulling on his shirt and then his pants. Jisung, still lying on the bed, only nodded. “Yeah, let’s hope he does a good job. If he gets caught with that much dope...” Jisung didn't need to finish his sentence; they both knew what would happen. It had already happened to Chan once. Thank God his father was disgustingly rich and had his hands in the police force, or Chan would probably still be rotting in prison.

A thought crossed Minho's mind. Hyunjin didn’t have a wealthy father; he only had his friends and the money he earned himself. Minho wanted to ensure Hyunjin stayed safe. Just as Minho was putting on his shoes, his phone rang. He sighed, not in the mood to talk to anyone except Jisung. But when he saw his father’s name flash on the screen, he answered on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Mhm… well- oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m headed there now. Okay, thanks. Mm, bye.”

Minho hung up the phone and stood from the end of the bed. He turned to Jisung as he tucked in his shirt. “I hope you have a suit. Meet me here around 10 tonight. It seems a business deal we set up went through, and both our fathers were paid very handsomely for it. So they are going to treat us tonight once I’m finished with Hyunjin.”

Jisung sat up at the sound, his pretty, toothy smile showing shamelessly. “What kind of treat are we getting?” He began to get up, the silk sheets sliding off his naked body. “Not sure yet, but I’ll let you know once I find out. I gotta run. See you later.” Just as Minho was slipping out the door, he heard Jisung's phone ringing, knowing it was probably his father calling to tell him the same thing.

After hours of showing Hyunjin how Minho's father liked things done and then actually taking him on a small drug run, he was annoyed and slightly spent. He walked through his front door and there sat Jisung, man splayed on his couch in a black-on-black suit. “Oh come on... it’s not even 10 yet,” Minho groaned when he saw his best friend.

He just was not in the mood to deal with Jisung's sunny disposition. Jisung only smiled widely with a little shrug. “I had nothing else to do, so I got ready and came over to wait on you.” Minho only scoffed and headed to his master bedroom where he could shower and get ready.

After about 20 minutes, Minho emerged in a similar-looking black suit, but he was wearing a crimson red shirt under the suit jacket. It was unbuttoned quite a bit. His hair was slicked back, a few strands falling in his eyes. “Did you ever find out where we are going?” Jisung asked as he got up from the couch, straightening out his suit and running a hand through his hair.

Minho spoke as they left his home and got inside the waiting black car parked in front. “We are going to that gentleman’s club my father just opened a month ago. He said he’s got us a private room together or we can have a private room for each of us. He said to do as we pleased.” Minho had a soft smirk on his face when Jisung giddily clapped his hands, “Hell yeah, I’m so ready to have some boobs in my face.”

Minho chuckled at Jisung, “Do you even know what a gentleman’s club is?” Jisung's smile dropped a bit, “Umm, a strip club?” He spoke slowly, unsure of the answer he was giving. Minho only smiled and looked out the tinted window from his position in the back seat, “Close enough.”

It didn’t take too long to get to the gentleman’s club. The place was in a very expensive part of town, near some of the most high-end hotels and three-star Michelin restaurants. The building itself was rather large, but simple on the outside. More discreet than one would expect, but once the two men stepped inside, the simple and discreet atmosphere was completely gone.

The establishment was VIP only. You had to have a membership to even get in, and that was a lengthy process in itself. But, of course, Minho and Jisung walked right through the doors as if they owned the place. The entire club was lit up with red lights, black velvet furniture, and everything was trimmed in gold.

There was a large stage with a live band playing. Booths covered in red velvet lined the walls and other areas. Each section had a smaller stage with a singular pole in the middle. There was also a bar where people could sit and order drinks. Waitresses were running about taking orders because, of course, you could have an elegant dinner here as well.

Girls were dancing to the music in barely-there lingerie, spinning and twirling on the poles, but none of them were naked, and most looked very put together. Minho heard Jisung whistle and nudge his arm. “This place is… way different from the strung-out strippers we have enjoyed in the past.”

Just then, a petite older woman clad in a very pretty dark green cocktail dress walked up to them. Jisung was instantly enthralled with her. “Will you two follow me? Your room is ready for you.” She turned on her heel to lead them through the crowd and to the back down a dark hallway. As they came to a stop at one of the closed doors, Jisung smiled sweetly at what he assumed was the hostess, “Do you dance as well?” he asked, leaning against the door in the coolest way he could.

Minho shook his head and opened the door, causing Jisung to stumble inside the room. He let out a soft yelp before he fell completely onto the plush carpet of the room. “Damn! Why’d you have to do that! She was gorgeous.” Jisung complained as he got himself up and walked over to the black sofa, plopping down onto the cushions. “She works for your dad, she’s his secretary. I don’t think you fucking the secretary would go over well with him.”

Jisung huffed out an annoyed sigh, “And how do you even know that?” Minho simply tapped the side of his temple, “I pay attention, something you should do more of.” The men were interrupted by a light knock on the door and then two waitresses came in with food and a large bottle of their favorite drinks. Minho politely thanked them as they left. His father must have really made sure they were well taken care of.

Jisung was rattling off about having to wait too long for their private show to start when this sultry, hypnotic beat began to play. The song had a slow, seductive rhythm. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming more intimate and charged with a sense of anticipation. Jisung instantly shut up when a very beautiful woman stepped out onto the stage.

Minho's eyes were transfixed on you, your body curvy and soft, with an hourglass figure that moved gracefully to the rhythm of the music. Your skin glowed under the dim, seductive lighting, and every curve was accentuated by the delicate, barely-there lingerie you wore. Your presence exuded confidence and allure, making it impossible to look away.

He felt his heart race as his eyes locked onto yours for the first time. His breath caught in his throat, and it felt as though time had slowed down. Every detail of your appearance, from the delicate curve of your smile to the graceful way you moved, captivated him completely. A warmth spread through his chest, and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by your beauty. It was as if everything else in the room faded away, leaving only you in sharp focus.

“Holy fuck..” Minho heard his best friend exclaim beside him, “She’s gorgeous.” Now Minho was not a possessive person, especially over someone he hasn’t even met. He had only laid eyes on you but, oh man did he want to have you all to himself. He didn’t like the way Jisung was speaking about you.

Minho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes following every sensual move you made. You could feel both of the men’s eyes on you and this was nothing new to you. Working at this club and other clubs in the past, men were always around, always ogling you, always stupidly drooling over you like they had never seen a woman before.

But what made this encounter different is one of the men was watching you in a way you had never been looked at before. His eyes were extremely pretty and focused, not on your body but, your face. He kept making eye contact with you and it made you feel shy.. you never felt shy.

Minho felt Jisung tap him on the arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, do you think she would be down for more than just a dance?” Jisung was alluding to their usual threesomes they liked to partake in, but Minho was not interested in that. “I think she would be for the right price, you know?” Jisung just kept talking. Minho wanted his friend to just... shut up so he could enjoy you.

When you made eye contact with Minho once more as you dropped to your knees in a sensual move you had done many times before, he muttered, “Ji, get out.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t sound mad or angry; he just simply told Jisung to leave the room.

Jisung, of course, laughed a little as if he thought Minho was just joking. “What?”

“Leave the room, now.” Minho never took his eyes off you, even as you twirled easily around the pole. “But—” Jisung began, but Minho cut him off, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Jisung, get the fuck out.” He didn’t care where his friend went at this point. He didn’t care if he found another room, stayed at the bar in the main hall, or just simply went home, but he suddenly didn’t want anyone else’s eyes on you... especially not his best friend's.

Jisung let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as he stood up from the couch. “Fine, fine, I’m going,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He took one last glance at the stage, clearly frustrated by the abrupt interruption of their evening. With a huff, he made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy against the plush carpet. As he reached for the handle, he cast a final glance back at Minho, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity flickering in his eyes, before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him with a definitive click.

Minho leaned back, relaxing against the couch just as the first song ended. You moved like this was just another night as the next song began, but you heard the handsome man speak directly to you this time. “You don’t have to dance anymore.” It sounded so sweet... his voice was soft and calming even. Not at all what you expected to come from him.

With his angular face, his sharp pretty eyes, and pouty lips. “Come sit with me.” He wasn’t asking so... since you were being paid for this, you did as he said. As you got closer, you could see a few tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Before you could plant your curvy, thong-clad ass on the sofa, this man stands, takes off his suit jacket, and places it around your shoulders... to cover you up.

This was not normal... not for you... and not while you were working. Even though this wasn’t a place where the women got naked on stage, you never wanted to cover up. “You don’t like what you see?” you asked, trying to sound a bit playful but also trying to see exactly what this man was doing. If he wasn’t here to see your body, then why the fuck was he here?

You watched as his pouty lips quirked to the side in the most adorable little smirk. “I actually love what I see, but I can’t concentrate and talk to you when your body is just… out for me like that.” You raised a brow at him, a questioning look on your face. “You want to talk to me?” The question came out in an astonished way.

He simply nodded, “Mm, I’m Minho and you are?” he asked, holding his hand out for you to take. With his suit jacket off now, you saw more of him. His hands were slender but not overly large, and black tattoos peeked out from the sleeve of his button-up. His build, from what you could tell, was muscular but not overly so. The more you looked at him, the more truly handsome you realized he was. His eyes though... they were the best part of him. They were not small but not large. Sharp and dark, they had this sparkle about them... like a fire was lit in them. It made you self-conscious but not in a bad way.

You took his hand, finally, “I'm Y/n.” As your hand met his, a surge of electricity seemed to pass between you both. Minho felt an unexpected warmth and a sense of connection that was almost tangible. The callouses on his hand, a testament to his tough life, contrasted with the softness of your touch, creating a moment of profound intimacy. You, on the other hand, was struck by the firmness and confidence in Minho's grip, feeling a blend of curiosity and a strange comfort. You both were momentarily lost in the sensation, realizing that this simple handshake held the promise of something deeper.

Eventually, you pulled your hand away, almost too swiftly. Your eyes broke away from the intense stare he was giving you. “So...” you slid his jacket from your shoulders, exposing the lacy black lingerie once again, “What do you want? Another dance?” You leaned closer to him, trying to slip back into work mode. “Or... I can do a lot more than dance... your father said to give you whatever you wanted.” You began to slide your hand up his arm, feeling his muscles flexing beneath his deep red dress shirt.

Just as your hand began to cup his cheek, he gently grabbed your hand and placed it down on your lap. “You’re free to go,” he simply said. Minho didn’t look angry; he didn’t look upset... he was calm. You watched as the man stood, a very evident hard-on in his pants, and you could tell he was a bit embarrassed by this. The very first crack in his very cold, hard mask.

As he walked towards the door, he glanced back at you once more, gave you a little nod as if to say thank you, and then he was gone.

He took a moment to lean his shoulder up against the wall just outside the door. What the fuck… Minho thought to himself. He had never felt so many emotions all at once due to a woman. His heart was pounding, his hands were clammy, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were. It almost made him sick as to how weak in the knees this woman HE DID NOT KNOW made him feel.

Every night for the next two weeks, Minho booked all your time. You didn’t dance for anyone else or in the main hall for the crowd. You only danced in that same private room and only for Minho.

He watched you silently, with a stoic expression, his intense dark brown eyes the only sign of emotion. He never spoke to you again like he did that first night; he just watched, sipping his whiskey or bourbon. You found yourself wanting to talk to him more each time you saw him.

You were curious about this man who only wanted to look at you without touching. On this particular night, Minho seemed anxious. He wasn't exactly distracted since he kept his eyes on you, but he kept fidgeting. His hands ran through his dark hair, messing it up, and his leg bounced a little. He was drinking more than usual.

When the last song ended, you stopped him from leaving. “Minho...” you said softly from your kneeled position on the stage. He paused mid-stride, his back turned to you. He didn’t respond, but he was listening. “Are you alright?” you asked, feeling the need to check on him.

You heard him sigh softly before turning to face you. “Don’t I look alright?” he replied, his eyes pinning you down, making you feel self-conscious again. You slowly stood up, your heels softly clicking on the stage as you walked over to him. “No, you don’t. You seem anxious. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here to help.” You reached out, sliding a hand over his and up his arm.

Minho jerked away and bit down on his bottom lip. “I- I don’t like to be touched like that.” You thought it was odd, so you tilted your head in curiosity. “But then how do you love a woman or a man? You have to touch and be touched.” A soft smirk formed on Minho's lips. “If you’re talking about sex, then I don’t love or make love… I fuck. As far as domestically loving someone,” he paused, “That has never happened and will never happen.”

His last sentence seemed final, as if he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Minho turned to leave again, but you caught his hand, which he didn’t pull away from this time. “Why do you book me every night I work? Doesn’t it get boring seeing the same girl on stage every time?” You were genuinely curious, but a part of you didn’t want him to leave just yet. You liked the energetic, charged feeling he gave you. There was a static in the air between you two, and you looked forward to it.

Minho turned around, taking a stride closer to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat. Leaning in, his lips almost touching yours, he whispered, “No one else is allowed to see you but me. You’re my dancer.” His voice in your ear did interesting things to you, curving your back and parting your lips. As he pulled back, your eyes met his, holding that stare.

Then you said the words you never said to any client, “Let me touch you.” You never made sexual advances like this, always making sure clients knew you weren’t offering sex for money. But with Minho, you wanted to see what his body could do to you. You wanted to be the one he allowed to touch him.

Your eyes dipped to his lips as his tongue licked over his bottom lip. For a moment, you thought he would refuse, but then he said, “Sit.” He pointed to the couch. You didn’t hesitate and sat down on the plush couch. Minho gently pushed your shoulders back so you were leaning completely against the back of the couch.

You watched this beautiful man, who probably never knelt for anyone, sink to his knees in front of you. He began taking off your heels, dropping them to the side. Then his warm hands slid up your calves, over your knees, to your thighs. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and the anticipation made your chest rise and fall dramatically. Minho's eyes were focused on one spot directly between your thighs as he spread your legs apart.

“I said I wanted to touch you..” Your voice was timid and soft. His touch made it hard to think. Those eyes shot up to yours, piercing deeply, “I don’t like to be touched, but I will gladly touch you.” And just like that, you were his, at least in that moment.

Minho's hands slid up to your hips, gripping them firmly and yanking you towards him, causing your ass to rest on the edge of the cushions. He hooked a finger in the gusset of your lacy, light blue, slightly transparent bodysuit, pulling it aside to expose your very wet pussy. You swore you heard a soft rumble deep within his chest as he looked at you, vulnerable and ready for him.

Minho wasted no time, leaning closer and biting at the inside of your thighs, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. His teeth on you were unexpected but felt amazing. Then his soft, wet tongue was on you, slowly licking between your wet folds. Minho stayed silent, but his face said volumes. His eyes locked on your face, filled with lust. His hands massaged and kneaded your thighs as he licked slowly over your entire pussy.

When your legs began to tremble from the intense pleasure, he finally latched his lips onto your clit, sucking gently. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan loudly. Minho's eyes never left yours, and the connection felt electric and undeniable.

“Fuck!” you mumbled, lifting your hips and tangling your hands in his hair, tugging as his suction became more intense. His hands moved from your thighs to your ass, lifting you just enough to grab handfuls of your flesh.

“Minho.. Minho.. don’t stop.” You chanted, soft sighs and whimpers escaping constantly. The moment you began chanting his name, he seemed charged with even more need to please you. He pressed his tongue in and out of your needy hole, his entire face pressed into your pussy, his nose sliding up and down your swollen clit.

Minho wasn't afraid to get all your juices on him, loving your smell and taste. His cock grew extremely hard in his pants. It was uncomfortable, but he endured just to see you laid out like this, a dinner only for him.

As your orgasm built, your body reacted uncontrollably, your back arching, hips grinding against Minho's eager mouth. The tension coiled tightly in your lower abdomen, ready to snap. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Minho's fingers joined in, sliding two digits into you, curling them perfectly to hit that sweet spot inside you.

With a final, desperate cry of his name, your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body. Minho didn't let up, his mouth and fingers working you through your climax, drawing out every last tremor. As you came down from the high, Minho moved back, his handsome face shining slightly with your juices.

He simply licked his lips then sucked the rest of you off his fingers. You watched him put your clothing back in place and then slowly stand. You saw the imprint of his cock in his pants, and you genuinely wanted to give back what he just did for you. You moved to kneel in front of him.

Minho watched you, his hands hanging loosely by his side as you ran your hand over the bulge in his pants, but when you went to unbutton his pants, his hand stopped you. He shook his head and helped you to your feet, his hand holding yours a bit longer before letting go. “You should get home soon, I will see you soon,” he muttered before leaving, his energy still filling the room after he was gone.

You were being paid a lot to give your time to Minho, but why did it feel like every moment with him was worth far more than money? The connection between you two was undeniable, leaving you wanting more and questioning what drew you so deeply to him.

Thank you all for your support! I’m writing a bit slower due to life stuff but, I will continue posting as often as I can! As always all interactions with my works are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreamy @syedazarintasnim

If you want to be tagged in only Minho gifs please specify or else you will be tagged in every members gifs! Thanks! 🙏

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diabolikangel158 · 3 months ago

Text

Plane Rides with Hazbin Hotel Characters

Drabbles with multiple characters: Flying in an airplane with various characters from Hazbin Hotel and you ask to kiss them (I don’t know if they fly in hell, but for scenario purposes, we’re gonna pretend they do. What’s the worst that can happen? They die? LOL). Includes the Vees, Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, and Angel Dust.

Warnings: Reader written either as female or no pronouns mentioned. Suggestive themes in some of the characters’ stories, tooth-rotting fluff in others’.

Vox:

Vox sits next to you typing away on his VoxTek laptop. You give him a sidelong glance. This is supposed to be a vacation. You take a small sip of your soda and sigh.

Vox gives a sigh in return. “What is it?”

You shrug in pretend nonchalance. “It’s just… well, we’re supposed to be on vacation…and you’re still…well, you're still working, Voxy.”

He grumbles and rolls his eyes, turning to look at you. “I run a whole technological empire, Y/n. I can’t just leave it for two weeks unsupervised. Who knows what would happen with Val and Vel being the only ones there to run the Vee’s.” He states in a factual manner while continuing to type away at whatever document or email he was currently working on.

You look away, mumbling a slightly annoyed, “Right…”

Vox glances back up at you. “You're frustrated with me, aren’t you.” He says it more like a statement, not a question.

You shrug again. “Depends. Can I kiss you?”

Vox looks at you with a pause, seeming to consider your request. He starts to smirk. “Such a needy girl, hm? I suppose it’s fine, it’s a long flight after all.” You smile at him, leaning to kiss him gently on his cheek before pulling away. “That’s all you wanted, to give me a little kiss on the cheek?”

You give him a fake pout. “Well, I thought that was all I was allowed… since you’re so busy and all…”

His smirk widens. “You’re such a princess, needing my attention all the time.”

You give a smirk of your own in return. “Can’t help it, I’m spoiled like one after all.” You pause for a moment before asking, “Can I have more?”

Vox leans a bit closer to you. “Depends… beg for it.”

You feel more courageous than usual on this flight, “I can beg better if we go to the bathroom.”

His eyes widen slightly at your words, not used to you being so forward. His expression returns to his calm and snarky nature. “You’re lucky there’s no police in Hell, doll, or you’d get us both arrested.” He grabs your hand, practically dragging you to the bathroom.

Seems like you are able to get Vox to relax on vacation after all. With a little work on your part, of course.

Velvette:

Velvette lays in a comfortable reclined position, feet up, face mask in place, and of course, phone in hand. Of course she bought out all the seats around you two, stating that she didn’t want to be “disturbed” during such a long flight. You, on the other hand, sit upright. She might as well be on vacation by herself. You were accustomed to her not really talking much to you during work, but you thought that perhaps being on vacation with her, she would be more open to speaking with you at least. Though it seems, you thought wrong.

You clear your throat. Velvette glances at you for a split second. “Something the matter?”

“It’s nothing.” You lie.

Velvette straightens in her chair. “You know I don’t like liars, darling.”

You stiffen at her words. “Well you…” As you try to find the words, she removes her face mask, tossing it in a little trash that was provided. “You look so… relaxed but… I”

She gives you a slight glare, but she also wears a small smirk; it borders on malicious. “Not giving you enough attention, pet?” She strokes your hair, as though you really were just that: a pet. You can’t help but lean into her touch, though. “Poor thing, we’re on vacation, and here I am neglecting you.” She leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips and she smiles when she sees a light dusting of color paint your cheeks. “How cute.”

With Velvette, who knows her pet so well, you don’t even need to ask.

Valentino:

You sat on the plane with Valentino, fiddling with your phone as he carefully decided on which jewels he’d like to use to decorate the new gun he bought. “Amorcito, which of these make this gun look sexier on me?” Val asks you, holding up an emerald and a ruby up next to his face.

You give him a shy smile and say, “Honestly, anything looks sexy on you, Val.” He grins back at you, but motions his hands again, urging you to pick. “Hm… but I think the rubies really match your aesthetic, babe.”

“Aww… you know me too well, carino.” With that, Valentino goes back to gluing on the jewels. Without warning, you feel your stomach growl. Your eyes widen in surprise. Valentino finishes adjusting one of the red gems on his gun before looking over at you. “Oh, amorcito, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling hungry?” He pouts at you.

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother; I can just eat when we get off the plane!” You say hurriedly.

“Nonsense.” You feel something inside you cringe, making sure it doesn’t show on your face. Here we go… Valentino angrily waves over a flight attendant. “Hey! Didn’t you hear her stomach growl? She’s starving!” He yells.

The poor attendant rushes over to see what the commotion is about. “Sir?”

Val glares at him as you look down between your knees in embarrassment. “Did you not hear me? She’s hungry. Take her order. Now.” Your boyfriend demands.

“Of course.” There is a nervous shiver in the man’s voice. Poor guy. “What would you like, miss?”

“Um… I’ll just take a Coke and like…a bag of chips. Thank you.” You mumble out the first, simplest things that came to mind.

Valentino places a hand on your thigh, shaking his head. His tone is sickeningly sweet in stark comparison to how he has been speaking to the attendant. “No, no amorcito, that’s not a proper meal.” He turns his attention back to the attendant, the harsh anger returning to his voice. “She wants a steak, medium well and a side salad. Oh, yes and we’ll both take a glass of Chardonnay.” The attendant just looks at him, perhaps trying to figure out how to tell Val that they don’t carry that or maybe just in general fear. A beat passes. “Well hurry up, don’t you think you’ve made my princessa wait long enough?” He runs a finger along his gun, the threat plain.

The demon nods immediately. “Yes of course. So sorry.” He runs off without another word.

You let out a sigh and Valentino plays with the fat of your thigh. “Only way to get the bitches to fall in line, amoricito.” You only nod in response. Despite yourself, a faint blush rises to your cheeks. He tilts his head with a sly smile. “Naughty girl… you enjoyed that didn’t you?” You only nod, but you knew if you could, you would tell him that sometimes you were just happy that you weren’t the one bearing the brunt of his abuse.

“Can we kiss?” You ask in a hushed voice.

Valentino’s hand rises higher up your thigh, brushing against the seam of your panties. His grin is salacious. Valentino leans close into your ear and whispers, “Oh, we can do a lot more than that.” The demon rushes back, careful not to ruin any of the items the two of you– well, Valentino– had ordered. He gently places everything in front of you and Val. Everything looks perfect and you dare to give a smile, thanking the demon softly, words tinged with apology; Val doesn’t even acknowledge him, seeing as something else more… interesting… has captured his attention. The demon just appears relieved to not have to interact with Valentino and quickly takes his leave.

Valentino busies himself with marking up your neck with little love bites. “You best hurry and eat, amorcito. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned for us on this flight.”

You shakily take the knife and fork into your hands and begin to eat and Valentino finally pulls away to take a sip of his drink with one hand, a wicked grin gracing his features. He leaves another one of his hands on your core, the remaining two absent-mindedly returning to toy with the decorations on his gun while you eat.

You shiver, but you know better than to shut your legs. You should also have known better that you wouldn’t just get mere kisses from Valentino of all people.

Alastor:

You sit comfortably in the well-cushioned seat of first-class with Alastor, the one and only Radio Demon. You notice as other demons walk by, making their way to the back of the plane, that they make all the effort to avoid eye contact with him, and you by association. He sits on the seat near the walkway, and you by the window, something about how it’s safer for you that way. You huff slightly, taking a peek out the window. Being with Alastor had its perks, but making friends or even speaking to people outside of those who lived in the hotel was rather…difficult. Being the Radio Demon’s girlfriend made it quite hard, since everyone was scared off by that simple fact alone.

Alastor doesn’t seem to mind, and actually appears to revel in the other passengers’ fear of him. Your huff doesn’t go amiss by him, though. He turns to look at you, ever-present Cheshire cat grin on his face. “Is something not to your liking, my dear?” You turn to look at him, shaking your head. He clicks his tongue at you. “Now, now, you know I dislike liars.” He leans over, affectionately squeezing your cheek.

“Well… you know I love you…” Alastor nods, closing his eyes with a smug expression, as if this were an obvious fact. “I just think how sometimes…”

As you're about to express your feelings, a demon walks by and notices Alastor, stopping dead in his tracks trembling. You offer a shy smile, to which Alastor cranes his neck completely around; if he were normal anyone would have thought he had broken his neck. “Can I help you, my fine fellow?” His eyes light up with radio dials and his voice distorts like it’s on the radio in the middle of switching channels, full static. The poor demon screams an apology before running off to the back of the plane. You regret smiling at him, sighing. Alastor turns his attention back to you, his regular smile back on his face. “You were saying, my dear?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to make new friends because I’m… well I’m with you. They don’t see “Y/n,” they see “The Radio Demon’s Girlfriend.” You know?”

His smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes lose their smile a bit. “I see. Well, darling, there really isn’t much I can do about that. I recall you having made plenty of acquaintances in Cannibal Town, though!” He replies cheerily.

“Yeah… but even those are kinda weird, because they only like me because I’m with you, Al’.”

Alastor nods with understanding. “Well, I would never willingly get in the way of you making friendships with other demons, dear. If it is too much, we could always part ways.” He tilts his head, waiting for your reaction.

You sit up suddenly, grabbing his hand. “Of course I don’t want to break up! I just… I was just expressing my feelings. I love you.”

Pleased, Alastor gives you a small smile, one of the less unsettling ones. “And I you, darling.”

You blush a little at his words, heart filling with genuine affection for a demon most others abhorred. “Alastor can we…?”

Alastor faces forward in his seat with his Cheshire grin back on his face, continuing to hold your hand. “Absolutely not, haha!”

You pout. “Please?”

“Patience is a virtue, my dear!” Some radio laughter is heard coming from his microphone. “Wait until we arrive at our destination for such affectionate actions, haha!” Your frown deepens, feeling the rejection of a kiss personally. Alastor leans forward to whisper in your ear. “Be a good girl, and I am sure to make it worth your while. You trust I always keep my end of a deal, yes?” You perk up, nodding in understanding.

No, Alastor isn’t into public affection, but behind closed doors? Let’s just say, waiting in anticipation sometimes does make the reward at the end all the more enjoyable.

Lucifer:

You sit quietly next to Lucifer in his jet. Yes, of course, the devil himself has his own private jet with his face plastered on the side of it, so everyone knows that he has one (Charlie definitely face-palmed upon seeing it). He, however, is anything but quiet.

He thrusts a stack of pamphlets towards you. “And I think we should explore these rides, too, don’t you think, love? And here!” He holds out another pamphlet. “Of course nothing will compare to Lu Lu World, but it’s worth a shot.” He says with a grin.

You give him a polite smile, nodding along. It was nice to see him out of his depressed state and somewhere where he could be a bit more relaxed. You flip through one of the many pamphlets. “This is a lot, Luci. I don’t think we’ll have enough time to attend all of these attractions. Perhaps we should just stick to the most popular ones?” You suggest.

Lucifer snaps his head to you. “Oh, very true, love, very true.” He almost looks bashful. “I guess I might have gotten a bit ahead of myself. I just want to make sure we have the best time!” He gives an awkward chuckle, starting to turn away.

You grab him by his shoulders before he can fully turn away. “And we will have the best time!” You gently caress the side of his cheek. “But I don’t need some silly attractions to have a good time. I have you.” Your face lights up with a bright, honest smile; Lucifer can’t help but follow suit, the corners of his own mouth pulling up. A slight blush is noted on his cheeks as well, and you softly pinch at them.

“You always seem to know just what to say, don’t you?” Lucifer laughs. You gaze at him as he laughs, taking in his features. He catches you staring and smirks. “Uh oh, I think I know what you want, hm?” He says in a knowing tone.

Now it’s your turn to blush. “I…well… only if you’d want to…” It’s comical how sometimes you seem to mirror his personality at times when your nerves get to you.

“Of course I want to. I always want to.” Lucifer looks at you lovingly, his expression soft. You lean in close to him, closing your eyes. Lucifer grants your unspoken request, gingerly pressing his lips against yours, trying to get as close as possible to you in the expensive plane seats. Once the two of you part, you bashfully scoot back into your own space and Lucifer does the same. He mumbles something incoherent.

“Wait, what did you say?” You ask.

He turns red, all the way up to his ears. “I had… a… bed put up…” He points behind the two of you. “Back there. A bed.”

You turn red as well at his words. “O-oh… I see. Mile high club then?”

He grins. “Mile high club.” He quickly picks you up bridal-style taking you to said bed. His expression full of excitement and joy disappears when he pokes his head out the private bedroom, looking at one of the demons who are attending his plane. “Don’t let anything interrupt us.” Lucifer then slams the door shut.

You were right about not needing any attractions to have a good time with Lucifer. In fact, you don’t even need them to experience a nice, exciting ride.

Charlie:

You patiently sit in your seat as the rest of the people board the plane. You give a quick glance around the plane looking for your girlfriend. Just where did she go?

Just as you pull out your phone to try and give her a quick call, a figure comes looming towards you. You tilt your head in confusion, trying to discern just what you were looking at. There seems to be an abundance of snacks: popcorn, crackers, cheese, lunch meat, various kinds of chips, and even chocolate. From behind the huge amount of food, Charlie pokes her head out from behind the pile. “Babe! Look at all these tasty snacks they have on here!” A demon grunts as Charlie accidentally bumps into him. “Oops, sorry! Excuse me! Don’t mind me, just making my way through! Oh… so sorry!”

Charlies gives a nervous chuckle as she finally sits down next to you. She hands over some of the snacks so that you both have an abundance of items on your laps. “Charlie… Why'd you get so much stuff? No way we’re gonna eat all this!” You give her a small smile, feeling warmth at witnessing yet another of her silly antics.

“Oh well you know I thought to myself, ‘What if Y/n doesn’t like the food at the resort?’ So we can just have these as back up just in case!” Your smile grows wider as you look at her with adoration. Of course she was thinking about you when doing something as mundane as shopping for snacks to munch on during a short flight.

You place your hand softly on her knee, looking up at her. A faint blush rises to her cheeks. “Everything okay?” She asks.

You simply nod, leaning in closer to her. “Can I kiss you?”

Charlie’s eyes dart around the place nervously. “Right here? Are you sure?” You tilt your head to the side. “Haha…it’s just there’s so many people and–” You interrupt her, pressing your lips softly against hers. “Haha…yeah…” She stares at you as if caught in a daze once you pull away.

You tear open one of the bags of chocolates and pop one into your mouth. You make a noise of content, pouring some into Charlie's hands. “Oh! These taste great, try some!”

You wonder briefly if anyone else would believe you if you told them that the Princess of Hell gets flustered so easily.

Angel Dust:

You look at Angel Dust with sympathetic eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips. He angrily crosses and uncrosses his four arms, then moves to crossing and uncrossing his long legs. He gives you an annoyed groan. “God damn it! I know we’re flying economy, but did they have to make the seats so damn small?!” A light chuckle escapes you, and you quickly cover your mouth. His eyes dart to look at your smaller frame, looking much more comfortable than he could ever hope to be. “Oh, you think it’s funny, huh?” Now, a smirk tugs at his own lips.

You shake your head fast in response, trying to hold your laughter in. “It’s just…I remember when you were bragging to Charlie and the others at the hotel about—“ You burst into a small fit of giggles.

“About what?!” He somewhat yells out dramatically, shaking you lightly by the shoulders.

You mimick his Italian accent effortlessly. “‘I’ve got the legs, I got the stamina, oh hoho I got the legs!’” You take a breath before continuing in your normal voice. “Seems like those assets aren’t really…assett-ing right now, that’s all.”

Angel Dust’s eyes narrow at you, but for some reason is still smiling. “I see…well alright then. Have it your way.” He lunges the very short distance at you into your seat, using not one, not two, but all four of his hands that he has readily available to tickle your sides. You try to thrust your arms down by your sides to protect yourself, but Angel Dust efficiently uses one pair of hands to pin your own two by your head to the seat, and the other pair to continue tickling you.

You laugh continuously and loudly, tears coming to your eyes. “A-Angel no! Stop!” You struggle against his arms, but it’s no use. You are at Angel Dust’s mercy.

“Aw what’s the matter, baby? I thought you loved laughing?” He continues his torture on you with a wide grin, his gold tooth on display.

“Angel, please! I’m gonna pee myself!” You exclaim.

Your words fall on deaf ears. “Hm…give me a good reason why?!” He chuckles in a playful-menacing tone.

You can barely think, but the words come out your lips as smoothly as you are able. “Can I apologize and give you a kiss? And then I’ll apologize some more! Pinky promise!” You feel one of his hands that were holding yours by your head intertwine it’s pinky with your own, securing the oath. Once completed, he releases you, withdrawing into his seat, a smug expression on his face.

You pause to catch your breath. “Well? I’m waiting.” His voice drips with ego.

You breathe in one more time, “I’m very sorry I made fun of your long, beautiful, gorgeous legs which I love to have wrapped around me and are a gift to Hell. The real reason they couldn’t send you to heaven was because Hell needed something to add some mmph, and your legs provide just that.” You say breathlessly. He nods his head at every sentence in total agreement, eyes closed and arms crossed. There is a momentary pause and he cracks open one eye to look at you. He takes one hand and rotates his wrist, fingers splayed out. And?

You refrain from rolling your eyes, though you really wish you could. You lean forwards and softly press your lips against his. A chaste a quick kiss. He opens both his eyes and rolls them. “Ugh, what was that?! C’mon gimme a better one, baby!”

He leans in forwards again but you hold him off by his shoulder with a laugh. “Nuh uh. I never specified what kind of kiss! I just said kiss, so I held up my end of the bargain just fine.”

Angel Dust raises one eye brow. “Oh, you wanna tease me, huh? Kinky.”

You don’t hold back your eye roll this time, slapping his shoulder playfully. You lean over and mess with the controls of his seat. “Here, this should help.” It isn’t much, but it does provide Angel Dust with more room. His eyes widen a bit. He isn’t used to being cared for in such a way, even if it is something that that would be considered a “little” thing. You kiss him again on the side of his cheek, settling into your own seat. “I’m going to try to sleep through the ride, you do your best too, okay?”

As you shut your eyes to try to sleep, he grabs ahold of your hand in one of his, leaning his head back. He may be one of the most famous porn stars in hell, but sweet little chaste actions like the ones you supply him with are what really gives him pause. The little flutter he feels in his chest when he looks at you can attest to that.

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 4 months ago

Text

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 3

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Kate is excited and there's a photoshoot. And lots of gay pining and panicking. Mostly on Wanda's end.

content warnings: Vision being a weirdo

word count: 4.5k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Kate is elated.

She’s almost too excited. Wanda finds it suspicious, and narrows her eyes as her roommate starts speaking quickly, her voice high and her words stumbling against each other in her haste to speak.

“What was she doing in town? Wait, never mind I don’t really care. She totally came to see you!” Her excited voice blares through the speakers on Wanda’s phone.

Wanda is in the stock room while Carol is in charge of the front of the store, attempting to count inventory while her mind replays every second of Ms. Romanoff’s visit an hour ago. She had shot off a quick text to Kate, asking if she’d like a personal photoshoot with the CEO, and her roommate had immediately called her, burning with questions.

“I mean, no fucking way it was just a coincidence that she happened to stop by the only store in town that you work in. You don’t think that was on purpose?”

“She said she was visiting some department for research,” Wanda says, setting the pen down on her clipboard as Kate clucks her tongue on the other end of the line. She didn’t know why her heart sank slightly at the thought, cursing her excitement at the prospect of Ms. Romanoff purposely coming into town to see her.

“Oh, that’s right. She’s giving the renewable energy research facility a 3 million dollar grant.” Kate’s voice cracks over the speaker slightly, and Wanda feels her eyes go wide.

“How do you know that?”

“Dude, my job is literally chief editor for the University newspaper, keep up.”

“Oh,” Wanda shakes her head. That makes sense. She must be really out of it, distracted by Ms. Romanoff’s impromptu shopping trip. She changes the subject. “So do you want the photos of her then?”

Kate’s high-pitched screech sounds out, and Wanda jerks the phone away from her ear as the sound reverberates in her eardrum. She winces, making out the words Kate is yelling.

“Of fucking course I want the photos. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Wands!! Ms. Romanoff never lets anyone take photos of her, and this would be a private photoshoot. We could have hundreds of personalized photos of her, do you know how rare that is?”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda laughs, hearing Kate’s harsh breathing sound out as she catches her breath. “We just have to figure out who is going to take them, and where.”

“Where do you think Ms. Romanoff would want to do the photoshoot? Like, will she judge us if it’s in some warehouse?” Kate asks, her voice starting to get more high-pitched.

Wanda knows what that means. Her roommate is overthinking, and her hands are probably shaking as her mind runs a mile a minute.

“We can ask her about a location, since she’s staying in the area.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and she hears Kate’s breathing calm slightly. It’s a start.

“How would we ask her?”

“Well,” Wanda starts, hesitating slightly. She hears Kate moving around, probably busying herself with cleaning to release some anxiety over the situation. “I can just… text her and ask?”

“She gave you her number?” Kate’s voice is incredulous and bordering on hysterical. “The most elusive, most desired, hottest, eligible single woman in Seattle gave you her fucking number?”

“Um… yes.”

“Oh my god, Wanda. She’s totally into you, anybody can see it.”

“Kate, no,” Wanda protests, “She was just trying to be nice.”

As she says the words, Wanda knows that they’re false. Ms. Romanoff being nice? To some random girl who tripped through her multi-million dollar quartz doorway? Absolutely not. There had to be a reason why she was giving Wanda so much attention. Her heart stutters, filling with happiness at the thought.

“We can ask Vision to take the photos, he’d do just about anything for you.” Kate’s voice grounds her to the present moment.

Wanda feels her body shudder. She didn’t really have anything against the tall, nerdy blonde. He was nice, and in a few of her classes with her. But, he would always stand too close to her or would find any excuse he could to talk with her. His interest in her was noticeable and no matter how many times Wanda had hinted at her sexuality, he just didn’t seem to understand her disinterest in him.

Honestly, she was one creepy, lingering look away from making a giant banner with the words, ‘I’m a lesbian!’ painted across it in pink glitter.

Still, she had to admit that he was talented with a camera.

“Fine, I’ll call him. I think you should call Ms. Romanoff. After all, it’s your article.”

“No way, you’re the one she wants.”

Wanda blinked at that, letting the thought warm her for a moment. Then, she shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous, I barely know her.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who’s met her. And you’re the one she’s purposely sought out, so you’re calling her. Don’t argue with me on this.” Kate’s voice is firm, the click of her hanging up the phone surprising Wanda.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda pulled out the business card Ms. Romanoff had given her. Her eyes traced over the curves of the woman’s name, memorizing the phone number on the back as she felt herself start to smile. God, she felt almost giddy. It felt like she was back in high school, with a crush on a cheerleader who’d smiled at her in the hallways.

“So, how do you know her?” Carol’s voice sounded out, her tone suggesting that she was attempting to be nonchalant. It wasn’t working very well.

Wanda jumped, her heart rate spiking as she guiltily slipped the business card back into her pocket. Turning, she saw Carol setting down a box before the woman turned to her with curious eyes. She didn’t have to ask who Carol was referring to.

“I had to interview her for Kate’s newspaper,” Wanda says, and her casual tone sounds just as forced as Carol’s. “She was sick so I went for her.”

“Impressive,” Carol muses, lingering in the doorway. “I can’t believe Natasha Romanoff was in my store. Valkyrie is going to be insanely jealous.”

She smiles widely at the thought, before seeming to remember where she was. “Listen, a few customers came in, so I could really use your help out there.”

“Right,” Wanda says, picking up her inventory clipboard. “I’ll be out soon, give me two minutes.”

She can practically feel the burning weight of Ms. Romanoff’s card in her pocket, and takes a deep breath. Maybe she can recite some poetry in her head to get rid of the ever-present replays of their meeting from earlier that day. Looking at the clock, Wanda despairs slightly.

Only three more hours of her shift, then she can go home and study without thinking about the redhead at all. Not even a little bit.

—

“Wanda, you know my style,” Vision’s voice crackles slightly over the speaker, a whining sort of quality to his tone. Kate rolls her eyes from where she’s listening in on the conversation. “I only shoot places, not people.”

“Oh my god dude,” Kate says, ripping the phone from Wanda’s hands. She gladly lets her roommate take control of the situation, her stomach churning with every word that Visions speaks. “If you don’t do this for us, the newspaper won’t cover the opening of your show. Do you understand now?”

There's a beat, a moment of silence that stretches too long to be comfortable. Vision speaks, “Fine. Send me the details once you have them and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kate says, and hangs up the phone before Vision can say anything else. “Your turn, call Ms. Romanoff.”

Wanda blinks, still processing the conversation with Vision.

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. If I don’t sit here with you, you’ll never call. I know what you’re like with making phone calls. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” Kate says, reaching across the couch with exaggerated grabby hands as Wanda chuckles and slaps her fingers lightly.

Taking out the card, Wanda traces the familiar shape of Ms. Romanoff’s name before dialing the number from memory. It wasn’t that hard to remember, especially since she’d been repeating it subconsciously in her head for the past few hours. Her stomach twists, doing a funny sort of fluttery motion as the dial tone rings.

She answers on the second ring, her voice clipped and calm. It’s slightly raspy, and Wanda feels her chest grow warm.

“Romanoff.”

“Oh, um… Ms. Romanoff? This is Wanda. Uh, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. You gave me your card earlier?”

“That I did,” she says, and Wanda can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s good to hear from you, Ms. Maximoff.”

Her tone has changed, warmth flowing through the phone. She sounds pleased and almost surprised. Wanda is acutely aware of the way her face is slowly flushing with each low, raspy word Ms. Romanoff speaks. Kate watches, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Wanda’s pink cheeks.

Standing, Wanda waves her hands in Kate’s direction in an unspoken order to ‘fuck off’, before making her way towards the kitchen for some fresh air. They’d propped the window open earlier, and Wanda eagerly breathes in the smell of freshly fallen leaves as she scrambles for something to say.

“We found a photographer,” she blurts out, before smacking a hand against her forehead. “For the photoshoot tomorrow. That is, if you still want to do a photoshoot. I didn’t mean to assume. Does that work for you, ma’am?”

Wanda can feel herself cringe slightly as the words spew from her traitorous mouth.

“Ma’am? That’s new… I’m staying at the Hilton in town, does 9:30 work?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda can hear the amusement in each syllable. The woman’s slow smile practically seeps through the phone, and Wanda pushes down the giddy feeling erupting within her.

“Yes, of course,” she feigns nonchalance, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “We’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it, Ms. Maximoff,” she says, and Wanda can visualize the way her dark green eyes are glinting. She envisions the corners of her mouth turning up into that secret smile she had given Wanda earlier, and shakes her head quickly, returning to the present moment.

“So do I,” Wanda manages to say, before she quickly hangs up the phone, practically slamming it down on the counter and staring at the screen like she’s expecting the circuits to light on fire.

“Wow,” Kate’s voice sounds out, her tone a slow drawl. “You’re totally blushing, dude. Admit it, you like her.”

Whirling around, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. She stutters, the words of denial fading quickly as she registers the way her heart is beating quickly and the excitement and butterflies building within her at the prospect of seeing Ms. Romanoff the next morning.

Well, fuck.

“Oh, come on. She has a million other things to worry about. She’s not focused on some college student who interviewed her. And it’s not a crush… I just find her intimidating.” Wanda can’t tell if she’s trying to convince Kate or herself, and based on the way her roommate raises her eyebrows, she’s not easily swayed.

“Sure,” Katre says, her gaze pointedly glancing towards Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “I’ll arrange the photoshoot and give my manager a call.”

“I’ll make us supper, how does spaghetti sound?” Wanda asks, jumping at the opportunity for a subject change. Kate agrees, her knowing gaze telling Wanda that she’s aware of her tactic, but thankfully her roommate drops the subject.

That night, Wanda dreams of cinnamon and dark red hair, the weight of warm fingers against her skin, and a raspy voice echoing around her. She wakes up twice, burying her head in the pillow as she scolds her overactive brain for thinking too much.

She just has to get through this photoshoot, then she can bury the thoughts of Natasha Romanoff somewhere deep inside her brain.

—

The Hilton stands out among the other buildings, the white-washed stone a beacon of wealth. Wanda tries her best to not raise her eyebrows too far, but Kate doesn’t seem to care as she cranes her neck to look up at the building. The boys in the back, Vision and Paul, seem interested as well, and Vision winces as Paul leans over him to press his face against the window.

“Damn, so she’s like really fucking rich, huh?” Paul asks, and Wanda internally scoffs.

She’d looked up Ms. Romanoff’s net worth the night before, her eyes wide and her ice cream forgotten and melting in her bowl as she stared at the numbers on her screen. She’d found herself in a rabbit hole of research, if that’s what you could call it. She mostly just looked up any information she could find about the woman, her public records limited and her photos mainly sourced from various exclusive interviews.

“Yeah,” Wanda muttered, “I guess so.”

Kate had managed to book a room in the Hilton, typically used for receptions. She’d struggled for a while, her call being transferred to various departments until she’d finally uttered the name Romanoff. After that, it was easy to book a room, free of charge.

When they arrive, a nervous, young-looking man guides them towards the room. Vision lags behind, carrying his camera and equipment. Wanda pays him no mind, aside from the occasional forced smile in his direction. He’d been trying to talk to her in the car and not-so-subtly imply that they should go out on a date, but luckily Kate and Paul had redirected the conversation to much safer topics.

The nervous man opens the doors to their rented room, Kate’s casual confidence shining as she directs Vision and Paul toward the back wall. They have about twenty minutes left to set up, and Wanda eagerly accepts Kate’s order to ask the hotel management for refreshments.

Setting up the finger sandwiches and water cups is easy, and Wanda finds herself relaxing at the monotonous act as she watches the minute hand on the clock creep closer to 9:30. She stiffens when the scent of cheap aftershave reaches her nose, Vision’s lanky frame filling her vision as he leans against the refreshment table.

“So, you went and interviewed this woman,” he says, leaning in. “Is it true that she’s really a lesbian?”

Furrowing her brows, Wanda opens her mouth to respond. To say.. something clever. Vision beats her to it, his eyes glancing down at her chest too many times to be a mistake. “I bet she hooks up with some really hot women, I wish I could photograph that instead.”

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t talk about her private life-”

“Also, I was wondering…” Vision cuts her off before he straightens, his eyes glancing over Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda senses Ms. Romanoff’s presence before she sees or hears the woman. She watches Kate’s eyes go wide, her eyes flicking over to her as excitement fills her features. Turning slowly, Wanda nearly chokes on her own saliva as she takes in the woman before her.

Ms. Romanoff is dressed in the most expensive-looking clothing Wanda has ever seen in person. Her cream-colored dress pants hug her in all the right places, and Wanda has to wrench her gaze upwards before she’s caught staring for too long. The white, silk shirt isn’t much better for her steadily-increasing inappropriate thoughts. Wanda blushes when Ms, Romanoff turns, the light catching her shirt just right to show the abdominal muscles flexing through the thin fabric.

Forcing her eyes further up, Wanda feels a shiver run through her at the look in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. At first glance, her dark-green gaze looks to be impassive, cold even. But Wanda notices the way her eyes are slightly crinkled in the corners, a private smile meant only for her. The woman’s eyes darken slightly and flicker down towards Wanda’s outfit, lingering just a half-second too long at her chest. She doesn’t mind, Ms. Romanoff’s gaze is comforting rather than off-putting.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Kate says, and Wanda immediately feels the loss of her heady gaze on her. “So lovely to finally meet you, I’m Kate Bishop.”

She holds her hand out, and Ms. Romanoff shakes it. It seems firm, and Wanda finds herself wishing that she could feel the woman's soft skin against her own. She wonders if her handshake is firm, and looks down at the floor as a hot, jealous feeling arises within her as Kate starts directing the woman towards the backdrop Vision and Paul had set up.

Vision starts to say something, his fingers uselessly gesturing toward a spot against the backdrop. Ms. Romanoff ignores his stammering request, focusing on Kate as she directs the woman into position. Dark green eyes flicker towards Wanda, a sort of curiosity in them.

“Wanda,” she says, a single finger beckoning her closer. “What do you think?”

“Oh, um. About the poses?” Wanda asks, the woman’s hot gaze trapping her in place. She feels her feet start moving towards the backdrop, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she feels her heart begin to race.

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff replies, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You're the only one here who's spoken to me before. So, you know me best. What pose do you think would capture me?”

Wanda blinks, her mind blanking. She remembers the way Ms. Romanoff had leaned forward during her interview, her forearms exposed from her rolled-up sleeves as she regarded Wanda with intent eyes.

“Roll up your sleeves,” Wanda says without thinking, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks at Ms. Romanoff’s amused, raised eyebrow. Kate glances back at her, a slightly proud smirk playing out on her lips before she turns back towards the CEO.

Maintaining eye contact, Ms. Romanoff slowly unbuttons her sleeves, rolling them up with precision that speaks to years of practice. Her gaze is heavy, and Wanda feels the air around her grow hot as her heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed.

“Anything else?”

Goddammit. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is low, her slight rasp sending Wanda’s mind spiraling into an unknown, fuzzy headspace. She suddenly has the urge to step closer to the woman, needing to be in her space.

Oh, those hands. Those fucking hands. Wanda watches the woman finish rolling up her sleeves, those hands resting casually over her knees with her fingers curled slightly. There are gold bracelets and fingers decorating the woman’s wrists and fingers, and Wanda has a sudden vision of Ms. Romanoff slowly taking all of her jewelry off. She’s well aware of the other three people in the room, one of them her roommate and the other a boy who is borderline obsessed with her. She doesn’t really care. Not when Ms. Romanoff’s attention is fully on her.

“Lean forward,” Wanda says, biting her bottom lip. Green eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. “Lean on your elbows and look at the camera through your eyebrows. Then slowly tilt your head up until you’re looking dead set at the camera. Give us the barest hint of a smile.”

She turns to Vision, her eyes lighting up in excitement as he starts fiddling with the setting on his camera. “Make sure you get plenty of pictures as she’s slowly tilting her head up. This way, we get plenty of different expressions and angles.”

Vision nods, smiling at her. Wanda shudders, his blinding teeth throwing her off.

Looking back at Ms. Romanoff, Wanda takes in the woman’s furrowed brows as those captivating green eyes glance between her and Vision. She suddenly has the urge to distance herself further from Vision, and steps closer to Kate.

“Perfect,” Kate says, clapping her hands once. Wanda fights the urge to jerk at the abrupt sound. Paul startles, dropping one of the finger sandwiches.

Vision takes several photographs, the click of the shutter sounding out as Wanda watches the woman intently. Ms. Romanoff seems to slip into a role, her expression professional and practiced as she assumes many different poses, her forearms exposed artfully in each one.

The photoshoot is over before Wanda has fully processed seeing Ms. Romanoff, her mind replaying the closeness of the woman when she visited her store. The sight of those eyes is burned into her brain, the dark green color ingraining itself into Wanda’s memory. The faint scent of cinnamon wafts near her, and she feels lightheaded with need.

Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with her.

“Ms. Maximoff.” The words are commanding, and Wanda focuses. Ms. Romanoff is standing, her eyes focused on Wanda. “Will you walk with me?”

“Of course,” Wanda murmurs, ignoring the look and subtle thumbs up that Kate sends her.

Walking quickly, Ms, Romanoff pulls the door open smoothly and holds it open for her. Her eyes are intent on Wanda, her hand just barely brushing her waist as she slides past her through the open door.

The silence isn’t overwhelming, instead, it’s rather comfortable. Wanda is well aware of the woman beside her and fights the urge to look over at the way Ms. Romanoff’s hair curls gently over her shoulders.

“Would you join me for coffee?”

“What, now?” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think, and she blushes at Ms. Romanoff’s amused glance.

“Yes, Ms. Maximoff. Now. I’ve been recommended a coffee shop just down the road.”

Wanda blinks. Is this… a date? Is Ms. Romanoff really asking her out? On a date?

“Yes,” Ms. Romanoff says, drawing out the syllables. “This would be a date.”

Fuck. Wanda hadn’t realized that she’d said that part out loud. She almost says yes. God, she wants to, but she’d forgotten one crucial detail.

“I have to drive everyone back.”

“Hmm,” Ms, Romanoff doesn’t look pleased. She turns to the side and waves a hand sharply at a man standing nearby. He’s dressed in a sharp suit and snaps to attention. “Taylor, can you drive the photographer, the assistant, and Ms. Bishop home?”

“Of course Ma’am.”

Wanda feels her eyebrows steadily rising in disbelief as the man steps into the room they’d just left. Of course, Ms. Romanoff had a personal driver. She probably had a chef and a housemaid and a… Wanda stopped that train of thought before she could think about it too hard.

“So,” Ms. Romanoff murmurs, turning a corner and stopping at a window. There’s a nice view of their small college town, and Wanda turns to look at it. Anything is better than meeting those piercing, heavy, green eyes. “Are you available for coffee?”

“Why do I have the feeling that you won’t let me say no?”

“Oh darling, you can always say no. But that’s your decision to make.”

Wanda glances down, picking at her fingernail to avoid the heavy gaze locked on her. Something about Ms. Romanoff just makes her want to agree with everything the woman says, and the arm muscles flexing through her silky fabric isn’t helping Wanda stay focused. She takes a breath and looks back up, “So this is a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Ms. Romanoff’s head is tilted slightly, her expression giving nothing away. Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth, and she feels herself choking on air as she begins to stammer out nonsense words.

“I- well. I’m- I don’t know, I-”

“I would like for this to be a date,” Ms. Romanoff cuts her off smoothly, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

“Well,” Wanda mutters, feeling her face flushing even further as Ms. Romanoff’s smile widens. “I’d like that too.”

“Perfect,” she says, and Wanda wonders if she’s standing closer than before. She can practically feel the older woman’s body heat against her own, and that faint scent of familiar cinnamon wafts beneath her nose. She breathes deeply.

“I’ll have Nick bring the car around. You should tell your friends that you’re unavailable for the rest of the morning.” Ms. Romanoff’s words are low and murmured against Wanda’s ear. She hopes that the woman doesn’t catch the full-body shiver that cascades down her spine, or the goosebumps rising quickly on her neck.

Wanda nods at her, eyes flickering between Ms. Romanoff’s dark green irises briefly before she turns her gaze past her towards Kate. The older woman’s hand twitches, her fingers brushing lightly against Wanda’s waist as she steps around her. A full shudder threatens to run through Wanda’s already overactive nervous system, and she suppresses it with sheer will. Her roommate is in the middle of giving Vision and Paul instructions but turns towards Wanda with a raised eyebrow when she begins walking over.

How the fuck is she supposed to explain a last-minute date with the country’s hottest, richest, and most eligible bachelorette?

Next Chapter

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