#time to put your money were your mouths are
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shut up and put your money where your mouth is
max verstappen
tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words
a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!
wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.
this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.
"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.
you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.
he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.
damn max verstappen.
the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.
and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"
you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.
enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.
you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.
max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."
you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."
he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.
you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"
max swallowed, "not friends."
you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.
max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."
the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.
-
you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.
you'd be his one day.
-
you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.
"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.
"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.
"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."
he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."
the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.
"focus on one thing." you groaned.
"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.
when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.
he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.
"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.
"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.
"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.
both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.
enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.
he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.
"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.
"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.
max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.
"fuck."
"please, max."
"i know."
you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.
you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.
max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.
max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.
you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.
he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.
you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.
"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.
you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.
he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.
"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.
the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.
the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.
"max."
he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."
and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."
-
the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.
your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.
the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.
this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.
a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.
post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.
"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.
he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.
"oh..."
"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?
it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.
he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3
#bunny writes#reader insert#formula 1#formula one imagine#formula one smut#formula one fanfiction#f1 smut#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen smut#mv33 smut#mv33 x reader#mv33#mv1 smut#mv1 x reader#mv1#mv1 fic#f1 rivals au#rivals au#driver!reader
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BODY PARTY!:: rafe cameron
WARNING! ::professional boxer! Rafe , blood, fighting, rough sex, marking, slight public sex, manager! reader, man handling, oral.
SUMMARY! :: after yet another win for Rafe you insist on cleaning his cuts after a shower leads to the both of you celebrating in a completely different way than expected.
You were front row watching Rafe, the smell of sweat and stale concession stand food almost made you feel nauseous if it wasn't for the way he was bouncing on the tips of his feet waiting for his opponent to tap gloves with him, clenching his teeth against his mouth guard showing off his prominent and sharp jawline.
Once and a while you could see his sharp eyes flicker from the referee and the guy he was facing. In the front row dressed all pretty, wearing one of the necklaces he had gifted to you and a cute small dress was you; his manager. He knew people didn't take him seriously because of how polite and pretty you were. They expected easy losses out of him, but if they saw how lenient you were during his training sessions or before his matches they'd understand you weren't just some airhead.
He watched as you gave him a bright smile and a thumbs up. He couldn't help the smirk on his lips. "Who's that? She's something ain't that right Cameron?" His opponent laughed at the sly comment while his greedy eyes never left your figure. Rafe felt his brow twitch at the words "watch your mouth" he said sternly as he felt heat on his skin from sheer annoyance.
"That's your play thing Cameron?" The man asks with a scoff, Rafe knew he was trying to be funny; trying to get to his head, but he's done this way too many times to even let it get under his skin. That wasn't going to stop him from ripping whoever this guy was apart and going back to his hotel with double the money he came in with. Not even bothering to answer him he knocks gloves with him and steps back while the ref signals the bell to chime.
You prepped Rafe for this, he knew what he was getting into when he signed to fight the boy who was about a year or two older than him, he was much newer to fighting in the ring which was just an advantage. But since Rafe had been doing this since he graduated high school he was much more experienced with the fighters, and the atmosphere. You could only count how many losses Rafe has had on one hand and you knew for a fact that Rafe wasn't going to fly all the way from North Carolina to Brooklyn without putting in the work for a show.
The both of them circling around the ring with raised gloves nearing to exchange punches. You could never understand how Rafe took a punch like it was nothing, almost like he enjoyed taking the hits, because it did nothing but push him to hit back harder. Rafe always knew how to get the crowd going, he would fight at least two rounds before absolutely running through his opponent until they gave up or it was a K.O regardless every time he did it he always had a crowd coming back for another fight.
He was on his 2 minute break in between rounds, the cutmen sitting him in his corner as he poured water into his hair and mouth letting the water spill into a metal bucket coming out pink, putting Vaseline on his cuts that were starting to bleed out. Rafe usually would've dropped his opponent by now, he was a shit talker and Rafe just let anything he heard go from one ear out the other, and it was usually the same bullshit.
'You can't fight' or 'your good looks won't save you' and Rafe never took it to heart because it's the same people talking that are being knocked on their ass and being wheeled back to their locker rooms. But this guy, no. He was bringing you into this, and Rafe had no reason to give him any remorse especially when he was being straight up vile and gross.
When they were both called back into the center Rafe could feel the sweat and water build up on his neck and shoulders. Rafe watches his opponent as if he was waiting for the right moment to send him to the ground, holding up his fist damn near ready to pounce on the guy who was just as tall if not a few inches taller than Rafe, blonde and tattoos all over his skin that nobody could miss.
Rafe couldn't miss the smirk on his lips as he sauntered towards him throwing sloppy and lazy punches that were barely even landing "you think your girl would wear that dress for me when I get her in bed?" He asked, huffing out almost slurring his words. Rafe could only clench his fist feeling a wave of straight anger wash over him completely. Cocking his hand back and letting one loose right to the center of the blonde's face he didn't stop as he saw him drop to the floor.
Straddling over his hips Rafe didn't hesitate to keep the hits going, one after the other people in the crowd almost shocked at how he wasn't letting up regardless of how you could tell the man under him was knocked out. "The fuck is he doing? He's gonna throw the match" you could hear Topper just a seat away looking almost stressed watching his friend use his opponent like a personal punching bag.
When the referee pulled at his shoulder Rafe finally pulled away with the deepest glare you've ever seen on his face, his gloves stained a crimson shade as he backed away from the unconscious and bloody man on the floor. Waiting to see if the man could beat a simple 10 count and get back to his feet but failed Rafe's hand was raised in all its glory as they announced his win.
The warm and sticky blood that gathered in small chunks at his hairline, and split lip, and dark bruises on the corner of jaw and the expanse of his back and shoulders began to bloom while sweat was dripping off his body. He stood in the middle of the ring as his publicity team swarmed in with congratulations and after party plans.
Leaving the small barricades that separated the crowd and the ring you find yourself going through the ropes and inside the squared ring filled with your coworkers and friends. Smiling as you near him, the copper smell of blood and hints of sweat filled your lungs as you can feel the mat underneath your feet shake from the jumping and cheering Rafe stood with a similar smile holding open his arms for you to hug him.
Regardless of his sweat seeping through the fabric of your dress or how warm all over you felt under his embrace you mumble words of encouragement "you did good, I'm proud of you. But you gotta stop losing your temper" you shake your head grasping his wrist that rested on your lower back comfortably.
Lifting over both of your heads you both face the crowd with smiles as you knew the both of your faces would be in the tabloids by the next morning, but from all the yelling and talking over other people you could feel a headache coming. Though it didn't matter much as you, Rafe, and the rest of your team decided to retreat back to his locker room.
Being stopped along the way by the press asking him questions, his heavy arm around your waist as he smiles and answers the simple questions, answering a few questions yourself as you hold Rafe's gloves under your arm you could feel his eyes practically burn through you when it was your turn to speak.
The both of you are making into the less busy locker room a few of his friends sticking around to make plans. Rafe sat on the padded bench as he looked at his taped up hands and wrist, he could feel dried up blood building up at his hairline and the small split on the middle of his lip starting to become sore.
You sit down beside him as Kelce and Topper talk about plans of a dinner or a get-together later tonight in celebration, but you could tell that Rafe wasn't really listening. Your brows scrunch together as you see him picking at the tape trying to unravel it and his silence was slowly becoming apparent. "You guys wanna give us a minute? I'll call you if we need anything" you mumbled to them as they eye their friend worriedly the youngest nodded.
They retreat to the door "we're gonna head back to the hotel, if you do decide to go out tonight just give me a call" Kelce mumbles before closing the door behind them. The silence in the room starts to get louder, your mouth opens but your words die in your throat seeing him finally getting the dingy tape off his skin and releasing a sigh.
Tossing the blood stained adhesive into the trash he walks further into his locker room towards his shower , you could hear the water hitting the tile and small grunts and winces of pain as he cleans off the blood and cuts off his body with soap and water. You space out for a while and let Rafe think in peace, you knew he would tell you whatever was on his mind sooner or later.
But once he finally finished showering you watched him walk back into the main area the cuts on his face still fresh and bleeding, it bugged you. His towel low on his hips, and his hair clean and messily slicked back with a few thin strands falling in his face. "You want me to clean your cuts so we can get out of here faster?" You ask quietly, watching him sit in a metal chair that sits in front of a long mirror. Shrugging at your question, you took your chance.
Opening the nearest locker you find a mini first aid kit, seeing everything you need inside you sit on the floor beside the leg of the chair and open a small pack of cotton pads, and rubbing alcohol. The smell alone made both of your faces scrunch as you lean close to his face attempting to find the cuts covered in dried blood.
"You wanna tell me why you beat that dude's face in?" You ask as you gently swiped away at the cut on the corner of his forehead that made him shut his eyes tightly at the stinging pain. "Doesn't matter," he said as his hands tightened around the edges of his seat. "It does if you almost threw a match because of it. I don't get why all of a sudden you're being your normal self, and next thing you know you are bashing his face in" you huff.
You and Rafe have gone over things with his anger and little to none patience, Rafe has moved past being provoked and talked down to, and ever since you've never seen him lose his cool like that up until now. "Even if it's something dumb, you know you can tell me right?" You ask as you discard the bloody cotton pad.
Sighing Rafe caves as he opens his eyes to meet your gaze "he was talking about you" he mumbled. His voice is gruff and frustrated, you can tell he was getting angry just rethinking about it. "What?" You were confused, what could have possibly set Rafe off about you? "He was talking about sleeping with you, just being disrespectful and shit" he rolled his eyes.
You scoff "you got mad about that?" You ask which makes his brows furrow at the question "of course I'm gonna get mad y/n, we work together. I know you personally, and I'm not gonna let somebody talk about you like that" he said, you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin as he spoke. "You shouldn't. You have more to worry about than some dude talking shit" you say picking up another pad and putting alcohol on it, you tilt his chin looking at his cuts.
"Well I do. I don't like when people talk about you in any way, you just do your job and you get shit on for no reason" he explains which makes you roll your eyes yet look to meet his gaze as you feel him stare into your soul. "It's a part of my job. I knew what I signed up for, even if you don't like it that's not gonna keep people from doing it. Don't get so worked up over it" you shake your head at him.
The silence in the locker room was becoming overbearing, holding a strong glare. Rafe was not listening to a single word you had to say, he didn't care if this was your job or not, you don't deserve that. His bruised hand reaching your jaw, his thumb drawing comforting circles on your skin "you don't deserve that, that's why I'm so worked up over it. You've been around since my first match, were roommates. I know everything there is to know about you, so why would I not get upset over shit like that?" He asks but more rhetorically.
"Your job is to fight Rafe, not bash people's heads in because of a stupid friend" you mumbled, shaking your head showing your disapproval once more, you move his hand to clean up his cuts once more. "You're not just a stupid friend" he scoffs. "I am, the only thing I really do is look out for your schedule, your P.R interviews and shit. Nothing special" you let out a small chuckle under your breath. Standing him to your full height
Rafe's eyes never leave your face as he pulls at your wrist moving it away from his face, his hand that once cupped your jaw pulls you in, Rafe closing the remainder of space between you both as his soft lips press to yours. You felt like you had been shocked, you didn't move for what felt like seconds until you pulled away and blinked rapidly. "I don't want you to be just some stupid friend or manager to me" he whispered.
You huff out a sigh before leaning back in and pressing your lips to his, being more confident with your actions your hands find themselves raking through his hair tugging it softly, groaning against your lips.
Letting out a small groan, Rafe's hand makes way to the fabric of your dress, clutching it in his fist and pulling your hips closer against him sends him into a small daze.His tongue now licking a stripe on your bottom lip begging for access, parting your lips, his tongue immediately brushing against yours, mixing your saliva. As you suck on his tongue the remnants of blood and mint. Realizing what the both of you are doing you pull away "we shouldn't be doing this" you say.
Your foreheads pressed together and noses grazing each other, Rafe shakes his head "I don't care about all of that right now" he slurs feeling the weight of the punches and kicks he had taken. Kissing at the corner of your lip smudging your lipgloss.
Rafe has always been professional with you, outside of work you two are like the best of friends, this was a line you had never thought to cross said line, but the feeling of his lips against yours made you feel fuzzy. You didn't care about the line anymore and both of you are now toppling over it. "I just want you" he mumbled as he pressed his nose against your; eyes clouded with an unknown feeling.
You smile lazily as you lean into him, giving him a chaste kiss. You both smile like kids as you pull apart. His hands trail from the bunched up fabric of your dress to your thighs pulling them apart "sit" he whispers making you nod and blink dreamily as you choke back a whimper at the sheer friction between his thighs and your pussy.
Arching your back until your chests press against each other, hands all over each other touching any part of each other that possibly could be in this position. Rafe couldn't help but grind up against you as the warmth of your core rubs against the throbbing bulge held behind his towel, the fabric running against the both of you earning a moan.
Pressing your lips against Rafe eager to steal ever last breath out of his lungs as your hands grip at his hair. Rafe doesn't hide his needs as his hands slide all around your body anywhere he could reach. Moaning against each others lips Rafe presses his forehead against yours as you both part panting against each other.
"You really wanna do this here?" He asks huskily turning you on even more. "I don't care if we did it in the car I just want you Rafe" you whisper against his lips making him smile, feeling on top of the world at your response. Rafe knew his feelings for you were beyond just Manager and client, but he knew to never go beyond that. But right now... he really didn't give a damn.
Pulling the tight skirt of your dress over your ass until it bunches at the waist, his palms Slide Over the soft skin as your lace panties; wet and sticky cover everything he's craving at the moment. Groping and kneading the skin harshly making you moan as your hips press down against his once again, his hands guide you against his towel covered lap.
Biting your lip harsh enough you could almost break flesh. "You think you can cum like this for me?" He asks sending shivers up your spine thinking of rutting yourself against the dirty blonde haired man until you hit your peak "mhm" you respond giving a small nod choking up your words with whimpers.
Your arms slink around his shoulder as you rest your head against the nape of his neck letting stimulation get the best of you. The fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit makes you feel utterly dizzy. "Just like that, you feel good?" He asks under his breath landing a harsh slap against your ass making you moan louder "feels so good" you whimper "you make me feel good Rafe" you moan as your hips recoil into his as the tension in your stomach grows.
Rafe could feel a wet patch of your slick deep through the towel over his hard cock making him bite his lip in satisfaction. He could see how much faster your hips are grinding into him showing how close you were to cumming, Rafe wraps his arms around your waist pressing your chest tightly to his as he grinds up against you.
The sound of the chair scraping against the concrete floors is almost background sounds to the both of you too wrapped up in getting your much wanted orgasm. "You're gonna make me cum" you whine as your eyes shut tightly and your eyebrows scrunch together "yeah? Do it" he says sternly making you shutter as your jaw slacks at the overwhelming feeling "fuck" you sob as your nails dig into Rafes back.
Hissing at the feeling Rafes hips come to a stop, his hands rub your thighs as they slightly shake. "You okay?" He asks with an airy laugh at your fatigued face that pulls away from his body "yeah, just give me a second" you whisper coming down from your high as the constant throbbing between your thighs starts.
Pulling yourself out of his lap your knees buckle feeling like jelly, you lower yourself fully until your knees press into the harsh concrete, not minding it much your hands trail over the white towel tucked around Rafes waist, looking up at him with soft eyes "you don't have to do anything" he speaks up and it makes you smile. This was the considerate and caring Rafe you had always known, never selfish and always seeking just a smidgen of approval from anyone he could when he could.
"I want to do this with you, nobody else" you say as your fingers brush against the skin of his lower stomach as they hook over the tightly wrapped towel. You were eager, the new found feeling was overstimulating in all the right ways. Pulling the fabric away from his lap now completely exposed to the cold air Rafe shivers, he doesn't know if it's from excitement or the decrease in temperature but either way he felt like he was in heaven.
The way your hands travel over his thighs makes his breath get caught in his throat, your eyes rake over his body with a look he's never seen on your face but regardless he loves it. you wet the palm of your hands with your tongue before taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb.
His head falls back with no support from the chair he mutters out "fuck" as his hands grip at the towel underneath him. And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.
You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you're gagging around him and he's cursing and digging his nails into the side of the chair once again.
And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the towel. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, "oh fuck" tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate in the moment. He didn't want release, he needed it, Rafe had never been a begging man but in the moment Rafe would do just about anything to cum.
you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can't, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the tip into a sticky mess.
the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been dreaming of. This was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate. But it also doesn't take Rafe much time before he lets his eyes flutter shut his hips now slowly bucking into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your throat closing around him tightly.
he can't help but to reach out and rub the heavy pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek.
a string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with a slight roughness. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his thigh digging your nails into his skin.
he can feel you start to get riled up, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last bit has been spilled.
Pulling away slowly, your breathing uneven and filled with small coughs and hiccups, your hand rests on his scratched up thighs, Rafe looks at you with nothing but lust. Your swollen lips, your mascara staining your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you close his nose brushing against yours as your heavy breathing mixes with his.
"You're so fucking beautiful" he grumbles as he presses his lips against yours harshly parting your lips with his tongue messily running yours against his. Slowly without breaking the kiss Rafe moves himself out of the chair, his own knees feeling a slight sting at the feeling. Guiding you down to your back as the kiss grows more hungry as he grinds his bare cock against your panties growing frustrated at the very little skin on skin contact, his hands settling on your upper thighs slither until his hands are underneath the fabric of your dress.
His fingers find the elastic band of your panties finally pushing them down your thighs and past your ankles where he recklessly tosses them out of his way to only who knows where. Your dress being the only obstacle left he pulls the zipper tugging your arms through the sleeves easily he damn near rips you dress off at the seems just to see your body in all its glory. He doesn't take his eyes off of you not even for a second his eyes follow every dip and curve with the most adoration one could hold in their gaze and it makes you feel warm.
His eyes rake over you from top to bottom as his eyes latch onto the sight of your thighs glistening in slick. He hissed through his teeth absentmindedly his hand gently travels between your thighs as his thumb presses between your slit making friction with your sensitive clit making you whine at the feeling. His hand leaving your body he takes his length into his own hand gripping himself.
"You look so good like this" He says as he presses his tip against your slit teasingly sliding against it as it makes a slick sound as your essence covers his tip and shaft, dipping his tip into your entrance Rafe sucks in a deep breath as he pushes into you groaning at the feeling of your tight walls enveloping his tip.
Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth. "You're so big" you gasp, feeling how good he filled you up to the brim as you feel him begin to slowly move. Rafe couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside you.
His cock buried deep inside you makes you moan and your nails into palms as your chest is pressed against the cold hard floor making your nipples perk and a shiver run down your spine; setting a pace for bouncing against him. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.
"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.
A small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared while your ass bounced on his cock it was addicting. "You like being fucked like this?" He asks as he bucks his hips into your sharply.
Moaning at his dirty words and sudden surge of confidence your head falls into your hands muffling your sweet voice Rafe's palm sharply smacks your ass "Answer me" he says groaning as he soothes the stinging feelings on your warm skin.
"Mhm, I want people to hear how good you fuck me" you say lifting your head from your hands as you bite your bottom lip hard as you hear how wet you are with each thrust he gave you. Rafe; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your hips stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you harder. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.
His hips piston into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "right there" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.
"Just like that, I just want you to cum inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and his death grip on the fat of your ass almost sending you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.
You nod eagerly as you begin to alternate between grinding and bouncing, your nails drag against his inner thigh leaving behind a red and irritated trail- yet he didn't mind it as it pushed him closer to his orgasm.
Leaning down with his chest to your back Rafe presses his lips to yours moaning against each other's lips pushing you closer and closer. Your back arching even more as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.
His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was covered in sweat and his eyes rolled back "god I'm gonna cum" he says breathily as you grind back against him to meet his thrusts as the sticky sound of him pounding your sloppy pussy resides in the air of the locker room.
The room was warm and all you could care about was how good your best friend was fucking you. "You like having an audience to be fucked like a slut in front of huh?" He says as he grips onto your hips harder to stop your movement as he pounds into a spongy part of your walls.
His hair sticking to his forehead and his breath becoming heavier "I love being fucked like a slut" you rasp as you hear his breathy laugh at your words desperate to feel release "good" he says as he fucks into you harder. "Tell me how much of a slut you are" he groans as his nails dig into your hips, "I'm such a fucking slut for you, god I'm your cockslut" you whine as his thrusts are deeper and sharp it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
Pulling your back to his chest hitting an angle inside you that made you see white as your ass bounced into his lap your hands desperately thrash to grip your own thigh as a result of overwhelming pleasure.. "Oh fuck- just like that, You're gonna make me cum" he moaned deeply into the nape of your neck.
Letting out a string of whines you clench harder "I'm close" he moaned as he began to twitch inside you, his words buzzing in your ears making you grind against him eagerly "please let me cum" you beg as you turn your head over your shoulder to look at Rafe who was absolutely pussy drunk on the feeling of you.
"You gonna cum?" he asks as his hand falls between your thighs, his fingers press against your clit "You gonna fucking cum?" he asks rhetorically as his words slur, you nod as your breathing becomes uneven "do it" he says pushing you back down into the cold ground roughly gripping your hips and you were sure it would leave bruises his eyes roll back as he feels how you clench around him and let your orgasm washes over you, with a few more hard thrusts he would also be tipping over the edge to his orgasm moaning as his thick white strings of cum fills you up leaving your body feeling warm and fuzzy.
Fucking you both through your highs your thighs clench shut as overstimulation creeps up on you your moans began to come out choked which makes Rafe slow down his pace until his hips were no longer moving against yours.
Pulling out you both hiss, as his cum drips down your thigh Rafe chuckles at the sight almost wanting to use his fingers to fuck his cum back inside you but deems you're too fucked out. He pulls away completely standing on shaky legs walking off to the bathroom to grab a clean towel wet with warm water to clean you off. You breathe heavily, almost too lazy to pick yourself up looking at the mirror perched against the wall seeing how your face was most likely in it.
Your actions finally sink in. You hear the footsteps near you, Rafe walks back into the locker room he wipes you off rubbing small soothing circles into your thighs he wipes you down clean. Rafe would be sure you were getting treatment you deserve even if it wasn't in the most romantic place.
After he takes care of you can hear "I'm sorry if I was being too rough," he says softly as he looks at you with soft eyes "don't worry about it. I like that stuff anyways" you say with a chuckle you roll over onto your side you look at your best friend "it felt good. No need to be sorry" you say waving him off. Rafe sighs in content, almost nervous that he had hurt you or took too much of his anger out on you.
"Get up, you need a shower before we go back to the hotel" he says rubbing your sore thighs. You bite back a groan as you think about actually having to leave your spot on the ground. Your body feeling sticky and covered in sweat, You cave sitting up. You press your hand to your sore back thinking about how harshly your back had been pushed against it. Rafe holds a hand out to you as he coaxes you into a warm shower.
You hadn't thought about the fall out of the matter, you have in fact slept with your best friend, the person you live with, and spend every day with. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow but you didn't let that thought sink in that much as well when Rafe's more intimate with you, the lingering touches, the small pecks on your lips as he washes you up with the soap he had packed in his bag. The smell of him washes over you as you let all of your thoughts wash away with the soapy water down the drain of the shower.
You'd just have to worry about it another time.
#𖥻meimei’s-archive ៹ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ ⭑ ఌ#obx smut#rafe cameron#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe x reader#drew starkey x reader#outer banks smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fluff
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No Judgments
See Me Through You Blurb
Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭
Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader
Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕
Series Masterlist
Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere
After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.
You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.
“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.
“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.
“You want me to make you some tea?”
“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”
Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.
“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”
“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”
“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.
“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”
“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”
“I just think you two are being dramatic.”
“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”
“Husband! Take it back!”
“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”
All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.
“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”
“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”
“I… These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”
Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.
“Whatever it is, no.”
“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”
You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.
Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.
“Okay, what are we doing?”
“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”
“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”
“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.
“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”
“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”
“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”
“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”
“Okay, next.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.
“9 during the season!”
“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”
“BABY!”
“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”
“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”
“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.
“And don't you ever forget it.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”
“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”
“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”
“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”
“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”
“AHT! You're judging!”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.
“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”
“Works every time.”
“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”
“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.
“Oh shit, here we go.”
“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.
“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.
“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”
“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”
“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.
“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”
“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.
“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.
“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”
“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”
“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”
“Hmm, not telling.”
“You're annoying.”
“I'm cute and you love me.”
“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”
It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.
“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”
“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”
“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.
“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.
“So much, and you know it.”
“We listen and we don't judge.”
“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”
“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”
“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”
“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.
“Uh? You mean number one?”
“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”
“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”
“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.
“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”
“Wait, huh?”
“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”
“And he calls me the dramatic one.”
#joe burrow#joe burrow x black reader#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow imagine#nfl imagine#joe burrow fanfic#joe burrow fanfiction#joey b#cincinnati bengals
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bend my rules | jjk
in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?
rich! jeongguk x reader
warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention 🫶🏼, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!
——-
Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.
He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.
He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.
The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.
Your major was English literature.
Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.
"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.
From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”
“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."
Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.
"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.
In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!
"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.
As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"
He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."
Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."
The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.
The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.
"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.
"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"
One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.
"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.
He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."
The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."
"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.
"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.
"Huh?"
"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.
___
On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.
But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.
"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"
Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."
Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."
"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.
"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.
_
You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.
"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."
"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.
These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.
You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.
Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.
One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.
"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."
"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.
You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.
"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."
"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."
You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.
"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.
"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.
He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."
Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?
A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.
"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.
"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.
"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.
It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.
Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.
When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.
Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.
“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.
You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”
He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.
“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.
You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”
The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.
_
“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.
“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.
“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”
Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”
Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”
You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”
You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo… I had nothing better to do.”
“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”
Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.
“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’
“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.
“Oh my God, I do not do that.”
“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”
The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.
“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.
You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”
“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.
“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.
“What?”
“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”
“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.
“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”
___
“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.
“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”
You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.
Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”
“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.
“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.
"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.
“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”
Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”
"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.
“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.
Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.
“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”
You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."
Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”
You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.
“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”
Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.
“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”
“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”
You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.
“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”
You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”
“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.
“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so… distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.
“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.
“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.
“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."
“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.
Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.
“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.
His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.
“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.
“Yes?”
“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.
You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that… you’ll have to impress me first.”
To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.
___
“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”
You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”
After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”
“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.
“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”
“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”
“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”
“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.
“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”
Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”
“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking…”
___
You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.
Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.
You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.
Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.
After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.
Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.
After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”
Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”
Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.
“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”
As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.
A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.
Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”
You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.
"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.
He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”
You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”
For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”
Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.
Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”
“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”
Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”
You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.
You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”
“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”
“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.
Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”
You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.
“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.
He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”
“I’ll go out with you.”
___
The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.
Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.
You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.
Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."
As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."
You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.
"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.
You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”
Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”
You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.
The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’
Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.
You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.
You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.
It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.
How did he know my size?
You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.
7:26
Yn: How do you know my size?
7:29
JK: I’m glad you got my little gift. Do you like it?
7:31
Yn: Yes, it is very nice; thank you. It was not necessary at all.
7:32
JK: I’m glad, baby; can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.
7:34
Yn: I’m really excited too.
7:36
JK: Promise you won’t be disappointed.
___
Whistles and girly screams were heard all over your apartment when you stepped out of your room, wearing the blue silk dress that clung to your wide hips and showcased your full chest perfectly; in soft glam makeup and your hair in an elegant updo, dazzled with the matching set of necklace and earrings, a pretty black purse in your hand. You looked the very image of beauty.
“Damn, girl!” Nora let out, impressed by your beauty.
“Does it look good?” you asked. You knew you looked beautiful, but you needed the extra assurance.
“Are you kidding me? You look ravishing, absolutely radiant; your body is just wow,” Avery complimented, observing you from head to toe. “Is that a new dress? It’s soo fucking gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it is; Jungkook actually sent it to me to wear today.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the knowing glances of your friends.
“Mmhmh, he’s a good man, Yn; a good man,” Sasha quoted a TikTok sound. “He’s so gonna freak when he sees you!”
“Is that what was in the package a few days ago? The guy’s got taste; gotta hand it to him,” Tanya chimed in. “When is he picking you up?”
You looked at the clock and answered, “Just in 3 minutes.”
About two seconds after you said that, a knock was heard from your front door.
“Ooooh, somebody’s eager,” Nora wiggled her eyebrows.
You walked to the front door, opening it after letting out an ‘I’ll get that.’
Before you stood Jungkook, wearing black tailored pants and a sophisticated white button-up shirt tucked into his pants, emphasizing his small waist and his muscular frame. In his hand, he held a big bouquet of pink and red roses.
“Hi, Jungkook,” you greeted him with a million-dollar smile.
He observed you with the biggest grin in the world, letting his eyes travel up and down your frame. “You are the most beautiful woman on Earth. Here, these are for you.”
He handed you the bouquet, which you took gracefully. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.”
Your friends freaked out, all attentively watching the interaction.
“Let’s go?” Jungkook said in a questioning tone. You nodded.
“No funny business, mister! We want her home by 11,” Avery screamed while you and Jungkook made your way out. Jungkook laughed, giving her a thumbs up.
“Yeah, you better not try anything with our girl; remember, we see all!” Sasha joined her, while Tanya and Nora made kissing and moaning noises, causing you to facepalm.
“Let’s just go, Jungkook,” you expressed in an embarrassed voice. “I’ll see you girls later!”
Once you were out, you looked at Jungkook apologetically. “I am so sorry; they’re literally so embarrassing sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook chuckled, taking your hand in his. “Let them have their fun; they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”
You bit your lip as your eyes met his longing ones.
“Now, let’s go,” he started walking faster towards his car. “I got us reservations at Quince.”
Quince was an Italian restaurant that you only heard of but never entered; it was much too expensive for you to even consider. It was not like you were poor; it was just that Jungkook was wealthy.
You both made your way to the car together; he opened the door for you and then entered himself.
“This is a really nice car,” you stated, taking in the car with a wide-eyed look.
“Yeah?” He started the engine. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz Maybach Exelero.”
You simply nodded, still looking around amazed.
“You know, I’m beyond happy you finally agreed to go out with me,” Jungkook admitted, one hand on the wheel and the other hand finding your thick thighs. “I lost hope there for a while, you know?”
“Well, what can I say? I’m an incalculable girl,” you teased, putting a hand over his, linking your fingers. “You will never figure me out, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s dimple was visible as you gazed at him while he looked ahead.
“Remember when you told me you’re never going out with me? Well, now you are,” his voice reminisced. “So, I think I will figure you out, Yn.”
You decided to push his buttons a little. “Are you telling me you would wait over two years to figure me out? I didn’t peg you for a patient one.”
“I would wait a lifetime just to get a little piece of your heart and be able to call it mine, Yn,” he professed, his hands tightened, and his eyes gazed at you with yearning.
You didn’t know what to say.
_
The dinner at Quince was a dream come true; Jungkook rented out the entire restaurant for you, the view was breathtaking, every dish was a work of art, and the service treated you like royalty.
“So, do you like it here?” Jungkook asked you as you shared a slice of the best chocolate cake you had ever tasted.
“I love it!” you enthusiastically replied. “It is so beautiful here, Jungkook; honestly, thank you so much.”
The harpist was in the back, playing soft melodies that warmed your heart. You could not believe Jungkook planned all of this for you, and a sense of regret washed over you as you realized this was the man that you had been denying for two years.
“No need to thank me, baby; the important thing is that you’re with me,” he took a piece of cake with his fork and held it in front of your mouth, which you then ate, blushing. “I got something for you.”
Jungkook made a hand gesture, and as if on cue, a staff member came in, holding a framed picture in their hand, handing it to Jungkook.
He held it up for you to see; it was a star map, a very beautiful one. “This is the star map of the day we met—3rd of October, 2 years ago.”
Your eyes widened. “You remember the day we met?”
“Of course I do.”
“Jungkook, it’s so beautiful. I’ll hang it up on my wall,” you admired it while he admired you. “You’re really spoiling me.”
“Of course, baby, that’s my job,” he answered, taking your hand in his. “Now, let’s go; I have something planned for us.”
_
“Where are you taking me now?” you inquired; his secrecy wasn’t scaring you, but you were a naturally curious person.
“It’s a secret, baby. I promise you’ll love it,” Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, responsibly, and his veins ripped along his forearms, your eyes glued to the thickness of his arms.
“Ugh, fine, if you wanna be secretive about this, be secretive about it,” you feigned dramatic annoyance. “Just know that I’m hating every minute of it.”
“I think I can live with that since we’re just three minutes away,” he teased, his dimples evident.
“Three whole minutes of me hating it… you are a very cruel man, Jeon,” you shook your head, enjoying the breeze of the Californian air.
When you arrived in the parking lot of a bar, he pulled up saying, “We’re here!” before stepping out and jogging to your side, opening the door for you. You took his hand, letting him lead the way into the bar.
“A bar?” you asked in a suspicious voice. “Jungkook, a bar is not the place you take a lady…”
He knew you were joking and chuckled lightly.
“Just wait till we get in; you’ll love it,” his excitement was apparent, which confused you even more.
You stepped inside the bar, which was actually prettier than you imagined it would be; it had a calming feel about it. It didn’t look like a traditional bar; there was a stage set up and seats for an audience where about 30 people were already sat.
“Sit here,” Jungkook took your hand and brought you to a seat right in the front.
He made his way onto the stage, which led to you asking him, “What are you doing?” but he didn’t answer your question and just stood in front of the mic.
“So, uh, I wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the girl I love—a girl I have been trying to get with for two straight years and failed every time. I know how much she loves poetry,” Jungkook spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “And exactly a week and two days ago, she agreed to go out with me. Actually, this is part of our date; she’s sitting right there.”
He pointed at you proudly; the crowd cheered at the cute story he told and then observed you and cheered some more before letting him continue.
Jungkook looked self-assured, but there were little hints that showed you he was nervous to be standing in front of a crowd the way he was. “Yn, I know your writing is way superior to mine, but I hope you like this regardless. I’m gonna read it now.”
The crowd slightly giggled at his comment, but you could only focus on catching your breath and stopping your tears because you had never expected Jungkook to be as amazing as he was.
“In grand halls where soft echoes linger,
I spread petals, gold on gray floors.
Yet no amount of riches can sway you
To feel what’s in my heart, what I adore.
Two years have passed like silk through fingers,
Each moment woven with hopes and dreams.
But in your eyes, there’s a distant wonder;
You craft your path, and it’s not what it seems.
I’ve painted skies with vibrant colors,
Called stars to shine above you, glowing bright.
But love, I find, goes beyond gold and shine—
Sometimes a simple heart knows what feels right.
Yet here I stand in this space, laid bare,
With wealth at hand, but your laughter’s far away.
I’d give it all, just to share a moment—
To glimpse the dreams you cherish and replay.
Though riches fade like whispers in the dark,
My love, unyielding, still holds the spark.”
The crowd erupted into applause, gasps, and "awe's" and "Girl, marry him's" as Jungkook finished. You sat there, frozen in time and frozen in the words he dedicated to you; your heart beating faster than it should be, and singular tears rolling down your face.
Jungkook left the stage, eagerly approached you with the softest smile. “Did you like it?”
You couldn’t utter a word; you only stood in front of him, shook your head slightly in disbelief, and threw your arms around his neck tightly, jumping into his arms, hiding your face in his chest. You cried.
“Hey, why are you crying? Was the poem that bad?” he half-joked, running his hands over your hair soothingly.
As you finally parted from him, you glanced at his face, adoringly and implored, “Kiss me.”
And so he did. He kissed you hard like a soldier reunited with his loved one after many years; his hands were firmly on your waist, exploring other places of your body—in that moment, you were alone. In that moment, it was only Jungkook and you as you lost yourself in each other.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in each other before staying at the bar for a while, listening to talented poets reciting their work.
___
“I can drive you back to the dorms, or you can—” Jungkook started.
“No, I think I wanna go back to your place,” you quickly interrupted. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”
After leaving the bar, you entered his car, lips still swollen from all the kissing.
“Of course it’s okay with me; you said exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he smiled. “You know, the girls will probably beat me up tomorrow for not bringing you back.”
The drive to his penthouse wasn’t long at all; it was just enough to talk for a while and enjoy the evening view.
“Oh, absolutely not; they are totally secretly celebrating this because all they’ve been wanting me to do these past two years is give you a chance,” you admitted, also smiling. “Now that that happened, I can just tell you the complete truth; there is nobody more into this than them.”
“Damn, so even with a whole secret support system behind me, it took me two years?” He tsked, finding amusement in the admission. “That’s embarrassing for me.”
You looked up at him through your lashes and tilted your head; he was focusing on the road, but glanced at you as much as he could. “If you were anybody else, it would’ve taken you five more.”
He leaned in to steal a quick kiss; the prideful expression on his face was clear to see. “That’s really good to know.”
You drove around for the next 10 minutes; finally, you arrived at his luxurious penthouse, which was adorned with a huge terrace and a chic entrance that you rushed to hand in hand.
You had already been to his penthouse for the project, yet its beauty didn’t fail to impress you once again; being in this position made it look even more magical.
As soon as you stepped inside, Jungkook grabbed your waist and gently held you, with his lips finding yours again. You stumbled into the spacious yet warm living room. As your lips still moved in sync and passionately, your hands roamed his body, exploring every muscle, every inch. Your gasps intertwined with his heavy breathing, your chest against his. He guided you to the couch and sat down, without breaking the kiss, and with firm, strong hands on your hips, he seated you on his lap.
Your heated core met his clothed, hard dick in sensual movements, the grinding gradually getting quicker and more effective. You felt his hardness press against your covered pussy, leading to feelings unknown to you. Your dress crept up higher with every movement of your generous hips, his hands now on your ass, kneading it while moaning into your mouth.
“Fuck, Yn, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second before going back immediately, earning an agreeing moan from you.
His hands wandered over your entire body, holding your slightly pudgy stomach and traveling up to your full breasts. You couldn’t contain your moans from coming out, your lips moving against his as if they were made for them.
But there was something on your mind that you still had not mentioned to Jungkook.
“Wait, Jungkook—” you interrupted your session with a breathless voice. “I—I have to tell you something.”
He was confused, his face slightly flushed with hazy eyes and parted lips. “Yeah, anything, baby.”
“I’m—I’m a... virgin,” you almost whispered, still sat on his lap, lowering your head so you wouldn’t have to face him. “But I wanna do this.”
His grip on your hips loosened for a second before he firmly grabbed you again. “Oh.”
Your heart sank a little, not knowing what to make of his response.
Just a few seconds later, he continued, “We can take everything slow, baby; we don’t need to rush into anything; we’ll do everything at your pace.”
You nodded, raising your head again to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Kookie.”
“Of course,” he kissed you gently.
“Okay, we can go back to making out now; I just have a tiny problem,” you noted, easing the tension caused by your revelation. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t stay in this dress the whole night.”
Jungkook chuckled and slowly stood up. “Wait here; I’ll get you a t-shirt.”
The few minutes it took him to get you a shirt gave you a chance to take in your luxurious surroundings; the lavish, over-the-top kitchen facing the living room brought a smile to your face, knowing that Jungkook in no way cooked or had any culinary skills whatsoever.
“Here, wear this,” Jungkook came back with a black shirt in his hands. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. Gotta make sure you have your own closet here.”
Your heart beamed at his display of commitment, knowing he was serious about everything he said.
You took the shirt, turning your back to him. “Can you help me zip the dress down? I can’t reach it.”
He obliged happily, zipping the dress’ zip down, his hands lightly brushing over your uncovered back, his lips pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. You turned around, letting the dress fall down, exposing you in just a lacy black lingerie set that left little to the imagination.
His gaze traveled over your entire figure, lips grazing his teeth with a spark in his eyes that conveyed a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“Damn,” he uttered after you put on the shirt, which barely reached your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
With newfound confidence, you pushed his chest, resulting in him ending up on the couch once again, and sat down on his lap with an alluring smile.
“I wanna finish what we started now,” you purred against his lips, guiding his hands to your waist. The rhythm of your seductive hips brought his breath to a halt, guttural "fuck's" escaping him.
You quickly stripped away his shirt, revealing his muscular arms and defined abs—all for you to run your hands over and admire, his dick noticeably growing. In response, Jungkook took off your—or his—shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bra, your tits practically spilling out of it; a sight he adored more than anything.
“Shit... please, let me take off the bra,” Jungkook desperately implored, to which you just as desperately nodded. “Just wanna see you like that.”
His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra before completely unfastening it, exposing your big tits and hard nipples. You were surprised at your lack of shyness, feeling completely free and comfortable, exposed in front of Jungkook like that.
“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your bare breasts before leaning in, gently taking one into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You pushed your head back from the overwhelming pleasure, one of your tits getting sucked and the other one getting kneaded, while you desperately chased the friction, your thinly clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. It was an erotic experience; Jungkook was introducing you to a new world.
“Baby, if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he hissed, his strong arms stopping your movements momentarily.
You were both in a state of haziness; desperation was strongly felt in the air. Your pussy was sticky and slick, aching for more.
“Then fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, his breath stopping for a second.
“Are you sure about this, Yn?” he sincerely asked, locking eyes with you to look for a speck of uncertainty; he didn’t find it.
“Yes, I’m so sure,” you answered him steadily. “All I want is for you to fuck me.”
With that, Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He stood up, still grabbing your hips firmly while your legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried you toward the elevator, your bare chest pressing against his and your head lazily resting on his broad shoulders. Finally, he carried you to his bedroom, gently throwing you onto the bed.
He looked at you from above, lips caught between his teeth. He hastily put his hands on you, wanting nothing more than to take off your lace panties, the only thing holding him back from seeing you completely bare. So, he did, slipping your panties down your legs until they’re completely off.
His fingers traced your now bare pussy, lightly teasing it, eliciting a gasp from you. “That’s the prettiest, wettest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”
You blushed, not knowing what to say.
Slowly, Jungkook’s hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, taking them off entirely. His thick, long dick was freed, settling on his lower belly. The pre-cum shimmered on it, ready to enter you at any moment.
Your breath hitched, taking it all in for a second; your eyes widened at the powerful sight before you. He stood above you, symbolizing dominance, while you were naked, sitting on the bed, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
“Can I just…” you leaned forward, facing his pretty dick, giving it a lick.
“Fuck, Yn, yes please,” he stepped forward a bit to give you easier access. “You ever done this before?”
You shook your head, maintaining eye contact. His eyes darkened, turned on by your innocence. Strong hands found your hair, guiding you closer to him.
You gave him more licks and kisses, swirling your tongue around it and kissing every inch of it before finally taking it into your mouth entirely. He was big, so you struggled a little to breathe properly, but you wanted to keep going for him.
“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned as your hands started working him while your full lips were wrapped around him, sucking him. “Just like that.”
Bobbing your head up and down, you slightly gagged around him, but your hand on his hip signaled him to thrust into your mouth further, which he gladly did. The huge bedroom echoed with his shameless groans and praises.
He smelled clean and tasted salty, sort of musky; it was comfortable having him in your mouth. You continued to explore his dick, recalling all the blowjob wisdom given to you by your friends and the internet, and implementing it.
“Baby, I’m close,” Jungkook’s words were barely a whimper, sending more arousal to your slick pussy.
His words elicited desperation in you, desiring nothing more than to give him pleasure. You bobbed your head harder, his groans getting louder and his thrusts quicker. His hands tightened around your hair; it was obvious he was losing control, chasing his high.
The heat was building, Jungkook’s voice getting louder, and a few seconds later, a warm, salty liquid filled your mouth, which you instinctively swallowed. You released his dick from your grip and looked up at him.
His head was tilted back, eyes closed and breathing heavily before he finally looked down at you, leaning in and giving you a kiss. He put his boxers on again.
“You did so great, baby,” he praised, now sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m glad I’m your first... and last.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”
You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes; he soothingly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. With determination, you started grinding against him again; this time, your bare pussy against him. A rush of blood was sent to his dick, slowly getting erect again.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” Both of his hands were positioned on your moving hips, furthering the friction between you.
“Yeah, I do, actually,” you admitted in a sultry whisper, licking his upper lip playfully.
“Yeah?” His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.
“Hmmm, yeah,” you tilted your head flirtatiously, giving in to another kiss. “So, are you gonna fuck me today or not?”
Jungkook chuckled, clearly amused by your directness. “Baby, I just want to be sure you’re 100% sure about this.”
“I am sure!” you spoke with a tinge of urgency. “Can’t you feel my wetness? I need you, Kookie; I need you to be inside of me.”
The contrast of your words and the usage of his silly nickname made Jungkook’s heart race. He felt the urge to take you right then and there.
With a quick shift, he stood up, grabbed a soft towel and put it on the bed, and gently pushed you so you lay on the bed, ready for him to enter. He towered over you, fingers finding your wet pussy again, playing with it. After removing his boxers again, he fisted himself, the sticky sound of pre-cum finding you; you enjoyed the view more than you would admit. He opened a pack of condoms and took one out, wrapping it around his big dick.
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure,” your bratty attitude started to show.
Jungkook came closer, parting your legs slightly, taking in the sight of your pussy, glistening for him. As he approached your entrance, he maintained eye contact. “This is gonna hurt a little at first, baby, but tell me as soon as it’s too much, okay?”
You nodded, your eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness. “Okay.”
He held onto you gently and slowly entered your wetness, eliciting a loud gasp from you. As he entered further, you grabbed onto him tighter, burying your head in his shoulder and clawing his back with your nails. “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight.”
“Does it hurt, baby?” he gently asked through heavy breaths, his thrusts continuing to be soft. You nodded. “It’s okay; just a moment and it’ll feel good.”
And he was right; just a couple of seconds into more soft thrusts, the pain transformed into satisfying pleasure that quickly took over, your gasps turning into soft moans.
“Jungkook… fuck me harder,” you begged, pushing him down and closer to you; your bodies sticking together even closer than before. “Please.”
Gradually, his thrusts became harsher, lips moving from your neck to your tits that were begging for his attention and his big hands that gripped your ass. Your desperate grip on his back firmed as you clenched around his dick, causing his breath to hitch. He deepened his thrusts, hitting your walls sensually, introducing you to a pleasure you never knew you could feel.
“Shit, you feel so good around me,” his deep, grunting voice hugged you. “Gonna fuck you stupid; nobody else can touch you like that.”
His ongoing rambling about how good you felt, how beautiful you were, and how long he had waited for this made you feel like you were the most cherished woman on Earth. You couldn’t believe that this was happening. If someone had told you two years ago that you would be in Jungkook’s penthouse, his dick ramming into you deliciously; you would laugh in their face. But here you were.
To add an element of surprise, you suddenly changed the position, turning the both of you around and pushing him down to the bed, taking control as you rode him up and down. A cocky smirk formed on his annoyingly pretty face, looking up at you in admiration.
“You learn quick,” he praised in a grunt, putting his head between your bouncing tits.
You were too lost in pleasure to respond, your ass clapping against his balls and your hands were all over his broad upper body, savoring every inch of him. Your head tilted back in bliss as his dick slipped in and out of your wet, tight pussy; a sight that Jungkook enjoyed very much.
“Baby, I’m close, shit… I’m so fucking close,” he informed with a breathy voice, bitten lips, and hazy eyes, dick thrusting up more desperately than before.
Your walls tightened more around his throbbing dick, indicating to him that you were also close. “Yeah? Me too, baby.”
After a minute of passionate thrusting and bouncing, Jungkook’s body suddenly tensed, reaching the edge. He released a warm flood of cum with a loud “fuck” coming out of his mouth.
With a grind of your hips, a moment later, you also reached a pinnacle, your breath hitching and your eyes closed. You got off of Jungkook and laid next to him on the bed, both of you still trying to come down from the high you experienced.
He slowly stood up, grabbed the bloodstained towel he laid under you to put it in the washing basket, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “You did so good, you know that?”
You simply smiled sheepishly, also getting up to clean yourself and pee. When you came back from Jungkook’s extravagant bathroom, he was lying on the bed now wearing boxers with an eager smile. “Come here.”
You obliged with swaying hips, your naked figure waltzing over to his king-size bed, laying your head on his chest. “Today was amazing, Jungkook. Thank you for everything.”
He held your hand in his, kissing your head gently. “Baby, that was nothing; I wanna thank you for everything. It’s really special to me, what you did.”
“It was easy, being with you and all,” you admitted in a soft voice. “You know, I feel surprisingly very comfortable with you, Jungkook; it’s weird.”
That made him chuckle; his chest left a vibration. “I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment…?”
“You should.”
“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I hope you know this means we’re together now,” Jungkook started, now looking deeply into your eyes from above. “Like an item, a thing, boyfriend and girlfriend, soon to be wed, a coup—”
You stopped him with a giggle, laying a loving hand on his chest. “I get it, Jungkook, and I know.”
“Good.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, smirking as he looked down at your naked body. “Next time, I wanna cum inside; so you better get started with birth control.”
“Jungkook!!”
——-
i hope whoever reads this enjoyed it🫶🏽🫶🏽 btw the poem is completely AI generated😭 i really wanna make this sort of a series like write a bunch of different scenarios for this couple; pls tell me your opinion on that.
#jeon jungkook#jeongguk x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#bts#taehyung#yoongi#park jimin#namjoon#jung hoseok#seokjin#bangtan#jungkook#bts jeongguk#jeongguk smut#jungkook smut
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What if someone who had a massive crush on rafe started dressing and acting like weird girl reader in an attempt to get his attention
I think she wouldn’t live to see another day !! Just kidding… but it wouldn’t be good for her… Possessiveness, talks of weird!girl getting bullied in the past, use of a butterfly knife (no breaking skin), Barry banter, weird!girl gets just a lil crazy here, she’s at her limit what can I say !! 18+MNDI!!
You don’t who the fuck this bitch thinks she is, who she thinks you are but she is about to get a reality check real quick. You’ve been watching it slowly progress. First you saw her at one of Topper’s parties wearing fuzzy demonias and a frilly mini dress and it just got worse from there. This girl whose name you haven’t thought of in years, Brittany. She treated you like shit all through school and she spent that same amount of time begging for Rafe’s attention. Which he never gave to her. And now? She’s dressing like you and posting pictures on her Instagram story of her in the middle of the woods. You even saw she had a sonny angel on the back of her phone in one of her selfies. Just like you. She’s been showing up at parties more and she’s somehow always at the country club when you and Rafe are. She’s never caught him alone though. Not until now.
You decided to stay home tonight, Rafe was going to a party with Barry and a few of their other dealer friends and you were tired. But when you got a text from Barry that you needed to come rescue your man because some girl wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he turned her down? You knew who he meant and you were out of bed putting on a quick beat and a cute little outfit immediately. You called an uber and were there in less than an hour.
When you rolled up there was music blaring and lights flashing from inside so you pushed your way through the sweaty, weed and beer smelling living room while scanning for your man in every corner. It didn’t take you long to find him. He’s sitting out on the back porch on a bench, counting money on the small table in front of him, surrounded by his guys, and fucking Brittney. Barry is in between her and Rafe but she might as well be in his fucking lap from the way she’s leaning over him to fawn over your fiancé. She’s wearing a little lace corset top and a black mini skirt which wouldn’t be that abnormal for a basic kook bitch like her but she’s wearing the same platform boots you had on last week, a studded choker, and a chunky belt to match. It makes you see red immediately.
You stomp out the back door and across the patio with tunnel vision. Your white platform Mary Jane’s clank against the ground and your little pink mini skirt swishes with every step. You walk right over to Rafe and plop down in his lap, interrupting his money counting.
“Hey, baby.” You throw your arms around his neck and smile at him sweetly, which he returns.
“Hey princess. Thought you weren’t coming. Just gimme a second to finish this up and I’m all yours, Kay?” Rafe kisses your cheek all sloppy before going back to business. Which you don’t mind because you have some business of your own to take care of. You turn sideways in his lap to see Brittany glaring over at you with her mouth agape, like she’s shocked to see you sitting in your man’s lap.
“Oh, hey, Brit! Fancy seeing you here! I didn’t know you were seeing Barry!” You smile at her sickly sweet, gesturing to the way she was splayed across his thighs. “And I love the outfit, didn’t know dressing like a weird little fucking freak was in now!!” You giggle as you throw her words that she’s spewed to you a thousand times back in her face.
“What? I’m not seeing him. What are you talking about?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, throwing her thin mousy brown hair over her shoulder. “And this? This is what everyone is wearing now. Do you live under a rock?”
“No, I don’t. I live in my fiancés big, nice house were he fucks me so good everyday.” Her blue eyes that she sloppily applied a large eyeliner wing to blow wide as her hand flies to her chest like you just hit her. It just makes you smirk as you lean across Barry’s lap so you can get in her face.
“Well, we will see how long it takes him to get bored of you. He is Rafe Cameron after all, you never know when someone shiny and new is gonna come around.” She says it quiet enough that you don’t think in his state of focus Rafe hears her but Barry suddenly looks very scared for her. And he should. You peer over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking your way and pull the butterfly knife tucked in your garter from its place all in one move. You stare into her eyes as you flick it open, finally putting those tricks you spent hours in your room teaching yourself to good use. You lace your finger into the loop of her cheap, wannabe choker and pull her face close to yours, holding the blade to her throat.
“Shiny and new?” You chuckle darkly. “Honey, you’re so fucking ran through Rafe is probably the only man on this island that hasn’t touched you. And he never will. So ditch the act. Go back to your lulu lemon’s and stay the fuck away from my man. Before I make you.” Your voice is calm and collected but the smile on your face and the underlying tone of it, mixed with the knife you have to her throat has her shaking with fear.
“You’re fucking crazy.” She gasps and tries to pull away but you only pull her closer, not enough to cut her, but enough to threaten it. You lean in so your lips brush her ear, letting out a manic giggle.
“You don’t even know the half of it. Stay away from him. Or you’re fucked.” You give her a condescending sticky lip gloss kiss on the cheek before pulling back and flicking your knife shut. She gasps and grabs her throat like you actually slit it and it sends you into a fit of laughter as she runs off with tears streaming down her face.
“Damn girl, I didn’t know you played like that.” Barry chuckles and he looks over at you with a proud smile.
“Yo, are you flirting with my girl again?” You look over your shoulder to see Rafe tucking a wad of cash into his pocket before you feel his arm lace around your waist so he can pull you against his chest.
“Nah, I mean, maybe a little bit.” Barry sends you a smirk and a wink that has Rafe groaning into the crook of your neck. “But don’t tell me you didn’t hear alla that…”
“Oh, no, I heard it.” You feel Rafe’s lips curve into a smile on your neck. “You feelin’ a little territorial bats?”
“Oh, absolutely. Not just over you, but over being the island's resident weird girl. You don’t get to jump on the train after shitting on it.” Your face sets into a glare that sends Barry and Rafe both into a fit of laughter. “Hey! Fuck you guys! That bitch made my life a living hell, she had it coming to her!”
“Yeah? You don’t think holding a knife to her throat was a little excessive?” Rafe squeezes your sides and you try to push off of him but he just pulls you closer.
“Honestly, country club is right. It probably would’ve been less crazy if you just hit her ass.” Barry rubs his fingers over his chin, the smirk on his lips causing the grill on his teeth to glint in the low light.
“That’s rich coming from you two!!” You scoff out a laugh that has them both laughing along with you.
“But honestly though? That was so fuckin’ hot, baby. Lemme take you home and show you who I belong to, yeah?” Rafe runs his nose along your throat before placing a few kisses there that have you throwing your head back against his chest with a sigh.
“Aye, unless you’re gonna let me in on it, I suggest you get a fuckin’ room.” Rafe sends Barry a glare that he returns with a smug smile. “What? Just sayin’.”
“Bro. It’s never gonna happen. Stop trying.” Rafe leans over you to shove Barry’s shoulder playfully before scooping you up carrying your ass out of there so he can take you home and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.
Tagging some mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa @bunnies-p1tst0p @eddiesxangel
All things Rafe & his weird!girl here
Divider by @anitalenia
#weird!girl reader#weird!girl#Dolly writes#rafe Cameron#rafe blurb#Rafe thoughts#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe concepts#rafe cameron fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#tw knife
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bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!
includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho
★ ˚⋆
times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.
he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.
it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.
until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.
he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.
he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.
one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-
the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.
you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"
"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."
dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.
he sighs. they can't all be winners.
you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.
fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"
"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."
her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.
"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"
dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.
"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"
he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.
no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.
but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.
dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."
your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"
"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"
that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."
"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."
you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.
"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."
"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."
dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."
"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."
"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"
"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."
dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"
"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."
"that mean you wanna use me?"
this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.
"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."
"dean."
your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."
the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.
his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"
one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."
notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind
tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas
(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)
#──★ ˙🍓 dahlia’s jrnl#──★ ˙🍉 dean x saga#jensen ackles#dean winchester#bonnie and clyde#bonnie!reader x clyde!dean#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester one shot#spn#supernatural#supernatural one shot#spn one shot
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YAYO
+content/warnings; gun play, mentions of guns, allusions of cheating, perverted behavior, getting caught, lap grinding??
boyfriend's icky dad toji who always told his son that girls weren't shit, men weren't piss and money was where it was at, until he met you.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who leers at you every time you're over, insisting that you stay longer to "keep megumi company".
boyfriend's icky dad toji who suprisingly puts a lot of effort into his appearance every time he hears your coming over, shaving his beard, even going as far as to making home cooked meals that he notes you love so much.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who always praises you for helping do the dishes and tidying up, claiming that one day he was going to give you a reward for being so good to him ( and megumi i guess ).
boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes any chance he can to get his grimy hands onto your soft and sweet skin, even going as far as to put his hands on your waist as you're doing the dishes.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who makes sure to check on you (and megumi) whenever you were sleeping around, just to make sure the two of you were ok, even though he'd never done that before when it was just megumi.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who, every time you can't sleep invites you to watch a movie with his until you get sleepy, watching those tiny shorts crawl up your fat ass.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes all the chances he can to 'acciedentally' walk in on your undressing, before you catch on and start locking the door.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes gloss over as he tells you the story of megumi's mother and why he was so stoic and stone-faced.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who has to physcially stop himself from grabbing you and fucking you hard, knocking the wind out of you and stuffing your cunt full.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who wonders if you're on birth control, but then the image of you pregnant with his child comes to mind and suddenly his mouth starts watering.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts to let his mind wonder every time he sees you, imaging your stuffed cunny leaking his cum, with your big tummy carrying his child.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who doesn't even feel bad about feeling this way towards his son's girlfriend and gets sloppy when trying to hide it.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who, whenever you're in the shower takes a pair of your dirty panties and stuffs them in his pockets, and whenever you ask him about his dodgy laundry he always alludes to megumi stealing your stuff.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who gets caught jerking off with a pair of cute panties on his face by his son, claiming they were from a one night stand.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who not only sniffs these underwear that he's stolen but full on soaks them with his saliva before drenching them in his thick semen.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts having wet dreams about you and realises something is really wrong, and he needs to do something about this.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who finds himself humping the erection away at the mere thought of you and figures that maybe just sleeping with you once will be enough to satiate his insatiable hunger.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who shows you his gun collection when megumi's out at a party that you couldn't attend because of a sprained ankle, in an attempt to cheer you up.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes light up as he promises to take you shooting one day if you're good - whatever that means.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes tear up and voice break as you begin to explain how his son was fucking around with someone else.
boyfriend's icky sticky dad toji who suddenly wishes to take back everything he'd taught his son, seeing how bad that mentality had fucked him over.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who tries to make you feel better but the only way he can think to do that is to suck on your pretty lil' clit.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who nearly chokes on his beer when you tell him that you and megumi were back together with the same mouth you used to suckle on his cock.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who swears up and down that he could do you better than his son ever could, despite every thought in his head telling him how disgusting that was.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who genuinely believes he could treat you better than any man your age, he swears he'll spoil you despite not even having a good paying job.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who figures that since your so keen on being an independent girl, he should show you how good it'll feel to have a real man by your side.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who aches and yearns and feigns for your soft lips on his, and finally convinces you to lay and relax while he shows you how a real man treats you.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who is undeniably shocked when he finds out that megumi rarely went down on you especially when you cunt was so juicy and sweet.
boyfriend's icky dad toji who is even more shocked when you suggest grinding on his thigh with a gun to your head, watching as you leak and ooze and drip all over on to his plaid pants.
He watched intently, eyes thinning, as your tits jiggled with each grind of your hips against his flexed thigh. One hand on your throat and another holding a gun to your head. Whether it was loaded or not you had no idea, but that was all part of the sick thrill you had flowing through your veins. Megumi had told you all about his father's sick work and the different escapades he'd been on, but having put a gun to your head was an entirely different experience.
It was deliriously sick, twisted and sinister even. It was beyond demented and dangerous. What if his finger slipped on the trigger? Your brains were sure to be blown out of the back of your head. Maybe that was why drool seeped from between your pouted lips and tears welled up in your eyes. Maybe that's why your nose was all scrunched up and sniffly while your cheeks and ears were hot red.
Your hips tried embarrassingly hard to keep up with the bouncing of his leg but it was like no matter how hard you grinded, you couldn't cum. Was it the fear of having you tongue blown out of the back of your cranium? No, it wasn't that. After all, this was all your idea.
As sweet and innocent as you looked, your eyes held a certain insatiable and disturbing thirst behind them. Not the some what normal fantasy of being held by a signifacntly older man while he rearrgenged your guts, but the idea of danger. Crossing the line between right and wrong.
It wasn't as if you didn't shove your used, slick and dirty underwear all the way to the depth's of Toji's throat just to suck the soul out of his hard cock, dribbling messily all over it, disgustingly spluttering and making a hot mess of yourself all over him while he sat there choking on your panties like a whore. Your cunt was throbbing, and your throat hurt like nothing before as you coughed and constricted around him numerous times before gulping his hot and thick load down shamlessly.
So why now, after being to desperate you flick and play with your cunt, could you not get off on Toji? You whined and squirmed and sobbed and cried, feeling nothing but frustation as your fists balled up on the creases of his pants. Your whimpers died down in your sore throat and Toji's hand against it did nothing to soothe the ache.
A part of him relished in watching you struggle to get off, watching a pretty young thing like you yearn for his help with your eyes. He felt a certain urge however, to flip you over and shove his filthy dick between your - no doubt - sopping folds, and show you how good girls get rewarded, but felt as if you needed to be warmed up first. "You need help, beautiful?" he finally spoke after long minutes of watching your pathetic and helpless cries simmer down in your throat.
You groaned out, squinted your eyes in an attempt to ask if he was being serious with his stupid question, hips occasionally stuttering. "Hey, hey, relax baby..." he soothed, removing his hand from your throat despite the hand with his gun never moving from your head. His hand slowly moved from your neck down as his thumb brushes against your nipple and placed his hand on your hip.
"Take it slowly, ok princess?" he reassured. A part of you was surely confused. This whole time Toji had been nothing but sadistic with you. The two of you were as equally as sadistic with each other, you tying his hand up whilst riding his cock to no end. But now he was guiding you towards an orgasm. "Thereee you go, sweets," his hand that was once on your hip now cupped your face as he moved closer, nose in the crock of your neck. This was intimate to say the least, and you were sure he was going to come up to give upon those beautifully glazed lips.
You whined out loud, feeling his breath tickle your neck, but that was the least of your problems as now you could surely feel a big wave coming. Toji saw as your hips twitched and your toes curled and uncurled: "Oh? Are you gonna cum, sweet girl?" He could feel your naked cunt throbbing hard on his clothed thigh. He immediately sat up, green eyes on your own big ones, watching as you silently pleaded. Pleaded for what, you had no idea, but he surely did.
He knew you wanted to make a massive mess all over his trouses. Completely soak him in your sticky fluids and watch as he gets turned on even more. With every exhale you made, his pupils dilated even more, as if he was getting higher and higher on your impending orgasm. His hand never once left your face and with every deliberate roll of your hips, he pushed that cold metal gun further into your skull.
You stuttered out cries of his name, before attempting to stand up. It was far too much for you, and your orgasm was going too soon. But you were too slow, for his entire arm snaked around your waist, keeping you on his lap, watching as you soaked his leg with your cum. You gushed uncontrollably, begging Toji to let you go as he just snickered in your ear, telling you to hush down and stop freaking out.
He figured that this must've been the first time you've squirted, as you're shaking non stop. Your mascara was dried up on your cheeks and lip gloss all smudged from earlier. Almost ironically, as you came down from your intense high, the outro to Floods by Pantera came on the radio.
Toji was a sick and an icky man, and he lay in seamed in your fluids with zero shame, while his son lay asleep in the next room. He watched as you took in hard and deep laboured breaths, still trying to compose yourself. I guess now you knew how he felt when you went down on him. Him seeing you squirt all over him, confirmed the thought of wanting to see you stuffed full with his own icky fluids. He finally moved the gun from your head before placing it down.
"Would you have really shot me?" you whispered out, voice still coarse.
"Are you crazy? That gun was empty." He scoffed, scratching his stubble.
"That's a stupid question, Toji, and I would've loved for the gun to be filled to the brim," Your cunt throbbed as you imagined Toji's huge cock pounding you hard, hefty arms keeping you in place.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x black reader#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro#toji#toji x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#toji zenin#toji x black reader#toji x black y/n#smut
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honey | bob floyd x reader
Word Count: 13,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Succubus!Reader, Virgin!Bob. Shapeshifting, elements of magic, blood, parties, first-time blow jobs, cunnilingus, first-time sex, virginity loss, vague plot twists despite the severe lack of an actual plot. This was a crack warmup that just became...this Brief Summary: "Rich, hot, and a virgin. What's wrong with you?" Or, Bob's coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included.
Well...
This is new.
"It wasn't me! I promise!"
"Well, someone drew my symbol on the floor." Folding your arms in front of your chest, huffing. All that for this?
"It wasn't—" He freezes, teeth flashing through an awkwardly stretched smile. "I...my coworkers were playing a prank on me."
Lovely that you learn that after you've planted your ass in his lap. "So you don't want me here, pretty boy?"
Because he is cute. Floppy brown hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen, hidden behind a pair of wireframes that perch on his freckled nose. His partner must be an incredibly happy person, having someone like this walking around their house.
"N-no!" He blurts. His face falls. "—wait! Well-well, I...uh, I...I don't wanna be rude, but I mean I-I..." Your index finger presses against his thin lips, silencing whatever he had left to say. If history is anything to go off of, you wouldn't have been able to understand what he's trying to tell you anyway.
But...well, you are stuck here, so you'd might as well ask. "What's your name?"
"Ro-Ro..." A short pink tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Robert."
"Well, Bobby," you can't help but say it, a little too eager to watch the blush in his cheeks deepen. "It's a shame that you didn't. You're pretty cute."
Even in the dark, you can see how his face reddens, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his words.
"But! I'll be on my way," lifting yourself from his lap before you can become too comfortable there. Something bumps into your ass; you think that may have been his cheek. "Do me a favor and tell your partner that they're a very lucky person, would ya?"
"Partner?" Squeaking.
Your feet freeze. There's no way he's... "Don't tell me you're single."
But Bob nods his head like it's the simplest confession he's ever made. "That's half of the reason why they went through the trouble of making you come here." He pauses, his left eye twitching as a thought visibly crosses his mind. Whatever it is, it's got him looking away from you entirely. "Said I'm...said I'm too old to be a—"
"Wait, wait, wait." Holding your hands up. Need a moment of silence to understand what the hell you're hearing. "Your coworkers summoned a succubus to take your virginity?"
His lips flatten into a line. "...yeah."
"Well, that's shitty!" That's a new one. Finally, something to top the time a sorority summoned you to party with them for...some reason. Bragging rights, you think. "Do they pay you enough to put up with those assholes?"
It's been a minute since you've run into someone so nonchalant about a demonic creature standing in the room with them, never mind hold a casual conversation with you.
But here Bob is, shrugging his shoulders like this happens to him every Tuesday. "You learn to deal with it when you're paid a hundred sixty-thousand a year."
"So you're a rich virgin." It shoots out of your mouth before you realize the thought crossed your mind.
Again, Bob is too calm about this. "I...guess?"
"Rich, hot, and a virgin." Modifying your statement. "What's wrong with you?"
Those blue eyes widen. Blinking rapidly. "Huh?"
"Well, there's gotta be a reason why you don't have a line of people out the door." You say, crouching back down in front of him. Sure wish he'd let you do something about that tent in his pajama pants. "If it's not the looks that reel the ladies in, it's the charm, and if it's not the charm, it's the money. And you've got all three, pretty boy."
It's not supposed to be a serious topic, not as if you're about to go and write an article about his non-existent sex life to publish in the weekly paper. But this guy is actually thinking about it. His brows furrowing as he mulls over his thoughts, mouth parting, only to fall closed once more.
"I think it has something to do with the nature of my job and my severe inability to start a conversation," he concludes, with a little nod of his head.
You wonder if you could put him in your pocket and take him home.
Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you're standing on some a ship right now. Is he some kind of cruise captain? "That'll do it."
Bob doesn't have anything else to say about that, awkwardly closing his legs before you can get another look at what he might be packing under there. Whether or not he caught you staring or he's just become aware of his current state, you're not sure. It's such a shame that someone else summoned you on his behalf; he would have been a fun one to toy with.
Hm.
"Do you wanna fuck with your coworkers before I leave?"
He blinks at you. Not a thought behind those eyes. "Huh?"
"Well, you've already got me here," an excited lilt in your voice, maybe a bit too eager to present your totally thought-out idea. "Believe it or not, I double as a poltergeist on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Or whenever you feel like, really.
"That would be mean," shaking his head. What is he, some kind of saint?
"They just summoned a demon to fuck you in a locked room," deadpan.
For a moment, it's quiet, and then.
"...that's a fair point."
As it turns out, Bob lives on the world's shittiest cruise ship. A ship without a pool, a dimly lit cafeteria without a single Michelin-trained chef in sight. Long, narrow, colorless hallways. There aren't even individual rooms, just even smaller hallways stacked high with bunk beds. On the thinnest mattress you've ever seen, might you add.
Worst of all, rather than allowing personal clothes, everyone is dressed in clothing provided by the ship. Whoever picked the color schemes needs to be introduced to a fucking color wheel.
How do you trick the head of the United States Navy into summoning you? You have a few choice words about this place.
You appear in the mirror first. A little flash of your face, and then you're gone, nothing but a figment of the imagination. Again, later in the night, those two coworkers of Bobs have convinced themselves that they had made it up.
The plan was to end it there and to come back in the morning to turn it up a notch, but there's a chair sitting in the bunk room that's just so comfortable. So what if you lounge there all night, poking through a book Bob had on the foot of his bed? The room just dark enough to allow them to see your vague silhouette, air so quiet that every turn of the page seems to echo.
Not one of them sleeps, but Bob does, snoring away in his bottom bunk. He sounds like a little cat, tiny little noises that sound closer to grumbles than snores.
When morning comes, you show up in their showers right as they turn around. You appear on opposite ends of crowded rooms and in high-stakes meetings with fancy-dressed higher-ups just to get a reaction. Tapping on their shoulders when they think they're alone. Somehow, you managed to get away with swapping the labels on the mustard and hot mustard. Effectively ruined several breakfasts in one fell swoop.
One, this loud-mouthed blonde you forgot the name of, wakes up to you sitting on his chest. Who would have thought that he had such a shrill scream?
But you might take it too far when you chase them down the narrow hallway—five grown adults shrieking like they're in a haunted scream park and not a Navy ship.
Or at least, you thought you did.
"I can't-I can't believe you just—!" Bob's laughing into his palms, keeling over with it. His mouth is moving, but he can't get anything out. Bubbly, loud giggles that travel around the tiny little fan room, bouncing off every corner.
"And here you said it would be too mean," gently mocking, unable to fight off the smile that works its way across your face. So big you can hardly speak through it.
That should technically be the last of your encounters.
You should be heading back through your portal and off on another job, but Bob doesn't utter the proper incantations to make that happen. He starts to, but then you ask about his book, and he squeaks at you for spoiling the ending, and then you begin to second guess if you're recalling it correctly.
Then the conversation starts, and suddenly, you've been bound to him for three weeks.
If it were anyone else, you'd complain and force the portal to open by yourself. There's more than one way to break the spell and go back to where you came from, but there's something about Bob Floyd that keeps you lingering. Maybe it's the way he blushes when you get too close. Maybe it's because you can't remember a time when someone kept you around solely because they liked talking to you.
Maybe it's because he has a fantastic taste in literature. Anything he's reading somehow becomes glued to your hands, unable to be put down until you've reached the final page.
"I can't believe nobody has gotten bold enough to comment on the strange figure reading a book in the corner every night," you giggle, nothing but a misty haze hovering over his head.
His lips curl into a smile, toothpaste spilling over as he fights not to bite his toothbrush. "I think they're afraid of another hallway incident."
"Are you afraid of another hallway incident?" Appearing in the mirror, if only to get your message across.
"Nah."
If you had known that the Admiral would be the final person you would get to scare before Bob left the ship, then you probably would have gone all out on it. But at the moment, all you're thinking about is how unfair and rude it was to pin Bob for the mistakes that his pilot made up in the air. The guy can't even fly a jet. How is it his fault that the pilot confused their lefts and rights?
So you show up in the mirror, jump on him, and spiral about the room in a foggy haze before rustling down the hallway in such a storm that it creates a draft. There seems to be a growing trend with men having high-pitched screams on this boat.
If Bob ever catches wind of the incident, he never brings it up.
Hell, maybe he thinks he's left you behind because he sure is surprised to turn around and find you sitting on his kitchen counter one morning.
"Did ya forget about me?"
"Please." Clenching at his heart. "Knock first."
Wordless, you tap your knuckles against the cool marble.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Those pretty blue eyes roll, their color a little more vivid now that he's wearing that deep blue button-down, the sleeves pulled back just enough to reveal the thick muscle of his forearms. They're still swollen from his workout; you wonder if he knows you were watching.
"Got a hot date tonight?" Kicking your foot at him, brushing against his slacks. The last thing you're expecting is for his hand to wrap around your ankle, lightly squeezing, as if to test out the feeling.
"I got invited to a party and can't get out of it," he hums, letting your leg slip free of his grasp. Then, after a moment. "Wanna come?"
"You're inviting a demon to a party?" Slipping off the counter, batting your eyes at him.
All it takes is one step forward for him to stumble back, wide-eyed and stuttering. "Is that... am I not supposed to do that? I'm sorry."
"Hey, I never said no," your hands find their way to his chest, gently pushing—his back thumps against the fridge. "What color do you like?"
"R-red?" That cute mouth of his wobbles, the slightest hint of facial hair coloring his upper lip. It'll be gone by five, but it's nice to see it for once.
Red it is.
You think this party was thrown by the same sorority who invited you up to party with them because this is...not what you were anticipating. Shot glasses, shitty beer, and flashing lights, the thump of the music so heavy that your bones really with it. You don't even know where the speakers are, lost to the swarm of people crammed into this tiny bar.
All of a sudden, your long, sultry dress has shed into a short little number that blends in with the rest of the crowd. You can't see him, but you can feel Bob's eyes jump onto your frame.
"How did you do that?" Tilting his head to the side like that will somehow help him find an answer to his question.
"Magic, I suppose," there's an actual explanation for it, but you've long since forgotten it. Something about manifestation and energy and a word too big for your tongue to pronounce. "I actually have zero idea how it works."
There's so much going on that you find yourself vanishing for a few minutes. Nothing but a misty haze lingering over Bob's head as one of his buddies shoves a drink into his hand and pushes him down into a cushioned chair. You haven't the slightest clue what kind of golden liquid is swishing around in that cup, but it's got a flavor that has Bob's nose wrinkling.
"Someone's not a drinker," observing aloud, a sudden presence in his lap, your knees caging his hips.
"Was it that obvious?" Sheepish, with that little sideways smile of his. Whether that's from admitting to his inability to drink alcohol or from where you've chosen to sit, you're not sure.
"Your little nose wrinkle gives you away," your little tap on his nose makes him blink. "You're almost a little too clean-cut for this place."
There's nothing special or different that he's done about his appearance, but the aesthetics of the crowd make it look like he's walked into the wrong party. A little bit too put together when you compare his ironed button-down and perfectly gelled hair to the half-drunk faces, trendy, cheap outfits, and that group of shirtless men over in the corner.
At least you have the luxury of changing clothing at the drop of a hat. Otherwise, you would be in the same boat.
"He said it was only gonna be a dozen of us," Bob lifts the glass to his lips once more, his nose twitching at the bitter flavor that greets his tongue. He's trying to hide his reaction, but you can still see the disgust in his eye.
"More like twelve dozen," plucking the glass from his hand, setting it on the little table next to the chair. "You could've convinced me this was a high-end frat party."
Looking around is enough to make you question if 'high-end' was just you being generous because this is looking more like an average party by the second. A myriad of nameless faces lost to the flash of the lights: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, a cycle that never loses its pattern. But even the strain it puts on your eyes isn't enough to distract from the sloppy grinding of bodies against each other, hands in the air, writhing to a beat that definitely does not match the music.
Something is starting to press against your inner thigh. An insistent pressure that almost feels—
Damn, how long have Bob's cheeks been bright red like that?
"Are you good?" Pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, clammy to the touch. "You're red as a balloon."
"Yep," his voice strained, so tight it may snap at the slightest hint of pressure. And he's looking over at the painting on the wall, one of those uninteresting things with only a few paint splatters to stain the pure white canvas. Not the kind of thing worth staring at so intently.
You shift forward, thumb swiping at the sweat beading at his temple—
"You sure get hard easily." Teasing. You hadn't even been trying, but that's definitely a heavy bulge pressing into you, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks.
A muscle in his jaw flexes, swallowing hard. "Please don't say it out loud."
"I can fix that, you know." Perhaps curling your hand around his jaw is a little bit too bold, but he isn't making any moves to push you away or tell you to stop. "Some say I'm pretty good at that."
"No, no, that's okay," Bob shakes his head, gently dislodging your hand from his face. "I don't wanna make you do that."
"You're not making me do anything," leaning the slightest bit closer, tapping him on the chest with an index finger. "I'm volunteering. There's a difference."
He swallows again.
Someone calls out his name, waving a hand in the air as if to guide attention to himself as he emerges from the crowd, drink in hand, smile so big that it ought to blind someone. You vaguely recall seeing him back on the ship; name starts with an 'f'.
...shame that you don't remember anything more than that.
But Bob is uttering some Navy jargon that you don't have the capacity to keep up with, and your knees are starting to hurt, skin stuck to the cheap leather cushion. It's much easier to turn yourself around, back leaning against his chest, now free to scan over and watch the part of the room you couldn't see before.
It's not that you don't feel him pressing into the curve of your ass; you just...well, you kind of forget about it. The moment you lay eyes on the game of beer pong happening behind the pool table, you're invested. Straining your neck to try and get a better look at who is winning, crossing two fingers as a lady in a little white skirt goes up against a guy who looks two beers away from a total blackout.
Neither of them are good at it. Far from it, actually, but the girl's friends are cheering her on, and the man has missed the cup thrice now, stumbling over his own two feet. He misses. She scores two. He gets another point while she's trying to catch a ball that has rolled off into her crowd of friends.
You don't realize you've been squirming until Bob's forehead thunks against your back, shoulders rising with his inhale.
"Where did your buddy go?" Chirping in the lightest tone you can muster. As if you're blissfully unaware of what's going on.
"Maybe we should get up," entirely evading your question.
It's a worthy idea that goes down the drain within the same minute it's suggested. What you couldn't see from the couch was how big the crowd actually is. It's a swarm that swallows you whole, someone's shoving into your back, and Bob's stumbling into you, and it's all you can do not to explode into a plume of mist.
You're only distantly aware of his arm curling around you, cinching you to him as if to anchor you in before the storm can wash you away. Your leg slotting between his is far from intentional. But it happens, and you're nose to nose with him, and the corner of his eye is twitching, and you swear you can hear a dam breaking.
You don't entirely know how you wind up here. Squeezing into this sorry excuse of a bathroom stall, your hands greedily dipping beneath his shirt, chest to chest. Every little meet of your lips has him gasping against you. His tongue tastes like the honey biscuit he was nibbling on earlier, the one that dripped on his shirt and left little white crumbs all over his lap.
You could eat him.
"We shouldn't..." He's whispering. A secret meant for your ears only.
Everything screeches to a halt. "Do you wanna stop?"
Shaking his head. "No."
He makes it so damn easy. Legs parted just enough to allow your thigh to slot between them, immediately squeezes down around it the moment he recognizes it's there, drawing you right up into—
A shiver wracks through him. So intense that you can feel it.
You don't need to worry about taunting him. He's reacting as if you've already made a remark. Nose scrunching as he tries to steel his face, warding off the softness that once lingered there, taken aback by the sudden pressure between his legs. Such a strong front. Shame that it folds the moment your hand curls against the bulge in his slacks.
"You're bad at this," a teasing lilt in your tone, lazily working your hand against him. No real rhythm or method to it, simply a shifting pressure that you can already feel his hips beginning to follow.
"It's been a while," muttered like a confession—a sin of the past.
Now that has your attention. "You've done this before?"
The bathroom door squeals open, the handle cracking against the tile so hard that some of it tears off the wall entirely, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. A chunk of it rolls under the stall on a one-way track to strike the side of your shoe. You don't recognize the too-loud voices that enter the room, but Bob seems to, eyes rolling for a fraction of a moment.
"Something similar...once," hardly audible over whatever the hell is being discussed by the sinks.
You'll have to get the full story out of him when there aren't extra ears lurking mere feet away. Right now, though, you're tugging at his zipper, yanking it down as far as it will go, your hand darting through the gap.
Good lord.
It's always the quiet ones.
"I'm surprised you can get through security with this thing," there's so much of him that you've got to use your other hand, fumbling to pop open his button.
"With what?" Bob's brow furrows. You lightly squeeze the base of him. "...oh."
One of the men shouts. Two laughs chime after it in hot pursuit.
There's a considerable weight to him that you hadn't anticipated until just now, his pretty, flushed cock throbbing in your hand. Muscle memory kicks into gear without much thought, gradually gliding up from his base to his tip—ruby red, almost angry in appearance, such a sharp contrast to your fingers.
His hips follow your motions, subtle little backs and forths that you nearly miss at first, keen on chasing your touch but too shy to allow himself to do it. Teeth sink into his bottom lip, pressing so hard that they leave an indent behind. Breathing hard through his nose, eyes screwing shut like he's fighting something back.
You know what he's doing. Can't let a single noise escape for fear of it reaching the other ears in the room, but there's no way they can. Not with all that racket they're making.
It's fifty-fifty if you still remember how to interrupt electricity, your one sure-fire method of making sure nobody can see what you're doing, but there's only one way to find out.
Getting on your knees in a bathroom stall might be a new one for you, but here you are, blindly sinking lower and lower. Can't quite see what you're doing, your eyes hopelessly locked on Bob Floyd and his pink cheeks. Hasn't even realized what you're doing yet.
There's probably a good minute or two where you just hover there, waiting for the moment he realizes that you've moved. Eye-level with his cock, lazily thumbing each and every bead of precum across his plush head, a little routine to decorate the loose up-and-down of your hand. But his eyelids remain closed, and you're just so damn impatient.
The greet of your tongue has him jumping up onto his tiptoes. His head smacking into the flimsy stall wall.
"What was that?"
It's as if the room has morphed into a library. Complete, utter silence. Nothing but the faint breaths of the men gathered outside of the stall, Bob's, and your own. From the gap, you can see a black and yellow shoe taking a step forward. Silently inching closer.
The whites of Bob's eyes are so big that you can hardly see the color that decorates them. Drowned out and lost to a wave of fear that you can feel prickling through his body. If only those stupid yellow shoes would turn around and walk away; you wanted to play this card a little bit longer.
The bathroom plunges into darkness.
So you do still remember how to do that.
Someone screams. You're not sure who, but it was far too high-pitched to be the man right in front of you. Maybe it was the loser with the yellow shoes. Audibly stomping across the tile floor, shouting at each other as they fight for the door. The hinge squeals. Someone accidentally kicks the corner of it on their way out.
And then it swings closed. The room falling quiet as the sliver of light peeking through the gap disappears entirely.
Your mouth opens, gently drawing Bob into your mouth. Thicker than what you anticipated, uncomfortably stretching your lips around his head, but it's only a slight inconvenience. You can hardly think about it. Especially not when flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit elicits that sort of noise. Pitchy and drawn out, slipping out of him before he can stop it.
"That's—" his palm finds its way to your forehead. Pushes lightly. Jerks away. Lands on the side of your cheek instead. "A lot."
You have very different definitions of 'a lot'.
You're actually moving rather slowly, gradually working your way down his length. He's only just beginning to touch the back of your throat, but Bob sucks in a sharp gasp of air as if you've just sprung this on him. You'd complain if he didn't taste so sweet. Just can't help but take him as far as he'll go, the tip of your nose kissing the cold metal of his zipper, throat so full of him that your head spins.
He's trying to say something. Little fragments of words that might or might not be your name. Breaking apart the moment they fall into his mouth, shattered pieces raining down upon you and your eager ears.
Maybe you're too quick about this. A fraction too eager to draw all the way back, only to fall upon him once more, lazily letting yourself gag around him if only to hear him groan low in his throat and to feel his thighs shudder beneath your palms.
"I'm—I'm already, I..." Bobby's panting. Pawing at the side of your face. Doesn't know if he wants to pry you off or push your head back down.
You expected this. You knew he would be a little bit quick, but all of a sudden, he's twitching in your mouth, a rope of cum decorating your tongue and...
Honey.
Why does he taste like honey?
It feels like a fluke at first. Has you drawing all the way back, sucking gently on his spasming tip, but it doesn't change. Overwhelmingly sweet and thick on your tongue. It doesn't...since when did human men taste like this? Good lord, what took you so long to find one like this?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bob's abruptly pulling out of your mouth with a sharp 'pop,' the toilet paper roll audibly spinning as he grabs at it.
The overhead light flickers back on. Damn near blinding. You nearly miss the shade of cherry decorating his cheeks.
"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?"
"You can't be serious."
"No, something's gotta be wrong. I've picked something up somewhere," Bob doesn't seem to realize that he's started pacing again, striding back and forth across the room. "That doesn't...it shouldn't taste like honey!"
Your leg kicks off the edge of the exam table, taping him on the hip as he drifts past. "And what? You think a mystery STD will?"
"Maybe there's one I'm not considering," he stops dead in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye. "You should get tested too."
"Hard to catch a human virus if you aren't human," dragging your foot up the side of his thigh, "maybe it's just a succubus thing."
Bob's hand curls around your ankle, bringing it to rest comfortably against the side of his hip. "Huh?"
"I mean, like...maybe I taste it differently based on how much I like the person?" You're already grasping at straws as it is, but it's so hard to think when Bob is rubbing the back of your ankle like that. Diligent fingers pressing into strained muscle, drawing the tension away with every loose spiral.
"No," shaking his head as if to add emphasis to an already firm word. "I don't...no, that wouldn't make sense."
That was your one and only theory, but, well, if he insists. "Alright, honey cum."
"Please, don't."
You're gone by the time the doctor decides to come back. Doesn't have a whole lot to say, but a few weeks later, there's a neatly folded paper on the counter with a whole bunch of negatives on it.
Bob catches you looking at them, but he doesn't have anything to say about it. He's more intrigued by your appearance than anything else, brushing the pads of his fingers against one of your horns as he drifts past.
"Have you always had these?" He chirps, on a one-way track back to his coffee maker. His poor heart might stop if he pours himself anymore, but that doesn't seem to be stopping him.
"Technically, yes," it's a lazy reply, but you're not sure what else to say. "I didn't think to hide them today. What is that, your third cup of coffee today?"
"Fifth," he corrects, unashamed about finishing off the pot. There's just enough left to fill his mug to the rim and then some. How he doesn't spill it, you'll never know. "Do all demons have horns?"
"Depends on the race, really," shrugging. "Succubi have short, narrow horns with vibrant colors, crossroad demons have horns similar to a Texas Longhorn, fallen angels don't have any at all..." You could keep going, but you would be talking for a long, long time.
You probably shouldn't be lingering around Bob's apartment, invisible to the naked eye as you lounge in the soft red couch and gaze out the window at every rise and fall of the sun. He seems to know that you're still here; hums something that sounds like your name when the cushion sinks beneath your weight.
It's a cute apartment, really. A thrifted coffee table and an oversized bookcase that has already run out of room, excess books spilling over onto the shelves that were once reserved for figurines, and clever callbacks to movies.
There's a stash of DVDs lurking inside of the TV stand, and in the ottoman, a pair of signed and framed Star Wars posters decorating the hallway. He thinks that he's spread out the anime enough to pass undetected, but you can clearly see the manga lurking in the smaller bookcase in his bedroom. There's a Naruto sticker hiding on the side of the fridge, a Pokemon in the bathroom cabinet, and so far, you have counted four Trigun figurines.
Five, if you include the one you just watched him unwrap and place next to his model jet. This one kind of looks like him...
"Are you still in here?" Bob calls out from somewhere on the other side of the apartment. It might be the first time you've heard his voice rise above a mutter since he left the doctor's office.
You're not entirely sure where he is. Haven't exactly moved from the couch now that the sun has fallen again, blankly gazing at the distant ocean as if it's a home you once knew like the back of your hand.
He appears in the hallway. Fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, his eyes squinting as he tries to scan the room without his glasses. You're still waiting for him to realize that he left them next to the stove again.
"Come out?" He tries again, ambling forward. "Please?"
"Looking to terrorize your boss again?" Dissolving into solidity, the chilly air nipping unpleasantly at your skin. Invisible was better. You couldn't feel the temperature when you didn't have a body.
Or...maybe you're feeling the temperature incorrectly because Bob looks like a shrimp mid-boil. Red in the cheeks, so flushed that it crawls down into his neck, and the sliver of chest showing through the collar of his shirt.
"Bob?" Tilting your head to the side.
"I wanna return the favor." Deadpan.
Blink.
Blink again.
Blink one more time.
You don't follow. "Pardon?"
"I mean, I..." his eyes skip around the room. Bouncing off of the coffee table to the poster behind your head, the miscellaneous figurine shelf, and the refrigerator. "You did something for me, and I...don't...like the idea of it being so one-sided?"
"Bob, I'm a succubus," there's supposed to be an underlying hint there because this is kind of the very reason for your existence, but Bob doesn't seem to pick up on that. Or maybe he does and just doesn't react. "Do you even know how?"
A beat passes.
His head shakes. No.
"I'm a quick learner?" Offering it up like he's bartering. You wonder if you can get him to start offering crops and livestock. "Is that...okay?"
You're not sure if it's the novelty of the idea or if it's because of that soft, doe-eyed expression he nails you with, but something has you agreeing to it. But just because you're on the same page together doesn't mean you'll be the very next sentence that he reads.
You're gone the moment he's in front of you.
"Where did you—"
"But you'll have to catch me first." Reappearing behind him. Walking your fingers up his spine.
He turns.
You're gone. Drifting behind his back again. Blowing at his nape.
"Hey!" He squeals. So shrill and pitchy that it nearly throws you off. Only manage to dissolve into a plume of mist when he reaches for you.
Bob is already spinning around. Blocks you from getting to his back again. And there must be some kind of 'tell' of where you are because his eyes follow you every which way. You'd might as well be fully human because this isn't working.
You don't know how you get into the kitchen. But you're on one side, and Bob is on the other before you've even become solid. You stumble three steps to the right; he's already there. You go left. But then he goes left. You dart right—corner to corner to corner. Shit, you've put yourself in a corner. Either way you have to get past him.
"Why are you so damn quick?" Giggling. Your feet slide against the hardwood. Not as fast as him. This will only last so long.
"Did you forget." He jumps left. "I'm in." Right. "The Navy?" Left again.
"I thought that meant you would be good at swimming!" You're slipping. Grabbing at the countertop before you can hit the floor. "Not—this!"
He breaks the pattern first. Shoots around the corner so quickly that you nearly don't have time to spin back around. His fingertips graze your back as you turn. You're tearing off around the corner. Dissolving bit-by-bit and—
There's a pressure around your waist, and the room is spinning, and you don't remember when or how your feet left the ground.
"Bobby!" You're squealing, throwing your arms around his shoulders before you can slip.
It's hard telling when or how things escalate the way that they do. All you remember is the coldness of the floor as he sets you back down, the heat of his arms around you, and the bump of his nose against your cheek. And melting. Fuck, you remember melting into him like snowflakes in July, meeting him halfway, his soft lips melding with yours so easily.
You do remember when you fall against the couch. Nothing but ruby red cushions and the lingering pink in Bobby's cheeks, settling between your legs with such ease that you almost wonder if you've done this with him before.
Christ, he could probably convince you that you've already had a few nights together.
There's no reason why or how he should know that you're sensitive beneath your ear, mouthing at the skin there but never making a move to mottle it with bruises. Respectful. Irritatingly so. Never leaving behind a mark, not even when he bites at the collar of your shirt and grazes the skin that lurks beneath.
He wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. Is he sure that he's never done this before? Because he gets your lounge shorts off surprisingly easily. His waist dipping between your thighs, swollen lips finding your lower belly once more, working down, down, down...
"Shit," his tongue has you jolting, entirely caught off guard. "A little sudden there."
It's hard to feel any sort of annoyance when he peeks up at you from beneath his lashes, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "'m sorry."
Your hand curls into the back of his hair, a fraction longer than it was when his so-called friends summoned you right into his lap. Only takes the slightest pressure for him to dip his head back down, licking a slow stripe against you. He misses your clit on the first try, pulls away a little too soon. But he finds it on the second, visibly perks at your sharp inhale, and retraces his steps until you do it again.
Learning should imply that he doesn't know what he's doing beforehand. You're gonna need to steal his dictionary off the shelf and look up the proper definition because you're pretty sure he was lying.
There's no damn reason why he should know how to point his tongue and trace it around your clit, teasing until your hips lift off the mattress. Temporary relief comes in the form of the hum that rumbles out of him, vibrating through your nerves like electricity. He's settling into it now, laying flat on his belly, arms curled around your thighs as ifhe belongs there.
Fuck, and he's working his way down. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses into your dripping pussy, stopping to lap at your entrance before pressing inside. His tongue isn't even all that long, but the wet heat and the tip of his nose pressing against your clit yanks a gasp out of your throat, eyes snapping shut.
Your thigh squishes against his cheek, leg looping lazily over his shoulder as if that could somehow possibly bring him closer. Fingers twist in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp—
"What the hell?" Your own voice sounds foreign. Detached from your body.
Bob lifts his head, and good lord, his lips are glistening. "Hm?"
"What is this little bump on your head?" Tapping your nail against it, uniquely bony compared to the rest of his scalp. Feels like a perfect circle.
"I don't know what they are," nonchalant, already dipping back between your legs, "'ve had 'em since I was born."
You can see them when you push his hair out of the way, little indentations beneath the skin, solid as can be. One on each side, a few inches above his ears. These kind of look like...
No, that's not right.
That sweet tongue of his finds you again. Drawing lazy shapes that transform into shock waves on impact, rumbling up your spine and down into your fluttering thighs. Letters. He's drawing letters, and you can hardly decipher what they are, but the voice in the back of your head whispers that he's writing is name into your cunt. Over and over until he's certain that you'll never find pleasure in a name that isn't his.
"Bobby, I..."
He hums, hands curling around your hips, pulling you in. Doesn't let go of that same lazy pace that he just set for himself, curling through an 'R' and into an 'O' so intoxicating that you find your own mouth mimicking it, too. You don't mean to cum so soon. You really don't, but your eyes unintentionally lock with his, that tiny smile curling the corners of them, and shit—
Your back twitches up off the bed. Crying out so sharply that it rips right out of your throat. Your head might just tumble off your shoulders. Floating up into the clouds, heaven-bound. Weightless.
The hands on your hips tighten. Anchoring you back down. Bob's burning tongue working you through it like he's done it a hundred times until your body is tensing and jerking away from every little lick.
"Jesus," sucking in a breath, "Christ."
Bob lifts his head, swollen lips twisting into a cheesy grin. "Wrong name."
"Nerd," tapping him on the nose.
"Demon," biting the inside of your thigh.
It's hard telling who sputters into a laugh first. Giggling like school kids as he climbs up the bed, his mouth clumsily finding its way to yours. It's so much easier to hold his face when his glasses aren't in the way; don't have to worry about smudging a lense or accidentally knocking them off his face entirely.
If you thought that you were bad, then Bob Floyd is another monster entirely because once he's gotten a taste of you, he can't get enough.
Because he's on you again in the morning, kissing at your shoulder and working his way down your naked belly before his final alarm goes off and forces him to start getting ready for work. His sweet tongue working over your clit, chasing down a vastly different zig-zag pattern as he eases a thick, curious finger into you. Lazily searches for a little spot that steals your breath away and has you babbling for another.
In the evening, he's nibbling and kissing at your thighs while you wait for the pizza delivery guy is on his way. Leaves behind sporadic little marks that gradually acquire a delicious tenderness that makes you gasp when you try to cross your legs later.
You answer to the sound of your name on an average Tuesday afternoon. An unapproved presence in a top-security Naval building, perched up on the edge of a locker room bench like you belong there. Like you, too, are a pilot with a willingness to perform and just the right amount of crazy flowing through your veins.
Bob doesn't utter a word about it, but you know that one of his superiors has chewed him out again because his cheeks are pale as can be, eyes only softening at the sight of you appearing before him. And maybe he's a little bit too eager to fall to his knees, peppering your skin with kisses that make their way to where you crave them the most.
Again and again. An addict who seems to need his fix every time he's overwhelmed. It's your purpose, the very thing you were built for, but the invisible string that draws you into him is unlike any other you've been wrapped up in before. An undescribable something-else lurking behind the charm of those wireframes and his warm, dizzying voice. Never asks for anything in return, all too content with eating you alive.
Your favorite might be the night that he pulls a muscle in his shoulder blade. One little misstep in the gym is all it takes for a night and a half of overwhelming soreness, binding him flat on his back, minding his left side. But even the mix of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a dash of pain isn't enough to keep him grounded.
"I have an idea." It's been forever since you last heard him speak. The last time you recall hearing his voice was last night when he asked you to pass him his toothbrush.
"Uh oh," not in any particular hurry to lift your head from his chest, naked and oh so warm to the touch.
"What?" He's trying to act offended, but the attempt dies mid-air. Won't be making a living in acting any time soon, that's for sure.
Tapping your finger on his collarbone, overtop a thin white scar you've yet to learn the story of. "Don't 'what' me."
His laugh sounds like thunder. Deep and rumbling into your ears, a tune you didn't know you craved until just now.
A familiar warmth settles against your cheek, diligent fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. "What if I told you I had another idea?"
One of these days, you'll learn to quit being surprised.
Today, you're shocked that he asked you to ride his face.
Shit, but here you are. Knees precariously resting above his head. Trying your best not to let your thighs clamp down around his face as he dips his tongue between your folds, half-lidded gaze fixated on your expression. You've long since lost count of how many times you've felt this. The soft whisps of his short hair tickling your skin, the way he hums when he hears you gasp.
"You've got," raking your fingers against his scalp, anything to distract from the calculated zig-zag across your clit, "a problem."
"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," muffled. His every word rumbling through your core and reaching up into your chest.
"Yeah, well..." drinking in a shuddered breath, "you being addicted to eating me out was not on that list."
It's his fault for laughing again. Should have known that the vibration would have twisted into your nerves and sent them firing, thighs impulsively clamping down around his head with no regard for him or breathing.
Fuck, it takes a moment to remember how to move them again.
"I'm sorry," and you're about to lift yourself up, let him get a full breath of air, but his hands find your hips, anchoring you into place.
"'s okay," pausing to lap at your clit, wet and messy, and god, the sound. "I don't mind."
He'd say that if you accidentally suffocated him to death, too.
Your nails drift across his scalp. Dragging just enough to feel the shift of hair beneath your fingertips, disturbing the hardened bump lurking just a few inches above his ear. You know that it's probably because of the swelling, but you swear it feels bigger than it did a few days ago. And maybe it's sensitive too because, for the briefest moment, you catch the whisp of a gasp. A sharp little intake of air punctuating the way he drifts down to toy with your entrance.
They're worse the following morning.
He's only just beginning to settle between your legs, diligently kissing down the inside of your thigh, when the brush of your knee sends him reeling. Pawing at the sides of his head. Wincing. Yelping at his own touch.
"Did I—"
"No!" He blurts. Pitchy. "I'm sorry, it's, I—it hurts."
Even the delicate pressure of an ice pack is too much for him to tolerate, hissing like a cat the moment the material touches his skin. You're not entirely sure what to make of them. Dissolving into the air around him for a better view, drifting around his head, twisting every which way as if discovering the perfect angle will reveal the secret.
It doesn't...look infected. Strained is the best descriptor you can come up with. As if something is trying to claw its way out from beneath the skin.
"And you said you've had these since you were born?" Musing aloud, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.
Hands find your waist as you settle into your human shape once more. "That's what I'm told." Then, tilting his head to look up at you, not making any move to get out of his chair. "Why, what did you see?"
"The same thing you're seeing," you can't help but push his hair back, watching the short strands gradually slip free from your fingers. "Must be a really odd birth defect."
He hums, blinking up at you without a word, perhaps not as concerned about his situation as he should be. Not a trace of worry clouding his features, though the corner of his eye twitches when you unintentionally drift over one of the bumps.
It's the same kind of gaze that gets you into trouble three nights later.
He doesn't seem to realize that he's doing it, drowning you in pools of ocean blue every time he looks your way. You don't understand how you make it through the night. He's just so damn distracting. Tapping his foot against yours beneath the table, legs tangling as a nameless mid-forties man in a fancy suit rambles on about the honor of working in the Navy and things you don't care to follow.
You don't know how you get to the hotel bed. Only vaguely aware of the sensation of your feet leaving the ground, thighs clinging to the sharp bone of his hips. One of his hands is on your ass, and the other is smoothing up your back. Presses just hard enough to have you arching, chests bumping together hard enough to break your kiss.
"Bobby—"
"I know."
The room collapses into a world of pristine white clouds—or maybe you've just fallen onto the bed. You can't tell for sure. Can't be bothered to. Not when a familiar pressure appears against your lips, his firm body settling between your legs with a weight you can't possibly ignore.
He tastes like the hot chocolate they poured into his cup when he turned down the champagne. Sweet and so warm that you can feel yourself melting, and you must be made of chocolate, too, because he moves as if he's going to eat you alive. Hands rising to cradle your face, settling into a lingering liplock that has you gasping for air.
Your head is spinning. One hand curling around his bicep. The other smoothing up the side of his burning neck. Hardly aware of how your hips lift up from the mattress, but all too aware of him meeting you in the middle. A new pressure forms between your legs. The not-so-subtle bump of a growing bulge against your cunt.
Curse the layers of fabric separating you from each other. Can't do anything but meet him halfway. Mewling into his mouth like a cat in heat. Legs curling around his hips. The heels of your ankles digging into his ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.
Something trickles across your fingers. Smearing across his neck.
"What is that?" It's sliding down your palm, scurrying past your wrist and beyond. Water? No, where would it have come from...
Bob draws away, an unusual chill filling the space he once occupied. "What is what?"
Your hand is crimson.
Why is your hand...?
"Oh my god." Reeling back. Hands held high as if that can possibly stop the blood that drips from your fingertips, so fresh that you can still feel the warmth of it.
It's everywhere. Staining the fresh sheets, smeared across the back of Bob's neck, pooling at the shoulders of a brand new uniform that will never be the same again. It's on the shell of his ear and in his hair and—
"Oh my god," you sound like a broken record, but it's all you can say. "Bobby, your head."
Looking back on it, you're thankful Bob booked a room with two beds instead of one.
There's no salvaging or rectifying the utter disaster going on in the bed that he claimed as his when you first got here. The sheets and comforter torn clean off, lying in a messy pile, waiting for the front desk to call back and tell you what to do with them. From here, they look perfectly fine, still the same shade of pure white, as if nothing has ever happened.
Your attention meanders across the floor, tracing the lines of geometric shapes, following them on their journey between the beds until they disappear beneath the mattress. Bob's foot still hangs off the edge, a smidge too lazy to try and readjust himself now that he's found home here on your chest.
It's almost strange being here. Snuggling on a hotel bed with a man who didn't even summon you wasn't on the job description. Hell, the last time you even set foot in a place like this was probably years before you realized what you were and fully committed to the whole demonic entity thing.
"Why don't you ever leave?" Bob's voice rumbles into your collar, a smidge deeper than it was the last time you heard it.
"You never said you were satisfied with me," darting from your mouth before you can realize what you're about to say. A script so rehearsed that your tongue needs no instruction to utter it.
The room is quieter than it was before.
Which...is odd because nothing about it has changed. The cheap air conditioner still rattles to its own mechanic tune. You can still hear the girl talking on the phone in the hallway. Through the wall behind your head, the neighbor's television still plays the rerun of what sounds like a football game.
Bob's eyes are open. Can feel the flutter of his lashes against the side of your neck. If you didn't know any better, you would mistake it for the dustings of tiny butterfly wings.
But he doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry, I...that may have come out the wrong way."
"'s okay." Says it so quickly that you wonder if he's listened to your apology at all.
Antsy, you reach for his hair, fingers coming through the still-damp locks. A little bit fried after two full washes, but it was the necessary sacrifice to get all of that blood out.
You've got to crane your neck to see the culprit, but it's still there, in the same state it was the last time you laid eyes on it. Scabbed over. No longer as swollen as it once was, but there's still something solid lurking beneath the surface. You could have sworn you saw a flash of white in there before it had closed up again, but looking at it now, there's nothing.
"I think I just like being around you," concluding, after a long moment.
'Like' may be an understatement, but...
The corner of his mouth is turning upward. You know it is because you can feel it against your chest. "I like being around you, too."
And here you thought you'd figured out what Robert Floyd defines as a party.
Bubbling glasses of golden champagne, the same shade of the delicate chandelier sparkling overhead, crystals cascading down like a spiral staircase. Enchanting. Beginning three stories up and only ending mere feet away from where you stand, you could probably touch it if you tried.
Such a stark contrast to the midnight peeking through the windows, twinkling city lights of every color in the rainbow drowned out by the blinding white and gold palette you've found yourself in. Unfamiliar faces and dresses worth more than a car fresh off the lot, wrapped up in the whimsical tune of a live orchestra off to your left.
So many things to look at. Luxury desserts and vivid red couches cozied up beside the fire. There's more to be discovered, entire rooms you have yet to venture into, a custom theater, a cocktail bar...yet, your eyes continue to drift to the only familiar thing here.
And his appear to do the same.
Locking from opposite sides of the room, the buzz of the crowd melting into a distant hum, as if you've just plunged into the very crystal oceans that color his irises. The heat of his gaze is the only thing keeping your head above water, burning across every inch of your skin. It's a wonder you don't go up in flames right here and now.
Glass shatters somewhere to your left. A lady yelps. Someone swears. But you can't bring yourself to look to see what just happened. Captured in a never-ending trance as you move about the room, only able to look away for milliseconds at a time.
One of Bob's friends are talking to him, mouth moving a mile a minute, but Bob doesn't seem to be listening—Fireball or...something. The name should come to you easier than it does. Bob's told you so many stories of them together, but you fear you've spent too much time lingering on the sound of his voice to actually store and remember the fine details.
The music swells.
Heads turn toward the melody, and with it, feet begin to move. It's as if one-half of the party has vanished, opening up the floor enough for you to walk without worry of bumping into anyone. You wouldn't even be in this position if filtering through different forms was socially acceptable and not the quickest way to give someone a heart attack.
It's like drawing too close to a fire, the flames so bright that you can hardly look at them without being blinded. Except the flames are the open buttons at the very top of his long sleeve, milky white skin peeking through the gap. He's grown a bit since this was fitted, the fabric hugging a little too tightly around his chest, straining already weakened seams. Two of the buttons have already snapped off, unveiling more than he would ever willingly show off.
He would catch your staring if he weren't already doing the same damn thing. Knows he's been caught, too, cheeks dusting a cherry red the moment he tears his attention away from the slit in your dress, showing off your upper thigh.
But Fanbase is still talking, rambling on about the subplot of a movie that you've yet to see, and you're simply not interested enough to linger any longer than you have to. Gliding past Bobby as if you hadn't just made eye contact with him, your hand trailing up the side of his arm on your way past.
The door couldn't come quickly enough, and you disappear through it with nothing more than a wayward glance over your shoulder.
He's still looking at you.
It's so much quieter in the hallway, all that noise and music vanishing the moment the door swings shut behind you. You're not sure where you're going; didn't plan this far ahead, but you can already see a floor-to-ceiling window that looks interesting enough. A decorative fountain rests in front of it, the water sparkling with the city lights.
The view is better at night. Still breathtaking during the day, but...god, something about the velvet black and twinkling shades of neon really bring out the charm of a city like this. Though you've still yet to figure out why a Navy event is all the way up here, in the tallest building they could find. One of their own venues would have sufficed; then they wouldn't have had to rent all these hotel rooms.
"Your dress looks awful familiar." Maybe Bob is hiding magic powers of his own because there's no way he could have snuck up on you without floating here.
But there he is. Shoulder resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The rolled sleeves are struggling with his forearms, fabric so tight that the threads silently scream.
"Does it?" Coy. You entirely stole this idea from the front cover of the magazine he had sitting on the kitchen counter.
You don't mean to step forward at the same time he does, but you do. Nose to nose in the blink of an eye, so close that your vision goes a little blurry and out of focus.
A door slams down the hall.
The invisible string snaps.
Your hands are in his hair, and his are on your waist, and mouths are clattering with all the grace and elegance of a car crash. The back of your leg hits the fountain. Sends the thing jumping as you all but slam into the window. It's a wonder you don't go crashing through it, plummeting through miles upon miles of midnight neons.
Because it certainly feels like you did.
Head spinning as if you're in a free fall. Fingers twisting in his hair before unspoken forces can peel you away, sloppily falling into tune with the bold dance of his lips. Fuck, it's so much more than what you've spent the past fifteen minutes picturing in your head. He tastes like cola and honey, so dizzyingly sweet that a sugar rush buzzes through your veins.
What is it with you and this human?
It's as if you're one half of a magnet, hopelessly bound to him by forces that you can't quite identify. Yielding to the subtle pressure of his hands, allowing him to gather you into his chest as if you aren't close enough as it is. Heaven, Hell, and Earth could collapse right here and now, and it still wouldn't be enough to drive a wedge between you.
"And here I thought you weren't the PDA type," that thought was supposed to stay in your head, but it's far too late to do anything about it.
"I think this is a little beyond PDA," Bob's mouth twists into a smile too soon. Teeth smash together with a sound that makes you wince.
There are voices down the hallway, familiar, but you don't care to try and identify them. Whoever they are, they don't get a chance to see you here because Bob's taking hold of your wrist, and you're falling into the clumsiest run imaginable. Arms awkwardly tangling together. His boots too new to grip the floor. Giggling to yourselves as you slide to the right, fighting to get around the corner before he can be recognized.
You're already crashing into each other again. And again. And again. Stealing kisses as if you need one for every few steps taken. Can't function otherwise. Winding through the hall, no regard for where you're going or if it's even the right direction, barging through a door and racing up the stairs. You trip on one. Bob falls on his ass on another.
It's a damn wonder how you find the correct door.
At least, you assume it's the right one because your back all but slams into it; don't even hear the noise that rattles down the empty hall. How are you meant to pay attention to such meaningless things, when a soft pressure appears at your lips? Greedily leaning into it as you all but melt into one another, his breath running ragged.
The key. You need the key.
It's somewhere on him, your hands blindly smoothing over his chest, searching for the outline of that thin plastic key card. And so what if you momentarily hook your fingers into the top of his shirt? It could have been hiding there, for all you know.
Bob finds it just before you do. Plucking the hunk of plastic from his front pocket, and you can feel the heat of his arm as he reaches past.
Beep.
Gravity tilts on its head. Falling backward.
Toned arms loop around your waist. Force you to remain upright. Pulling you close like there's a risk of you blowing away. Stumbling backward. Through the door. You don't know how your arms got around his neck, but you're not making any move to let go. Clinging to him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Nose bumping into his cheek as you find your way to his mouth once more.
One fleeting, accidental brush of his teeth against your lip has electricity bolting up your spine. Shades of gold explode in the depths of your frenzied mind. Fireworks. Tongues tangle for the briefest of seconds. But then he's licking at your bottom lip, and it's parting with a gasp, a little too eager to let him in. Twisting together in a fashion entirely unfamiliar to you, an exquisite dance that has you melting like snow on a summer day.
The mattress greets the backs of your knees, a gentle nudge that has you falling backward without ceremony. He's on top of you within a second, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, chests pressing together, and—
"Mmh." His legs spasm around your thigh, only to push it up into him again, pressing against the growing tent in his slacks. Heavy.
"What was that?" In the lightest tone you can conjure up, rubbing your thigh against him once more.
His face flushes red. Eyes darting away like he'll catch on fire if he keeps looking at you, but there's no hiding the way he twitches at your touch. And he knows you've felt it because, somehow, his cheeks get even redder.
"What, don't like being teased?"
"I might die if you keep talking."
You'd like to see how true that statement can be. But that's an experiment for another night; you can only take your mind off of the throbbing heat resting against your thigh for so long.
Fuck, and it seems he's on the same page. Spit-slicked lips find the corner of your jaw, one of his hands smoothing down your side as he works his way beneath your ear. One kiss after the other, only lingering long enough to lightly suck on the skin there. Teeth scrape against you, and you absolutely shouldn't shudder at such a simple feeling, but it happens anyway.
Just like how you wander to his shirt, perhaps a bit too eager to start fumbling with the buttons. They're just as stubborn as you thought they would be, angrily wedging themselves in the gaps designed for them to fit through. Stupid things. Who ever thought these were a good idea?
Bob reaches past you, his wrist bumping your hand away—
Buttons scatter. Rolling across the floor. Bouncing across the bed. One strikes your chin. Another thunks against the headboard.
"I didn't know you had it in you," giggling. Only have a handful of seconds to admire the broad expanse of his pale chest before he's on you again. Picking up right where he left off, somewhere beneath your ear, where you're most sensitive.
His hum sounds like it's wrapped around the shape of your name, vibrating up your neck, rattling around in your skull like an earthquake. It's a wonder you don't fall apart. Fingertips biting into his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as you can. And he just keeps kissing on you. Working down, down, down to your collar, only stopped by the fabric of your dress.
You can make it disappear.
He knows you can make it disappear.
And yet his hands slip behind your back, tugging down the tiny zipper that runs parallel to your spine.
Takes the time to ease the soft material off your body, impossibly slow, as if he's afraid of ripping it. Past your hips and over your knees. Folds it in half and sets it off to the side. And for a moment, he pauses. Lips shining with the same light that reflects off his glasses, hardly distracting from the sparkle of his eye.
Kisses find the inside of your knee. Working across the joint and delving into the delicate territory of your thigh. It's a tune he's played so many times that you already know where he's going and what thoughts are lurking in the back of his quiet mind. Tempting, but...
The dog tags hanging from his neck are too perfect not to grab. Why he's wearing them, you're not sure, but they reel him back in so damn easily.
But Bob freezes the moment you're eye to eye with him, not entirely sure how to tread this newfangled path he's found himself on. And that must be what makes it so easy to push him around. Flipping your positions with a skill you forgot you had, your ass snug in his lap, knees straddling his hips.
The back of his head thunks against the headboard, unnamed shades of red rising to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"You're sure?" He croaks; for a split second, you're on the ship again, meeting for the very first time.
"Are you sure?" Countering. The bridge of your nose bumps into his.
You don't necessarily remember what happens after that.
It all melts into a blur. Starts with you bouncing a button off his bare chest and ends with the sound of his pants hitting the floor next to you. You don't know who got the lube out. It must have been him because you still don't know where it even came from, but it's the sensation of his slick fingers pressing into you that catapults you back into reality.
"You remember that I'm a succubus, right?" The intended sarcasm doesn't so much as reach your vocal chords, nothing but a breathy whisper of the obvious.
A smile is all that he gives in return. "I know."
It's been too long since the last time you felt this. The pressure of thick fingers slipping into your already drooling cunt, knuckles catching on your entrance as they drag past. Coarse fingertips drag against your walls, crooked, running across a bundle of nerves that he has no business knowing about. Knows he's found it too, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your whine.
Yeah.
It's been too long.
That's why you're so sensitive all of a sudden.
It's certainly not because of the heavy cock resting against the swell of your ass. Has nothing to do with the pools of blue that lurk in his eye; you reckon you'd drown in them if you were to fall forward. No, you only feel like that because of the never-ending city view that sits just past his head. Broad and expansive, just like...just like his shoulders...
You don't realize what your hand is doing until you overhear his sharp inhale. His body jerks, shocked by the sudden trace of your fingers running up the underside of his cock.
Impatience will be the undoing of both of you. In such a sudden hurry that lube spills onto the bed in your rush to slick him up, and it's only after that he realizes he's forgotten about the condom. Doesn't matter. The damn thing flies out of his hand when he tries ripping it open with his teeth, landing somewhere on the floor.
"Again," lifting your hips, lazily smacking his blunt tip against your cunt, "succubus."
"I'm sorry," he's yet to realize you're merely messing with him. Condom, no condom, you don't care either way. "I don't wanna make a mess of you."
"Maybe I want you to make a mess of me," countering. And it's the last thing you can say before the pressure of his cock shuts you up.
If you asked, you're certain he would humbly refer to himself as average, but this is...this is so much better than average. Thicker than usual and wonderfully curved, fitting that a man so intent on pleasing you would also have the perfect cock, too. Stretches you just enough to make your jaw go slack, his fat tip dragging against every little nerve it can find.
Bob tilts his head back, his chest rising with a heavy inhale, and that may be a whine that you hear. His lashes flutter, visibly fighting to keep them open as you sink down on him. Inch after inch, and it's been so long since you last felt this full.
And maybe they've sucked all of the oxygen from the room because neither of you can seem to catch your breath.
"That's..." his eyes drop down, fixating on the sight of him disappearing into you, "shit, that's..."
He doesn't get to finish that thought, and you don't get the chance to bother him about it, entirely distracted by the overwhelming sensation of him bottoming out. Your ass flush with his thighs, so damn full of him that your heart has risen into your throat.
You've already found the strength to lift your body again. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage as your hips lift, the city lights seeming to twinkle when he rubs into those soft nerves. Can only manage to raise yourself by an inch or two before collapsing down into him once more.
The warmth of Bobby's gaze crawls up your naked body, slow, like he's trying to take his time before he meets your eye. And when he does...
"You still in there?" Winding your arms around his neck. Can't seem to get him close enough.
His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, dry from panting, "uhuh."
You suppose he's telling the truth because he's present enough to remember how to tilt his head up and catch you with a kiss—breathing hard through your noses. His hands squeezing your hips. Holding them through every rise and fall.
Lube squelches between your legs. His cock head driving directly into that bundle of nerves again, your pussy helplessly spasming around him. You fear you're going to shatter into a million pieces if he does that again, but there's no attempt to shift your angle. Chasing that sensation again, crying out as a shock bolts up your spine.
"Bobby," it slips out so easily. Riding on the coattails of a gasp.
Foreheads knock together. So close that the sight of him goes a little bit fuzzy. Noses bumping when his hips twitch up, snapping into yours so swiftly that it knocks a whimper out of you. Just makes him do it again, and you are not living up to the whole succubus thing by collapsing into his shoulder.
"Fuck, I can—" he grunts, punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, "can feel you clenchin' around me."
And you can feel him twitch inside of you. Such a simple feeling that has you getting wetter around him, can only imagine what kind of mess is forming between your bodies right now. You'd look, but it's hard enough pulling yourself back, thighs burning, desperate to work back into the rhythm you just...built up...
Is...that...?
"What's wrong?" Bob has stopped moving at...some point. You don't know when that was. The concept of time passing is a little bit irrelevant right now.
Words don't necessarily come to you. Fleeting chunks of vaguely related sentences that you can't quite stitch together. You don't...that's not...when did...?
The only thing you can think of is to touch one of them.
His back jerks off the headboard. Sucking in a gasp. Eyes going wide. But then, twitching at the corners, pretty blue irises rolling back, his cock spasming despite your lack of movement. For a moment, not a sound seems to escape him, but then it's all shattered by a barely muffled whimper.
"So that's what's wrong with you." Deadpan.
Touching them made him cum. That's... somewhat familiar, actually.
Bobby's eyes can barely tear themselves open, fighting against them as he blinks up at you. "What?"
You're almost hesitant to touch them again. Two tiny horns, no more than an inch tall, poking out from where those pesky bumps once resided.
Horns. Of course. Why did you think you were wrong when you considered that earlier? They're identical to yours! A few inches above the ear, wide at the base and growing narrow as it nears the tip. Jet black for the time being, but they'll develop their color with time.
The one upside to being a succubus. Uniquely colored horns.
"Not to bring up family while all seven and a half inches of you are inside of me," because you're not sure about how to start this conversation, jumping on the first half-baked plan that comes to mind. "But are you entirely sure your folks are human?"
His head tilts. "Why?"
The only thing you can think of is to take a picture. Those two tiny horns poking out like they're part of a cute headband, so ridiculously small in person and even smaller on his phone. As you pass it off to him, you catch yourself wondering if he'll see them at all.
"...huh." Is all that he can say.
They're far too sensitive for him to touch, not after what mess you just caused, but he tries. Winces the moment his fingertips make contact with the fresh new bone; you can only imagine this is how you reacted the first time your horns made their appearance, too.
You wonder if there's anything behind them. You've seen a few variations where a second pair sprouted behind the first, but you can't see anything from this angle. If you just lean a little further to the right—
A whimper twists through the air. Pretty blue eyes squeeze shut.
"I'm sorry, I—"
"No, no, no, don't," his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back down into his lap before you've even moved an inch, and oh, you can feel his cum beginning to spill out of you. Fuck, there's so...there's so much of it. It'll make a mess of the bed if you're not careful, but you can't move. Not with those big hands anchoring you down.
But he's not done talking.
"Keep going," he blurts, his chest shuddering with a breath. Horns be damned, those aren't on his mind right now. "Please, I just, I want, I want you to—"
A swivel of your hips shuts him up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already too late to stifle the pitchy little noise that sails out of his throat. God, that's a hell of a sound. Combined with the way his half-hard cock twitches in you, it's almost too much to bear. He can hardly handle it himself, squirming, not sure if he wants to push into you or away from you.
"There!" Stardust twinkles behind your eyes. "Right there. Don't move."
It's as if the room has exploded into a galaxy. Midnight black and the deepest shades of navy, decorated in a rainbow of distant, twinkling stars. You and him and this big, oversized hotel bed. Weightless. Floating round and round, further and further away, until you're lost to the Milky Way itself.
The fat tip of his cock drives up into those nerves again. Space nearly swallows you up once more. "Bobby..."
Your eyes must have been closed because you don't remember his head tipping back. Dazed, flushed cheeks, so entirely focused on you that the rest of the world ceases to exist at all. Pitchy whimpers, stumbling off his drooling tongue, overstimulated but making no move to push you off of him.
His lips seal. Hardly manages to muffle his noises, but it's already too quiet for your liking.
One of your hands curls around his cheek. Thumb pressing against his bottom lip, hardly takes any pressure for him to give way, allowing you in. And his poor tongue is right there, practically begging you to pin it down, and who are you to deny such a request?
Heat twists in your belly. Pussy clenching tighter around him. Your motions growing jerky. Sporadic. Sparks of color flash behind your eyelids, growing heavier by the second. And it's so fucking loud in this room. Whimpers. Cries. Blending together so seamlessly that you can't tell who makes what noise. Every motion punctuated by an all-too-loud squelch of cum and lube, fuck, this bed is going to be ruined after this.
"I-I'm—" Bob whines, tongue flexing beneath your thumb. Eyes glassy, one blink away from tears spilling over the brim.
"Close." Don't know if you're finishing his sentence or speaking for yourself.
It washes over you with all the strength and violence of a tidal wave. Hips stalling. Head falling back. Cumming on his cock with an unexpected cry, heat racing through your veins, skin prickling, breath hung up in your throat. You think your eyes cross. Can't really figure out how true that is, too busy floating through the cracks in the universe to think about anything but the spasm of his length inside of you.
And you're vaguely aware that he's cumming, too, his cries vibrating through your thumb and deep into your bones.
"Still in there?" You find yourself asking after a moment.
Bob hums and you're only now realizing that his glasses are gone, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. Where they've gone, you don't know; don't think you could get up and look for them if you tried.
All of the strength has left your legs. Thighs trembling as you lift yourself from his lap. And they can only hold you up for so long before you find yourself collapsing next to him, greeted by the significantly cooler sheets.
Those horns are still there. All too present as he tries to snuggle down onto a pillow, inconveniently brushing against the fabric. You're both a damn mess. His lower belly glistens in the light, and you can already feel his cum beginning to spill out of you onto the sheets.
Sheets that you don't want to change for a cleaner set.
But the shower is so far away...and Bob is curling his arm around you. Pulling you closer to him as if the six inches of space between your bodies is too much for him to handle. Your nose bumps into his chin, the slightest hint of stubble growing there.
You should hide his razor and see what happens.
"How do I make them disappear?" Bob's voice cracks in the middle, sporadically skyrocketing in pitch. Water might do him good, but...damn, the fridge is by the bathroom.
"I'll teach you, eventually," your voice isn't doing much better; you can hardly get it above a whisper. "I wanna see them on you for a little longer first."
His eyes roll, shaking his head all the while. Almost like he expected you to say that. But he doesn't call you out on it, content to tilt his head down and shut you up instead. Swollen lips crashing together, lazily tangling. A small explosion would be less messy, tongues licking into each other's mouths and teeth clacking so hard that your even bones recoil at the sensation.
...but there's pressure on your shoulder, and you're rolling onto your back, his comfortable weight settling on top of you. Half hard against your thigh.
"Satisfied?" You murmur, though you suppose you already know the answer to that.
His lips curl into a smile. Devilish, even. "No."
You're beginning to think you've swapped roles in this relationship.
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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮﹒
ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! tsukishima helps out the new neighbor who moved into the apartment next to him, only he didnt know what would come of it ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader ﹒ ◠ note!! playlist i listened to while making this ! i do plan on making a part two soon !! ౨ wc!! 4.4k part two !! >>
Waking up Tsukishima stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars placed above his bed, watching as they faded with the oncoming sun peeking through the blinds. He dreaded mornings, he hated the way his mouth felt dry, how hot he felt under the sheets, and most of all, waking up meant he'd have to deal with a new day of idiots doing things he hated.
Tsukishima hated a lot of things, he hated his old rowdy neighbor, he hated overly cheery people, the feeling of cold coffee in the morning, how polyester felt against his skin, and he especially hated when his neighbors tried to get to know him.
Putting his headphones on he stepped out into the hallway, only to be greeted by the sight of you trying to lift a box into your new apartment.
You decided to save money youd only ask the movers to move your furniture and not your boxes, you were deeply regretting that decision right now. You only had three more boxes to go but the soreness was already catching up to you from the other ten.
The sight was enough to annoy Tsukishima, why didn't you just ask for help instead of trying to do everything yourself, movers are a thing. Did you not have friends that could help you do this? He tried his best to ignore you while locking his door but a part of him felt bad for you, that you couldn't even complete a simple task.
With a sigh, he made his way over and took the box from your hands which startled you.
"Oh, you don't have to-"
"Where do I put it," He cut you off flatly before he could change his mind about helping you.
You were thrown off by his tone, its not like you asked him to help you so why was he so angry?
"In the living room is fine, thank you, sorry," You weren't sure whether you should be apologizing or thanking so you settled on doing both, which just earned another sigh from Tsukishima.
You were surprised by how easily he lifted the rest of the boxes, despite how skinny he looked he was really strong, or maybe you were just really weak, but to save your ego you decided he was just strong.
"Thank you again for helping," You looked up at him as he sat the last box down on the floor. You noticed this guy sighed a lot, it made you feel like you were somehow wasting his time.
Looking down at his watch he realized how much time had passed and he mumbled something under his breath before leaving your apartment.
He didn't even acknowledge your gratitude. The entire encounter had you stunned, was he really going to be your next-door neighbor?
With a content sigh, you plopped down on your couch and instantly relaxed, you had finally finished unpacking every box and arranging your furniture the way you liked it, and it only took you six hours. Despite how tired your body was you wanted to do something to show your grumpy neighbor how thankful you were, and you were gonna do it in the only way you knew how to show thanks.
Baking. But first, you would have to go grocery shopping.
Heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall the door opened to reveal your tall, grumpy neighbor, still wearing the same frown he left in. Only it seemed to deepen at the sight of you.
You smiled at him as he exited the elevator. Tsukishima prayed you wouldn't try to talk to him, but of course, like every other time, his prayer wasn't heard.
"Hey, neighbor! I never got your name," You beamed up at him, looking at him now he was freakishly tall, his hair was disheveled, and he looked sweaty, it was almost enough to intimidate you.
"If you know it, you'll say it," He flatly said, walking past you to his apartment door.
You didn't know what you did to possibly receive this kind of treatment, it wasn't even your first day living here and this guy acted like he hated you.
"What did I do to you?" You asked, slightly irritated by his ego.
He simply ignored your question and entered his apartment, promptly closing the door.
It's not like Tsukishima intended to be rude to you, well, he partially did. But there was truth to his words. If you knew his name then you'd assume he was your friend and you'd try and talk to him, and he just didn't want that. His apartment was a place where he didn't have to talk to anyone and he intended to keep it that way. He couldn't understand why you didn't get the hint.
You weren't gonna let his rude attitude stop you from baking him something, it only made you more motivated to bring a smile to his frowny face.
You weren't sure what you'd bake him so you decided to go with your own favorite dish, strawberry shortcake.
Walking down the aisles you stared at everything in your cart, you had gotten some regular food items you'd need for the next few week's meals, as well as some snacks and drinks you enjoyed. Now all that's left is to get the ingredients for the desert you'd be making your neighbor.
Looking up at the signs above the aisles you searched for where the flower would be. Once you found it you walked over, only to see the one and only standing there in front of the vanilla bottles staring intently at them. You wondered what he could be doing there.
"Hey, you," You greeted, resting your arms on the cart handle as you walked over.
Tsukishima didn't need to look to see who the voice belonged to, why were you everywhere he went?
You noticed he looked much cleaner now, and his blond hair was much more neat.
"What're you doing? Did the vanilla bottles look at you the wrong way?" You joked, stopping right in front of him. Your eyes shifted between him and the bottles, trying to figure out what he was doing.
He didn't answer you, in hopes you'd get the hint this time but that never worked out in the past. Your joke only further annoyed him.
You came to the only reasonable explanation hed be standing here staring for so long at the bottles, he didn't know the difference.
"What flavor were you looking for?" You asked, trying to sound as nonjudgemental as you could, not wanting to annoy him any further.
"What?" He asked confused.
"Well, Bourbon, or Madagascar, vanilla has a much stronger taste," You explained, pointing to the bottle you were speaking about. "While Mexican vanilla has more of a spice and smokey tone to its flavoring, and Tahitian vanilla is the opposite, its fruity and floral, almost cherry-like." You spoke softly as he nodded along.
"It's all based on your preference and what you're going to be cooking." You finished off, looking up at him.
He only nodded as he reached for the Bourbon vanilla bottle and placed it in his shopping basket.
"Thanks," He muttered out. He wondered how you knew so much about vanilla flavors, they all tasted the same to him.
"Youre welcome, can I get your name now?"
He paused for a moment before turning to you. "No,"
You let out a breath of defeat as you grabbed your own bottle, but you knew it's fine, you'd get his name one way or another, you're sure of it.
Placing your shopping bags on your counter you sighed, thankful they had an elevator or else you would've passed out walking the heavy bags up five flights of stairs.
Putting away the groceries you left out the required ingredients needed to make the strawberry shortcake.
Placing the strawberries in a bowl you layered them with sugar and gave it a light mix, only wanting to coat the strawberries in the sugar. Once that was done you began on the small cake and placed it into the oven.
An hour passed and if was finally done, it was the most beautiful thing you'd laid eyes on, it almost brought a tear to your eye. And to think the frowny, grumpy, rude, annoyed neighbor would have the chance to eat it brought a smile to your face.
Placing the treat into a small box you picked up at the store you carefully made your way to your neighbor's door and gave it a knock.
You stood there for a few moments before you heard muffled voices and the unlock of a door.
Tsukishima peeked his head out and saw you before fully opening the door.
He didn't say anything and instead raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to say what you needed.
"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I baked you a shortcake! I wasn't sure what you liked so I made you something I liked, as a thanks," You explained as well as telling him your name and handing over the box which he took and peeked into. If you were looking close enough you could see a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.
"Hm," He let out.
"Do you not-"
"Tsukishima Kei," He cut you off, something he seemed to enjoy doing.
You were stunned, "Tsukishima?" You tested the way it rolled off your tongue.
"Dont wear it out, is that all?"
"So does this mean we are friends?" You asked cheerfully, earning a sigh from him.
"No, now goodbye," He said before closing the door.
It wasn't a smile, but you learned his name so you counted that as a win.
Tsukishima walked into his kitchen and grabbed a fork, immediately ready to try his favorite dessert.
"Who was that?" Tsukishimas girlfriend, Etsuko, asked from the living room.
"My neighbor brought me some strawberry shortcake," He said, hoping she wouldn't make an argument over this like she always did, it was something he disliked, and didn't see the point in meaningless arguments but it was a habit she had recently picked up on, the latest one being about his volleyball teams manager.
"Oh? The new girl?" Her voice was laced with jealousy, something he could easily pick up on with how often she spoke in a tone like that.
"Yeah, I helped her move her boxes," He explained while biting into the shortcake, his tastebuds almost exploding with how flavorful it was, and in the privacy of his own kitchen, he cracked a small smile at your dish.
"Why'd you do that?" She asked, now moving to the kitchen to get a better view of Tsukishima, his smile quickly fading.
"Why does it matter?" He asked, annoyance visible on his face and voice.
She shrugged, "Just doesn't seem like something you'd do,"
He let out a sigh while picking up another bite with his fork, "Yeah well I did it Etsuko,"
"Jeez, what's your problem?"
It was as if she knew just how to push Tsukishimas buttons like she was destined to be here and get on his nerves, and she wasn't always like this but lately, it was like her sole purpose was to interrogate and bother him.
Instead of giving in to her, Tsukishima decided to remain quiet and enjoy the shortcake, hoping she'd give up and go back to her original spot on the couch.
The entire night you couldn't wipe the smile off your face, despite what Tsukishima said, you considered him your friend.
Waking up the sunbeams shone across your face, welcoming you to another day filled with new possibilities, you loved mornings, it was like a second chance, any mistakes you made yesterday were, well, yesterday's news. You loved how the sun looked as it rose above the buildings, it was a beautiful sight to wake up to.
Looking at the clock it read six o'clock, you needed to be at work in an hour, it would be your first day back in a week do to moving and you were extremely excited to be back and baking, maybe you'd bring your new friend a sweet treat home.
Opening your door you were met with the sight of Tsukishima locking his door, he had a plain white shirt on and a pair of blue jeans while he carried a plain hoodie on his side, as well as his usual headphones around his neck.
"Tsukishima!" You cheerfully greeted him as you walked up to him, you couldn't hear it but you knew he sighed, he always did that to you, so much so you've gotten used to it.
"Why're you up so early," He asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question in his voice while you walked to the elevator together.
"Well, today I start work again at the bakery two blocks from here! I'm super excited about it, I've been missing work lately." You explained.
Tsukishima found your enthusiasm for things quite annoying, he couldn't understand how you could be so excited and cheerful this early in the morning.
"What do you have planned today, tsuki?" You beamed, pressing the floor button on the elevator.
Tsukishima would never admit it but he did like the way you said his nickname, it was different from how everyone else said it, and it was innocent in a way.
"College classes, and practice," He dully said, watching the doors close while he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Practice?"
"Volleyball practice,"
You made a sound of excitement and admiration, "Youre a volleyball player? Thats so cool!" You said, looking up at him.
"It's not that cool," He sneered.
"Well, it makes sense! Youre like crazy tall and strong,"
Your compliments were almost enough to bring a blush to his cheeks, and he was thankful the elevator doors opened before you could get any more innocent compliments in.
"You know it's gonna be cold today, right?" He asked, looking your outfit up and down.
"It is?" You asked worriedly, in your rush to get ready you completely forgot to check the weather, and you still had to walk to work in the cold.
"Couldn't even check the weather," He sighed, shoving his hoodie into your hands.
"Tsuki.." You nervously said.
"Dont thank me, just dont let it happen again," He sternly said.
"No, it's just," You paused, looking down embarrassed.
"What?" He asked, raising his brow at your form. It was unlike you to be shy and nervous.
You took a deep breath, "What if it doesn't fit," You meekly said.
That thought hadn't crossed Tsukishimas mind, mostly because he didn't care about that sort of thing.
"It will," He simply stated, motioning for you to put it on.
This was a side of Tsukishima you weren't used to, you had expected him to laugh at your embarrassment, or just ignore you, but it gave you enough will to pull the hoodie over your head and he was right, it did in fact fit. His scent invaded your being, and a small blush rose to your cheeks.
Tsukishima hoped you didn't see his own blush at the sight of you in his hoodie. He didn't know why he was being so nice to you right now, but hearing you say it wouldn't fit irked something inside of him.
"Thanks, Tsuki," You looked up at him with a soft smile.
"Whatever," He turned away from you and walked out of the entrance to the complex, placing his headphones on his ears and taking out his phone.
You smiled the entire way to the bakery, with a warm feeling in your stomach with every inhale of Tsukishimas scent.
You felt disappointment for the first time when you approached your work because entering meant you'd have to take off the hoodie since you didn't want to get it covered in batter and flour.
Walking to the back towards the employee lockers you greeted the familiar faces of your employees with a cheery smile, disappointment soon being washed over with glee as you carefully hanged the hoodie in your locker and tied your apron around your waist ready to begin the day.
You always loved this job since the moment you got it, it truly was a blessing to you, you get paid for doing things you love and you get to meet all different kinds of people.
You noticed a girl standing by the counter and rushed over.
"Hello!" You greeted her with a bright smile, excited to meet a new person, you hadn't seen her here before.
"So, youre Tsukishimas new neighbor?"
The question had caught you off guard and a confused look appeared on your face, "Yeah?" You replied though it sounded more like a question than an answer.
"Well, he's my boyfriend," She stated.
You raised your eyebrow at her, what kind of reaction was she trying to get out of you?
"Good for you?"
"You should hear the things he's been saying about you," She sneered.
You didn't like where this conversation was going, and it angered you that you could tell where it'd go.
You didn't like feeling angry, in fact, it was one of the few things you hated, because when you felt angry you also felt sad, and sadness usually led to slumps where you didn't feel like doing anything and where life feels meaningless.
"If you aren't gonna get anything then please leave," You tried to hang onto the last string of cheerfulness you had, the last string of patience with her. You didn't want to be angry at her since she was clearly someone special to Tsukishima and you'd hate to genuinely upset him.
"Just know he isn't who you may think he is," She said before turning and taking her leave.
You weren't sure what to make of the encounter, you didn't know if you should be mad or upset, and you knew Tsukishima could be rude but would he really talk bad about you behind your back? Is it even worth asking? Maybe you'd just take the hint and leave him alone like he always wanted you to, and looking back now you should've seen it sooner, all his one-worded replies and the way he addressed you with such coldness. You'd just give him what he wanted.
The day came and went and it was time for you to head back home, only this time Tsukishima's hoodie was clenched in your fist, and the emotions you'd been repressing all day bubbled back up like soda, you understood you hadn't known him for long but you considered him a friend and you thought he did the same in his own antisocial rude way.
You were so lost in thought you didn't even care how harsh the cold was nipping at your skin and you only realized when you entered the warm lobby of your apartment, that the warmth instantly engulfed you as you shuddered away the cold. You silently prayed that you wouldn't cross paths with Tsukishima, but your prayers were cut short when you heard a voice from behind you, and it didn't take much to guess who it was.
You were surprised that he was the one greeting you, but you wouldn't give in, this is what he wanted. As soon as you entered the elevator you started spamming the close door button but in two strides he was already in, damn him and those long legs.
Tsukishima instantly caught on to the attitude change towards himself. Usually, you'd be chatting his ear off, talking about everything and anything and he'd be there, listening to every word of it while acting like he wasn't. Like how two days ago while walking to the elevator you were talking about the nature documentaries you watched and how they always made you cry but you could never turn them off. But now you were quiet, and looking everywhere but him, he didn't like it one bit. In fact, he hated it.
"Did you burn a bread roll or something?" He sneered, trying to gauge any sort of reaction out of you, a smile, a laugh, a look, anything.
Well he did get a reaction, you shoved his hoodie into his chest and sped off to your door, slamming it shut before he could even get a word in.
He sighed and headed for his, disappointment spreading through his body when his eyes met his girlfriends.
Tsukishima softly closed the door and kicked off his shoes, his mind still on you and the way you completely ignored him earlier. He tried racking his brain on what he could've possibly done to upset you other than ignore you, be rude, give you the cold shoulder, be dry. But he thought you understood and didn't care about all that stuff, though he could admit maybe he took the whole act a bit too far at times. He started to feel like a jerk, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he should apologize to you. The only thing is he wasn't sure how to or where to start.
It had been a week since you last spoke to Tsukishima, and it had been five days since you last stood in the same elevator, he was partially okay with you not speaking to him but purposefully avoiding him? He decided today was the day he'd try and make things right with you. Even he couldn't believe his thoughts right now, never in a million years did he think he'd be going out of his way to try and get someone's forgiveness. But the days spent without you were quiet and dull, he no longer liked waking up, and he no longer liked the way the sun glared in his glasses, in fact, he found it once again absurd.
Tsukishima missed having you as a friend.
He missed your rambles, he missed being able to talk about his day in short sentences, and he missed you and the feelings you erupted in him.
And as soon as he awoke he found himself walking to your apartment, he wasn't sure what he was gonna say or how hed say it, or even how you replied but he knew he needed to do something if he was gonna keep you in his life.
He knocked twice, and after a few moments, you appeared, dressed in black pajama shorts that rode up a bit too high and a crop top. He could tell he had woken you up by the way you rubbed your eyes and how your hair was going in all directions. But even now, the sight of you made his heart rate increase.
You were stunned to see Tsukishima in your doorway, he looked like he hadnt had a good nights sleep.
"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked outright. You were surprised he even noticed you were intentionally avoiding him.
"Isn't that what you want?" Your voice cracked, you were trying your hardest to remain standing strong in front of him, not wanting to reveal that you genuinely miss talking to him.
"No, it's not," He spoke softly, looking you in your eyes to scan your reactions, to see if you showed any signs of wanting him to leave.
"Well, that's not what your actions say,"
"I know, and I apologize for giving you the wrong impression"
You stayed silent for a while, taking in the moment and trying to find the words to say to him.
"Then why did your girlfriend come to my job and tell me you've been saying all kinds of stuff?" You felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you internally cursed yourself for letting your facade slip.
Tsukishima felt anger bubble inside of him, of course, Etsuko had something to do with this, his days could've been filled with you, but they weren't, and of course, it was her fault.
"Listen, Tsuki, I appreciate you apologizing but,"
"She is lying, i haven't said anything bad about you, and I couldn't even if I wanted to,"
You didn't understand what he meant by even if he wanted to, the whole situation was confusing to you, why would she lie about something like that? What could she possibly gain by saying that to you? All sorts of questions were floating around your head and Tsukishima seemed to notice that.
"I want us to be friends again," He said, letting a small smile onto his face as he watched your eyes brighten. He was glad, the sight of you on the brink of tears brought a sort of sadness to his core.
"Tsuki," You paused, "Did you just say what I think you just said?"
He let out his usual sigh, "I'm not gonna say it again,"
"Just one more time?" You beamed, "I'll never ask again," You stepped closer to him, looking up with a pleading look, how could he ever say no? Well, he could and he did.
"No,"
You let out a sound of defeat. You both stood there for a few silent moments, just staring at each other with small smiles. Tsukishima was glad to be back on good terms with you, he knew he'd enjoy the mornings again, and he'd enjoy seeing the sun peek through the blinds because that meant hed get to talk to you for another day, hed get to see and hear you talk about the most random things, you'd once again be the highlight of his day.
"Wanna do something?"
"Like what?" You asked, raising a brow.
"Show me that show you were talking about a week ago, Euphoria? If you aren't too busy,"
You let out a shriek of happiness and pulled him inside by his shirt and dragged him to your dimly lit living room.
You plopped down on the couch and motioned for him to do the same as you turned on the TV. You were happy he apologized despite it taking him a week to do so, but you were glad to have your friend back, you had missed your mostly one-sided conversations, but you knew he was listening to you despite his actions saying otherwise.
You had gotten ten minutes into the first episode and there was already an intimate scene, and even though you both were already silent, the silence seemed to thicken as you both refused to look anywhere but the screen, if you moved would it show that you were uncomfortable? You probably should've warned him about how many intimate scenes were in this show. The closeness of Tsukishima did nothing to calm the awkwardness.
You reached for the remote to try and skip ahead but your hand was stopped by his, and you quickly turned to look at him, a bright blush adorning your cheeks at the contact.
Tsukishima wasnt one to like things, in fact, he hated most things, but you were certainly not one of them.
"I can't stay away from you," He said softly.
Your heart was racing, you didn't know what he meant by that or what way he meant it.
"Then dont,"
navi. tags. rules. © 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !
part two >>
#fluff ৎ .ᐟ#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu ৎ .ᐟ#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#x chubby reader#chubby reader#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima kei angst#tsukishima kei fluff#tsukishima kei x reader
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i hope this doesn’t put any pressure on you because its not meant to at all but can u give us a preview of anything in your drafts 🥲
yes! absolutely i can <3 here's an extra long preview bc i haven't published anything in a hot min:
preview of the heartbeat!au "honeymoon phase" fic:
warnings: rpf below, do not proceed if you dont fw that but this is in rpf tags so why were you even here to begin with
The light of your phone sears into your eyes, a start contrast from the dark of your bedroom. By now your circadian rhythm undoubtedly in deep disarray. However bad you knew staying up way into the early hours of the morning was, you couldn't seem to rip yourself from the distraction of the blue light, perfectly coded algorithms keeping your anxieties at bay.
For the last week of your life your usual peaceful sleep had been ripped through by horrific nightmares, leading you to prefer to just skip sleeping all together. Of course, you knew that wasn't exactly possible, but maybe if you could just avoid falling asleep until the sun came up you could finally be freed of those dreaded night terrors.
The mattress dips beside you, a groan falling from Joost's lips, peacefully asleep next to you. It had been hours since you had said goodnight to each other, since he kissed you with the promise that you two would soon would be deep in slumber. You hadn't bothered to tell him about your nightmare issue, it had felt so childish. You had only been together for a few months now, your relationship seeming far too fresh to deal out what you had deemed "embarrassing" information. Besides, what was he to do about that? It wasn't like he had the power to change the workings of your subconscious mind.
The comforter slips from Joost's shoulders as he shuffles in his sleep, rolling from one side to another, now facing you. You finally pull yourself from your endless scrolling, turning your head to get a look at Joost. He's illuminated just right by the sliver moonlight that peaks through your curtains. The corners of your mouth peak in a slight smile, a rush a warmth running through you as your eyes finally settle on him.
You couldn't believe your luck with him, desperate for friends outside of your classmates after making the leap of faith to transfer schools and move to a different country for your final year of university. You'd been working as a waitress in Amsterdam, which, all things considered wasn't an ideal position for you, given your less than stellar Dutch, but locals were usually sympathetic to your situation, and tourists hardly spoke Dutch anyway. The day you had met Joost had started as what you had postulated to be the worst shift of your life. Hungover during a rush that seemed to last for hours, constantly seated with the most impossible to please customers. Once you were out of the weeds you had been seated with what you were promised to be your last table of the night, trying your best to suppress a groan and an eye roll as you walked up to the table, your eyes immediately falling to Joost, who had been there with what you would eventually learn were his closest friends.
You had thought you known the type, unruly hair, and scattered tattoos, dressed head-to-toe in Supreme, a cocky smile pressed to his lips. Attractive no doubt, but a type. The type that was undoubtably too interested in the Soundcloud rap scene, probably attempting to make it in that space too as a cheap rip-off of Lil Peep. The type to blow all his money on what streams his mediocre raps did get on box-logo shirts and supreme branded underwear. You could already hear the surface-level introspection of his lyrics, writing about how sad and heartbroken he'd been left by all the girls in his life when in reality he was nothing more than a fuckboy with a shitty nail polish job.
Being young and living in a city you had seen the type before, served the type more than a handful of times since you had started your job. They were always the same, traveled in large groups, like that was their "entourage", usually loud, demanding, and obnoxious, thinking their 2,000 Soundcloud streams, hundred dollar T-shirts and knock-off designer shoes made them a celebrity. They'd flirt with you and act aghast when you dared not to flirt back with them.
You had thought you known the type. But when you had gone up to begin helping his table, your previous perceptions had immediately been shattered- immediately becoming even more attractive upon your realization that he wasn't the worst. There was a quiet flirting underneath his goofy- yet reserved demeanor, the type of flirting you didn't mind and eventually reciprocated when he'd become a regular.
It was apparent that you had gotten the fuckboy thing all wrong. When he had finally got the courage to ask you out he hadn't even seen particularly in a hurry to sleep with you, though that wouldn't stop you from giving it up that night.
As Joost softly snores from beside you, you can't help but want nothing more than to be fitted snuggly between his arms, head pressed to his chest- listening to his heartbeat as you fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. But your current aversion to sleeping aside, you can't bring yourself to potentially wake him to do so.
You take your eyes from him, focusing back on the harsh light that burns into your retinas, continuing your scrolling, barely distracted by another long groan leaving Joost's lips.
"Ga slapen," (go to sleep) His voice surprises you, slow and thick with sleep- you hadn't expected him to be awake.
"Hmm?" You hum, pretending to not have heard him, you set your phone down on the bedside table and focus your attention to Joost.
"Hoe lat is het?" (What time is it?) He yawns, struggling to open his eyes.
You don't want to answer, knowing he'll question you on why you're up so late.
"Go back to sleep," You coo, hoping he'll be tired enough to listen without any resistance. You reach out a hand, slowly carding your fingers through his hair. You lift some pieces that had gotten stuck to his forehead with sweat, Joost was the type to overheat in his sleep, furiously kicking the blankets off of the two of you in the middle of the night, or perhaps worse rolling over onto you while he slept, causing you to suffocate in his humid body heat.
"Nhn, nhn." He tuts, his eyes finally opening entirely, "Je kan niet zomaar (You can't just)- Nhn, You can't just rub my head back to sleep." English finally coming back to him as he sits himself up against the pillows, his head now at your shoulder height in your upright position.
"I tried," A small smile pokes at your lips.
"Why are you awake?" His questioning isn't interrogative, still clearly very sleepy as he nuzzles his head into the pillow, "What time is it?" He asks again.
"I don't know," You mumble, your voice dipping out, answering more-so the latter question.
"You can't lie to me," Joost presses his forehead to your arm, snuggling in to you. How true that was. It surprised you how fast he was able to learn you- the subtleties of your mannerisms, able to pick up on your true emotions from the smallest tells.
"It's late," You simply respond, "I'll go to bed soon." Trying to avoid any further questioning.
"Not soon," Joost whines, his voice stifled by where his lips touch your skin. He throws an arm around the front of you, "Now."
You can't do much besides sigh in response, fidgeting under the comforter to sink down to his level. Your face is right in front of Joost's now, the warmth of his slow breaths ghosting over your skin.
"Sleep now," Joost tightens the arm he had slung around you, using it to pull you closer to him. He's unbearably warm, but you melt into him anyway, turning on your side to press your chest into his.
"I can't."
"Not tired?" Joost asks, "Why not?"
"So tired."
"Then sleep." Joost puckers his lips, barely stretching out his head to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so simple to him just sleep, if only it was that easy for you.
"Can't Joost."
"Why not?" He asks again, pushing harder this time.
"Dunno," You hum, pausing for a moment trying to formulate the least embarrassing way to describe your situation, "Bad dreams I guess, I dunno." You speak quickly, hoping maybe he won't catch all of it, the processes of his brain slowed by sleep.
Joost suddenly becomes more aware, more awake, like you've said some sort of sleeper phrase to activate something in him.
"Could have just told me that, schatje." He coos, it's reassuring, and you suddenly feel so stupid for holding that in. "Could have told me that before I feel asleep without you."
"Seemed stupid." You sigh, pushing your face further into the pillow.
"Not stupid." Joost assures, "What are they about?"
"Don't know. Just- bad."
"I'm sorry." Joost frowns. You feel the arm that he holds around you sneak under the comforter, coming to snake around your torso, his hand pushing into your back to press your body closer to him. The front of your T-shirt no longer just grazing the bare skin of his chest, but rather the two of you have molded into each other. "What can I do?" His lips now pressed against your shoulder from this closer position.
"Nothing,"
"No?" He places a small kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt.
"Not unless you can go into my brain and control my subconscious and make me dream of like puppies and rainbows." You follow with a dry laughter, any real humor stifled by your exhaustion.
"Mmm, if I could I would liefje."
#my inbox 💌#current wip#joost klein x reader#joost klein rpf#rpf#joost klein fanfic#joost klein fic#heartbeat! au
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okay i am coming to you as carlos fan who loves charles to my core (he is my soul sister!!!) but only ever roots for him for ferrari reasons, trying to see this from charles fans pov how is anything that happened tonight carlos’s fault and not just ferrari’s fault… like i try to be critical and i love to shit on carlos when he is stupid (bc he is stupid a lot) (for example spain24 i fear i am not on his side there) but ferrari fucked carlos over so bad today with his pit stop like i truly believe the thing that happened with charles was more of a fuck you to ferrari and not anything to do with charles at all so like i get why charles fans are upset but… i don’t know again would like to hear your thoughts on tonight
DISCLAIMER VIEWS MY OWN (as in. I don't speak for all Charles fans and probably not even a majority of them about this. and I enjoy it when athletes are petty and angry and grudgy and let out their ugly sides)
my first takeaway is that it's truly not that deep. Like, yeah, it's race day emotions are running high but so are the emotions of the guys in those cars. they're gonna get out of the car, calm down, shower, go on with their lives, and not think half as hard about this stuff as fans do, and some fans will remain upset for far longer than their blorbos will ever remember this. I think it is good to keep in mind before getting worked up
what happened: [regardless of garage 55 brainfart moment] Charles was ahead before the pit stops. At the pit exit, Bryan told Charles that Carlos had been told not to fight him and he should just focus on tyre temp instead of defending; Carlos went ahead and overtook him anyway. (That's when Charles said "Next time tell him in Spanish") Later, when Max was right behind Carlos and Charles was trying to overtake Max, Carlos was really slow. Like, there's speculation on reddit that he was feeding Max DRS <- not saying it happened (WE will never know) BUT he was slow enough that other people went "Wait this is weird," and his frustrated teammate would have noticed. If EYE was fighting for the wcc and I even suspected my teammate put someone else between the two of us (costing the team points) to protect his individual race, I would also go off about it. Regardless of whether it's true. Again! Not saying this is what happened and we will never know, but earlier in the race Carlos was definitely told not to overtake, and did it, and between the two of them he's the one with a history of ignoring team orders.
EYE (tumblr user gayferrari) have my own opinions. nuance button. I don't think you should get a gold star for being a "good teammate" or that following team orders is always the right thing. But CHARLES clearly values it, and in the past he's actually put his money where his mouth is and pulled his weight even when it cost him individual points, and I can understand he'd go on a heated tirade for 4 seconds when he's high on adrenaline. I don't think any of this should be a big tell about Charles's personality, team dynamics, his relationship with Carlos or whatever. I think he just spoke without a filter for a couple seconds, and I believe in taking these kinds of radio moments with a big pinch of salt. I'm gonna RPFy the shit out of this because I am on f1blr to have fun not to get angry. But I don't agree Charles was mad at the team, it was a very much "other side of the garage" kinda moment.
(*) note also that Carlos was told to swap with Charles earlier and DID do that, but after a few laps / because he was struggling with pace + very early on, when Charles dropped P2 -> P4, he was the one who spontaneously brought up letting Carlos pass because he knew he was struggling. So they both had moments where they were collaborating this race. I'm bringing this up for completion's sake, like, yeah Carlos swapped when asked even if late! But he also overtook when told not to
I hope this clears it up! Again, it's MY view that it's not that serious because we all choose how to enjoy sports and I'd much rather get angry about other things I feel matter more, and leave the petty drama as RPF fodder. But everyone enjoys sports differently so I can't speak for others
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nightfall's descent
When you're observing me, who do you think I'm observing?
This time, it is you, who's been left wide awake for far too long.
mature themes; implied insomnia, age gap, issues. nsfw content, but there is no actual smut.
The crackle of thick paper crumpling in your hands makes Alex’s arm twitch. It must be very late, or very early, it is hard to tell the difference because the sun has already gotten into the habit of being distant at all times. It is cold. The outside world is freezing, all shades of blue and uncomfortable.
He is snoring softly. Lying on his stomach, one leg bent, his face is squashed against his forearm. He would feel his eyelashes tickle his skin if he were to open his eyes, that’s how bad it is. He looks relaxed, almost miraculously so. His stubbly chin rests on his other hand and it makes you smile. You are not sure if there is an actual smile on your face right now, but it makes something deep in your chest pulse with aching fondness and that is enough. More than anyone else could make you feel just by existing, that is for sure.
You can’t sleep.
This is normally his problem. It’s not that your sleep schedule is divine, but he needs much more sleep than you do, you have come to find out. He’ll never pass an opportunity to take a nap. On the sofa, on his favourite armchair, sitting at the dinner table —
it is, a breathy whisper of “tired today...” when he stretches his arms and sighs, then yawns and his eyes are visibly more droopy by the time he closes his mouth. Or, “I am gonna need to rest me mind after this...” when you ask him to stir the pot and he can’t tear his gaze away from everything swirling and spinning effortlessly. You know, you always know, you are gonna find him later just like this. Heavy and content, snoring softly.
Alex will do anything to avoid going to bed alone.
The unexpectedness of it had caught you off-guard at first, making you wonder what else you had assumed wrongly about him. He says he does not wanna get used to it, sleeping alone, because he has a habit of turning things into habits, and that has never been a good thing. You take it as a compliment, really, when he waits for you like a good little pet, and you didn’t even need to teach him a thing. To be more specific, it makes you want to grab him and kiss him all over, eat him up in bruising bites, and isn’t that just the best thing you could do for him? He has everything else, doesn’t he? Money, reputation, even love — adoration, fascination, obsession, — might not be the healthiest forms of love, sure, but it’s still much more than you ever got.
He is always tired after making love, too.
Making love, apparently that is what you call it now. It is just what it feels like. It’s not the bad kind of love, either. Everything he touches turns to gold, and you are just happy to be underneath him, on top of him— he is never out of reach. You are never out of his head.
It feels like a privilege to see him this way.
You put your sketchbook to the side, shutting it closed and instinctively holding your breath for a mere second to hear the soft click it makes. You reach out for him with your hand, the one you had been holding your pencil and smudging the ink with. It makes your skin rough like ash would, although, it could not be more obvious how this is not ash or dust, not the remnants of finality, but rather the opposite of it — you wanted to draw him. Couldn’t sleep, and observing him like this is as close as you can get to dreaming without shutting your eyes and falling backwards into the darkness people call “sleep”... but, no... sleep isn’t like this...
This is not still and lifeless, it is pretty radiant here.
”Dreamland?” Oh, yes. This is it.
Bizarre, pretty, yours.
Your fingers touch the softness of his eyebrow, and his eyes tremble slightly, before he sighs and moves his head to the side a bit. His eyebrows furrow. So expressive, even in sleep, even when everything outside is cold and grim, it makes your lungs ache and rattle your ribcage a tiny bit.
Nothing new.
He is mostly bare underneath the covers, you are pretty sure.
A small part of his thigh is exposed from how his leg is bent. Firm, yet soft, kissable. You pull back the covers slightly to see his knee and– there it is. The bruise.
You had bitten him in the afternoon.
He was busy coming back down to earth. You had kept him all safe and tender in your mouth for long enough to make some part of him believe in the sacredness of this thing. That it wasn’t fucking or any kind of animalistic instinct when he held your head down and an obscene noise escaped his throat. Without his permission, too, he always tries to be quiet when your mouth is full of him. As an act of showing empathy, or maybe it would feel dangerously close to silencing you, and he doesn’t want to get used to that either.
The bruise makes his skin pretty like the sunset kissed it.
You lean down to kiss it now, softly, gently. He squirms.
“Hm?”
You watch his face as he slowly wakes up. Stretching modestly like a house pet.
“What time is it?” His voice sounds somehow even rougher than usual, you feel a shiver run through your spine.
“I don’t know.”
That sobers him up, for some odd reason, and his eyes search for your face. Alex holds a hand up before he drops it next to yours.
“I was waiting. For you to come back to bed when you got up in the middle of the night. But I couldn’t‐ could not keep my eyes open, you know? I tried, though...” his voice trails off into a quiet mumble. He is apologising for something you have never even mentioned or thought about.
“I know, Alex.”
“What are you doing?”
You pick up the sketchbook again, handling it with an air of carelessness that does not belong to you. As if this part of you, which you are holding in your hand, has somehow become less important now that he is watching.
“Nothing, really. I couldn’t sleep again.”
He moves closer to you, still on his stomach. Lazy boy.
“Wanna show me?”
Your hesitation is undeniably palpable and thick in the air, he could cut it with a knife. You’d pay him to do that if he could.
Your numb fingers grip your sketchbook a tad bit tighter, with his sleepy eyes following the movement, he takes a deep breath.
“I want to see, love.”
Alex looks more awake now than he did when he woke up in the morning. He loves the sun, but it is not always there for him. It is cold now, even in the morning. Especially in the morning. Still dark, still freezing, and you weren’t there. It felt like the day after a perfect day, and he woke up not with a hazy, blurry mind but a very clear head and thoughts so sharp that they hurt.
He grows amusedly suspicious when your eyes widen with hesitation. This is not the first time.
“Is it– mmm–“ his voice turns into a soft croon, the cartoonish quality of it making his own eyes twinkle. “Is it me? In there...?”
“Huh?”
“Were you drawing me?”
You let out a huff at the accusation. “I've not drawn anything for so long. And it is literally just a rough sketch, I don’t even like it. I’m not trying to hide, it is not a–“
“But it is mine, isn’t it?” He crawls again, just wanting to be closer to you. He does this thing, getting closer to you so you can hear him more clearly, instead of just raising his voice like everybody else does. He is pressed up against your form now with a smirk on his face. Only a second or three passes as he is observing you, expecting you to hand over the sketchbook, and then he is chuckling, his face scrunching up. “Are you hiding me from myself? Come on... that is my job.”
You can’t help but laugh with him. “You always say I see you somewhat differently, though... I wouldn’t want to end up making a fool of myself or whatever it is that I'm so afraid of."
Something glimmers in his eyes, just a subtle flicker of it, and it is almost as if he never slept, once again. “Never have I said that to you.”
“Not to me, maybe, no... Does it matter?”
“Are you– hold on, tell me when was the last time you slept properly, and don’t lie.”
You almost comment on his tone, but you decide to answer him, only to realize that you can not.
His eyebrows furrow, and he sits up. It is difficult to handle this, you don't think you are ever gonna get used to it. Being so close, he looks too real. His skin is shiny under the moonlight, the tan is gone, pale again from the way he has succumbed to solitary lifestyles similar to those they teach you about in the bible. His scent... Cigarettes, is it? Something bitter-sweet and addictive like thick honey on his skin, too, and it ought to make you crave more when you let your teeth cut loose.
Not again... what was he talking about?
“Honey?”
You look at him. Alex. Al. God, he is going to get actually old one day, isn’t he? You almost wish he isn’t. You almost wish you had met him when he was younger, he could have broken your heart that way, the casual way, it certainly would have been easier. All kinds of leather were tight over his muscles back then, hair slippery and tousled and apparently perfect. Dark, but shiny like jet, steel, something solid and useful. Something you definitely wouldn’t have seemed, if you had been the one standing next to him in those messy, flashy polaroids and countless paparazzi shots.
You always had this thought about how his hair and his leather jackets shone the same way, and that thought used to make you giddy then almost teary. At least you never forgot how to fantasise and daydream about and do everything but avoid men like him, because he is actually right here now and he is... different.
“Yes.” You talk in a whisper, your voice soft and quiet like the rustling of your sheets underneath him as he shifts to caress your neck with a gentle hand.
“Where did you go?”
“I’m here.”
“Hmm. Yes, you are. I believe you now.” Alex hums, smiles. Looking thoughtful for a second before his face is hovering over yours, and he leans down to press a kiss to your neck. There is a hushed mumble against your skin. You nudge his shoulder.
“Honeysop,” he mumbles again, but this time, a giggle makes his voice sound chirpy.
“What the fuck?”
“I said... I’ve got a new nickname for you.” Alex looks down at you. (Studying your face with the expression of a man who knows he doesn’t have to tell his kid that Santa Claus isn’t real or something along those lines.)
You smile — a toothy, sweet thing to make his eyes shine even brighter. You can not help but notice the way his chain is dangling from his neck. Why must every single part of him shine like that? You touch it gently, soft fingertips warm against the cool metal. There are tiny pink marks left on his chest from how the chain had pressed into his skin in sleep. You find it soothing to watch it rock back and forth above you, and you are very sure that he is amused by that fact.
Suddenly, you find your voice again. “I think, had this been some other time, any other time, I would have asked you to fuck me right here. You know, it’s midnight, you are all just the perfect amount of wound up and silly. I can’t sleep. But... can I...” You impulsively kiss the tip of his nose just because it is the part of him closest to your lips. His eyes are wide and sweet, intrigued.
“You could pose for me... I want to draw you. And when I’m done, I won’t hide it from you, no... I could even draw it in your notebook. I know you prefer the ones with blank pages, I do, too.” Alex ducks his head slowly, listening intently, but all of a sudden, too busy leaving loving bites on your throat and pressing his lips against your heart. You grab his hair firmly, hoping to keep his eyes fixated on you.
“Then I’ll let you fuck me. I want–," You giggle when his stubble tickles the softness of your chest accidentally, but you keep going. He can feel your heart thumping faster and faster. "I want you too tired and distracted after you're done, just– too stupid to care for finding whatever the hell I drew in there. Be- because God knows it is gonna be horrible, Al, don't even..."
Alex grabs your face with a firm hand, his thumb digging into the skin near your mouth and the rest of his fingers wrap tightly around your jaw.
"Shhhhh... dove..."
You whimper quietly at his cooing, the contrast between his soft murmurs and the strength in his hand causes your mind to get filthier with each breath. And not just your mind, really, you would be pressing your thighs together right now if he wasn't straddling them so rudely. He presses his cheek against yours, his mouth just hovering over your ear. Tilting his head back for a few seconds, just to see your pretty earring up close. It makes him smile, even though he can barely make it out of the darkness.
"You've got to stop it, love, stop hiding. I need to keep seeing you, all of it, okay?"
You nod the best you can, chest trembling and hips twitching from the intensity of his words. Alex keeps hushing you as his touches travel down your torso, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. Tracing the hem, tapping his blunt fingernails over your stomach like he might do to the strings of a guitar he's yet to be familiar with.
Alex sits back, pulling away from you entirely with a huff. He grabs your sketchbook from where you left it earlier. A twitch in his bicep and a weary sigh on his lips, as if he's been forced to pick up some of kind of evidence.
You try to touch his knee, or just any part of him that you can possibly reach, but your fingers accidentally curl over him right where a bruise is still blooming and tender on his thigh and he hisses.
Cool cat... or is he, really?
It is something of a blur after that. Like you pressed a button and you are waiting to find out if it was the good one or not.
Alex takes your sketchbook and lets the poor thing covered in charcoal marks rest in the drawer of your nightstand.
The sheets he has tangled himself in bother him way too much. And they smell like you, as always, it is messing with his head right now and more importantly, it makes him want to mess with yours. He pushes them away, your relentless pawing at the worn white fabric anything but helpful.
Alex tugs at your shirt to pull it up, too, so he isn't the only one feeling cold and exposed. He clutches your waist, settling lower on the bed this time and resting his cheek on your hip. You can feel his chain touch you. He looks up.
"This– can you feel it?" He gently caresses, presses down on your lower tummy with his fingers, before moving his face slightly and planting a soft kiss right there. "This is where I need to be."
Just that sentence, the last one — it makes you cry out, your shaky hand coming down to grip his hair.
"No need for any... paper or ink or cameras. It is just us, dove. Even put the sketchbook away for you, so just let me, huh? It'll feel much better, 'cause it is more special."
A muffled keen leaves your lips when he starts to slowly slide your underwear down your legs. You didn't even realize you were biting down on your knuckles until now. Until you see the red mark you have left on your hand and the string of saliva connecting your parted mouth to it.
Alex stops when he hears the desperate noise you make, frowning. Something felt off. He lies down beside you now. Face to face. His touches turning delicate and patient, instead of demanding. "What's wrong?" He asks, sweet and every single thing that makes your heart ache all over again. He strokes your cheek, gentle warmth spreading over the parts he had grabbed and got a bit close to bruising earlier. Your eyes grow softer and so does his.
"I'm cold, Al. But if you put a blanket over me... I'm gonna get sleepy, too."
He kisses your lips once. A reward for not hiding from him again, perhaps.
Alex studies your hazy gaze for a moment. He grabs the blanket you had apparently used as a pillow when you hopped on his bed a few hours ago. Pecks your collarbone, covering the both of you with that warm blanket and he smiles as you move lazily to curl up against him properly.
It is easy for him to adore the way you cling to him, let out a soft noise when you are shifting to your side and swinging your leg over his, remembering that the only thing you are wearing is your shirt not exactly right on time.
"Pardon me, if I sound too crude, but..." He chuckles against your neck, the sound scratching his throat. "You were– well, are, fucking dripping, girl."
You giggle. "What was that word? Ah, yeah. Honeysop."
"You are ridiculous." He shakes his head and tuts when you try to move away from him, wrapping an arm around your torso and hugging you even closer than before. "No. No hiding, stay here."
There is a soft smile on your face, your mind full of fuzzy, messy bits and you are sure that feeling his warm breath on your skin must be something from your personal heaven.
Your voice comes out as a quiet, soft murmur. "I don't know what it is, but, sometimes you say things in a certain way and it just... there is this moment after I hear you, when I feel as if you could do anything you wanted to me and it would– nothing else could possibly be better than that."
Alex kisses your temple, carding his fingers through your hair. "That's a lot."
You squirm. "Maybe that's what makes it special... no? You said it was–"
"You pay a lot of attention to what I say, you know? I think that's exactly what makes it special." Another kiss. "That I trust you to see me... like I want to be seen. Not differently, you used that word, and I got a bit silly over it. It's never about differences between us. I try not to make it about them, at least."
"Always had a thing for that," you say, a bitter-sweet tint to your tone. "Contrasting subjects, juxtaposition... maybe that's why I got into painting, too. And oh, yes, there we have another difference for us to avoid admitting to, I guess," you laugh.
"Is this funny to you? Or are you just... amused by it?"
"Why?"
"You are laughing."
"I'm tired."
He could close his eyes and he would still be able to see the smile and that hidden yawn in your voice.
Alex sighs, delighted.
"I guess you're just gonna have to sleep now, then, honeysop."
#uhhhhh#who else feeling kind of abnormal?#alex turner x reader#alex turner x you#alex turner fic#alex turner x oc#my fic#gn reader#i think !
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“𝒞𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝐼 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒪𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊…”
𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟹
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚ 。⋆ ♡ ༘˚
Sero Hanta X ChildhoodFriend!Reader
AFAB!Reader, SMAU BNHA/MHA, Quirkless AU
‧₊˚✧ Synopsis ✧˚₊‧
You haven't seen your long time crush best friend since you were ten. Both of you moved and you haven't seen each other since. You wondered if it was ever possible to see him again, until...ping!
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˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.
You woke up the next morning, you see your phone on your night stand but you don’t pick it up as you saw the time on your alarm clock. It’s six-fifty am. You get up before your alarm ever goes off, and you start your morning routine.
You go down stairs to eat with your mother. “Good morning kiddo, you want cereal or eggs?” Asked your mother, preping food for herself. “Cereal today” “alright kid” your mother pours cereal with milk for you and sets it on the table. You and your mother talk to each other every morning, only because sometimes, she stays late at her job. “How is your new phone?” Asked your mother before she stuffed food in her mouth. “It’s alright so far, I have a Captures account. Only because Unasaka talked to me about it. I private it the account though.” “Okay honey, just be careful on the internet” your Mom gets up and put up her plate and heads to the door as she grabs her keys. “Alright Honey, I’m heading out, there’s money in one of the kitchen drawers in case I come home late, you can order take out.” “Alright mom, I love you” you say with your mouth full of cereal. “I love you too.”
After breakfast, you head to your room. You finally check your phone and your see a familiar name. “Sero Hanta” you say to yourself. You repeat the name.
“Sero Hanta?” You know the name.
“H-Hanta…HANTA!” It’s your friend from childhood. You thought you’ll never see or hear from him again. It’s been three years since you last spoke. You open the notification and saw that he followed you. You start look through his page.
You see that he looks happy with his new friends, kinda made your heart ache a little bit. You accepted his follow and you put the phone in your bag. You start walking to school and you think about Sero. You think about all things he’s been up to, what his school life is like now, if he changed at all, his eyes, his smile, his-wait? You caught yourself thinking about him differently. But it doesn’t matter, you arrived at school. You see your girlfriends and you all walk to class together.
During class, you felt your phone buzz. You wished you can take it out in class and see what the buzzing is about but you know you can’t. You only had an hour before lunch started. But curiosity got the best of you. You decided to take a peak.
You quickly put it away. You look to the window. “He messaged me already?” You thought. You didn’t think he’ll message you so quickly. Especially since it’s been a couple hours since you accepted his request.
“Lunch time is almost over, wouldn’t she respond by now?” Sero thought. He was staring down at his message he sent while his friends were goofing around. “Sero, what are doing bud?” Asked one of his friends. “Oh uh nothing” he put his phone away. Continuing to talk to friends, Sero can’t help but to think if you forgot about him already. It hurts his heart to think his best friend forgot about him and moved on from him.
He knocked on your door about a year and a half ago, exited to surprise you that he returned to see you. Only for him to see that a tall man opened your door instead of your innocent face. “Hey kid? Can I help you?” Confused, Sero peeped inside of your old house, seeing your mother’s brown couch was replaced with an ugly mustard yellow couch. “Is uh- y/n here?” Sero looked back at the stranger. “Y/n? Umm…like the little girl that lived here before?” Here…before? What does that mean? Sero questioned, his little heart racing a little more. Sero shook his head yes, eager to hangout with you again. For you to pop around the corner and say that’s your Mom’s new boyfriend or something. “Oh yeah, they moved out around 3 months ago kid, sorry. Wish I could tell ya where, but I only met the lady once.” His heart skipped a beat. You moved and he didn’t know where. “…oh” is all Sero managed to say. He walked back to his aunts house. He thought you moved somewhere farther in Japan. Totally not in another country. 7 hours away. In Singapore, where it’s ten times harder to see you.
A/n: Honestly chat, I think could’ve wrote this better but I HAVE to keep you on edge. Btw, I’m Starting a new job. So be patient when I write the next chapters. I am working part time so I will have time to write this series.
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@fusciaguardian @phtmmsqrde @faerieeviee
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could we please get a part two for the lion!reader x horangi fic? 🙏🙏
Yes you can. You also get a little treat because why not.
Leo
CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation
Why did you have to be nervous, he was going to bug you about it as soon as he saw you. It was embarrassing enough that you were here. Come on, you’re a lion, buck up. You straighten, and take a deep breath, puffing out your chest. It was just a thank you get together. You had enough money to set proper boundaries and even get your siblings a better situation as well. Horangi had stepped in, and helped you, you owed him at least some food.
“You are up.” A cocky voice said. You looked up and saw a familiar face. Or at least you recognized the voice. Horangi had his neck warmer over his mouth and nose, and wearing glasses. He blended in perfectly with the rest of them, clothed in jackets, gloves and hats. You yourself had your leather jacket on and your scarf. Horangi looked well enough. You swore you could see his cheeky grin even with it covered.
“Did I say I wasn’t?” You asked.
“You said sure I’ll take you for food when we’re in the same neighbourhood.” Horangi pointed out. He wasn’t wrong.
“Any preference or are you at my mercy?” You asked him. Horangi shrugged. He wasn’t a picky eater to begin with. Though you noticed he’s more observant. You offered him your arm and smiled, tugging him along. Your touch seemed to let him relax more as you took him to your favourite restaurant.
Before then König was asking Horangi about you. Of course Spirit got curious as well. Horangi rolled his eyes, assuring you it was just a meeting among two friends, two coworkers.
“Simon and Johnny are coworkers and they do more than just work.” Spirit pointed out. König snickered at the blunt statement.
“Just a friend. Konig can vouch for me.”
“Since when?” Konig asked, with a stupid smile on his face. Horangi had half a mind to shoo both of them away but honestly, you’re one of the nicest things to happen to him.
A big crowded area would make Konig uncomfortable. You know Horangi, and he doesn’t mind crowds. Easier for him to lay low, and avoid people. A small night market was perfect for the occasion. Food stands and booths for you both to try, and plenty of friendly people. Horangi may be out of his element but he was impressed. You were so relaxed. Sure you didn’t have people coming after you for debts, but when last he saw you, you seemed reserved, headstrong and quiet. Yet here you were smiling and messing around at booths selling crafts. Maybe the holidays brought that out of you.
“You could probably take the sunglasses off, I doubt there will be anyone here who wants to collect money from you.” You told him. Horangi was caught off guard by what you said, so it gave you the chance to take off his sunglasses for him. Now you understood why he left them on. There was the remains of a nasty black eye, thankfully healing and useable but enough to make you were. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Horangi asked, trying to turn away and move on. You stared him down, tail whipping from side to side behind you. Horangi made a small growl, as you tugged him forward. He tried to pull away but you pointed out the kids running past behind him. Horangi refused to look at you. You took a quick glance and pulled him aside. He begrudgingly came with you so you could talk more privately finding a small alley.
“What happened?” You repeated. Horangi kept looking down the alley instead of at you. Ugh, of course he had to be such a trope. You took him by the chin and made him face you. “Start… talking.”
You voice could send chills down his spine, while relaxing him at the same time. If anyone would understand it was you. He told you what happened with him and Spirit, and the guilt he felt. “I put a kid in danger, just for going outside. I covered up, and nearly got her killed, and then I messaged you to see if you wanted to go out, and then… I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
There is a moment of silence between you two as you consider everything he told you. You sighed, annoyed. “Really?”
“What?” Horangi shrugged, still refusing to make eye contact until you crossed your arms.
“You think I can’t take care of myself? I’m not a child.” You told him. “And clearly you know that otherwise you wouldn’t come out with me. If you need a break say the word, and we can find another alley. It’s not like I didn’t come without some defence.”
You gave him a warm smile and held his arm. Horangi wasn’t used to the tender side of you but he had to admit it was kind of hot.
“If I need a break?”
“Say the word.” You told him. “This is my way of saying thank you, and making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want.”
Horangi got this glint in his eye, one you’d seen before, his tail brushing your leg. Your face was turning pink, but you guess it was from the cold air.
“Shall we continue then?” He asked. You gave him a smirk and tugged him back to the market smiling and chatting with him. It was a good night, and it didn’t take long for there to be a light snow fall.
The market is filled with plenty of things to do, it's like a small fair. Kids were enjoying maple syrup on snow, some bean bag toss games, and of course snowballs being thrown. You and Horangi ducked stepped out of the way of a few throws. Then you felt a hard packed one fired at your back. You laughed, but it did kind of hurt.
Horangi looked up and saw it was some adult human. Didn't apologize either just smiled looking smug. He attacked a defenseless person in the back, and he was acting smug. Horangi barked at him, saying something in Korean, but you tugged him away. There was some barked comments about his masculinity and hybrids being dirty animals. You flipped them off continuing your stroll.
"Could've fought back." Horangi grumbled.
"And then there would be a fight, and the kids around would get scared, police would be called, fingers would be pointed and nothing would really get resolved." You told him. "We would give them what they want and get nothing out of it."
Horangi had to admit you had a point. You worked for Kortac as a mercenary but you were getting paid, you were getting what you wanted. Equal exchange. Starting a fight here, there would be nothing but problems. Although he had to ask one thing.
"So when you punched the guy at the convenience store...?" Horangi asked.
"Well he was a pig. Needed to be put in his place." You said, folding your arms. "And he was teasing Konig about his height."
Horangi chuckled. You always had to be the bigger person one way or another. It was attractive. Wait.
Horangi waited just outside a small store front, not wanting to be in the way of the other shoppers while you browsed the tables. The mask was back over his face, but it was more as a neck warmer. It seemed to intimidate a few people, which was fine with him. At least it was less likely for him to be hit with snowball. While he focused on you, everyone seemed to ignore him. Except one.
There was a tug on his jacket, that he at first thought was just the material getting caught on something. He brushed it aside, and then he felt a small hand. When Horangi looked down, he found a young boy staring up at him, and politely saying "Excuse me."
Horangi wasn't really used to kids, it had been a while since he'd seen any of his younger relatives. He raised a brow, and then looked around. Where was the boy's parents? The boy said again, "Excuse me?"
"Uhh... yes?" Horangi replied.
"Are you a hybrid?" The boy asked.
"Yes." Horangi answered. The boy's eyes seemed to widen as he asked what kind of hybrid Horangi was. Horangi knelt down so he could talk to the boy a little easier. It was getting pretty crowded, and he didn't want to kid swept up, though he guessed the boy may already have been based on the absence of a parent. The boy was honestly just curious about Horangi and haetaes, asking what Horangi could do, and what it was like.
When you came back from purchasing a small gift, you found the pleasant sight of Horangi letting the boy touch his tail. You also looked around for the child's guardians as you can over.
"You making friends?" You asked Horangi who looked up with the boy. Before Horangi could answer, the boy spoke up.
"Are you a lion?" He asked. You smiled, answering him. Then it was you getting overloaded with questions. You don't mind, he isn't asking anything rude, and you welcome curiousity. You don't mind him touching your tail either. He's having fun but you are concerned about his safety.
"Are your parents nearby?" You asked. The boy stopped looking at your tail and then looked around. Had he not noticed them missing? There was a worried and panicked look on his face, and Horangi stepped in immediately.
"Hey, it's okay. We'll find them. Do you remember where they were last?" Horangi asked. The boy looked on the brink of tears as he shook his head. You stood up and looked around for a security guard or maybe a volunteer running some of the activities.
"Did they have a spot for you to go if got lost?" You asked. The little boy nodded, sniffling. "Do you want us to take you there?"
The boy nodded again. You took the little one's hand as Horangi stood up, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be looking frantic or worried.
Thankfully as soon as you arrived at the spot the boy led you too, the mother was there, and rushed over to hug her child, checking that he was okay, while the boy was apologizing. The woman thanked you both profusely. Honestly it wasn't a problem at all, he was so polite. You waved good bye to your little friend as the mother took him into the crowd, carrying him.
"Not what I thought this thank you would look like." You said, sitting at a table with some food. Horangi shrugged, taking another bite of food.
"Not the worst reunion I've had." He pointed out. Now was a better time than any. You set the small gift bag on the table.
"Not sure if you celebrate but happy early holidays." You said. Horangi was a bit surpised, staring at the back for a moment, before takin it to opened it up. Inside was a necklace with a symbol cut out of wood. A symbol Horangi recognized, symbolizing luck.
"Not one for superstition, but I figured you could use all you could get." You said. Horangi smiled. Jewellery wasn't much his thing, but this, this he would wear. Could tuck it into his shirt if he needed.
"Worried you might lose me?" He teased.
"You know most people would just say thank you." You argued, deflecting the question. Horangi gave you that cheeky grin and you smiled back. Damn that grin was hot. You coughed realizing you were staring. Your face was turning warm.
"Your cheeks are rosy. You cold?" Horangi asked casually.
“Why don't we find a warm drink after this." You said, focusing on your food and avoiding the question.
“Thank you for the gift. I appreciate it.” He said. You relaxed. It would hopefully make him feel safer on missions.
You and Horangi had found warm cider, and a park bench to relax on to people watch. Horangi was still looking around, you were too. You didn’t have very long with each other, maybe a couple more days or so before Horangi had to ship out again. Still, you wanted all the details.
“A wraith? Really?” You said, sipping your drink, while keeping your voice low.
“Caught me off guard too.” Horangi admitted. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“And Konig has more control?”
“Yeah that kid… that kid does something to you. It’s weird.” Horangi said, sipping his cider. He noticed your coy smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” You said. Something about the snow in his hair, and the scars peeking from behind his cup made him adorable and handsome all at once. You wondered if it was part of the lure a yokai could have. Horangi tries to ignore you, but then you get a thought in your head. You’d had this thought before but it was from a distance. And private.
“You know… I didn’t want to say it, cause of your pride.” Horangi started.
“My pride?” You asked, your smile now a scowl of confusion.
“Oh please you think you’re hot shit and you know it.” Horangi said with a raised brow.
“Cause I am hot shit, but go on. Tell me whatever it is that could wound or support my pride.” You commanded, puffing up your chest.
“You…um… you fight good.” He said. That took the wind out of your sail a bit. It was a nice compliment just… not what you’d hoped for.
“Thanks.” You said, feeling a little disappointed. You finished your drink and Horangi finished his quickly after. Suddenly he told you he needed a minute, so you followed him. Okay a little odd. Where was this going? He took you to the alley and you kept scanning the area. Nothing but happy people with a few tired and blank faces. No one trying to cover up their intentions. Horangi started to pace a little. You let him stir for a bit. It would go away. He was overwhelmed. You have a crazy idea. You approach him carefully and take hold of his shoulders. “Hey… what's wrong?"
Horangi stopped as soon as you got in front of him, looking at you. That red on his cheeks wasn't from the cold, and neither was yours. Horangi is still at war with himself because for the longest time he has been hiding, keeping a low profile while taking out higher ones. You weren't an easy target yourself, so he had little to fear for your well being. And he was still debating whether he wanted more than what he had. Once again, he refused to look at you.
"Nothing." Horangi answered after a brief moment of eye contact. Your tail flicked up, and a hand went to his neck. You found the sweet spot easily, and he started involuntarily chuffing. "It's nothing."
"Nothing is wrong?" You asked.
"Nothing at all." He said standing up straight.
"Good..." You said. Another moment passes, and both of you look around. Now was your chance. Horangi noticed your hand was still on his neck and moved his hand to remove it. Then your soft touch became firm. You tugged his mask down in one quick clean motion. You took your shot.
You kissed him. Horangi's eyes widened before relaxing and kissing you back. Your arms went around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around your waist and torso. You two weren't going to see each other for a while. This time was a thank you for the help with your family, but it was a chance to meet up, and see the person who meant a lot to you. You felt his tail go loosely around your leg. The world seemed muffled as you just focused and lost yourself in the moment.
After what felt like hours, your lips parted and you take a moment. Then you realized what had just happened, and you don't think your face has ever felt this red in your life. Now neither of you can make eye contact, and neither of you know what to say.
"S-sorry." You said. Horangi gave you a look. Yeah you couldn't believe you said that either. Then he started to snicker, and you punched him in the arm out of embarrassment. "Shut up!"
"What are you gonna do, kiss me again?" He asked with that same smug and cheeky smile. This joker.
"And what if I do?" You asked, folding your arms. Horangi had the best time when he got you to pout like that. It didn't look like a pout, you hid it well, but he could tell. Horangi's tail hadn't left your leg. He just smiled. The question still remained about what exactly just happened, but he didn't care. That could be discussed at a later date. Instead he gave you a kiss on the cheek.
"We should keep going." You said, still flustered. Horangi just grinned, and you wanted to smack him.
Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit
#cod au#horangi x reader#cod horangi x reader#haetae#hybrid au#cod hybrid au#yokai#gn reader#lion hybrid reader#haetae hybrid#they finally kissed#even though its only part two
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Jill Weinberger: And seriously, if you have $5 to give, whatever, go to that Act Blue link and donate, because if the first thing that happens after this announcement is a massive surge in donations, it will be incredible optics and give hope to voters who are worried and also make shitty people really unhappy.
Kevin M. Kruse: Yeah, for better or worse, the initial donations will be the first thing the mainstream media will look to as a metric of "Democratic enthusiasm"
Weinberger is one of the writers on Leverage Redemption.
Kruse is a Professor of History at Princeton, per his department page, "Kevin M. Kruse studies the political, social, and urban/suburban history of 20th-century America. Focused on conflicts over race, rights, and religion, he has particular interests in segregation and the civil rights movement, the rise of religious nationalism and the making of modern conservatism."
(link to the official fundraiser for Kamala Harris for President) (yes at time of posting it says donations will go to Joe Biden, but Harris has filed FEC paperwork that needs to be fully processed before that can be updated. The funds will go to her campaign)
#us politics#time to put your money were your mouths are#i'd be donating but i literally donated 36 hours ago and that tapped me out for the week :'D#but again... biden's war chest will be transferring to harris so we're all square on that front
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lmao are All members of big time rush terrible people irl
#I was searching something up about the show and the search suggestions were all their names and ''trump'' or ''Israel''#and I immediately thought well. that's not good#but then I actually clicked on it and it was so much worse than I expected lmaaao#like I'm not even upset or surprised cause... rich men will be rich men unfortunately#I'm just... sighing about it#I miss the times where it was harder to broadcast all your prejudices to the world#and nostalgia could exist without guilt#because everyone and their mother are terrible people now and it's just so easy to put that shit on instagram and ruin childhoods#like my god just let me pirate this nickelodeon show in PEACE#I'm glad I didn't pay for another month of paramount to watch it. we're soap2daying this one thankfully#and I also watched zoey 101 on the freetrial cause. u know. dan schneider#I'm sure the money still goes to them somehow through free trials but it made me feel less worse :)#but anyways it's just so easy for child stars to either be terrible people#or be publicly having mental breakdowns on twitter (cof cof alexa)#and it always puts such a sour taste in my mouth about revisiting these shows eventually like#I miss the times celebrities hid the fact they were shitty people instead of wearing it like badge of pride. that's it#not upset cause fuck that but just frustrated with how public everything is nowadays. people have no shame anymore#bring back shame#rambles*
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