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andnowanowl · 3 months

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Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

IBTISAM ILZOGHAYYER

Director of cultural center, 54

Born in Battir, West Bank

Interviewed in Bethlehem, West Bank

During our dozen or more meetings with Ibtisam Ilzoghayyer in her office, her black hair is either pulled back into a slick ponytail or falls to her shoulders in tight curls. She speaks with us in English, and she has a distinct accent influenced by her time studying at Newcastle University in northern England. When she stands, she adjusts a clamp on a knee brace in order to walk. This is due to a childhood bout with polio, which she contracted when she was two years old.

Ibtisam is the director of the Ghirass Cultural Center, which she helped found in 1994. Ghirass, which means "young trees" in Arabic, serves more than a thousand youth annually in the Bethlehem region through enrichment programs in reading, traditional Palestinian arts, and more. The center also provides literacy programs for women - generally mothers who are learning to read so that they can take a more active role in their children's education.

The walls of Ibtisam's office are decorated with awards and framed drawings by children who have passed through the center. Throughout her day, children stop by to share their successes - an improved test score or a list of books read during the month. Ibtisam takes time with each one to congratulate and encourage them, and to laugh with them. She spends most of her time at the center she works five or six days a week, though she can often be found at the center on her days off as well. When she isn't at the center, she is likely to be at home with her elderly mother, tending a large garden of fruit trees, flowers, and vegetables.

I was born in 1960, in Battir.¹ Life in the village was simple. Most of my neighbors were farmers, and when I was a child, people from Battir would all travel into Jerusalem to sell produce in the markets there. My parents had some land that they farmed, and my father was also a chef. When I was very young, he worked at a hotel in Amman, Jordan, and we'd see him on the weekends.² Then, after 1967, he began working as a chef at the American Colony Hotel in Jerusalem.³

My mother stayed home and raised me and my siblings - there were nine of us. We didn't have TVs, and there were no computers and no plastic toys to keep us distracted. I think we were lucky to have those things. Instead, we used nature. We'd play in the fields, climbtrees, make toys ourselves out of sticks and stones. It seemed then there weren't divisions then between neighbors, despite religion or other differences. We were all part of one culture in many ways. I remember my mother coloring eggs every Easter. It was something that had been passed down for generations - it wasn't a Christian thing or a Muslim thing, it was a Palestinian thing to mark Easter that way.

I must have joined in all the games when I was very young, but then I developed a disability as an infant. When I was two and a half years old, my mother was carrying me past a clinic in town one day. A clinic nurse stopped us and told my mother she should come in, that she should get me the vaccine for polio. So I was given a vaccine. That night I had a fever, and I couldn't move my right arm and left leg. Over the next few years, I was able to regain function of my limbs, but my left leg grew in shorter than my right. At age four, I started wearing a brace to help me walk. It was just bad luck that we walked past that clinic.

I had to get used to people treating me differently because of my disability. Even people's facial expressions when meeting me were different they didn't react to me as if I were a normal child. When I was at school, I was excluded from physical education activities, and some field trips that required a lot of walking. That was really difficult.

I also had learning disabilities. My teacher beat me once in fourth grade because I was nearly failing all subjects. Education was important to my parents, so they were unhappy that I was struggling. My father had only gone through fourth grade, so he could read and write. My mother had never been to school. But they wanted more for their kids. Especially me. Because I had a disability, they wanted me to do well in school so that I'd be independent when I grew up, and not need to rely on anyone.

Then in the fifth grade, I succeeded on an exam, and the feeling was very strange. The teacher handed back the paper and said the work was "excellent." I couldn't believe I'd done anything that would make her say that. I couldn't believe that it was my paper that was excellent. I thought she'd made a mistake. I think that's common for children who aren't used to success-they don't realize it's their effort that leads to excellence. They think it's by accident. But I tasted success just that one time, and I realized I loved it. I just had to convince myself it wasn't a mistake! Then I continued to try hard at school, and I started to realize my potential.

In 1977, I was accepted into a boarding school in Jerusalem. It was actually right next to the American Colony Hotel, so I could see my father sometimes. I'd also go home on holidays. It was still relatively easy to travel into and out of Jerusalem then.

I did well enough in high school that I got accepted into the University of Jordan in Amman. I started there in the fall of 1979, and I studied economics. I loved university, and I wasn't lonely. Other than college students who became friends, I had a lot of family living and working in Amman. But I still felt homesick sometimes, and I started to understand what made Palestine feel special. In my last year at university, the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish came to read at a theater on campus. I got tickets to go, but when I arrived, the theater was absolutely packed. And the streets outside were full. There were so many Palestinians in Jordan, and we all wanted to hear this poet remind us what it meant to be Palestinian.

IT RAISED A LOT OF EMOTIONS FOR ME

I returned home in 1984, and I had one of the hardest years of my life. I had just spent many years working extremely hard to make something of myself, to become independent from my parents - economically, emotionally, socially so that I wouldn't be a burden to them. Then I returned to Palestine and found I couldn't get a job. Because of my economics degree, I wanted to work in a bank, but there weren't any jobs in that field available, and I couldn't find any other sort of work. So I lived with my parents for a year and they supported me. I was very depressed during that time.

Then one day in 1985, I read a classified ad put up by the BASR.⁶ They were offering to train workers in a field called community-based rehabilitation, which was about helping people with disabilities overcome them by working with the family - the whole community, really - to integrate the disabled into daily life. At first, I wanted nothing to do with that sort of work. I had an economics degree, and I had spent my whole life trying to get away from any limitations imposed by my own disability. I simply didn't want to think about disabilities. But I desperately wanted a job, so I applied.

I trained with the BASR for a year. It was hard. I worked with children who had hearing issues, blindness, mental health issues. The work brought up a lot of emotions for me, and it took some time to become comfortable around the children. But I kept receiving praise from my supervisors, and they made me feel like I was useful. In 1986, I began working in some of the refugee camps in Bethlehem as well, and that helped open my eyes. I got to see some of the real traumathat was happening in the community. That same year, BASR opened a community center for people with mental health disabilities, and I helped to run it. It was a very busy time for me.

Then the following year, in 1987, the First Intifada began. I remember it started just after I got my driver's license. I bought an old used car on November 30 of that year, and I was really proud of myself. I was starting to feel quite independent. Then I set out to drive to work for the first time on December 6, and I ended up driving through streets littered with stones and burning tires. It was the first day of the Intifada, and I couldn't make it to work that day - there was too much happening in the streets. So I spent the day listening to the news with my family.

THINKERS BEFORE FIGHTERS

The idea of starting a community center came to me in 1990. It was the middle of the First Intifada, and the streets were dangerous places to play for children. Aside from the threat of getting caught in fighting, children were sometimes targeted by soldiers. Sometimes children threw stones at soldiers, but other times soldiers would find children simply playing traditional games with stones. Many children, even young children, were arrested by soldiers who saw them playing these games. So the idea of the center started as a way to give children a safe place to play.

Also, at that time many schools were frequently closed by military order, so children had to stay at home for long stretches of time. Sometimesthe Israeli military would even use schools as checkpoints to control the area. The school in Battir was used as a military camp. These realities came together to make us want to start the center.

The BASR was able to establish the Ghirass Cultural Center in Bethlehem in late 1993, early 1994. In the West Bank at that time, the school curriculum was Jordanian. In Gaza, it was Egyptian.⁸ So when I went to school, I studied a Jordanian curriculum. We never studied anything about Palestine or its history. We never saw a Palestinian map. We studied the history of Jordan, of China, of Germany, of England - I remember learning about all the families who ruled England-but nothing connected to our history, nothing connected to our geography, nothing connected to our culture.

When we started the center, we wanted to educate children about Palestinian culture, Palestinian music, Palestinian poetry. We have famous poets like Mahmoud Darwish, but it was forbidden for us to read from them or read other Palestinian writers. If the Israelis caught us with a book from certain Palestinian writers, we might end up in jail. We couldn't have Palestinian flags, political symbols, anything considered propaganda for a Palestinian state-everything could get us into trouble. My family, like most in the West Bank, had a hiding spot at home. For us, it was at the back of the cupboard. When we heard there were going to be raids on houses, we'd quickly hide our forbidden books of poetry or flags or whatever behind a false wall at the back of that cupboard.

With these restrictions in mind, one of our first goals at the center was to provide a sense of Palestinian culture to children. We wanted the center to be inclusive, so we didn't allow any religious symbols or symbols of any specific political parties in the center. We had children from Christian communities and Muslim, urban and rural, from refugee camps and from relatively well-off neighborhoods. I also continued to work with children who had disabilities, but we integrated them with other kids in the classroom, whether they were blind or hearing impaired or had learning disabilities. They were all integrated.

After working this way in the cultural center, I even began to forget my own disability completely. I had other things to worry about or work on. One day, I saw myself in a reflection in a window while in the street, and I remembered I didn't walk as other people do - I had simply forgotten for a time that I had any disability at all. And I was happy for myself! Overcoming my own disability was no longer my focus.

In the center, I tried to make students thinkers before fighters. I did everything I could to keep them in the center, or make sure they went straight home to keep them from dangerous interactions with the soldiers. We lost some children - some had a strong feeling that they wanted to fight. It was very difficult. Of course, they didn't always understand what they were doing. But they weren't just imitating other people who were fighting in the streets, they were expressing their own anger from experiencing humiliation and violence.

Not long after the center was established and I had begun working there, I had the chance to travel abroad for the first time. I went with a friend to help her apply for a scholarship offered by the British consul to study in England. While there, I applied myself, sort of on a whim. But it turns out I won the scholarship. When I got the call that I had won, the consular office gave me two weeks to get ready for travel. So for the first time, I got to leave Palestine - other than my college years in Jordan. I studied for a year at Newcastle University⁹ and learned administration and counseling. It was a good experience, even though it was hard.

I felt homesick from the moment the plane took off. I was away from home from the fall of 1994 to the spring of 1995. I got to travel a lot throughout England, and that was interesting, but I wanted to go home the whole time. I remember I had very little money, and what I had I'd use to call my family. I'd spend hours asking my brothers about neighbors I barely knew - old men who hung out on the street that I never talked to, for instance - just because I wanted to know everything that was happening at home. When I completed all my coursework, I was expected to stay for the graduation ceremony and some parties. But I told the school administration I didn't want any parties, I just wanted to go home and see my family!

CHILDREN SEE THAT THEIR PROTECTORS ARE SCARED

The Second Intifada began in 2000.¹⁰ During that time, I had to get around a lot of crazy obstacles just to continue my work. From late 2000 to 2003, I used to practically live in this office because I couldn't always go back home. I remember the first time I tried to go home to Battir from Bethlehem in 2000, just after the Intifada started. It was just a couple of miles, and the checkpoint was closed. Nobody could cross to or from the five villages on the other side of the checkpoint. The soldiers refused to let anyone go back home. Children, old men, workers - imagine, all these normal people who wanted to go back home at four p.m., the end of the working day. Hundreds of people! We were surrounded by soldiers, and I remember thinking that nobody had any place to hide if shooting started. I waited that day from four p.m. to seven p.m. At seven p.m., I was so angry and depressed I started talking to myself. I said, "God, are you there? And if you are there, are you seeing us? And if you are seeing us, are you satisfied with what is happening to us?" Finally, a little after seven p.m., I gave up and came back to Bethlehem and stayed at the center.

Another time that same year, I tried to walk home past the checkpoint. The Israelis had blocked the road with large stones. I wanted to go around the stones, because I couldn't climb over them with my leg problems. It was also slippery, because it was wintertime. But a soldier, a man less than twenty-five years old, stopped me from going around. When I tried to explain, the soldier said bad things to me - nobody in my life has said these things to me. He called me a prostitute. I can't repeat all the things he said. I became angry and I started to argue, and at that moment, a young man, Palestinian, tried to calm me down and asked me to stay quiet. He took my hand and helped me pass the checkpoint. At that moment I couldn't talk. I passed the checkpoint, and my brother was waiting for me on the other side. He took me by my hand and led me to his car, where my nephews and nieces were waiting. Normally I would talk to them, but I couldn't say a word. I knew that if I spoke, I'd start crying, and nobody would be able to stop me. I reached home and I threw myself on the bed. I felt I was paralyzed completely.

I saw the soldier the next day. I had a feeling that if I'd had a gun, I would have killed him. You know, I can't kill an insect, but in that moment, I felt my anger was more than it's been at any time. When he saw me, he began swearing at me again. It was very humiliating. I saw that soldier many times-usually soldiers would stay one week or ten days before they changed the group of soldiers at the checkpoints. I had to see him every day. And every day I looked at him and wished that someone would kill him in front of me. I wanted him to suffer.

One more occasion stands out from that checkpoint during the Second Intifada - I'm not sure exactly when. I remember a little girl was crying. She needed to get to school to take exams, and the soldier wouldn't let her. It's not guaranteed that a child is able to go to school. And it's not guaranteed that the child will be able to come back. Of course, this kind of helplessness has a psychological impact on kids as they grow up. Many parents have told us that their children have nightmares and achievement problems. Children look to us adults as people who can protect them, and when we can't - in many situations, we're scared! To see the child recognize that his mother is scared, his father is scared-it's not an easy thing.

When you move around Bethlehem, it's very restricted. We don't travel long distances. When you face a checkpoint or a wall, you might need to travel only a mile or two as the crow flies, but your destination is far away behind the wall. The children I teach don't have a good sense of distance because of the restrictions. They might say they live "far away," and I'll ask, "How far?" And it's a ten-minute car ride away, if not for checkpoints. That's far for them, because that fifteen minutes might actually be an hour or two most days. Sometimes I try to put all the obstacles in the back of my mind - the checkpoints, the harassments - to try and keep up my energy for my work, to keep my optimism for the future. But when I'm waiting at checkpoints, I have to face the hard realities of our lives. And the children I deal with they also have to face these realities, and before they're even fully grown they have to face them without guidance, without someone to protect them.

THE SIGN JUST SAID "OTHERS"

Back in 1994, just after we'd started the center, we used to take students to Jerusalem for trips, to spend the day in the city. It was possible then. Since the Second Intifada, it's not possible to take the class to Jerusalem.

I think this is the first generation of Palestinians that isn't able to see Jerusalem easily. Now we only talk about Jerusalem. At the center, when we ask the children, "What is Jerusalem?" they only know about the Dome of the Rock.¹¹ That's all Jerusalem is for them. They've never experienced the city - to see it with true senses, to feel it, to smell it. They only know it through photos. I think it's really demoralizing that this experience, something that used to be essential to being Palestinian, has vanished. I think the Israeli government wants other parts of Palestine - Gaza, Jerusalem - banished from our minds. The new generation, these children might never come to Jerusalem. After years, how will it be in their mind? They won't think of it as Palestine.

Here in the center, we try to keep students connected with the different parts of Palestine, even if it's only through photos, movies, films anything. For instance, I want our students to understand that Gaza is part of Palestine. This is my hope for all Palestinians in the West Bank, that if they have the opportunity, even if it takes a lot of effort, to go and visit Gaza. I think it's our duty. Many people have lost their lives to keep Gaza and the West Bank one land. I'm not losing my life, but I have put in some real effort to go there.

In 2011, I went to Gaza to facilitate an outreach program. I was with a German colleague who worked for a German NGO that addressed international development projects. The German NGO was trying to fund a cultural center in Gaza that used our center in Bethlehem as a model. The Israelis keep a tight control on who gets into Gaza, so the permits to visit were not easy to get. I had to go through a lawyer and the court to get the permit. First, the Israeli military rejected my request for the permit, but I was able to appeal and get permission from the court to go for one night. It took me some time to get permission. But even then, I had to go through checkpoints - a checkpoint to get out of the West Bank, and then another checkpoint to get into Gaza.

To get to Gaza, we took the car of my German colleague. When Palestinian workers in Israel talk about the checkpoint, you can't imagine - you hear about it, but you need to live the experience to understand it. We went through the checkpoint nearest Hebron, because from Bethlehem it is the most direct route to Gaza.¹² It was the first time I was at that checkpoint. I can't imagine the mind that designed that checkpoint. It's a kind of torture. We tried to pass through the checkpoint in her car. We thought we might have an easier time in her car since she was an international. She passed right through in her car at first, but then a soldier stepped into the road and stopped us. They checked my ID, saw that I was Palestinian, and I was made to get out of the car and walk back to the checkpoint building a fifteen-minute walk! It was difficult for me to walk all that way with my brace. When I got back to the checkpoint, I was put in line with the rest of the Palestinians. It was around seven a.m., so most of the people there were workers. We were herded in lines through cages, and all around us were young soldiers with guns. There were only three or four other women in line, and they all passed through with no extra delay. But not me.

All the Palestinians have to pass through metal detectors. I failed the detector because of my metal leg brace. The soldiers had to examine me personally because I couldn't just take off the metal and pass through the detector. Soldiers behind security glass told me that I'd need to be taken to a special cell. The whole time I was at the checkpoint, I hardly ever talked to a soldier directly - it was through microphones, since they were always behind glass.

I was taken to a cell with no chairs. The walls were all metal with no windows, and I couldn't see anyone. I stood waiting for half an hour. I thought they might have forgotten about me. Because of my disability, it's difficult for me to stand for long periods of time. I knocked, and nobody came. Later, I knocked several more times, to remind them that there was somebody here.

Then I was taken to another room, also like a cell - just five feet by five feet. Here there was a soldier behind security glass. She was young, in her twenties. Otherwise I was alone in the room. The soldier was dealing with me as if I didn't exist. She ignored me and didn't bother to explain what would happen next. She just sat there behind the glass. From time to time I would knock, or ask her to please search me so I could leave the cell, and she'd say, "I'm just waiting for someone to come." For an hour she left me standing there.

Then another soldier joined her behind the glass. They told me to undress. I said, "I can't, there's a camera." She looked at it and said flatly, "Yes, there's a camera in the room." Every checkpoint has a Palestinian mediator, someone to translate and do chores for the soldiers, and I made them get him for me. This took a long time. Eventually, he arrived and I talked to him. He put his jacket on the camera and then brought me something to put on. I got undressed and then the soldiers told me how to move so they could examine me. Then I put on the clothes the mediator brought while he took my other clothes for them to examine. More waiting. After everything was over, the mediator took his jacket and left, and then I was taken to pass through the metal detector again.

The whole time, my colleague was outside in the car waiting for me. It had been hours. Then, once we made it to the Gaza border, it was the same procedure. My German colleague was allowed to pass quickly through the checkpoint, while I had to go through procedures strictly for Palestinians, not for foreigners. At the Erez checkpoint, we were not in the car.¹³ We had to park, and after you pass through the checkpoint, everyone has to walk through a mile-long tunnel to where the taxis are.

The tunnel was an open-air tunnel, with fencing on both sides. It was narrow-not big enough for a car to drive through. Outside the fence was a barren, treeless security area. My colleague had waited for me so we could walk the tunnel together, but a mile is very far for me to walk. I had to sit on a luggage cart of another Palestinian who pushed me the whole way. It was a struggle for me. I like to think of myself as strong, independent. I do things on my own. It's not easy for me to sit on a luggage cart and be pushed!

We finally made it to Gaza after hours going through the checkpoints. We went directly to the organization because we couldn't waste time. They only issued me a permit for one day! It's ridiculous to not be able to visit your own country. We can move freely in other countries, but not in our own.

After I finished my trip to Gaza, I had to go back through screening at Erez. This time, at the start of the checkpoint, I saw the two signs-one for "Israelis and Foreigners," and the other just said, "Others." You know, it's like they want us to feel that we belong to nothing. They could write "Palestinians," they could write "Arabs," but "Others"?

Going through the tunnel, there were open-air cells along the way. They were more modern than the Hebron checkpoint, but the same principle. The soldiers were all on high scaffolding with guns. They looked down on us from up high and talked into microphones. They would say things like, "Open gate number 2. Open gate number 10." And they'd tell us to move along. The whole time, we could see soldiers on the scaffolding, but we could never see exactly who was talking to us and ordering us onward to the next cell. The last cell had a ceiling and a grated floor. A soldier behind the glass was there. She asked me to take off my clothes. We negotiated what I could take off and leave on. I took off my trousers and my brace and put them on the conveyor belt. She checked them and then put my things back on the machine to send back to me. I waited for them to contact the people who got me a permit. It took a long time. I thought I had already negotiated all the permits I needed, so it would be fine, but no. They made me wait anyway.

I've spoken with some friends and some people at the Bethlehem Arab Society for Rehabilitation. They go through the same thing, the same conditions. They have the same procedure. It's not because of me - they target Palestinians anyway - but they could show more understanding. They could not make me wait so long, or bring me a chair to sit on, to be humane. I understand they need to check, but they could do it without humiliating the person. If this were just about security, they wouldn't need to humiliate Palestinians and not others. It's to show that we're a lower class of people. The Israelis and foreigners are first-class, the Palestinian people fifth-class. And people don't understand why we are fighting. I want to be equal! Equality! Not one of us is better than the other.

Someday I want to go back to Gaza to keep working on developing a cultural center that is like Ghirass. But by then I hope I can find an easier way to get there than through the Hebron and Erez checkpoints as they are now. Still, I'm happy that I passed that experience, really. Now I know what it's like for Palestinians who have had to travel through the checkpoints day after day for work.

ALL THINGS INDICATE THAT THE FUTURE WILL BE MORE DIFFICULT

I am very proud of being Palestinian. I have never thought of living in another country. I've traveled across Europe, but I prefer to live in Palestine. When I was abroad and something bad happened in Palestine, it would be very difficult for me to sleep. If people I love die, then I want to die with them; if they live, I want to live with them. If they face a difficult situation, I want the same thing to happen to me. I want to be a member of this society. When I think of Palestine, I think of the struggles we've had. We have to keep struggling for our rights, and there's no end to the struggling for me - some days it's for rights, some days it's to improve education. We are all fighters. When I do work with the children at the center, that's fighting. When I work to improve their quality of life, that's fighting. And working against the occupation, that's fighting as well.

Day by day, it becomes more difficult. All things happening in Palestine indicate that the future will be more difficult. Twelve years ago we did not have the wall, the settlements were fewer, the harassment was less. Everything bad is increasing. Usually I avoid going to the checkpoints, because it makes me sick - physically, emotionally, all kinds of sick. It usually takes me time to come back to normal.

My goal now is to expand the center - to extend it and spread it to other places. We're working on outreach programs, to reach schools and other communities that are struggling just to continue to exist. Some villages are surrounded by Israeli settlements and are cut off from important resources. We are looking to support these communities and improve the quality life through education. I believe a lot in education if you want to rebuild the nation.

At the cultural center, we try to keep our students as children as long as possible, to protect them. When they reach a certain age, we can't protect them anymore, they have to face the reality of the streets by themselves. And this is very sad. I can think of many times I've been out walking with my nephew, or with other young boys and girls who are nearing the end of childhood. Suddenly I would get very sad, because when they reach fourteen, fifteen years old, they are children under international and national law, but the soldiers don't think of them as children. They deal with them as adults. And it doesn't matter if they're following the law or not. How they're treated depends on soldiers' moods. I use many strategies to manage. My strategy is that I love life. I want to protect my life, and the lives of others, as much as I can. Life, even with all these difficulties, deserves to be lived. And I like to look for nice things. Even the smile of a child, or flowers-I try to find something.

I'm not optimistic about the future for Palestinians. Israel is strong, and the Western powers give them their support. On the other hand, I don't think Israel can continue this forever. The world will not support Israel forever with all their behavior towards Palestinians. One day, changes will happen - history proves this. One day, sooner or later, the Palestinians will have their rights.

When the world looks at Palestine I do not think they see the full situation. If people want to see the reality of the situation, they will see. If they want to hear the reality, they will hear. But if they don't want to know the reality of the situation, they won't, even if it's right there in front of them.

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Footnotes

¹ Battir is a village of around 4,000 people located four miles west of Bethlehem and three miles southwest of Jerusalem. It is a site of ancient agricultural terraces and was named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2014.

² Amman, the capital of Jordan, is a city of over 2 million residents. Jordan administered the West Bank between 1948 and 1967, and many Palestinians worked in Amman during this time.

³ The American Colony Hotel is a luxury hotel in Jerusalem. It was built in the 1950s on the site of a former utopian Christian community started by an American couple from Chicago in 1881. The hotel is well known as a gathering spot for influential people from diverse political and religious backgrounds.

⁴ The University of Jordan is considered one of the most prestigious universities in the Arab world. It was founded in 1962 and currently serves over 30,000 undergraduates.

⁵ Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008) was considered Palestine's leading poet and helped lead a movement to promote Palestinian cultural heritage. Darwish was also a leader of the Palestinian liberation movement and part of the executive committee of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) from 1973 to 1993.

⁶ The Bethlehem Arab Society for Rehabilitation (BASR) was originally founded in 1960 as part of the Leonard Cheshire Disability project, a major charitable organization in Great Britain dedicated to global disability care.

⁷ The First Intifada was an uprising throughout the West Bank and Gaza against Israeli military occupation. It began in December 1987 and lasted until 1993. Intifada in Arabic means "to shake off."

⁸ Jordan administered the West Bank and Egypt partially administered Gaza until 1967. Textbooks developed during those administrations were used even during the Israeli occupation after 1967, but when the Palestinian Authority assumed administrative control of the West Bank in Gaza after the Oslo Accords, it developed its own educational texts.

⁹ Newcastle University is a public research university in northeast England. It serves over 20,000 students.

¹⁰ The Second Intifada was also known as the Al-Aqsa Intifada. It was the first major conflict between Israel and Palestine following the Oslo accords, and it lasted from 2000 to 2005.

¹¹ The Dome of the Rock is an Islamic shrine built on the site of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.

¹² From Glossary -

checkpoints: Barriers on transportation routes maintained by the Israeli Defense Forces on transportation routes within the West Bank. The stated purpose of the checkpoints in the West Bank is to protect Israeli settlers, search for contraband such as weapons, and prevent Palestinians from entering restricted areas without permits. The number of fixed checkpoints varies from year to year, but there may be as many as one hundredmthroughout the West Bank. In addition, there are temporary roadblocks and surprise checkpoints throughout the West Bank that may number in the hundreds every month. For Palestinians, these fixed and temporary checkpoints-where they may be detained, delayed, or questioned for unpredictable periods of time-make daily planning difficult and can make cities or villages only a few miles away seem like distant points on the map.

crossing points: Crossing points are the gateways into Israel from parts of Palestine, or between Palestine and neighboring countries such as Egypt and Jordan. There are currently five crossing points by land into the Gaza Strip, and most of them have been closed or significantly restricted since the Israeli military blockade was imposed in 2007. There are seventy-three barrier-gate crossing points from West Bank into Israel, and Palestinians with permits have access to thirty-eight of them.

¹³ As of 2014, the Erez crossing is the only remaining crossing point between Israel and the Gaza Strip accessible to Palestinians. The crossing is tightly restricted since 2007, and special case-by-case permits granted by Israel are needed.

#palestine speaks #palestine #palestinian voices #strike for palestine #part 1 of 16 #there are sixteen interviewees #book exerpt

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xihe1874 · 1 year

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2k foreplay and fluff, that's my Christmas gift to this lovely fandom and all of you, my dear friends 😊

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Christmas. The best and the worst time of the year.

Best in the sense that he can have a long holiday, laugh with his family (the Bradshaws) and friends, and sleep in next morning. Winter in California is not bitter at all, and Maverick can idle the whole afternoon away under the warm sunlight. Maybe if luck is on his side, Ice will be staying in their shared base-assigned house instead of hanging out with Slider. Then they can have a drink together at dusk and watch the sunset together. He will get to see how the golden colors melt in his wingman’s blue eyes, which is guaranteed to be more beautiful than anything in the world. Ice is more beautiful than anything in this world.

Worst, in the sense that they have to go to the Navy’s Christmas party tonight, which means a fancy restaurant and fancy clothes. And that means a shirt and a bow tie.

Maverick never questions his intelligence and talent, really, but after the tenth time he knots the thing into an ugly mess, he can’t help but swear loudly.

“Damn!”

Footsteps, then a blonde head pops around the door.

“What happened, Maverick?”

In the full-length mirror, Maverick can see that Ice’s outfit is perfectly done. Of fucking course, that bastard is good at everything. Ice is wearing a white shirt similar to his own, a pair of charcoal pants, and a blue-gray bow tie which brings out his eyes. The shirt wraps around his body marvelously, and Mav can’t help but gulp. Seriously, that waist should be deemed as illegal. And that ass.

“I just can’t get the bow tie right. Damn it, I will go to the party without this nasty thing.”

“You shouldn’t. The dress code says ‘formal’ and that means a bow tie.” Ice walks towards him, eyeing his unbuttoned neck.

“Then I will just not go, maybe call in sick, Mr. looky-here-I-am-following-all-the-rules.”

Ice snorts and sits down on his bed (Maverick’s bed, and the said man is trying very hard not to think about this). He reaches out to turn Maverick around with one hand. “Just let me help you.”

So, Mav is now standing in front of a dazzlingly dressed Ice in his bedroom with nothing to distract him, his shoulder still warm from the touch. The blonde holds two ends of the necktie in his hands and tugs at the olive green cloth to pull Maverick closer, probably just for the sake of easier handling, but the brunette suddenly forgets how to breathe normally. He is now bending slightly, his thighs touching Ice’s knees.

Ice is not looking him in the eye. That’s fine, as he is frowning with concentration, focusing on the task at hand, and Mav can just use the opportunity to admire him closer than ever. Ice has little freckles around the nose that Mav decides he wants to kiss. There are some flush on his chiseled cheeks, but that must have been because of the beer they shared one hour before. As he is towering Ice now (which doesn’t happen everyday), he can clearly see how Ice’s long eyelashes flutter whenever he blinks, and Mav really wants to feel the movement in his palm.

The blonde is doing some complex things with the tie. His hands brush Mav’s neck right behind the ear, sending a shiver down Mav’s spine.

“A bit closer.” Ice murmurs, and tugs the tie again. Startled out of his stupor, Mav gasps and stumbles forward, ending up between Ice’s legs. He braces his arms against Ice’s shoulders for support and can’t look away from that pair of pale eyes.

“Sorry.”

Is he imagining the hoarseness in Ice’s voice?

Mav doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just simply shakes his head. He has no idea what is happening, as being this close to Ice turns his brain mushy and his blood electric. He can hear nothing other than his own deafening heartbeat in the ears. Sandwiched between Ice’s strong legs, Mav feels like every inch of his body is on fire.

How ironic, that he will be burned to death by someone named Iceman.

Ice grunts, his breath hot against Maverick’s neck. “Seems I don’t know how to tie for others…”

Despite himself, Maverick teases instinctively. “The mighty Iceman admits his failure?”

“I never did this before.”

“So I am your first?”

He meant it like their usual banter, some harmless jokes and innuendos, but Ice looks up.

Oh my , Mav thinks dimly, his eyes are even more breathtaking up close . And we are really close.

There is something in his eyes, raw and profound, painfully earnest and open. Like all of a sudden, the giant mask is broken into pieces and the most vulnerable soul of Tom Kazansky is revealed, bleeding with every ounce of sincerity. He is now looking at Mav as the shorter man is the most precious treasure in the whole world.

“Yeah,” Ice speaks quietly, so quiet that Mav thinks he must have imagined hearing it, “Yeah, you are.”

Maverick is stunned into silence. He searches his wingman’s eyes for any sign of jokes, waiting for the punchline.

It never comes.

They just stay there, breath mingling, Mav in between Ice’s legs leaning to the taller man, Ice’s hands still holding the necktie. They are trembling slightly, Maverick notices, as he drowns in the endless blue in the other’s eyes.

“We still need to get this done.” Ice’s voice is nothing but a whisper.

“Yeah.” Mav breathes.

“Turn around.”

Before Maverick catches up with what has happened, he is facing the mirror, Ice standing up and behind him. Being manhandled by Ice like this, however gentle, excites Maverick beyond anything, let alone that he has already half hard quite a few minutes ago. He bites on his lower lip to suppress the whimper, and finds Ice scrutinizing the movement when he looks at the mirror.

“I will tie your bow tie…” Ice is pressed into him, whispering in his ear, “... like I did mine.” Ice is embracing him tightly and he is everywhere . The scent of his aftershave makes Maverick giddy, and he involuntarily leans back.

Ice is hard too, he suddenly realizes.

The blonde nimbly ties the clothes into an excellent bow in less than ten seconds. But he doesn’t draw back his hands. Instead, he keeps one near Mav’s collarbone and rises the other up the brunette’s jaw, caressing his ear lobe.

“Ice.” Maverick is horrified by his croaky voice. “Ice… what,” He draws breath sharply, feeling one second away from exploding from all the desire, “what are you doing?”

The blonde stills.

“You… you don’t like it?”

He steps away, withdraws his hands (Mav mourns the loss of contact immediately), opens his mouth — to apologize, probably — but Mav has had enough. So he turns to Ice and grabs the blonde by his perfect bow tie, and smacks their lips together.

Oh.

So that’s what kissing Ice likes, the parts that still function in Maverick’s brain (not many) think. Sweet, tender, gentle, warm. Perfect. Like flying - like flying with Ice.

Maverick sneaks his hands behind Ice’s back and pulls the other closer. Their pelves rub against each other, making Ice moan. Mav grasps the opportunity to explore Ice’s mouth ( God, his mouth ) and teeth with his tongue, taking greedily and giving wholeheartedly at the time.

Ice nips at his lower lip and licks it, and then Mav literally melts .

When they stop for air, Ice is panting and flushing, lips swollen, his perfectly done hair now a platinum mess. ( I did that , Maverick thinks proudly, I did all of that )

“Mav, fuck, that was…”

“Still think I don’t like it?”

“No.” Ice smiles, “You like it.”

Maverick presses his face into Ice’s chest and breathes him in, his hands wandering aimlessly on Ice’s back. The blonde is stroking his hair and he is almost unable to restrain from purring.

“I have wanted to do that for so fucking long.”

It takes Maverick several seconds to realize it didn’t come from him. He draws back just to look the other in the eye.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“But…”

“I just don’t know whether or not you are interested.”

The laugh comes uncontrollably. Soon, Maverick is convulsed in laughters and has to force himself to stop because Ice is now putting on his “what the fuck are you doing” face.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just… We really are a pair of goddamned idiots, aren’t we? ‘Interested’ is the understatement of this fucking century when it comes to you. No, of ten fucking centuries, whatever that is called.”

“Millennium.”

“Pardon?”

“Ten centuries, that’s a millennium.”

Maverick stares at the blonde and shakes his head. “God, I can’t believe I may have fallen in love with you.”

He belatedly registers that he just makes a love confession. Panic arises, but is quickly dismissed by Ice’s shrugging and saying “I am also dumbfounded by the fact that I may love you too”.

Relief and glee fill his heart. Mav pushes the blonde all the way back until they reach the bed, and shoves Ice onto it. He kneels and smirks smugly at Ice’s groan.

“Mav, you don’t have to…”

“Oh, but I have thought about this for so many times, sucking you off in my bedroom when you are in a suit.”

“Your sexual fantasy sounds very detailed.”

“That happens when you gather enough of them. I have a full list of the time, place, and context of our potential blowjobs.”

“Now you have my attention.”

Maverick tucks at Ice’s belt and the blonde readily offers help. “Like after our hop, I will suck you off in your jet, where anyone can see and catch us when my mouth is around your cock…” Ice moans and slows down pulling down his pants.

“Or… you can give me head tonight at the party, maybe in the toilet, all the brass will be outside and can walk in on us anytime…” Ice is now breathing heavily, his eyes almost losing focus, “... after that you will fuck me right there and I will have to go through the rest of the party with you cum in my ass…” Mav brushes Ice’s erection (still trapped in his underwear) lightly, making Ice throw his head back and curse loudly.

“Fuck, Mav, stop teasing.”

“Or you know, some years later, when you are an Admiral and I am just… a Captain, let’s say? You will summon me to your office when I do something stupid and order me to suck you… I will be stark-naked while you are still in your full uniform… Maybe you will spank me too… Or I will spank you?”

“Stop.” Ice rests his hand on Maverick’s head, virtually panting. Maverick reaches out to undo Ice’s bow tie and then the shirt buttons, placing his hand on that perfect chest to feel Ice’s heartbeat (and maybe to flip that nibble and hear Ice catch his breath). “Stop, Maverick, or this will end before anything starts.”

“You are gonna come in pants just because I am talking dirty to you?”

“Oh, babe, I am gonna come for much less than that when it comes to you.”

The blonde’s eyes are all dark and full of lust now. It’s a good look, Maverick thinks, and he is oh-so determined to bring that out again in the future.

“Maybe we should just call in sick tonight. Both of us.”

“Will they… ah, will they believe us?”

Maverick sucks on the inside of Ice’s left thigh and is satisfied with the sounds Ice is making.

“Sure. Just say I have infected you.”

When Maverick turns to remove his own clothes, Ice puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Take all off, but keep that on.” He tugs at the bow tie with some force, not enough to suffocate the brunette, but making him feel the strain. Almost like it is a leash, and that image makes Maverick whine. “After all, it’s Christmas, and I did spend a hell lot of time making it right.”

Oh, isn’t Mav happy to obey that.

#icemav #iceman x maverick #ice #pete maverick mitchell #top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun 1986 #icemav fanfiction

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

what i want | s. todoroki

➳ tags ;; face-sitting, afab!reader, overstimulation, scent kink (?), smut, mdni 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ a/n ;; saw a tiktok + and read this shiggy drabble by @/saintdabi ‘s and now this concept wont leave me alone in anyway. literally wrote this like i was posessed...

➳ plot ;; midoriya sends a certain link in the groupchat. todorki gets curious and clicks. suddenly he wants to try seomthing.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“Can we try something?”

The question catches you off-guard. Not because it’s a weird and kind of vague question (which it is) but because of who’s asking. Todoroki rarely ever brings things up out of the blue. You’re trying to make dinner so you don’t really have a lot of time to think about why. You dry your wet-hands on the front of your apron, stirring the pot.

You don’t bother to think twice when you reply to him.

“What do you wanna try?”

A silence falls. It’s just a beat too long, which isn’t uncommon for him but isn’t what you expect. You glance over your shoulder after salting the water, squinting. Todoroki almost mirrors you, reading something off his phone. He looks up at you after taking one last glance, as if to make sure he got it right.

“Face-sitting,”

You almost fall over.

He says it so nonchalantly, you’re almost sure you’re hearing things. You brace yourself on the counter and turn down the heat almost entirely, trying to ensure your house doesn’t go down in flames. You blink at him owlishly.

“Sorry.. can you repeat that?”

He looks confused. He was sure he said it correctly. He blinks a few times, glances at his phone again as he tilts his head to one side.

“..face-sitting?”

You think you’ve gone mad but he looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost it. Your skin grows beyond hot underneath your clothes - a vague emotion of arousal rolling through you. With your mouth agape, you decide that there’s no way you could continue with dinner so you turn it off and stare at him. Nervously, you cross your arms over your chest.

“.. Where did you..?”

Todoroki, stoic as ever, shrugs. He looks down at his phone and this time, you can hear the constant buzzing.

“Midoriya sent a link into the chat on accident. I clicked it,” ― he says, and then seemingly decides this needs absolutely no more explaining than that ― “It looked interesting,”

You stare at him.

“Were you... watching porn while I made dinner?”

He nods. You think you might lose your mind at this rate but you press forward anyways, eyes looking down at his pants. He’s as soft as can be, you’d know.

“You’re not hard..?”

He nods, again. Looks at you confused like he has some reason to be.

“I only get hard with you,”

You inhale a sharp breath. You think this man might kill you some day, but you’d probably let it happen. Shaking your head, you lean against the counter. With a smile of sympathy, you decide to be straightforward with it.

“..I’m pretty sure I’d crush you baby,”

Without missing a single beat, he shakes his head. This time, there’s a faint hint of a blush on his face.

“I don’t care. I.. really want to,” ― he looks up at you with the most curious eyes you’ve ever seen ― “Please?”

You’re not sure how to feel. The possibility of mishap is enough to make you want to reject him again but he looks so hopeful. The idea of your beloved boyfriend walking around sulking is guilt-inducing enough to make you sigh and give in. He smiles when you nod.

You walk over towards him, only really planning on giving him a kiss. You’d been out most of the day and were planning on taking a night-shower after dinner.

“Okay, well - let me shower first and -”

He shakes his head, almost petulant. Strong arms wrap around your waist as he drags you down to his lap with an urgency he can’t seem to contain. You yelp audibly, hearing soft breaths in your ear. Something twitches to life underneath you as soon as you sit, making your eyes grow wide.

“Can’t wait that long and..I like it better like this,”

Your eyes grow wide. The “this” remains vague but you’ve caught onto how Todoroki seems to like you more before you’ve showered than after. Still, it makes your skin hot. You want to argue with him - about to protest and struggle out of his grip but all of a sudden his voice goes raspy. Soft and low against the nape of your neck.

“Please, my love. I really want to,”

You swallow the saliva in your mouth, mind blanking at the sound of his voice. It goes right to your core, a pleasant throb in your shorts. You’re still wearing your apron and PJ’s. You agree maybe too easily, weak to him and his desires.

“Fine but how do you want to...? On the couch..?” Your words come out unusually meek. You’re never such a nervous person there’s something thick in the air. Palpable desire that makes you weak.

A warmth settles in your skin as he wastes no time, undoing your apron and letting it fall to the floor. Slender, pretty fingers go into the waist band of your shorts and without a second thought, he helps you slide them off your legs.

It’s almost like an inspection, how you’re sprawled over his thigh. It’s all happening so fast - your mind moves too slow to keep up. His pointer finger drags across your clothed cunt, chin resting over your shoulders. His brow furrows at the wet-spot on them. A whine leaves you in embarrassment that he ignores.

“You’re wet already.. sorry to make you impatient,”

The apology is so genuine you’re not sure how to reply.

“Here.. I’ll lay like this and you can rest your knees on the cushion,”

You move off of him and stand to see what he means. He gets himself comfortable, head resting on the armrest of the couch. You blink as he gestures to where you should place yourself. When he says sit on his face, he means sit . He means lean forward so your ass is facing him. The realization hits you like a truck.

Out of obligation, all the furniture in your house is lavish and this couch is no exception. All white and big enough that you could spread out on it without much effort. You know you’ll fit but you hesitate. Todoroki looks at you patiently but you can practically feel how much he wants it.

With a little help, you manage to get into position. It’s a little humiliating - the feeling of his warm breath fanning your cunt. You’re still just hovering above him, and you squirm around as best you can. So nervous you think you’ll pass out.

“Are you sure you want to ― aah!,”

Without a word of warning, Todoroki pulls you down until the full weight of you ends up on his face. Your panties are still on but he doesn’t seem to pay any attention, his tongue lapping at your clit with such fervor you can’t help but moan. The angle from which he eats you hits the spot so perfectly, works you up until your pussy is practically drooling on his face.

You let out a feverish squeal at the pleasure, still light but overwhelming enough that you’re wiggling away. Every now again between licks, he lets out a deep groan that vibrates against your sex so sweetly. Your stomach churns as your hands splay on his abdomen.

“Sh-shouto my, fuck - my panties, you’re gonna get them, hmph”

He lets you up, ever so briefly, just to whisper a hoarse “sorry,” move your panties just to the side before making you plunge right back down onto his tongue. You taste sweet and slight - but it’s better after a long day. So much stronger in his mouth, he can’t enough of it.

Saliva and slick drip down his chin and cheeks, further fueled by the way you whimper above him. He eats you out very often but it’s different like this - you can’t go anywhere because his arms are secure around your thighs and his tongue keeps slurping so greedily at your swollen clit. He’ll stop just to feel it pulsate before carrying on with incredible enthusiasm.

And he moans through it like it turns him on more than him fucking you. You’re honestly inclined to believe it might. His hands that rest on your ass, spreading you apart so he can go just that much deeper. Your nerves are being worked, the sheer stimulation is too much for you. He’s overzealous and shameless about it too.

“You taste so good my love, fuck”

Hearing him speak to you makes tears well at your eyes. He slides his tongue over your puffy clit over and over until he hits a rhythm. The constant feeling of pleasure sparks again and again and again until an orgasm so steadily builds in you.

“Shouto, shouto - baby, please! Slow down or I’ll c-cum,”

He heard you, he must have because if anything he goes that much faster. So fast that you’re practically sobbing his name, drooling and blindsided as the coil in your belly snaps. You cum so hard and so fast, you think you’re going to see your maker. Your toes curl and your walls flutter. A high whine leaves your mouth.

“Baby, no more - can’t anymore,”

He stops but only to speak with an almost delirious voice. Deep and possessive as his hands bury into your hips.

“I’m not done yet”

You realize a second too late what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

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#todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x you #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #todoroki x y/n #prettyboy.thirsts #i literally wrote this in an hour like something possessed me #writing tag #formal

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ozarkthedog · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | Nomad!Steve Rogers

summary: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Nomad!Steve Rogers. Dom/Sub Relationship. Daddy Kink. “Little One” Nickname. Crying. Angst? Bondage. Degradation. Overstimulation. Forced Orgasms. Asphyxiation. Anal Play. Hitachi Belt. Spreader Bar. Aftercare.

word count: 3,057

author’s note: I started writing this last year and totally forgot about it. oops! 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform.

“You didn’t do as you were told, so shut it.” Steve snarled with a harsh grip on your jaw.

He shoved himself away from you just as you began to weep. You let the tears fall freely, hating that you upset him so much.

Steve was seething as he stood in front of the fireplace, hands bracing on the mantle as his thoughts raced. Teeth clenched together in fury at the memory of finding you with your legs spread wide with fingers pumping away furiously in your cunt. He had to clear his throat twice in order for you to realize he was standing in front of you.

He was feeling savage. He wanted to teach you a lesson you’d never forget. He needed you to abide by his rules completely. You were his and he was yours. He’d never had someone he cared so much about and he intended on making this relationship work. No matter how difficult it was at times.

You stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge you again. Fingers twisted together as you sniffed the remaining tears away. The thin white dress Steve insisted you wear at all times while home made you feel so exposed. The fabric could tear so easily just like the relationship you built with him.

But you were determined to not let that happen.

With Steve still looking away, you knelt down on the dark flooring. The wood solid beneath your trembling knees, “Daddy.” Barely a whisper but it made Steve cock his head to the side, listening.

You cleared your throat wanting to speak clearly, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you but sometimes I just can’t control myself.” The admission made you cast your eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. How could he love you?

Sniffling you carried on, “I will take any punishment you deem fit. I won’t talk back. I will take what you give me.” Your fingers dig into your thighs waiting with bated breath for his response.

Steve sighed watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mixed with his lust driven heat as he spied you kneeling on the floor. You looked so delicate. So easy to manipulate and dig his teeth into.

He bit his lip at the image of you writhing around in that pretty white dress he bought you. His blood began to boil.

Turning on his heel he stalks towards you, smirking as the perfect punishment comes to mind. “Little One…” Your head whips up quickly at his voice as he nears you, coming to a stop over your kneeling form.

“Follow me.” He commands and he turns towards the stairs making his way to your shared bedroom. You follow behind running slightly to keep up with his large gait. Steve holds open the bedroom door as you wait in front of him, trepidation flooding your system.

“Once you step over the threshold, I’m in control, completely. No crying, no whining, nothing will get you out of your punishment.” His stare holds yours. His authority washes over, drowning you in him.

Once again you repeat your words, “I will take what you give me, Daddy.” Your voice breaks as you call him Daddy, forever always wanting to call him that.

Steve grazes your cheek with the back of his finger lightly before letting his hand fall to your shoulder, pushing you into the bedroom. The sound of the lock clicking sparks excitement in your core as you wait at the foot of the bed for him.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Sit on the bed and watch as I set things up.”

Steve only made you watch as he set out the implements he intended using on you when he was truly mad. You watched as he disappeared into the closet before reappearing with a set of high heels.

Your brow furrowed in wonder as he set the heels down at your feet before going back to the closet. You peered down at the extravagant pumps, red in color with an extremely high, stiletto heel.

You remembered he bought them for you a while back but they were so uncomfortable you could never wear them out. Your attention was disrupted when Steve set a leather belt of sorts with an extra loop on the bed along with an Hitachi wand.

He walked over to the “play wall” and attached 2 separate wrist restraints to the rings in the wall. Your heart rate picked up as his intentions were revealed.

He means to make you suffer.

His dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before speaking. “I’m allowing the safe word, but only, and I mean only if you truly can’t go on.” You bit your lip as he spoke out the next commands.

“Take off your dress and put those heels on.” He nods down to the red stilettos waiting to be put to use. You stood on shaky feet, slowly unbuttoning the white fabric before slipping it off your shoulders leaving you bare to him.

Steve watched as you bent over, sliding your feet into the heels before standing tall and gathering your footing. The heels easily made you 4” taller as you stood waiting for his next command.

Already your ankles were starting to hurt. The awkward angle of the heels forced all your body weight onto your toes making them scream. Steve let you stand there a few minutes, enjoying your discomfort before continuing.

“Walk over to the wall and place your hands in the cuffs.” You sneak a glance at him before slowly making your way over. The heels made you so unsteady, you raise your arms out to the sides to balance as you walk at a snail’s speed.

“If you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you over there and I won’t be nice about it.” Steve grits with annoyance watching as you jolt mid step and almost topple over. Somehow you caught yourself and made your way to the wall as fast as you could.

You turn around facing Steve as you slipped your wrists into the restraints high above your head and waited patiently. “Good Girl.” Steve smirks walking over to you and then gathers the cuffs before pulling them tight against your wrists and locking you up.

“Now the real fun can begin. Are ready?” He turns to pick up the leather belt coming back with a grimace on his face, his tone laced with displeasure at having to repeat himself, “I asked are you ready, Little One?”

You gasp a reply once you realized he wanted you to speak, “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “You’re going to have to start paying attention better. This won’t be good for you if you’re already starting to slip.” He bends down helping you step through the leather belt and buckles it over your waist.

He steps back and gazes over your tied-up form. He always did enjoy tying you down and making you squirm. He palms at his growing hard on before stepping up to you, caging you against the wall with his massive body causing you to let out a breathy squeal.

He tips your head to look up at him. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’re going to work for it. I’m going to make you wish you never disobeyed me, Little One.” He lets his threat hang in the air as he walks back to the bed retrieving the Hitachi.

He attaches it to the leather belt and secures it against your already slick pussy. He scoffs, “Being in this predicament turns you on? God, what a slut.”

Your cheek heat with embarrassment as he nestles the wand head flush against your throbbing mound. Grunting aloud when he forces it over your clit harshly.

As he works on making it stay in place he speaks, “You’re allowed to scream, thrash about, cry, whatever. But you’re not allowed to ask me to take you out of these binds. You’re staying like this until I say otherwise.” You nod your head in compliance even though you were scared of the outcome. Granted, you knew he would listen if you safe worded but this wasn’t about that.

Steve needed to know he could trust you, he needed to know you’d listen to his every word and abide by it. So, you swallowed down your fear and raised your head, ready for whatever he chose to do to you. “Yes, Daddy.”

Steve smoothed his hands over your hips as he stood to his full height. The way your breasts jutted out from your arms being raised over your head called out to be fondled but Steve kept his lust hidden. This wasn’t about him right now.

He leaned down and turned the wand on, clicking it until it sped up to the 3rd highest setting. Your body instantly spasmed. The strong vibrations were unyielding and forced you to feel the pleasure.

Instinctively, your legs closed together trying to keep the powerful vibrations at bay. The wand swayed in the air but never left your core. The movement causes you to see stars as it jostles against your folds.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to thwart your punishment already?” His tone was deadly. “Don’t worry, I have the perfect thing.”

Steve wanders away leaving you in a withering mess as you teeter in the heels. Your breathing quickens as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly. You pull at the wrist restraints frantically, “Daddy! Please! I’m close!” You call out desperately for him, not sure if he’s allowing you to cum or not.

Steve shouts his reply from deep inside the closet, “Go ahead and cum, Little One!”

He murmurs to himself as he spies what he came looking for, “It’ll the first of many.”

You cum with a wail as the vibe makes you convulse against the bondage wall. Your pussy twitches around nothing as your thighs shake trying to dislodged the horrid wand from your sensitive core.

“Here you go.” Steve says with amusement as he kneels down wrapping a cuff around your left ankle.

You look down in shock as Steve lines up the other cuff to your right ankle before strapping it to the spreader bar. “Now there’s no possible way for you to ease your punishment.” The biggest smirk is planted on his face as another wave of forced arousal courses through you sending you up another blissful peak.

“Awe, is my little Slut already feeling sensitive? That was only one orgasm. If you think I’m letting you out after 3, you’re in for a world of hurt.” His voice was cold sending you careening towards another orgasm.

Your eyes slammed shut as the tingling sensation lit up your nerves and sent you crashing down with another hard orgasm.

You tried catching your breath as the vibe forces more pleasure from you. The restraints hold your arms up so well you couldn’t even move them around all they could do was quake against the wall.

Heavy, pained mewls fill the room as you pant wildly taking every vibration as best as you can.

“Look at you. You love this.” He laughs at your pitiful attempts of trying to not cum. He palms at your tense face, pinched with determination. “Oh, it must hurt. The over stimulation must be torture.”

Distress paints your features as he degrades you further, “But that little pussy of yours got you in trouble. Such a greedy, little hole.” He enunciates the curse word with a pop to your cheek before taking your jaw back in his grip.

You gasp at the painful sensation heating the side of your face as it mingles with your swollen, sensitive mound. “Daddy! I-” Your orgasm starts up again fueled by the assaults on your body.

His fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks as you topple off the cliff with a shout. His hand keeps your face still, pushing back on the wall behind you.

“That was 3, Little One. I want to tear 7 out of that cunt tonight.” His breath hot on your neck as he forces his body over you.

Your body shakes at his command. A ragged sigh escapes you feeling worn out already from the onslaught of torture.

Steve cants his hips up and into your body, pushing the Hitachi harder against your mound. “No! Oh! Da- ” You shake your head as you feel another orgasm slithering its way through your system.

Teeth gnaw at your neck, biting up and down the crook of the soft skin. His muffled moans fill your ears as he thrusts his growing hardon into the toy, in return causing you to tumble down another peak.

The forced orgasm makes your body lock up, tight and ridged as your knees start to buckle and you sag in the restraints. Steve feels you slide down, hanging by your wrists letting the pain and torturous pleasure take over.

“Hey, now. None of that.” He grasps the hair at the base of your neck and pulls until your steady on 2 feet. “Don’t give up on me yet. You still have 3 more to go.”

You stare at him with hazy eyes. Your mind foggy and filled with nothing but determination even though your body wants to give up.

Steve swipes his thumb over your lips before he leans in for a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips as they slide over yours sends a fresh heightened wave of bliss up your spine. You moan lewdly into his mouth as he laps at your tongue.

He enjoys watching your tired body respond to the new sensations. He pulls away as you whine from the loss. “Hush.” He says, sternly with a harsh smack to your breasts causing you to spasm and scream in your bonds as another orgasm is ripped from you.

Your muscle fibers feel aflame as you come down from your 5th orgasm that night. Your head whips from side to side, unconsciously wanting to put an end to this punishment. You’re a quivering mess, tugging at your binds out of necessity.

“Stop it. You can do this. Show me you can do as I say.” Steve says with a firm voice, encouraging you. “Make it worth all the pain.”

You sniffle and close your eyes as Steve blots at some fallen tears rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes just as his lips close around his salty digits with a husky, satisfied groan.

Gnawing at your bottom lip your try to distract yourself from the overwhelming pain burning through your core and dragging you over hot coals. Steve’s hands wrap around your body, forming over the fleshy globes of your ass and grinds his straining girth against your heated body.

“If only you were good, it would’ve been my cock dragging all these orgasms from you.” His teeth clash onto your clavicle, drawing blood to the surface with a sneer, “Instead, I’m just going to have rut against you as your cunt drools all over the floor.”

His fingers slide their way between your cheeks, rubbing tenderly over your puckered rim causing your eyes to roll back, hard. Breath hitches in your throat as you propel steadily towards another raw crest.

“Maybe I should take pity on you and open this hole up. You did always cum so easily with my fingers up your ass.” He gloats, tapping the tight right of muscle in quick succession eliciting a frantic wail from your lips as you tip over the tumultuous edge.

Your head lolled forward resting against his powerful chest as exhaustion takes over. Your will power was dying and you let the tears flow. “Daddy, I can’t.”

Steve shook his head, “Not when we made it this far. You’re not giving up.”

A calloused hand locks tightly around your neck cutting off your carotid artery. In an instant your mind spins, brain desperate for blood flow as your vision becomes blurred.

You tug uselessly at your bindings. Body shaking, ready to implode and cave in on yourself. Your ankles give way and the heels fall from your feet making Steve crush you harder into the wall.

His lips brush against your swollen ones, his beard tickling your dewy skin. “So close, you’re so close. Give me what I want. Show me you how sorry you are.”

Darkness sweeps in as your mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for water. Your body feels light as a feather, no longer could you feel the vibrations rustling your sopping core and your sore muscles ceased their tension as you give into the murky depths.

A warm hand cups your cheek as a deep, soothing voice tempts you back from the sleepy haze. “Wake up, Little One.”

Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in the comfort of Steve’s arms. A wet washcloth runs between your legs making you wince. Even the softest fibers felt like sandpaper as he cleans your swollen folds. “I’m sorry but just a little more and I’ll be done.”

You curl into his chest, unsure how to feel. Had you made him happy? You couldn’t remember orgasming the final time. The last image you had was Steve wrapping his hand around your throat.

You timidly swallow, feeling slight bruises pepper your jugular. Your throat raw from crying and screaming for the last hour. Steve set the rag down with a sigh and dropped his chin to look at you.

“Did I do good?” You bottom lip trembling with hope.

Steve runs a hand over tear-stained cheek and breathes out a soft chuckle, “You did. So good you passed out as you came all over me.” Steve tilts his head towards the pile of clothes currently stained with your arousal. “Made such a mess and showed me how good you are.”

Soft lips kiss your hairline and ease the stress you’d been holding ever since he found you touching yourself without his permission.

“I’m proud of you for being so strong. You made Daddy very happy.”

Your eyes sleepily shut and you melt into the safety of his hold knowing everything would be ok.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #ozzie writes

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Note

Pussy addict zeke constantly needing to have his mouth on your pussy even tho you’re on a call with the general or warming his cock in your hole despite yall being at a gathering 😭

Like A Dog - Zeke Jaeger x Reader

◙warnings: Minors DNI 18+ only please or I’ll cry THANKS. More pussy-eating fiend Zeke, talking on the phone lowkey voyeurism, a lil degrading, mating press, dom Zeke who is a lil mean, a lil bit of objectification for flavor and dumbification, mentions of mating but not too breedy i think, one bite, one spit, some cunt slapping UUHH gets fluffy at the end

◙word count: 2.4k on accident

◙note: OO this is good. I wrote a whole thing and went to copy it to save it and accidentally hit paste. lost it all. I'm sure I looked ridiculous when I did that- red in the face and everything. I'll rewrite to the best of my abilities. Didn’t mean to write this much sorry anon ;u;

Also I’m imagining this phone, the old ones that connect to walls

“Fuck-” you card your fingers through his hair. His tongue is lapping across your cunt. Fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still and in place for him. You think this must have been a long day for him. The moment he came home from work he didn’t even let you get up to kiss him and give him a ‘welcome home.’ He pressed your hips into the couch and immediately started working on your cunt. “Zeke- I-” you can’t help but roll your hips into his mouth. You know this isn’t for you, this is for him, this is his stress-relief.

He’s surely bruising your thighs at this point with the amount of force he’s exerting to keep you against the couch. You let out a sigh and let your head roll back onto the back of the couch. It’s useless to try to get him up from between your legs, plus it feels undeniably good. So you roll your shoulders back into the couch with no chance of escape with Zeke caging you in.

“Seriously-” you are cut off with a moan, he knows all of your weak points and just how you tick and he’s taking advantage of it. Sucking your outer lips into his mouth noisily, it almost echoes out in the room, tonguing over your clit. He lets out a few rough groans of his own because of your grip on his hair. “Zeke- fuck-” he’s pushing his tongue into your hole that's been clenching around nothing this whole time. His beard is scratching at your sensitive inner thighs.

“I have a call with the general soon!” He pauses to process your words. Really that's what makes him stop? But he just dives right back in without saying anything. You grasp at the back of the couch and your skirt that he so unceremoniously scrunched to the juncture of your hips. He doesn’t care. He really couldn’t care less because his first order of business is eating you out, he can care about other things later when your juices aren’t soaking his face. But the phone hanging on the wall interrupts and has you pulling at his hair hard and away from your cunt. You manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp and to the phone before it can ring for a fourth time. This is your job on the line, and you aren’t risking it for him and his stress relief. Granted working as the head of the communications department of the military wasn’t fun, occasionally Zeke would drop in and visit which made it a bit brighter for you even if he was a silent menace, slipping his hand up your skirt one too many times.

“Good afternoon, General!” You can hear Zeke grumbling something from where you left him on the floor. You are harsh, he thinks as he rubs his head, usually, when you pull his hair it is hot but that hurt for real. The General utters a casual response as Zeke casually sits on the floor right in front of you, right under the phone, and plays with the cute socks donning your ankles. You send him a glare which he admits is scary but he is too caught up in the taste of your cunt lingering on his lips and the juices still on his face to care. Debauched is what he looks like, swollen red lips, glasses have long since been set somewhere, hair disheveled by your tugs and a lusty look settled in his eyes. He trails his hands from your ankles to your thighs, bunching up your skirt with it while you bat him away, so he retreats his hands to your knee for now. If you bend too low the rustles of your clothes will translate over the phone.

“Yes General, the department has been running smoothly as of late, though-” His hands are making their way up your legs again, gripping your thighs to pull you closer to his face. You pause for a second but continue talking to the General, you can’t stop him now because it would give away too much and you don’t want to have a conversation with the General like that right now. He situates a thigh over his shoulder as you balance on one leg, leaning some of your weight onto him so you don't fall. He’s grasping your hips in a vice again, bringing your slick cunt to his face, hiding underneath your skirt so you can’t see the smirk he’s wearing or what he is doing at all. All you can do is feel all his ministrations, his tongue circling your clit, your thighs tense and already trembling as he pulls you to be seated completely on his face.

To be fair, you are doing quite well trying to keep your voice steady and on topic, you’re almost done with the conversation, trying to bring the General to a close about how the communications department is running and it would need to run better. But Zeke is ruthless and he is not trying to be quiet. He’s dipping his tongue into your cunt and you are tight, he should fuck you like this some time with your leg up and against the wall, it has all your muscles tensing, all of them. It would feel like a vice around his cock. And having you talking to someone else while they are unknowing of you sitting on his face like this? Hot.

You have one hand bracing yourself against the wall while the other holds the phone, god if the General would just stop rambling for once. “Doing this on the phone with the general? Naughty.” You slap the top of his head to make him shut up. At least he is a bit muffled by your skirt. You can hear the general pause as you hold your breath, “Is something the matter, Ms. Head of Communications?” Of course, he doesn't care for your name. He must not realize that Zeke is under your skirt doing raunchy things to your cunt with his tongue.

“Sorry General,” you look down at Zeke sitting on the floor between your legs, “just my dog is bothering me.” You can already hear Zeke complaining but instead he nibbles your outer lips as revenge for now. “Oh, you have a dog? I didn’t know that.” Zeke shoves his tongue fully in your clenching hole, it has your whole body hot and it feels like it could be steaming, you suck in a quick breath.

“Well, I just got him, so he has to be trained. He’s being bad right now.” Trying to balance on one leg while the other presses against him is harder than you think, you are so close to falling.

“Oh I know how that is,” the General lets out a laugh, “I’ll let you go then, it seems we covered everything.” You say your goodbyes before finally letting out a moan, you were this close to cumming on the phone with the general. “Bastard-” he is, especially with his dastardly tongue bringing you to a climax, your inner walls tense and trembling around nothing. His tongue massages over your clit one last time before you cream on his face which he slurps up in stride, not hesitating to let it all fall on his tongue as you grasp his hair through your skirt.

Finally, Zeke comes up from under your skirt, looking even more lewd than before. “Dog?” he asks incredulously, he sounds offended which you bask in.

“Yes. A dog. In it for nothing but your own needs, hopelessly in love with me, and horny as hell all the time.” He gives you an exasperated look like ‘seriously? I just made you cum and this is what I get?’ but his expression changes all too quick, it has your heart pounding. He stands up suddenly, surprising you a bit, shuffling backwards on trembling legs. Oh no, he’s looking at you with a predator's eyes, darkened and heady with lust. “Then I’ll do as dogs do,” he’s stalking towards you but you can’t walk quite right because of the earlier strain and end up falling gracelessly to the floor as Zeke crawls over top you. “I’ll mate.” You would have made fun of him for saying that but he’s got you trapped underneath him, arms caging you in and it’s not like you could squirm away. He’s flipping up your skirt again but this time it’s to rut the bulge of his cock through his pants against your slick cunt, wetting his whole crotch area as you gasp. He’s nuzzling his chin to your neck to kiss and lick at your nape before biting down, hard. You yelp and try to bring your hands up to pull at his hair in revenge but he catches them and pushes them against the ground. This is his way of marking you as his.

“What did you say? Something about training me?” He’s grinding harsh against you, leaving you in whimpers underneath him. “I just gave you a wonderful orgasm just with my tongue, I think I’m plenty trained.” You must have hit a nerve because he’s spitting the word at you like it’s disgusting. “In fact, I think I deserve a reward.” His voice is sweet, slicked with mockery as he unbuckles his pants just to pull his cock out. You don’t say anything, just give him a pitiful pouty look, you’ll tell him if he is stepping too far.

So he slaps his cock that's leaking pre on your clit, making your legs try to close, but he is quick with it, and pushes your leg out of the way to keep his torture up. The oral orgasm was satisfying but it still leaves you wanting more, “Please,” your little whimper has him looking up with a devious smirk. He stops tapping his cock against your cunt to grasp at your cheeks. His cock still resting against your cunt as he leans over your face.

“Louder.”

You are embarrassed, heated down to your toes but you know he can keep up this type of torture until he gets what he wants. “Please, Zeke,” you squeeze through his grips on your cheeks, and that seems to satisfy him. He’s been hard in his pants since he got down on his knees to eat you out, he is still a slave to his own desires despite his strong will.

He pushes your knees to your chest which has your lungs constricting pushing out all the air that was in them. Zeke inspects your cunt with a sadistic smile, spread open and wet, just for him, leaking down to your ass because of him. His ego stroked, he pushes into your tight ring, leaving a raspy groan hanging in the air. Fuck, you’re tight, as you moan. He’ll ignore your pleasure this time too, since you were so mean to him. You know what this is, this vulnerable position he’s put you in, jackhammering into you like a dog in heat, bruising your thighs with his calloused grip. It’s revenge. For interrupting his stress relief, for ruining his fun, for teasing him while on the phone. He lets you grasp at the loose overcoat he never bothered to take off, it only pulls you closer to him but at least you have something to hold onto.

You can’t even moan his name out properly with how fast he’s fucking into you. Broken off whimpers turn to uncontrolled moans as he keeps your knees firm against your chest. “Hold your legs.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand that you can’t even process. “Are you stupid? All of a sudden you’re just a dumb whore for cock? I said, hold your legs.” He enunciates with a firm push against the back of your knees to jostle you. So you dig your nails into the back of your knees and keep them in a firm hold as he digs his hands into the meat of your hips as best as he can with your thighs in the way.

It only gives him the best opportunity to use you like a cocksleeve, a little fucktoy and he makes that know through the filth he’s spitting out of his mouth. Your cunt is tight around him, the soft plush ridges inside are ruthless stimulation against his dick. He can feel you get closer and closer to orgasming, your hole clenching sporadically as he keeps thrusting deep into you, your eyes rolling back and a little bit of drool sliding down your chin as your mouth stays open with moans. He loves seeing you hopelessly depraved for him, losing all your senses as he drills into you.

He lets spit gather in his mouth to spit down onto yours, dirty, quick, and mean, punctuated with his words “That’s what you get for letting a dog like me-” he serves a particularly hard thrust into your walls, hitting a particular patch of softness that has you moaning loud “-fuck you.” You swallow his spit brainlessly, he hits that soft patch one more time and you are gone, the overwhelming wave of an orgasm crashing down on you while he continues to use your clenching cunt to get off. You keep your knees obediently to your chest as he continues to use you, extending your orgasm through until he reaches his, pushing his cock as deep as it can go before filling your insides with his seed.

He’s panting just as hard as you, breathing not quite catching up to him yet before he leans completely over you, elbows to each side of your face. He is savoring the foggy look in your eyes before leaving a quick kiss to your slick lips. He wiggles his hands against yours that are still holding your thighs until they let go, thighs framing his body as he leans over you, still filling you to the brim with cock and cum. He takes your hands together and kisses your knuckles as you give him a dumb giggle, exasperated.

“You’re at least right about two things,” you quirk your brow at him, voice to hoarse to respond, “I am ‘hopelessly in love with you,” he kisses you knuckles one more time “and how did you put it? ‘Horny as hell all the time.’” You roll your eyes as you become painfully aware that you are on a wooden floor and your back is starting to hurt. If he wants to cock warm this isn’t the place to do it.

But still you don’t feel like using your voice, so you kiss the tops of his cheeks and his forehead as you bring him down closer, to hold him and let him hold you. His weight over you is comforting, soft words contradicting what he said during the heat of the moment.

A moment of comfortable silence passes before you finally say something, rasping out of your throat but loud enough for him to hear with his head snug in your neck. “You still act like a dog.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh until he leans back after leaving a nip at your shoulder that has you squeaking. “Then I’ll just fuck you brainless until you don’t even know what the word ‘dog’ means.”

You give him a shy smile, and hope that is a promise.

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 <3

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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ggukbabyy · 3 years

Text

slow down; jeongguk & taehyung

☞ summary; you’re both fucked up, jeongguk knows you like attention and taehyung is willing to give you it. ☞ genre; smut ☞ word count; 6.5k ☞ warnings; voyeurism (maybe??), slight humiliation if you squint, fingering, praising, oral (male receiving), swearing, slight dirty talk, absolutely no plot to be found, this started as something completely different and ended up as this, it’s pure filth.

Music pulsed around you in waves, the room was dimly lit, people grinding on each other in front of you. A hand reaches for your chin, grabbing it and turning your face towards him. His beautiful face swims into focus, his smirk sending flutters through your body. Even fucked up he has the same effect on you. His thumb brushes the left over powder away from your nostril. You offer him the little bag.

“You sure you don’t want a little bit?” He looks you up and down, gazing through his eyelashes at your face. You're pretty sure you know what’s going through his head and it feels like you’re drunk all over again but this time it’s not alcohol running through your veins.

“No thanks, babe.”

You’re both sitting on the couch at his house party, Jeongguk’s hand gripping your thigh, his gaze on no one but you. Nothing could pull his gaze as you discussed who knows what. He’s barely paying any attention, just watching the way your mouth shapes words, how your tongue pokes from between your lips occasionally, the way your skirt rides up your thighs as you shift position. His thoughts are on you, on what he wants to do to you, right here on the couch. He interrupts you to lean in, engulfing you in the intoxicating smell you can only describe as Jeongguk. The heat of his breath on the shell of your ear brings goosebumps to your skin.

“You look so fuckable you know, like a little sex doll with my name on it.” He pulls back just enough to see the look in your eyes but close enough to keep you dizzy in his presence.

“Such a shame I don’t want to fuck you then isn’t it?” Your eyes glint with playfulness, and by the smile spreading across Jeongguk’s face, you can tell he likes it too. A chuckle rumbles his chest, his head dropping as he considers your words. When he looks back up at you, he can barely contain his smirk.

“Don’t play coy, you’re gonna be begging for it before the night’s finished.” You can’t deny the way his cockiness has you yearning for him.

He leans back, self-assured, and you turn your head away from him, looking straight ahead. You lock eyes with Taehyung who’s just raising his cup to his lips and you can tell his eyes were on you long before you looked at him. He’s leaning against the wall, his friends around him in an animated conversation that it seems he couldn’t care less for, only giving the occasional nod, flicking his eyes to who is talking for a few seconds and then back to you. You tilt your head slightly, a small smile gracing your lips at his attention. He mirrors your smile, pushing himself off the wall to his full height, squaring his shoulders and pushing one hand into his jeans pocket. Jeongguk is the most attractive man you have ever seen, but his housemate Taehyung might just be the second. His eye drops into a wink before turning his head from you completely and engaging his friend in conversation.

When you look back at Jeongguk, he’s engrossed in his phone, head moving along to the music. You nudge him and his gaze lifts up to meet yours.

“I think Taehyung is flirting with me,” you say. Jeongguk looks to where he’s standing and then back to you.

“Looks like he’s just having a conversation to me but sure babe, whatever you say.” He’s looking at you like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Before he started talking to them, obviously,” you roll your eyes at him, but he just keeps staring at you with that face. “Fine,” you say, “I’ll prove it.” You stand up, but before you can begin walking towards Taehyung, Jeongguk’s hands are grabbing your hips, pulling you back down onto his lap. Your movement has garnered Taehyung’s attention once again, his interest piqued as he thought you were moving towards him. He turns back, his attention is only partially on his friends.

“Ah ah, little one,” Jeongguk grumbles in your ear. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.” You lean back comfortably into his chest, one of his hands still on your hip, the other moving up to brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck.

“Taehyung’s wanted to fuck you pretty much since the day you met him.” The information sends a little shock through you. You knew he thought you were attractive, and he did get a little bit flirty when you were both together, but you didn’t know he’d actually wanted to take it further.

“How do you know this?” You ask, turning towards him. Your lips are so close you could easily kiss.

“He wouldn’t shut up about how hot you were every time he saw you, how much he’d give to see you bent over and I’m pretty sure he wanks to the sounds you make when we fuck. About a month ago, when we went out, he got so pissed he could hardly remember his own birthday, and he ended up asking if I’d ever let him fuck you.” You laugh after he finishes and he watches you with adoration, relishing your beautiful smile.

“You have some disgusting friends,” you chuckle. “What did you say though?” He can see the way your gaze darkens slightly and knows you don’t mind how disgusting his friends can be. You might even like it. All the attention you get. He keeps his eyes on yours while he speaks.

“I said he couldn’t fuck you, but he could watch me do it instead.” Your core tightens at his words and the implications they hold. All hint of a smile is gone from your face, and you feel like it’s starting to get harder for you to get a sufficient intake of air into your lungs.

“And what did he say?”

“‘Deal’. He was pretty pissed though, I doubt he remembers it,” Jeongguk replies, bringing his drink up to his lips, holding eye contact the whole time. You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe that, whether it’s because he has information to the contrary or he’s lying about how drunk Taehyung was, you can’t decipher.

Your eyes flick back to Taehyung as you ask: “Did you mean it?”

“Well that all depends,” comes his reply.

“On what?” You look back at him, and there’s a smirk on his lips that has your mouth watering.

“On whether you want me to mean it.” You grin at him but stay silent. Jeongguk can see the way his words have affected you. He knows how much you love to have the attention on you, he loves how you know how fucking hot you are, and he loves that you’re only his.

Your head turns back to Taehyung as Jeongguk places a kiss against your neck, looking towards Taehyung too. He’s too engrossed in the discussion with those around him to notice your attention. Jeongguk settles himself into a comfortable position with you still on top of him, readying himself for the game he’s going to play.

“You want me to mean it don’t you? You say you think my friends are disgusting, but aren’t you just as disgusting for wanting what they suggest?” He drags his nose along your neck, inhaling your perfume as if it can get him high. You tilt your head slightly to give him better access and he smiles at the way your body responds to him.

“See, he doesn’t like you that much, he won't even look at you now.” Jeongguk teases, and it pulls a whine from your chest. “Make him look at me again,” you complain, and Jeongguk chuckles at how quickly he can rile you up.

“I can't make him look at you, you’ve gotta look good enough for him to want to.”

“I always look good enough,” you retort. Jeongguk chuckles at the forcefulness in your voice.

“I know that, maybe Taehyung doesn’t though.” Jeongguk’s voice is placating.

“Of course he fucking knows that,” you reply, and Jeongguk can’t help the way his cock twitches in his jeans at your words. He uses his hands on your hips to pull you down harder on him, and you love the way you feel his chest rumble with a groan at the pressure. But you’re preoccupied with getting Taehyung to return his attention to you. You stand slightly from Jeongguk’s lap, giving him an incredible view of your arse, and your skirt rides dangerously high, so close to exposing what he wants to see most. You reach forward across the table for your drink, trying to come up with an idea that will get the attention back to you, but just before you grab it he’s looking at you. Your eyes light up and your face breaks into a satisfied smile, glad to have his attention back. He doesn’t miss the change in expression as soon as he looks at you. You sit back into Jeongguk, content now that the attention of the most attractive men in the room is on you.

Jeongguk smiles down at you, dipping his head to lick a stripe up your neck. Your eyes flutter closed at the contact, sighing when he blows air on your wet skin.

“Think we should show Tae what panties you’re wearing?” Jeongguk lips brush your ear as he speaks. You nod, opening your eyes to see Taehyung still staring at you. He wouldn’t dream of tearing his eyes away. Jeongguk moves your legs so they’re on either side of his knees. You know what’s coming and you can’t wait, just want to see Taehyung’s reaction to you. You don’t let your gaze fall from his as Jeongguk uses his knees to push your legs apart. Taehyung’s gaze drops from your eyes to between your thighs, a seductive smirk spreading across his face, and you can feel your core burn.

Jeongguk’s hand begins a torturously slow journey up your thigh, skimming just under your skirt, but that's where his hand stays. You desperately need to feel some pressure but you know it’s way too early in Jeongguk’s game for him to touch you where you want him to. You brace your hands on his thighs, leaning onto them so you can push your hips into the bulge in his jeans. The friction on your clit as you drag your hips forward has you groaning, swaying your hips side to side trying to get more friction. Jeongguk’s hands rest on your hips, guiding them along to the beat of the song. His lip is caught between his teeth, images of what he’s going to do when he gets you alone tonight tempting him to pick you up and take you upstairs to his room. But that would be no fun. Well, less fun at least. When you look at Taehyung again, you see all traces of his earlier smirk gone from his face, he’s completely serious as he watches you, not wanting to miss a second. If there are other people in the room watching you, you don’t notice or care.

Deciding he’s had enough, Jeongguk holds you still on his lap, bringing his forearm across the front of your shoulders and pulling you back against his chest, knees pulling your legs apart once again. You're completely immobilised against him, moving your head to kiss him. He tastes incredible, tongues immediately slipping into one another's mouth, both of you trying to be as close to the other as possible. It’s messy and hot, your moves sluggish from the alcohol. You grab his hand, guiding it down towards the spot between your legs. Jeongguk chuckles into the kiss, pulling away and licking the saliva off his bottom lip.

“You want me to touch your cunt while Taehyung watches?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Please,” you breathe out. He chuckles and nips at your ear lobe with his teeth. Letting his hand move forward, he lightly brushes a thumb over your slit, the thin material of your panties preventing skin from touching skin. The contact is feather-light, making you jump. You’d been so desperate for him to touch you there for so long that even a light touch seemed too much. He continues stroking his thumb along you, barely increasing the pressure each time. Jeongguk knows how much you love teasing, how complaining and asking for more is all part of the fun for you, that you’d be so sad if he actually listened.

“I think Taehyung has had enough of you, you know,” Jeongguk’s voice says in your ear. You bring your focus back to where Taehyung is standing, only to see him talking to a girl hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. He’s smiling at her, acting like a few seconds ago he wasn’t watching you get your pussy stroked by his housemate.

“That’s your fault!” You complain, pushing your hips forward into his hand. Jeongguk anticipates your move, pulling his hand away to prevent any contact. When he’s sure you aren’t going to move again, he goes back to his ministrations between your legs. Your head swims and it’s hard to focus on what he’s saying.

“It’s not my fault at all. He’s had one glimpse and decided he doesn’t need to see anymore, maybe your pussy just isn’t that special.” Jeongguk teases, and it just makes you want more of him, more of his hand, more of his teasing words, more.

“My pussy is special and you know it,” you mumble, his thumb finally pushing just hard enough to stop being torturous.

“Of course I know it’s special, baby, but Taehyung doesn’t. Looks like he’d rather be balls deep in that girl than watch you across a dark room.” Jeongguk's face is buried in your hair, and he uses his arm on your shoulder to pull your weight down harder on his cock, thrusting his hips up slightly for a bit more friction. You smile at his movements, revelling in the fact that this was getting to Jeongguk too, he was enjoying every second of this just as much as you. But Taehyung’s eyes still weren’t on you. You’d seen them briefly flit to you, but not for longer than a second, and it made your chest ache with desperation to have the pleasure of his watchful gaze back on you.

Taehyung was trying desperately to get rid of this woman. She just wouldn’t leave. He didn't want to be rude to her, but he was keenly aware of how much he was missing. What if he never got this chance again, and he’d spent half the time talking to some woman he didn’t even know. He’d glanced back at you, could see Jeongguk holding you against him, your forehead creased in pleasure, Jeongguk’s hand brushing against your pussy. It took everything in him to tear his eyes away from the gorgeous sight of you. Without a doubt you were one of the hottest girls he had ever seen; curves in all the right places, wide innocent eyes and tits that he knew would look incredible painted in his come. He’s not proud of the fact, but more than a few times Taehyung has found himself with his hand stroking his cock, listening to your cries and moans through the wall he shares with Jeongguk. Eventually she leaves and he can get back to appreciating everything you have to give him.

“See,” you say as you watch the girl with Taehyung leave. “I knew he wanted me more.” Jeongguk chuckles, focusing on the way your body tenses and then relaxes against him depending on what his fingers are doing. Already he was tired of the barrier your panties were creating, craving the feel of your pussy around his fingers, so soft and wet.

“Who wouldn’t want you more? You look so fucking good spread out on my knee like this, don’t you?” You groan, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his finger dips underneath your panties, dragging it through your wetness. He turns away from looking at your face to look directly at Taehyung. He moves his head back, indicating Taehyung to come over. You look at Jeongguk quizzically when you see Taehyung making his way over, but anything you wanted to say dies in your throat as he pulls his finger from your panties and pushes it into his mouth. You can see his cheeks hollow as he sucks and your pussy clenches around nothing. Everything Jeongguk does is calculated to drive you absolutely insane, to have your insides aching with want for any little thing he will give you.

The couch shifts and you tear your gaze from Jeongguk to Taehyung, settling himself at the other end. Jeongguk shifts so his back rests against the arm of the sofa, one leg bent up against the cushions, the other on the floor. He grabs you by the thighs and adjusts your position so you’re between his legs leaning against him. Taehyung mirrors your position, leaning against the arm to face you directly. Not one word has been exchanged between you and Taehyung tonight but you can see he is hanging on your every movement, completely mesmerised.

“Let’s get this skirt up, poor Taehyung can’t see a thing.” Jeongguk pulls your skirt up until your bare arse is touching the cushions beneath you. You glance around, noticing most of the party had moved to the kitchen and the garden beyond, not many people occupying the space around you anymore. When you look back, Taehyung is staring right where you want him to. In this position, it would be hard for Taehyung to look anywhere else. Then Jeongguk hooks his finger into your panties and pulls them aside. Taehyung’s eyes widen. His mouth waters, picturing his tongue sliding in and out of your pussy. His dick is so hard it’s painful.

“You think he can see better now darling? Or should we give him an even better view, show him how pretty you are?” You wrap your hand around his thigh, squeezing as you watch his other hand move between your legs and spreading your lips apart. You whine as the air hits you, and the feeling of Jeongguk’s hands on you, so close but not close enough has desperation pooling in your stomach. Taehyung’s expression is full of lust, you can’t remember the last time he blinked, not wanting to miss a second. The thought that he’s desperate to see as much of you as he can has you jerking your hips forward, hoping Jeongguk will take the hint. He pulls his hands away and let’s your panties fall back into place.

“These are in the way,” he says before you can complain. His eyes flick from you to Taehyung. “Maybe if you ask Tae nice enough he’ll take them off for you.”

“Please, Taehyung, take them off.” He can see the desperation on your face, and he wants to savour every second he has. He kneels on the couch and leans towards you.

His hands are soft as they brush the outside of your thighs, long fingers curling around the band of your thong. Not once does that devilish smirk leave his face. He pulls them off as slowly as he can, fingers brushing against your skin the whole time. As he gets them over your knees, his gaze moves from your face to your dripping pussy. His tongue brushes his bottom lip at the sight, desperately wanting to bury his face between those thighs and stay there until he gets lockjaw. Even then he wouldn’t want to leave. Eventually, he’s pulling your panties off you completely and you think he’s going to toss them on the floor, briefly entertaining the thought that he might put them in his pocket. But he does neither. Without breaking eye contact he lifts his hips, pulls the waistband of his jeans away from him and stuffs your panties down the front, palming himself over his jeans after he does. His head lolls back exposing his throat, his mouth parting in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you groan, hand reaching down to rub against your clit. The feeling is incredible, after waiting so long for just the slightest touch, the feel of your own fingers pressing into your clit is delicious. Before you can think of where to take your fingers next, Jeongguk is pulling your hand away, pinning it against his leg.

“Who said you could touch yourself?” There was a slight edge to his voice. He never much liked it when you did things without his permission.

“But he just did that! How can you expect me not to touch myself?” You whine, and you can see Taehyung smile at your words, his ego inflating.

“You should have asked nicely,” he coos. His fingers are brushing up and down your inner thighs as he nuzzles into your hair.

“Please, Jeongguk, can I touch myself?”

“No,” he replies without hesitation. You’re about to protest, getting ready to beg for it, you’ve held out long enough now, you deserved something at least. But suddenly Jeongguk is plunging his middle finger into you. The angle is awkward but holy shit does it feel good. You gasp at the feeling, hand reaching back to grasp the long hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head so you can look into his eyes.

“Fuck me,” you breathe. He’s looking down at you like he could devour you, like there’s nothing and no one else in the world at that moment, his whole focus on you and your body. He’s looking at you like you’re his prey. You’d offer yourself up as sacrifice in a heartbeat if only he were to ask. Especially with the way he watched his finger pump in and out of you.

“So eager,” he mumbles. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “So beautiful,” he whispers. Jeongguk pulls his finger out of you, leaving you whining in confusion.

“Bend over.” His commanding tone has you obeying, core clenching at the authority he knows he holds over you. “Fuck, you always taste so good, like honey and heaven,” Jeongguk groans around his finger. As you get on your knees, Jeongguk graciously pulls your skirt down to cover most of you, leaving only a little peaking out for his viewing pleasure.

You kneel between Taehyung’s legs, bracing your hands beside his hips, smiling up at him. You can tell he’s shocked, not thinking you’d be getting this close to him but he hides it well. Jeongguk shuffles closer to you, humming in appreciation as you wiggle your arse for him. He promptly delivers a sharp spank to your skin, partly cushioned by the material of your skirt. Still, you yelp at the unexpected contact, a giggle slipping out from the surprise. Taehyung is about to explode, those eyes blinking up at him, and the knowledge that you’re not going to be putting that mouth to good use for him almost too much to handle. He’s desperate to touch you, wants so badly to stick two of his fingers into your mouth and see how deep you can take it - a practice run. But he can’t. So he remains still, watching intently like you’re his own brand of live porn. Well, in this moment, that’s exactly what you are.

You can feel two of Jeongguk’s fingers pressing against your entrance, but he’s pushing them in far too slow for your liking. You push backwards, taking his fingers deeper and faster, groaning when you feel his knuckles press against you.

“Greedy,” Jeongguk chuckles before setting a steady pace, letting you get used to the stretch before he does anything else. Moans are slipping from your mouth and you’re so glad there’s no one left in the room. You can hear Yoongi in the kitchen telling people the living room is off limits because his housemates are “dirty bastards”. You grin to yourself.

“Do you like that, baby?” Taehyung asks, your eyes fluttering open to meet his own. His head is tilted to the side. Fuck, he looks good.

“Mhm Tae, it feels so fucking good,” you whine, spurring Jeongguk on further. He starts bending his fingers to prod your g-spot, and that’s when you start losing it. He begins slow, but his pace increases quickly and the pleasure takes over your whole body, moans slipping almost constantly from your mouth and hands clutching the bottom of Taehyung’s shirt.

“Oh my god,” you whine, barely able to think enough to string the short sentence together. You lean forward until your head is on Taehyung’s thigh, perilously close to his dick. Your mouth is open in pleasure, noises completely out of your control spilling out and if it didn’t feel so incredible you’d be embarrassed by the sounds you’re making.

Jeongguk slows his assault, going back to the rhythmic pumping in and out, and when you pull your head up, Taehyung notices the sting of saliva hanging from your bottom lip. Looking down he can see the small wet patch left by you, so fucking close to his dick and his mind is going wild. Fuck, you should really get an onlyfans, he’d pay good money to see this.

“You look so fucked out baby, can’t stop thinking how perfect you’d look with my cock in you.” You grin up, drunk on the praise and attention. He can see how the pleasure is clouding your eyes, everything revolving around Jeongguk’s fingers and Taehyung’s words.

“I already look perfect,” you reply and you can hear Jeongguk chuckle from behind you, giving you a few hard thrusts as a reward.

“Oh, yes you do, baby,” Taehyung all but groans. Your pussy clenches around Jeongguk’s fingers at the sound.

“You like when Tae talks to you like that, princess? ‘Cause I can feel how your pussy tightens,'' he asks, fingers slowing as he waits for your response. You turn to look back at him. He looks as fucked out as you feel, chest heaving, hand rubbing himself over his jeans.

“I love it, such a shame Tae can’t feel what my pussy does because of him,” you respond, turning to smile innocently at Taehyung. You can see his jaw is clenched and you almost feel bad.

Jeongguk switches once again, poking his fingers into your g-spot but he keeps his movements slow.

“Do you wanna - holy fuck - touch yourself Tae?” You ask, trying your hardest to keep your voice level.

“So fucking badly,” he breathes, all smugness gone from him voice. Your moans almost drown out his response, and Jeongguk is soon pumping in and out steadily.

“God baby, your pussy is fucking beautiful,” Jeongguk groans, followed by his zipper being pulled down.

“I bet you have such a pretty cock, not as pretty as Jeongguk obviously, but still really pretty,” you comment, eyes flicking down to the front of his jeans and grinning wildly. “No one has a cock prettier than Jeongguk’s,” you chuckle. From behind you you hear a whispered fuck before teeth are being sunk into the supple flesh of your arse. You groan and throw your head back, leaning into it more.

“Do you have a pretty cock Tae?” You ask, there's a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Taehyung groans, his cock twitching in his jeans, and there’s a stickiness that’s starting to get real uncomfortable. He’s desperate to get his dick out, but your teasing feels too good for him to rush anything.

“You’ll have to tell me, baby,” he grits out, your chest swelling with pride at how easily just your words could have him so wound up.

“In my mouth it would look really pretty,” you comment, leaning down and letting your tongue flatten against the front of his jeans, looking up at him all the while.

“You better stop doing that if you don’t want me to shove it down your throat,” Taehyung growls, the sternness in his voice making you rock back deeper on Jeongguk’s fingers. You giggle at his face, but he’s not amused at all.

“Jeongguk, can I get Tae’s cock out? I think he’s gonna explode if he doesn’t touch it soon,” you ask, barely waiting for his confirmation before undoing his belt, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and pulling until his cock is springing out. Your black thong is wrapped around it and the sight makes your clit ache to be touched. It really is pretty, pre-cum glistening on the tip, a small freckle on the underside. Taehyung is watching you closely as you hover your mouth just inches above his leaking cock. The saliva runs from your mouth, over the tip and down the shaft. The spit has barely left your mouth before he’s grabbing himself, his arm moving as if to tangle in your hair, stopping just before he touches you.

You turn to face Jeongguk for the first time in what seems like forever, taking his fingers from inside you. You know you’ve been selfish, everything had felt so good, but now it was his turn. You get on your knees on the floor in front of Jeongguk, grabbing his jeans and dragging them down his hips. You look up at his face, taking in how fucking beautiful he looks, eyes blown and hair dishevelled, disbelief taking over you at the fact that this man was all yours, every inch of him yours to explore, forever.

“You’ve definitely got the prettier cock Gguk.” He smiles and drags his thumb across your bottom lip, grabs your chin between his finger and thumb and pulls your head forward.

“There’s a good girl,” he groans, tangling his hand in your hair to guide your mouth to his cock. You take as much of him in your mouth as you can, not wanting to waste time with teasing - you wanted this just as badly as him. His cock is heavy and smooth against your tongue, hand wrapped around what won’t fit in your mouth. The way you move your head and hand in unison has Jeongguk groaning, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyelids heavy as watches you.

“Yes, fuck, you’re so good at sucking cock princess,” Jeongguk moans. Your jaw is starting to hurt from the thickness of his cock. You pull back, sucking gently on the tip, flicking your tongue around in the way that has his legs twitching and his toes curling. You lay your head on his thigh to look past his cock to Taehyung, pumping lazily at Jeongguk’s cock. Your eyes are heavy with arousal and Taehyung doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sexier sight. He slows his hand so he’s going at the same pace as you, trying to imagine it’s your hand around him. You notice and smile sleepily at him.

You look back up to Jeongguk to see him already looking down at you. His hand strokes your hair back from your face. You sigh at the gentleness of his fingers, but it’s not long before he’s guiding your head back to his cock. You press kisses against his shaft, taking it in your mouth and pressing the tip against the inside of your cheek, locking eyes with Taehyung as you do. His gaze is so intense it sends a shock to your core, sitting there like you’re the best thing you’ve ever seen, appreciating every inch of you. You glance back to Jeongguk who has a similar look in his eyes, he completely adores you, wouldn’t change you for the world. It only spurs you on to go faster, deeper. Moan after moan falls from his perfect lips, nothing is better praise than Jeongguk’s noises, every single one of them earned by you and your mouth. Both of his hands are in your hair, his short nails scratching against your scalp and raising goosebumps along the back of your neck. His hips start thrusting up to meet your mouth, wanting more, to feel the tightness of your throat around him.

“This is almost as good as your pussy baby,” he groans, voice hoarse and strained. “You think Tae would like to skull fuck you? Or do you think he’d be disappointed?” He asks, but you’re enjoying yourself too much to take the bait. He turns to look at his friend. “She’s not all that good at deepthroating, but she’s a hard worker, aren’t you princess?” Just as Jeongguk finishes speaking, he pushes too far in and you retch, pulling off his cock to take a few deep breaths, saliva shining on your chin and lips. Your fucked out expression has Jeongguk reaching for you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and too much spit.

He reaches his hand up, pushing one finger down your cleavage and sighing into the kiss.

“There’s so much I want to do to you, you’re too fucking sexy for your own good,” he whines. You chuckle, pulling him back into the kiss. Your tongues swirl, exploring each other's mouths. Your hands trail down his torso, whining at the material separating your fingers from his bare chest. The kiss is broken as Jeongguk lifts his shirt over his head and then removes yours.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung moans, catching sight of the piercing in your nipple. His hand squeezing around his cock. He’s so close, but he doesn’t want to come too early and miss anything.

“Will you fuck me now please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out as you climb on Jeongguk’s lap, lining his cock up with your entrance. He grabs your thighs before you can sink down, thrusting up slightly so his tip barely pushes into you. Your eyes are rolling, relishing the feeling of having him exactly where you want him, so close but not close enough, a scream of frustration caught in your throat. Jeongguk smirks up at you, knowing exactly what’s going through your head, his chest swelling with pride at the way he has you going mad with desperation.

“What’s the matter? You gonna cry then?” You can hear the amusement in his voice and in any other context you’d be angry, but arousal pools in your belly at his words. The power he has over you makes you dizzy, all you want to do is please him, get praised by him.

“I will if you don’t fuck me,” you breathe. Jeongguk’s looking directly at your pussy, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your thighs are shaking with the effort of holding yourself up, resisting the urge to sink down onto him.

“I’d love to see that baby, I bet I could make you cry, shall we try?” He cocks his head to the side and looks up at you. Your chest is heaving, your skirt is around your waist like a belt, hair dishevelled, saliva running down your cleavage. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight in all of his life. He sits back and admires you, looking you up and down slowly to take in every inch of you, not wanting to miss a single centimeter.

“Can’t you just let me sit on your cock?” The desperation is driving you wild and he can see it, but it only drives him to keep teasing, wanting to see how far he can push.

“But you look so pretty when you cry,” Jeongguk pouts.

“I’m sure Tae will fuck me if you don’t, won't you?” You ask, turning to look at Taehyung. His hand is barely moving on his cock, and you can see your thong tangled between his fingers. His eyes look you up and down before he nods his head. “I’d make you feel so fucking good, baby,” he murmers, smirking in your direction. You move back, acting as though you’re going over to Taehyung, but Jeongguk’s hands tighten on your thighs and it takes everything in you to hide your satisfied smile. But he looks angry. His tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek and he takes a couple of breaths, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Beg me and I will.” His voice is stern and you know he means it.

“Please fuck me-” you’re cut off when Jeongguk grabs your face and turns your head to Taehyung. You’re shocked but a thrill runs though you at what he wants you to do.

“Start again,” His voice is just as stern and you hurry to do as you’re told. Maintaining eye contact with Taehyung, you continue to talk to Jeongguk.

“Please fuck me, you know how desperate I am. I need you to stretch my pussy out, make it hurt.” Taehyung’s hand is tightening on himself, his eyes never once wavering while his jaw clenches and relaxes. Over and over again. Now you see why Jeongguk loves to demonstrate the hold he has over you, the power really does go to your head.

“I worked so hard swallowing your cock down, I’ve been so good, you know I deserve your cock don’t you? Please, I’m begging, I need it.” You can hear the desperation in your own voice, putting your all into it, trying to convince Jeongguk to take you to his room and fuck you until you’re exhausted. You wouldn’t put it past him to finish himself off in front of you if he didn’t think your begging was sufficient. You can hear Taehyung growl, and notice he’s looking at Jeongguk. If looks could kill, Jeongguk’s heart would have ceased to beat at that moment. There’s mirth in Jeongguks eyes and he even lets out a laugh, his head resting against the back of the sofa.

“You fucking love the attention don’t you?” You nod eagerly, head swimming at Jeongguk’s smirk. “Better get that tight cunt into my room then if you want it fucking.” You almost squeal with excitement as he wraps his arms around your waist, standing up from the sofa with you. Without so much as a glance at Taehyung, Jeongguk walks towards the stairs, only one thing on his mind. Taehyung watches you both leave, eyes still on you. Your eye drops into a wink just as you move out of his sight. For a moment he sits there, his drunken mind desperately trying to make sense of what the fuck had just happened. His cock is painfully hard, your underwear is still shoved in his jeans and there’s no way he’s getting the sight of your pussy out of his head any time soon.

“What the fuck.”

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Don’t Take The Money

Poor reader thought it would end up being a normal Sunday but that must’ve been the mix of bleach and Pinesol fumes getting to their head. Or, the one where reader finds out they have more in common with the other woman in Sherlock’s life than they thought and Sherlock has an aneurysm at the revelation. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were just waking up when Sherlock was moving around the bedroom trying to pack his overnight bag. You groaned at the noise of drawers being opened and hangers jostled and rolled over onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sherlock? You’re leaving?”

He stopped in his tracks back towards the closet and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He looked down at you with fondness that so many people thought he was incapable of feeling and as always, it made your heart swell. Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, you relished in his undivided attention.

“A case was brought to my attention. I won’t be gone for long, it’s a few towns over.” He insists, trying to ease your worries before they arise.

Although you’d miss him, it never did anyone any good when Sherlock was bored. He needed something to keep him occupied and you needed time to clean up the drywall shrapnel that constantly covered the couch due to the boredness. It would give you the opportunity to deep clean the flat and the idea wasn’t so bad.

“Is John going too?” Sherlock nodded. You don’t know why you asked, they always worked together.

You turned your head to kiss his palm and sat up to get out of bed. “Okay. I’ll make you breakfast before you guys leave. Nobody likes train food anyway.”

Sherlock moved to help you stand, one of the smiles he reserved just for you gracing his lips. “You take excellent care of me. But you should know, you don’t have to be useful for this to mean something to me.”

He caught you off guard, but he usually did when he read you like a book. Your whole life you’d made yourself useful and you weren’t sure if people liked you for you or for the fact that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. You would do anything and everything for Sherlock and it didn’t have anything to do with being useful, honestly. You loved him dearly and you couldn’t imagine treating him like you felt anything less than that. You couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Omelettes or pancakes?”

—

Your shirt was soaked from washing the dishes and you smelled like a mixture of bleach and formaldehyde from scrubbing the fridge clean and removing the severed head that took up the space where your coffee creamer should be. You had done more loads of laundry than you could count, bleached the bloodstained tub from Sherlock’s latest pig quest, the entire flat smelled like Bahama breeze and you couldn’t be more content. The boys weren’t due back for a day or two so you figured you’d spend some time with Mrs. Hudson when you were done and see if you could meet up with Bucky and Greg for lunch. When you passed the kitchen on your way to your bedroom to change, you decided that this may be the only chance you ever get to clear off the dining room table. Sherlock’s science equipment had overrun it and you figured it wouldn’t hurt if you straightened it up just a bit.

You were in the midst of cleaning out Sherlock’s beakers when you heard the knock on the door. Figuring that John would have posted on his blog that they weren’t currently taking clients because they were on a case, you expected to see Mrs. Hudson and the mop she was letting you borrow. You cracked the door just enough to see who was on the other side and was surprised to see an older woman holding a plate of baked goods who wasn’t Mrs. Hudson.

“Hi... how can I help you?”

The woman in question’s eyes lit up at the sight of you and you weren’t sure why. She smiled and gestured to the platter in her hands. “Is Sherlock Holmes here?”

She must be a client, you thought. Shaking your head, you responded, “No, sorry! The boys off on a case. I’m a friend of theirs. Is there something I can help you with?”

She was looking past you into the flat and you weren’t sure what she was looking for. “Do you mind if I come in? I could really use a cup of tea. And I wanted to drop these cookies I made for Sherlock off.”

You looked at what she was holding and decided it wouldn’t really hurt to let her in, and the cookies looked amazing. Sherlock must have helped her in some way.

“Sure, come on in. Sorry about my clothes... I’ve been doing some spring cleaning.” You stepped aside and let her in. “So, are you a client of his?”

She went to place the platter on the table and you were excited that it was already worth cleaning off the table. “Not quite. I’ve known him his whole life and have loved him even longer.” She turned and smiled at you, seeing through you in a way that seemed eerily close to Sherlock.

You hummed, taking in her answer. Sherlock didn’t talk much about his friends, so you weren’t surprised that you never heard of her.

“Just a minute, I’m gonna change.”

You excused yourself to the bedroom where your phone was charging on the bed. After sending Sherlock a quick text that someone who wasn’t a client was here for him, you dug around in the closet for something clean and more appropriate.

The lady didn’t really seem like a threat and you were sure if it came down to it, you’d be able to protect yourself. You could chuck the skull on the mantle if need be, it was a hard hitter.

When you returned, she was wandering around the flat and looking at all of the pictures of you, Sherlock, and John that you’d recently framed and put out.

“You and Sherlock, you’re close, yes? Tell me about him. It’s been so long.” She was holding a picture that you took of you two in the back of a taxi. Sherlock was on his phone but you thought his hair looked extra good and the golden hour light made him look like an angel so you had to take the picture.

“Yeah, I mean. He’s a seriously great person. A brilliant detective, he’s so smart. He helps all these people for free, and he never complains if they don’t offer him anything. He hates when I tell him he’s a godsend but who else would do that? Um... he’s really funny, probably one of the funniest people I know. You just have to keep up with his humor. It can be kind of dry, but it’s there. He’s one of the most loyal people there is and he’d do anything for the people he cares about.”

It was so easy for you to speak so highly of him. It was like second nature.

“He can be stubborn sometimes, and he can be a little more blunt than he needs to be but... he’s amazing. There’s no other way to explain him, really. He’s got a light that comes from him that rivals the sun and I don’t think it could ever be dimmed.”

She turned back to you and slowly broke out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen someone wear. “You really love my son.”

“Your son?” You blinked, unsure of what was going on. You really started to look at the woman in front of you and you realized Sherlock had her eyes. A complete copy and paste. “Oh my God, you’re Sherlock’s mom. I never even introduced myself. I’m Y/N, a friend of-”

“You’re not his friend, dear, and I’m not blind. Old age takes a lot from you, but I could never miss the way my son shines. And you... you see it too.” She walked up to you, still holding the picture frame in her hands. “You love my son in a way that no one else has. Let me tell you all about him.”

—

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Sherlock’s mom had brought over tons of scrapbooks and old pictures that she had acquired over the years, and you had a feeling she knew you were here alone before she even knocked on the door. Mycroft, probably. You spent the whole day getting to know each other and taking a stroll down memory lane with her telling you all about Sherlock as a kid and how it was growing up with two geniuses as sons. She even gave you a copy of one of Sherlock’s high school pictures that you were going to cherish forever. She seemed so happy to have someone to talk to and assured you that spending time with you was the closest she had felt to Sherlock in a long time.

You insisted that she stay and let you make dinner, but she was as equally stubborn as Sherlock and ordered you takeaway as her treat. You tried to argue but she was having none of it. “My God, you scrubbed this whole flat clean. I’m not going to let you dirty your dishes. How does Chinese sound?”

—

Sherlock barreled up the steps with all the force he could muster in his legs and rushed in to see you, perfectly fine and all in one piece, having dinner with his mother.

“Sherlock!” You both exclaimed, his mother full of excitement and you full of worry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, standing up from your end of the couch. “I thought you were on a case? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been texting and calling you all day! You’re that daft that you couldn’t text back once all this time?” He’s still out of breath and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. His tone is exasperated and you could hear the mix of anxiety and relief in his voice as he’d yet to acknowledge his mother. She seemed perfectly content to sit back and watch the situation unfold, amusement at her son’s unusual outburst gracing her features.

“My phone was dead! And then I put it on the charger and I forgot about it once your mom came, by the way!” You went to the bedroom and retrieved your phone to find a dozen missed texts and calls.

Probably just a client. SH

11:07 AM

Are you sure it’s not a client? SH

11:43 AM

Are they still there? SH

1:00 PM

Missed Call

1:17 PM

Missed Call

2:03 PM

Call me back. SH

3:26 PM

Y/N, I’m on a case. Call me back. SH

3:44 PM

Missed Call

4:13 PM

Is everything alright? SH

4:52 PM

Missed Call

5:08 PM

Missed Call

5:10 PM

Missed Call

5:12 PM

I’m boarding the train now and I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry. SH

5:21 PM

Sherlock followed after you, still without ever acknowledging his mother, and shut the door after himself. With his palms braced against the wooden door, he tried to ease the tension out of his bones through a deep breath as he watched you check your phone. He wasn’t worried about the case at all. It was mostly solved and what little was left John could do with ease. He felt the weight of the missed calls in his stomach like lead and the three hour train ride that he couldn’t curse to defy time any quicker. He had plenty of enemies and you had virtually none, so there would be no reason to think you’d hesitate to assist anyone who came to his door, especially if it was in the name of helping him. He thought he’d walk into a crime scene and he couldn’t shake those images out of his head.

You got up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching to wrap one arm around his neck and to take his hand in yours in the other. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then to his chin, over his eyelids, his nose, and then lastly you met his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” in between every kiss. He didn’t usually voice it, but you had known him long enough to know when he was upset. He relaxed into your touch as he always did and you pulled away from him long enough to pull on the ends of his scarf. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help. We got takeaway for your mom and I but we can share mine. I got what you like anyway.”

He let you pull his scarf and jacket off and you were delighted to see he wasn’t really mad with you. You hang his jacket on the closet door and by the time you turn back to face him, he’s already making his way back out to the living room. Following after him, you see his mother gesturing him to come over.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told Mycroft to tell you I was away on business.” He was messing with the cuffs on his sleeves but his question was directed at his mother with unmistakable intent. She tsked at him, and you began to see even more similarities in their mannerisms.

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, William. I was spending some time with your darling partner here and I don’t even get a kiss or a hug?” She began gathering her belongings and threw her purse over her shoulder. You weren’t happy to see her go.

You did peak up at the name. “William? Your name is William?”

Sherlock groaned, ignoring you completely. You swore you could see a blush dusting his cheeks. In no time he was at the door, holding it open for his mother. “It’s getting rather late, don’t you agree? Father must be wondering where you are. Be sure to pay Mycroft a visit the next time you’re in town. I assure you, he always has time for family.”

She turned to you and blew you a kiss. “I had a great time with you today, I hope you’ll manage to bring Sherlock home more.”

Walking over to Sherlock, she paused to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I know you know what you could lose here. So be sure you don’t, Sherlock.”

Before she totally stepped out of the flat, she turned around one last time. “Promise me you’ll come home soon. Your father and I miss you dearly.”

“I heard you the first ten times. Goodnight and safe travels, mother.” Sherlock shut the door before his mother could get another word and your shoulders slumped.

“Hey, that was your mom! She’s really nice. We had a good day.” You started to clean up the coffee table and take the dishes into the kitchen. You couldn’t understand Sherlock’s relationship with his family but you were sure there was a lot of things you didn’t know. Still, it was nice to have a chance to bond with your (maybe one day) future family. It was then that you realized that Sherlock never said anything when his mother mentioned you being his partner. You two never really officially defined what you were, so to see him not object to an actual title made you feel all warm inside.

“No, you had a good day. I was trying to work a case and clear a man’s name while trying to figure out if I’d come home to you kidnapped or dead.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, watching you from the doorway. You looked back at him as you dropped the dishes into the sink and let out a sigh. You hated the fact that you let him down.

“I have to go back tomorrow to tie some loose ends with John. If you come with me, I have a feeling I’ll get over it a lot quicker.” His voice was quiet but full of mirth. He won’t hold this over your head, and you both know this, but if it makes him feel better you’ll follow him. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth and off the edge if he lead you.

Sherlock pushed himself off of the doorway and walked towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

“So, you’re staying home tonight?” You swung around the kitchen doorway and called out to the hall. You hadn’t even thought about Sherlock having to go back, and you couldn’t help but be excited that he would be there for you to fall asleep next to tonight.

“You didn’t expect me to make the trip back at this hour, did you? Besides, I sleep better with you and it’s obvious that I don’t focus well if you’re not around, Which is why I need you to come with me tomorrow. It seems you owe me, anyway.” Sherlock takes a step back so you can see him in the bedroom doorway, and you can feel your heart in your throat.

He’s so beautiful, you think, all alabaster skin and lean muscle. He’s pulling a t-shirt over his head and you wonder if you could manifest a photographic memory long enough to commit him to memory. Of course he notices you staring, and you almost want to mention all the times you catch him staring at you but he changes the subject and opens the blankets for you and you shut up and follow him. You follow him and you love him and you wake up in the morning at the crack of dawn to run downstairs and order coffee from the shop next door before your train leaves, being sure to get them to write “William” on the cup. Sherlock doesn’t find this funny at all, but he still lets you fall asleep on his arm on the train ride there and doesn’t complain when his arm falls asleep right along with you.

He thinks that if this is the life his mother wished for him as a child, that would be one thing he could take off of his list of things she eventually needs to answer for. Because mothers know best, and when it came to you, she could have never been more right.

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subspencer · 3 years

Text

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

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megumitski · 3 years

Photo

hi hi this is just something to track all the hq fics i’ve read recently! this really seemed like a lot when i was putting this together but most of them are less than 15k. this has a LOT of kagehina, plus some kuroken, bokuaka, iwaoi, tsukiyama, and a few other random pairings. favorites are marked with a ✨!

KAGEHINA

✨ his weight in marigolds - karasuno013 (11k)

Tobio imagined that the petals were soft, orange, perpetually messy locks of hair, and his fist clenched around the bud involuntarily.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Please Kiss Him Instead! - Bird_Of_Dreams (6k)

Recently, Kageyama has been receiving what appears to be countless confession letters. The Karasuno volleyball team reacts appropriately with surprise, jealousy, and bemusement (depending on who you ask). But no one is more surprised than Hinata, who is confused and more than a little hurt that Kageyama never told him about them. But is that the real reason behind his conflicted feelings?

As It Should Be - gghostnebula (7k)

Based on a request I saw on Tumblr that someone send fanfics where "Hinata is bullied without the team knowing and then they find out." I like the idea of everyone (including Tsukishima) enraged and vengeful. So I. Did that. I'm so sorry. I'm also really really sorry that the 'ungrateful second-years' aren't really in this because I wanted them to be but I couldn't find a good place for them, since this focuses so much on just Kageyama and Hinata.

Five Plus One - Xachyn (1k)

Five times other people thought they were dating and one time Kageyama wondered if they were.

The Crown and The Crow - Yuu_chi (9k)

Somewhere out there is your forever one wearing your Mark on their skin; it's just a matter of finding them.

✨ In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments (5k)

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

four times hinata and kageyama almost kiss (and one time they do) - spaceburgers (2k)

When it happens, it’s not romantic. Things between them have never been romantic, after all. They’re too stupid for that.

spoiled - buu (2k)

It's the Kageyama that gently takes Hinata's hand when they're walking together, or rests his head on the top of Hinata's when they're watching TV, or pulls Hinata into his lap when he complains about being cold. Hinata struggles at first, confused and thinking Kageyama's making fun of him or something, but he slowly starts to realize that, beyond all belief, Kageyama is the Doting type.

Thaw - peppermint_wind (40k)

Kageyama Tobio just wants to get through the day. He hates winter, he hates most people, and he really hates getting up for an 8:00AM class. That's when Hinata Shouyou, bright and obnoxious, literally comes running into his life at full-throttle and changes everything Kageyama thought he knew.

Basically, the College AU where Hinata and Kageyama meet by Hinata literally knocking into him and spilling hot coffee all down Kageyama's clothes.

touch - buu (3k)

Hinata doesn't notice it at first, really. It's small things, natural things, like when they sit together at lunch and Hinata ends up hooking his ankle over Kageyama's and he doesn't move away; in fact, he seems to not notice it, and go on eating his lunch like nothing's different.

✨ Routine - someonestolemyshoes (29k)

Kageyama Tobio has a routine. Up, shower, dress, breakfast, classes, practice, work, dinner, laptop, show time. Hinata is a well-known cam boy, and Kageyama is his biggest fan.

✨ Acceptable Risk - Mysecretfanmoments (46k)

Tobio braced himself and stood, gathering Hinata’s warm body close. Hinata’s weight settled against him, strengthening the impression he always had at these times: that he was collecting a part of himself, severed by some weird circumstance. In these moments he couldn’t help feeling that Hinata belonged to him, and as long as he didn’t talk about the impression out loud it harmed no one. As it was Hinata mumbled a little, curling into him the way he’d anticipated.

(Kageyama and Hinata navigate living together at university while not dating. It's hard—the not-dating part, that is.)

hot - buu (6k)

Hinata should not be this hot. Kageyama shouldn't find his short stature attractive, shouldn't have problems with his eyes lingering a little too long on Hinata's smaller frame, the way his shirts hang just a little too big on him sometimes.

Oh God - orphan_account (6k)

No, class distinction had never held much meaning for Kageyama. Until the day he met Hinata. One-shot Omegaverse! AU. Smut is heavily present within this story. Mostly PWP, but there's plot, if you squint.

operation: find out if hinata has a hot bod - day (2k)

Kiyoko compliments Hinata's body. It turns into a chaotic mess where the team (aka Tanaka and Nishinoya) tries everything in their power to get a glimpse of Hinata shirtless.

Hinata is oblivious and Kageyama is stressed out.

well, maybe i’m a crook - aruariandance (7k)

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

5 times Kageyama purred + 1 time he didn’t - orphan_account (3k)

No one at Karasuno had ever heard Kageyama purr, but that was normal. He wasn't exactly the most expressive on the team, and no one really minded.

Hurt - someonestolemyshoes (27k)

It’s alarming, Kageyama thinks, how quickly things can go downhill.

One minute Hinata is fine, at the top of his game, spiking left and right and everywhere in between and the next he is crumpled in a limp, lifeless heap on the gym floor and the resounding crack of his head hitting the wood is still echoing in Kageyama’s ears.

knock knock - writedeku (6k)

“I don’t need telepathy to win,” is the first thing he says; nearly shouts it, to be precise. “We can play it without me being linked.”

One by one, the teambonding practises stop as they all turn to Kageyama to gape. Play volleyball without telepathy? It’s not that it’s not possible, but that would put them at such a major disadvantage it’d be like having a team full of one-sided Kageyamas.

the hedgehog’s dilemma - drunkonwritting (17k)

So when he comes to Karasuno, Tobio expects more of the same. He won't make the same mistakes again, but he doubts anyone on the team will like him—Tobio's grown used to his solitary existence, to the point where he can't imagine what it's like to have people around all the time, people who actually want to spend time with him outside of school or practice. He's resigned himself to being alone, because no one in his life has ever decided they want to get to know him or spend time with him or even like him as more than a casual acquaintance. Tobio's tried time and time again to change that and failed over and over—he doubts it's going to change anytime soon.

But when he sees that orange-haired shrimp staring at him from the gym doors, eyes wide and betrayed, he feels a vague sense of premonition.

Don’t Make Me Walk When I Want to Fly - MissKiraBlue (24k)

"I don't want to leave without an apology"

After Hinata rushed from their fight he ended up in a car accident.

But when he wakes up he's not dead and he's not in a hospital either.

Hinata has to live the same day – the day when he and Kageyama fought – over and over again until he finds a solution where he could get out of the time loop.

he may suck at beer pong but he slam dunked my heart - Authoress (9k)

After a while, Kageyama kind of just...forgets how angry the floral snapback makes him. It becomes a companion, almost. It's seen him through many a late library study session, through feeding planaria and wrestling bean beetles into petri dishes. He feels something close to affection for the ever-present hat.

Oh no, Kageyama thinks. I'm attracted to a douchebag.

(The AU where struggling college student Kageyama meets and very unfortunately falls in love with his frat boy lab partner, Hinata.)

room to grow - Mysecretfanmoments (6k)

Third year Kageyama is considerate, careful, doesn't grab Hinata's hair. Hinata's still trying to figure out how he feels about it.

Dare - majesticartax (10k)

“W-wait! Kageyama! What—hold on!” Hinata cries, kicking his legs, flipping around in his setter's strong arms and struggling uselessly, scrambling.

“Can’t we talk about this!?”

Wish You Would - longleggedgit (7k)

The title of this document was just jealouskageyama.docx so that pretty much tells you what to expect.

"If you don't want me to go out with him," Hinata says, lifting his eyes to meet Kageyama's, "then give me a reason not to."

Right Here All The Time - longleggedgit (5k)

"You were flirting," Kageyama says, sounding bewildered, almost accusatory. His chest is heaving under Hinata's hands.

Hinata laughs. "Yeah, and it worked."

Immolate - Marks (2k)

Kageyama balls his hands into fists at his sides and grits his teeth as want builds up in his stomach and sets up camp. It's not the first time he's felt like this around Hinata, but it's the worst every time and he wishes he could just will it away.

come on closer - skeletalparade (6k)

Kageyama shifted uncomfortably on the bench, fingernails scraping against the plastic of his water bottle. He was trying so hard not to stare at Hinata, but it was difficult. Hinata was a good vice captain, but he was ruining Kageyama’s life.

2-Player Mode - medea_azyungele (5k)

Are you ugly or something?" Hinata asks, with his usual lack of tact.

"Oi, dumbass! I'll let you know that-" but he couldn't finish because Hinata interrupts him: "Let's turn on the webcams!"

Suddenly, a square icon pops up in a corner of his monitor.

Oh no he's hot.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments (75k)

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

a first time for everything - Mysecretfanmoments (4k)

He rolls away from Shouyou, his breathing just a little fast. His body has been weird today, more like when they first started dating. It happens sometimes—mostly when they’ve been on the court together, or they haven’t had time alone—but it feels just a bit different than usual.

((Kageyama bottoms for the first time. established relationship, iltwycs-verse but can stand alone.))

✨ Color Theory - kageyamz (41k)

That’s right, he thinks I’m straight. Kageyama sighed in relief at the answer then tensed up, the gears turning in his brain. Wait, I am straight, right? Kageyama wants a simple time at university, but life has other plans for him.

cheater, cheater (pumpkin eater) - teddy_or_something (7k)

Closets hold many things, one of which being skeletons. In Hinata's case, there was a person where there should've been a vibrator, and that was definitely enough to wilt his erection.

Song fic to Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by P!ATD.

✨ change in pressure - viscreal (37k)

Kageyama couldn’t for the life of him guess what he’d been doing to get so goddamn beat up, but it was there, and the guy wasn’t even taking care of any of it. The pain was making it hard to concentrate during class, making it hard to think at all, and that plus the boy’s overenthusiastic emotions were putting Kageyama in a particularly sour mood, so he really couldn’t be blamed when he snapped something sarcastic at the teacher and got detention in response.

alternatively titled: in which kageyama, an empath whos still just as socially inept as ever, ends up having a gay crisis because hinata cant stop getting hurt.

seventy-thirty - viscreal (4k)

Hinata was the first one to bring it up.

KUROKEN

reddit boyfriends - NeverNothing (4k)

Lev goes on reddit to talk about his senpais and accidentally goes viral. Yaku helps.

✨ you’re the break lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot (15k)

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

✨ the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony (31k)

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

✨ Best Friends - Mysecretfanmoments (6k)

Every evening they walk home together, Kuro smelling of salt and suntan lotion, Kenma’s hands sore from scooping ice cream all day, and it feels nice. Peaceful.

He’s glad Kuro came, after all.

((During the two weeks he spends manning his uncle's ice cream booth on the coast, Kenma decides that maybe he likes his best friend back, after all))

BOKUAKA

tea-stained polaroids - dalyeau (6k)

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

cookies and cream - norio (6k)

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

Komorebi - OwlBeDamned (8k)

When his thirteenth birthday comes, Akaashi should be elated.

Instead, he is worried.

"WWOOOAH, YOU HAVE GOT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING I HAVE EVER SEEN - NO, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING THE WORLD HAS EVER BEEN BLESSED WITH...CAN I TOUCH YOU?!"

✨ Upstairs - yoogiboobi (16k)

For about a second, a heartbeat, he's met with a pair of dark, piercing eyes, with what is probably eyeliner, looking back at him. It really is just a split second before his hand knocks down three cereal boxes that hit him square in the head, effectively making him break eye contact and drop his groceries to the floor.

In which some of the first things Bokuto learns about his upstairs neighbour are the colour of his eyes and the sound of his moans.

steam - orphan_account (8k)

bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

heavy heart, a love apart - drifloon (7k)

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

IWAOI

✨ It’s Tradition - MelissaWritesStuff (4k)

Every year, without fail, on Oikawa's birthday, Oikawa has somehow gotten a kiss out of Iwaizumi.

lips like sugar - ohhotlamb (8k)

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

darlin’, your head’s not right - aruariandance (14k)

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

✨ Bet On It - originalblue (13k)

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.

Something Borrowed - rageprufrock (16k)

In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

The PDA jar - orphan_account (10k)

“What is that thing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, captain. This… is the Public Display of Affection jar. Or PDA jar for short.”

“Now whenever you do something that may hurt our children’s innocence, you’ll have to put money in the jar as a punishment."

✨ stumble into the sun - sunsmasher (4k)

“So,” Hajime says, as he peels off his uniform shirt, letting it fall on top of his gym bag. “Have you guys ever heard of like, someone being turned on by people saying nice things to them?”

Matsukawa slams his locker shut. “Oh my god,” he says.

by chance - crossbelladonna (62k)

When Iwaizumi Hajime meets Oikawa Tooru, suddenly everything bursts into color. The only problem is that for the other, it doesnt seem to happen the same way.

the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate au

TSUKKIYAMA

by any other name - parenthetic (5k)

A Concise Guide to Dealing with People Asking if your Best Friend and/or Crush is Single:

Panic Lie Run

Do you see what I see? - honeydragon (1k)

Three times Tsukishima wonders what colour Yamaguchi's eyes are, and the one time he finds out.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw (2k)

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team. No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

Baby, this is how it all goes down - psych0tastic (7k)

In the midst of revising for a class test over at Yamaguchi’s place one night, Tsukki suddenly spoke up and said, “I'd like to bottom the next time we have sex."

OTHER

Rewards Program - surveycorpsjean (8k) - bokuroaka

Akaashi enjoys his normal life, as a normal grocery checker, at a normal grocery store.

Of course, it all goes up in flames when two hot as hell college kids dump their items on the conveyor belt.

Donuts. Glue. Donut holes.

And that's only the beginning.

Edelweiss - ostentatiouslyrealistic (6k) - semi/tendou

Hanahaki Disease (n.) An illness bred from unrequited love, where the victim suffers from coughing up flower petals.

Sympathy From a Lost Boy - meraki_drabbles (11k) - ushiten

The figure was hollow-cheeked and gauntly, with prominent eyelids bulging out under thin raised eyebrows, casting a shadow over irises that Wakatoshi couldn't decide the colour of, but rather processed them as a strange mix of crimson and ruby and scarlet dripped against a mahogany canvas.

"Sorry, am I intruding?

#hq fic rec #fic rec #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic rec #bokuaka #kagehina #kuroken #iwaoi #tsukiyama

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #ellesgreenawaybookclub

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beforeoursunsets · 3 years

Note

aud. i'm so obsessed with literally EVERYTHING on your masterlist. ugh chefs kiss af. as for the request: since i haven't seen this trope on your account yet, what about some good ole amnesia? like one day draco gets wiped OUT by a bludger, wakes up, and forgets being in love with the reader. i just know you'd do this justice ILY

Amnesia - d.m

a/n: hiiii anon! tysm for the love you are so kind and i hope i didn't totally butcher this request!!! also im too tired to come up with an original title,, lol enjoy <33

house: slytherin

word count: 1.7k

warnings: just amnesia but idk if that counts, oh and a sorta open ending dont kill me

-----

You almost fell out of your seat, a cry escaping you as Draco plummeted nearly fifteen meters to the grass below. The astounding crack and thud sent the entire stadium quiet, Madam Hooch and her surrounding professors racing to the unconscious blond.

“Is he…” Pansy breathed, “...alive?”

Concern, etched on both of your faces, felt like a complete understatement compared to how you actually felt about the incident. Grabbing the coat you’d almost left behind, Parkinson followed along as you went straight for the infirmary.

Minutes later she had to slow down, unable to keep up with your running pace. Once she was finally able to catch up, Pansy found you bickering with Madam Pomfrey, begging her to let you inside the hospital wing.

“No you listen,” The matron scowled, “you can visit him tomorrow morning. Mr. Malfoy needs ample time to rest.” She said with finality.

You gave up, irritably walking towards your panting friend while dragging her back in the direction she had just come from. Tears stained your cheeks, but the weeping was gone momentarily, replaced with newfound disdain for Madam Pompfrey.

“She won’t tell me anything.” You complained, pacing in the Slytherin common room. “From what I know they could be embalming him right now!”

“Y/N, I think we both just need to relax right now. I don’t think Draco’s dead,” Pansy reassured you. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

After a long night of restless tossing and turning, you were out of bed the minute the sun rose. Thankfully it was a Saturday, and with no classes to attend you could spend the entire day in the hospital wing. Once you were inside, she would have to drag you out of there herself.

You pulled one of your boyfriend’s sweaters, holding it close to you as the cold morning air nipped your skin. With your best friend at your side, you pushed open the infirmary door, eyes searching for the injured boy.

Madam Pomfrey motioned for you to stay quiet, narrowing in her eyes as she did so.

You found Draco quickly, as he was the only other student in the room. His arm and left leg were bandaged up, his neck in a brace to hold it steady. The mere sight of him made your knees grow heavy, threatening to send you to the ground if you weren’t clutching onto his bed.

Pansy put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, “Hey, look, he’s waking up.” She whispered.

Slowly, his eyes opened, grimacing at the room’s lighting. Draco looked down at his hand entwined with yours, hesitantly recoiling it.

“Pansy? What’s going on?” He asked, his voice raspy.

You were almost taken aback. Never had you been insecure about his friendship with Parkinson, but it was like he didn’t even see you standing beside him. She looked almost uncomfortable, dealt with his awkward inquiry.

“One of the Ravenclaw beaters took you down with a bludger…” She prompted, trying to kickstart his recollection of last night’s quidditch game.

“Oh.” He responded simply.

“Are you serious?” You cut in, “You almost died and that’s the best you can say?”

Draco had finally made eye contact, looking back at you incredulously, “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“And why is L/N even here?” He asked Pansy, turning away from you.

The matron picked up on the conversation, now concerned herself. “Miss L/N, I think it’s best for you to leave.”

“Of course I’m here, I’m your girlf--”

“I said, I think it’s best for you to leave.” She reiterated.

You were utterly confused, sending Pansy a look of near despair. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Leave. Now.”

After you had begrudgingly left the hospital wing, Pansy stayed behind as requested by Madam Pomfrey. Draco had seemed to recognize his friend, unlike you, who had only befuddled him.

She pulled your friend to the side, beginning to explain Draco’s condition now that you were out of sight. “I’m starting to believe that Mr. Malfoy here has suffered a brain injury after his fall. For how long have he and Miss L/N been together?” She inquired.

“Over a year,” She responded quickly.

Returning to his bedside, Madam Pomfrey began asking Draco a series of questions, trying to pinpoint how far his memory had recoiled. “What year are you in?”

“Fourth, obviously.” He drawled, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“And what was the last thing you remember?” She prodded.

“The goblet of fire,” Draco responded, “bloody Potter managed to cheat the damn thing.” He spat.

Pansy looked at Madam Pomfrey with concern, that had happened two years ago.

“Would anyone care to explain what bludger you’ve been blabbering about? And why has L/N stolen my jumper? Can someone tell me what’s going on!” Draco quickly grew frustrated by the women’s secretive conversations, demanding answers at once.

“Draco,” She began, “you’re a sixth year--and Y/N--she’s your girlfriend.”

-----

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember me?” You cried out in exasperation.

“He knows who you are,” Pansy explained, “he just has no memory of your relationship. It’s like he’s still a fifteen year old.”

Never had you imagined Draco could forget you so suddenly, so entirely. It was like one of your worst nightmares had sprung to life. “I need to talk to him.” You responded, getting off your bed.

He had been released from the hospital a few hours prior, now on strict bedrest. You knew he’d be in his room, and luckily, you had a key.

Unlocking his bedroom door, you knocked on the oak wood as it slowly creaked open, signalling that someone was there. “Draco?”

He was laying on top of his comforter, nose buried in his journal. Clearly he was trying to piece together the last two years of his life, your life together. You had hoped that something in there could possibly trigger his memory, a hope that would only set you up for disappointment.

“You can come in,” He spoke gruffly, his eyes still trained on the ivory pages littered with his handwriting.

You sat at the edge of his bed, the distance between him and you feeling so foreign. “I write about you a lot.” He almost chuckles, scanning one last entry.

“You really don’t remember?”

He shook his head regretfully, “No, I don’t.” He apologized, “But I really wish I did, honest. From what it looks like, I was seriously in love with you.”

I was, his voice repeated in your head. Who would’ve thought that one sentence could pierce your heart so deeply. “If it helps--” Draco piped up.

“I still fancy you, even now--or back then--I don’t really know how to talk about it.” He rambled, somehow eliciting a small laugh from you.

“Well I’m just happy to hear you confirm it, I’ve always had my suspicions about our timeline.” You smiled softly, the air filled with a bittersweet tension.

“You know, I can come back.” Getting back on your feet, you went for the door, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

Draco held a hand out to stop you, softly closing the journal to his left. “No, don’t go.” He pleaded, “I have so many questions.”

You sighed, tentatively sitting back down a few feet away. He cleared his throat, and by the look on his face Draco was actively trying to pull back a memory, any sort of recollection of you he could muster.

“How did it, you know, happen? Us, I mean.” He asked after a moment.

Fighting a smile, you replied with “Well, you and I both know we had fought since the moment you stepped foot in the common room, it wasn’t just two years ago.”

“How could I forget?”

“At the end of our fifth year you got into a bit of a tussle with Cormac again, something about how you were the only one allowed to bully me.” You laughed, “After that, I had my own personal bodyguard--on the rare occasions you were being decent.”

“People were messing with you? Why?” He asked, suddenly concerned.

“There were a lot of rumors going ‘round back then, most of them about my romantic affairs.” Rolling your eyes, you added “All about you, of course.”

Draco’s fallen smile was back and brighter than before, “Nice to know I’ve always been a nuance.”

“It wasn’t always that way.” You clarified, “We had some really good times, and no one--not even Pansy or Blaise--expected you to be such a romantic.”

He sighed, “I just wish I could remember it. It’s all there, I know it is, but no matter how hard I try the memories stay locked up somewhere.”

You moved closer, placing a hand over his, “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure they’ll come back sooner than later. Besides, I won your heart once, I have full confidence that I can do it again.”

“Did the part where I mentioned my current massive crush on you just fly right over your head?”

“How could I forget?” You mimicked, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Draco, your fall had us all freaked out.”

“Is it weird?” He asked out of the blue, “Talking to me?”

You thought about his question for a moment, as there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe exactly how it all felt. “It is weird, I suppose. Honestly, if anything I’m scared, scared that your feelings for me won’t be the same after the accident. I have all these memories of the last year with you and the only thing left of them is that journal of yours.”

“Believe me, I’ve read it.” He assured you, “The moment Madam Pomfrey released me I was practically glued to it.” Draco finally pulled you into a hug, the long awaited embrace feeling like a weight being lifted off your chest.

“It's awful to say, but I feel so lucky right now.” He mumbled into your hair, “I’m experiencing you all over again.”

taglist (link in my bio/nav if you want to be added): @gwlvr @thatsassyhufflepuff @dracoswhore007 @eunoniaa @darlingmalfoy @dracoscene

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

Text

Hands

a/n: a friend sent me this tiktok and i have not stopped thinking about it so ofc i dragged maya into my bullshit (she was a huge help for akaashi). s/o to @saetyrn9 for being a godsend and supplying me with this advice so i could write tobio <3

notes: these are all separate pairings. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: various - daichi, kuroo, kageyama, akaashi, bokuto, suga x fem!reader | genre: spice & fluff | warnings: pet names; spicy; in some, reader has enough hair to be tucked/pulled on | word count: 2,444 total

Daichi chuckled low and dark, the sound rumbling in his throat. You pressed your thighs together in anticipation as he reached towards your face. You continued to stare at him though your defiance was beginning to waver at the glint in his eyes.

His hand lightly scraped against your cheek, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled at you, unnerving and exciting all at once. Daichi then slid his hand down until his thumb rested on your chin, the rest of his fingers curling around it.

“Are you finished, pretty girl?”

Your heart frantically beats out of your chest and, despite that, you smile wickedly. You tilt your chin down just enough to pop his huge thumb into your mouth, sucking it down and swirling your tongue around it. His eyes rolled back as he groaned.

You pulled back so that his thumb slid out, going back to resting on your chin. The movement left behind a delicious shining trail, your lips looking even more devilishly tantalizing.

Daichi chuckled again, sounding more strained as he opened his eyes only to meet your cheeky smile in return. Once your gazes met, your own smirk widened, Daichi’s own only growing.

“Oh,” he warned, squeezing tighter around your chin, grinning at the way you audibly gulp, “you’ve done it now, princess.”

Kuroo Tetsurou was an absolutely chaotic ride. One minute, he was being the absolute biggest dork, cracking stupidly delightful puns, the next he was what you could only describe as unbearably sexy, and the next he was so refreshingly serious and vulnerable. Tetsurou was colorful and lovely and warm and funny and handsome and compassionate and diligent. He was so in tune with you, always willing to match whatever level you were at. He flowed and ebbed like water. You were pretty sure you depended on him like he was, and he you.

And because Tetsurou was so well acquainted and well versed in you, he knew from the moment he stepped in the door and saw you that something was off. You were washing dishes, a chore that you hated. Tetsurou usually was the one to do it since he didn’t mind it and you would do the laundry since he despised that chore. It was a trade off and one that worked well. The only time you would ever do the dishes was when you were overwhelmed and simply needed something methodical to take your mind off things.

After slipping off his shoes, Tetsurou slid behind you, slowly loosely wrapping his arms around your waist, giving you plenty of time to shy away from him if you wanted. But once he was encircling you, you immediately melted into his embrace, leaning into his face when he hooked his chin over your shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Bad day?”

You sighed, whimpering almost, in response.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head gently, reaching over to unplug the drain. Wiping your hands on a towel, you turned around in Tetsurou’s hold, hands fluttering to his arms. You bit your lip, embarrassment flushing your cheeks as you looked at the space between you so as to not have to directly face Tetsurou. “Can you just help me forget about it?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened, a little surprised at the request. But his mouth grew into a soft grin, his eyes melting to a place of care and desire. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, leaning down to kiss a spot right next to it as he did. He gently kissed the corners of your eyes, too, as red and tired as they looked. When your mouths finally met, the kiss was slow and passionate and loving and eager all at once. It didn’t really make sense but your tongues were dancing like they knew the rhythm anyways.

Molten heat began swirling at the unmistakably loving way Tetsurou was kissing you. He felt the same stir in him as he pulled away, looking equally as dazed as you felt. With a few blinks, the glaze of his eyes swirled to a more solidified darkness. His hand that had slipped to the small of your back gently tugged your hips closer, the other hand caressing your face. He stroked his thumb over your cheek before sliding his hand to gently grip either side of your face.

And in the most loving, tender, gentle voice, Tetsurou whispered against your lips: “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name.” And he sealed his promise with a chaste kiss.

You tried to feel bad about how much of a devil you could be, but teasing Tobio was just so addictive, the rush it gave you might as well have been some kind of drug, thrilling as it was. Though Tobio was quite perceptive in the middle of a game, he always needed a bit of a nudge in the right direction to catch onto your teasing. But, after being with him for so long, you became a natural in nudging him right where you wanted him.

You had purposely waited for some formal charity event that you and Tobio couldn’t afford to be running late to. In getting ready for the event, you had slipped into a lacy set, a beautiful deep blue to compliment the color of Tobio’s eyes. Feigning ignorant innocence, you walked into your living room, presenting Tobio with two choices to pick for the formal event. He had only stared at you, a blush quickly rising to his cheeks as you shrugged and slipped into the option that had a tasteful but rather high slit.

The rest of the night he kept glancing at you and his face would heat up all over again, remembering exactly what it was that you were teasingly wearing underneath. You had done everything you could think of to tease him. Leaning too much into your chin, the neckline of your dress shifting precariously. Moving your hand to your throat, squeezing when you knew he was looking. A few times when he was across the room you had crossed your legs, ‘accidentally’ letting the slit fall open to reveal the garters sitting snugly around your thighs. Once you had even slipped a finger in between the garter and your thigh, pulling and letting it snap back against your skin.

But the last straw for Tobio had been when you slid into the seat next to him while he was talking to some important businesswoman or other, innocent dazzling smile sitting prettily on your lips. You had taken his large hand into yours, gently placing it on your thigh. Hidden by the overhang of the table cloth and the distraction of the conversation, you had inched his hand up, over the garter until it eventually cupped you, his fingers meeting the intricate patterns of the intriguing swirl of lace and the wetness they were holding.

It was no wonder that you found yourself now with his large hand wrapped around your jaw, fingers and thumb digging painfully into the sides of your face.

He used the deliciously sinful grip that he had on your face to shove you against the wall of the entryway of your shared apartment. Even through his lustful fury, what really got him was how, in the depths of your gorgeous eyes, even now pressed up against the wall held by his larger strength, Tobio saw nothing but love, trust, and adoration. In his eyes, he saw that you were truly his for the taking. And he was yours.

Tobio jerked your face, forcing you to look at him. “If you wanna play, princess,” he squeezed possessively, and on instinct you opened your mouth. Tobio grinned, leaning on his forearm above you, staring you down, his own eyes mirroring all of the emotions found in yours. “Then we are going to play.”

It was, regrettably, rather easy for you to become lost in thought. You didn’t ever mean to lose focus, sometimes your mind would drift off, carrying you to some faraway place or memory.

Fortunately, however, Akaashi Keiji was used to his girlfriend’s mind wandering. He found it rather endearing that way that you could be present in one moment and adrift the next. It didn’t happen too often, only every now and then, enough to warrant it a recurring issue.

Keiji was at the sink, cleaning the dishes used for dinner that night while you were sitting at the table, sifting through the small stack of mail there. He was talking to you, telling you about the latest panels that he was excited to be working on, though frustrated with how slow he seemed to be going compared to his usual pace.

“Maybe it’s because there’s not enough caffeine in my coffee,” he joked, briefly glancing over his shoulder to watch you laugh knowingly with him as you both well understood that the amount of caffeine Keiji consumed was probably a borderline addiction. Only, you were busy staring blankly through the mail in your hand. Keiji smiled at the sight. “Love?” he called, not really expecting any kind of response. And sure enough, you were still as lost as ever.

Keiji wiped his hands on the towel kept by the sink, crossing to stand in front of you. He braced himself on the back of a chair, slightly leaning forward as he innocently lifted your chin with his finger, tugging to get you to look at him. “Angel, did you even hear a word I said?”

Despite his gentle tone and small touch, you seemed to be jerked back into reality. You looked down from the finger on your chin, to Keiji’s blue eyes and not a moment later, you were shifting in your seat, flustered and at a loss for words. Keiji quirks an eyebrow, wondering what could have you so hot and bothered until he remembers certain events the previous evening. The room had been dark and so very hot, filled with the music of both of your pants and moans. You had clung to him like your life had depended on it, face fallen open into wanton bliss, messy and without a care in the world. The scratches you had left on his back suddenly flared with the memory.

As he looked into your eyes, ever perceptive, he could see the familiar glaze ringing the edges and immediately understood what place your mind had taken you to. Keiji smirked, fully prepared to bring his angel another moment to occupy her pretty little mind.

When you first got together, you wondered if Koutarou was simply too big. The man was big, massive even. He always made you feel so small, his hands wrapping around your waist, covering a lot of ground. When he would come up behind you to wrap his arms around you in a giant loving hug, he would always curl over you, resting his head atop yours. And though he made you feel so small physically -- he couldn’t help it, afterall, he was just big -- he always, always made you feel like the world to him.

Even now, loving you so gently, he reminded you of the large part you occupied in his world. He didn’t even need words to do it. Koutarou was always so wonderfully and delightfully expressive, deliciously so in moments like these.

You were in his lap, nothing but an old worn shirt of his drowning you in fabric, the probably unflattering shorts that you wore around the apartment hastily discarded somewhere. You had your hands hanging off of his shoulders, lazily crossed at the wrists. Your legs were wrapped around him much in the same way as he held you, hands loose around your waist. The kisses passing between you were passionate yet soft, heated yet full of the tenderness that Koutarou always treated you with. Even when you asked him to be anything but gentle, he always found a way to slip it in, a small yet significant reminder of his utter love and adoration for you.

He rolled his hips up into you, the particular motion pulling a whimper from your lips. You could feel Koutarou smile into the next kiss. His hands trailed from your waist, squeezing playfully as he went up, both of you giggling into each other. After a few pinches along the way, Koutarou’s hands rested on either side of your face. The look in his eyes made you still, being helplessly drawn into the stars there. His eyes shone, bright and vibrant and full of the excitement that you felt with him everyday. His thumbs rubbed into your face as he searched your gaze, a gentle smile resting peacefully on his lips.

“You’re my everything. I love you so, so much. Let me show how true that is.”

Koushi’s voice was beautiful. It was so soothing. Any other time you would love to listen to him read to you if only for the chance to hear his voice.

But now, with your wrists tied to your ankles, your legs spread wide open and trembling, and just an overall overstimulated mess, you swore you were going to kill him the next time you could form a coherent sentence.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at another vibration, fresh tears streaming down your face.

Koushi must have noticed, his voice pausing.

You knew you must have looked ridiculous. Old tears having already dried in streaks down your face, new ones gently adding fresh paths. Your mouth was open, tongue almost lolling out. Maybe it was. You really couldn’t tell, you were so lost in your own head. You honestly didn’t really even notice Koushi had stopped reading aloud, only processing it when he clicked his tongue.

“You know, if you keep spacing out, you’ll never learn. And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?”

You couldn’t do much more than nod your head forward, your neck having given up on supporting its suddenly incredibly heavy weight.

Koushi tsked once more, stopping his pacing altogether. “Now, now, angel,” Koushi cooed, taking the manuscript he was holding and scraping its weight underneath your chin, lifting up. “Eyes on me.”

With the assistance, you were able to meet Koushi’s eyes. There, you saw the mischievous glint that sent a shudder down your spine. Your eyes fluttered closed and Koushi gently lifted your chin further. You managed to open your heavy lids once more, gazing submissively back at him. Koushi licked his lips, devilish smirk stretching his pretty lips across shining teeth.

“Good girl.”

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee - send an ask to be on it!

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality. Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

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annyeongffs · 3 years

Text

𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠 ༄ 𝑗.𝑠𝑏 (𝗺)

𝗑𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: 𝗉𝗐𝗉, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉.

𝗑𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗌𝗎𝖻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 + 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍(𝗂𝗌𝗁)𝖽𝗈𝗆! 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗇

𝗑𝘄𝗰: 7.2𝗸

𝗑𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿: 𝖽𝗈𝗆/𝗌𝗎𝖻 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒/𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝖻4 𝗎 𝗍𝖺��!!), 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽/𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆 "𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅" 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽.

𝗑𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁.

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You were sitting on the couch with your latest novel in hand, legs crossed politely beneath your skirt, when you heard the front door open, signaling that your boyfriend is back from his all-day lecture.

You drop the book instantly and spring up from your seat to go greet Subin. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, letting his heavy bag slide off of his shoulder. You giggle when his nose nudges against your cheek, a soft whisper of “hi, Subin” leaving your lips once he presses a second kiss to your temple.

“Hi yourself, princess,” He says with a grin, “were you waiting for me?” You can’t help the pink flush that rises to your cheeks as you nod yes, his mere presence being enough to make your heart flutter. Subin swears you’re the cutest thing to ever grace the planet.

“I missed you today,” You admit with a tiny pout. You’d gone out to lunch with your best friend and her boyfriend Hanse, who also happened to be friends with Subin; but you’d felt like a third wheel without your own boyfriend at your side, even despite their best attempts to include you.

“I missed you too.” He tells you, at which you forcefully shake your head and insist, “but I missed you more.” You seal your statement by leaving your own kiss along his jaw, not being quite tall enough to reach his cheek.

Subin’s heart soars at how utterly adorable you are. “You’re too cute for your own good, baby. You’re gonna kill me one day if you keep this up.” He observes casually. You curl your fingers in the material of his shirt with a whine that you have no intention of killing him, your eyes lingering on how the fabric pulls tightly against his biceps.

Has he always been so muscular? You wonder to yourself, slowly slipping into your head. Maybe he’s been working out more... how come you’ve never noticed this before just now?

He doesn’t miss your distracted gaze, and he feels a smirk spreading when he puts two and two together to realize that maybe your blush isn’t quite as random as it seems. He doesn’t stop the smirk from growing when your small fingers begin to cautiously trace over where his sleeves end.

“You look pretty today.” He comments like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Which it is for him- hardly a day goes by without his mention of how beautiful you are- but even after all these months, it’s still new to you. Your stare drops to the floor as you take a sudden interest in your shoes.

“Thank you, Binnie.” You say quietly. You fidget with the hem of your (ahem, Subin’s) white sweater, and the image of you standing there in your little pink skirt and his oversized sweater is almost too much for him to handle.

You’ve been testing him so much lately, the length of your skirts shrinking while the collection of his shirts that you wear to bed has only been growing, and it’s gonna be the thing to end him. All it takes is one glance at your innocent smile and Subin knows he’s a goner; he’s never wanted to ruin anyone so badly in his life.

He steps into your personal space and tilts your head up with his fingers to make you return his gaze, the dark, nameless emotion swirling in his eyes jarring you. His touch is like an electric current, the simple gesture sending a trail of sparks zipping down your spine as you inhale sharply. He doesn’t say anything, only looking at you hungrily, longingly. You wanna touch him too- maybe weave your fingers through his hair or something- but before you get the chance, he brings your mouth to his harshly and gives you a kiss you never knew you needed.

He’s normally so gentle with you, his kisses soft and slow as if he’s afraid you’re made of glass. But this kiss is different for reasons you can’t explain. It’s bruising and fast and delicious, stirring up a sort of tension that you find to be entirely exhilarating. You do your best to keep up with the pace he’s set, holding back a yelp of surprise when you feel his tongue swipe teasingly across your lower lip.

You must do a pretty good job of staying with the speed of the sudden kiss, because when you eventually break apart, you aren’t the only one panting for breath. Your lips are tingling with the foreign buzz from so much pressure at once but it’s a buzz you don’t really mind. As a matter of fact, the whole room seems to be buzzing, the air alive with the rising tension as Subin’s grip tightens around your chin.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess that you’ve got something on your mind today. Am I right, y/n?” He asks cockily while raising one eyebrow.

He knows exactly what’s up, having seen the gleam in your eyes that hasn’t shown itself before and knowing for certain what it means. But if your widening eyes and confused expression are enough to go off of, then it’s safe to say that you don’t have a clue what’s happening.

All you know is that there’s something new bubbling in the pit of your stomach, some strange and unsettling weight building in your lower half that you haven’t ever been exposed to before. It isn’t unpleasant, per say; just new. The feeling reminds you of when you put a pot of water on the stove to boil- except rather than boiling, your body is merely simmering.

But it’s still more than enough to make you want to kiss Subin like that again.

Your blush returns with full force when you stutter out, “Well... th-there is one thing I’m, umm, thinking about...” You trail off, resisting the urge to hide your face in his chest. Subin stays put with his hand under your jaw and waits for you to tell him what you want like the good girl he knows you are.

“Can we do that again?” Comes your quiet plea, giving his shirt a slight tug to punctuate your request. “Please?” And who the hell would he be to refuse?

He brings you close again until your lips are brushing together, barely a millimeter away, and mumbles hotly, “Oh, baby, I can do so much more than that. Just you wait.” And then his mouth is back on yours, engulfing you in a heated kiss unlike any you’ve ever shared.

You let out a small sigh of content as he kisses you passionately, your body pressing against his to try to get as close as you can. Your arms wrap themselves around his broad shoulders and he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, tongue coming back out to tease you. You’ve never kissed him like this before and you don’t quite know what to do; you settle for just granting him access and allowing him to do as he pleases, ultimately pleasing you when he slides his other hand up and down the curve of your back, warm fingers dancing over your bare skin beneath the sweater and drawing out another little sigh from you.

“Jump,” He mumbles against your mouth. You pull back slightly in question, not sure you understand what he’s asking. His lips chase yours but you don’t respond immediately, continuing to stare at him with your head cocked to the side.

“I said jump, y/n. I know you can listen to me.” He says in a tone that, while soft, leaves no room for debate. You obey quickly and allow him to catch you as you wrap your legs around him, unable to contain your squeal when his hands firmly hook beneath your body, and your eyes are shut so tightly in your state of bliss that you hardly even register when Subin walks from the entryway into your bedroom, pausing only to lower you onto the bed.

He caresses your face in a sudden move of tenderness, looking straight into your heavy-lidded eyes to make sure he hasn’t hurt you. While he might be acting a little rougher than usual, the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you, his precious angel.

His angel who was currently staring back at him with a blush so innocent it poked a dark side of his dominance, a side he always tries so hard to hide around you in fears of scaring you off. But the way you’re responding to his kisses tonight is telling him a different story- one that might let him take you to another chapter, if you’ll let him.

Subin’s thumb skims over your cheek as he keeps his arms braced on either side of you to hover over your little body. “Angel, if you want me to stop, say it now.” He says, his words hoarse with self restraint. He’s come close to losing his cool a few times before, but you’ve never tested him quite like this; and if he’s gonna be able to stop himself before he releases his grip on the dirty beast inside of him- the beast you bring to life with your sweet innocence- then he needs you to stop it now.

You blink twice and stare up at him with those doe eyes, mouth opening but finding you have nothing to say. He scans the way the sweater has started slipping off of your shoulders and inhales deeply before asking again, “I’m serious, y/n. If we’re gonna stop then you have to tell me right now or else I can’t promise to stay away from you.”

His gruff words flip a switch in you without warning. You’ve never gone any further than slow makeouts with Subin, the most risque thing you’ve done so far being the time you sat on his lap while kissing. But tonight, you discover that you want to push that boundary, even though you don’t know much of what’s beyond it.

All you really know is that you like the way these kisses feel. You like the bold way Subin’s hands dance around your shoulders, the new fire he’s started in your tummy.

You like not knowing what comes next.

“I... I don’t want you to stop, Binnie.” You answer in a whisper. Subin groans in response, the sentence making him harden instantly. He moves his hand slowly over the expanse of your neck, nails tracing the lines of your collarbone, and that beast inside of him is tugging at its chains when you inhale loudly and latch onto his wrist.

He rubs small circles into the skin at the base of your neck, admiring how easily it causes you to sigh. You don’t know what it is about them that always fascinate you. They’re just hands; but something about the powerful way his hand lingers on your skin makes you think you wanna feel it holding onto your neck.

“You have a thing for my hands, baby?” He teases with a smirk, “I can do whatever you want with them, put them wherever you want.” He uses his other hand to brush your hair out of your face so he can clearly see the lust building. “But you have to ask first.”

Your tiny surprised gasp turns into a breathy whimper when his fingers curl around your neck exactly how you hoped they would, the pressure delightful and salacious without cutting off your airflow.

Subin grins even wider. “You like that.” It’s not a question, it’s a factual statement. You nod anyways, your weak hands not trying at all to pull him off of you. “You look so pretty like this, angel. Wearing my hand like it’s a necklace.” He muses out loud. His cocky tone sends a warm feeling rushing through your abdomen, making your eyes flutter shut momentarily as you bask in how perfect his hold on you is. You never thought having his hand around your throat would be so incredible, would feel so right.

Upon seeing your eyes closing, he leans down closer to your ear, fully intending to make you even more bothered without lifting his hand from your throat.

“You like it when I talk dirty too, hmm?” He adds. “I’m not surprised. Good girls like you probably love hearing what you make people wanna do to you.” And you lose all power to resist your boyfriend’s arousing charm when he calls you that, calls you a good girl. You decide you always wanna be good for him if you’re rewarded in ways like this.

“Binnie, I-” You start timidly, but one quick squeeze to your neck has you stopping before you ask him to call you that again. “No baby, use my whole name. I wanna hear you moaning my name when I give you the pleasure you deserve tonight.” Another hot feeling begins to pool in places you’ve never felt heat pooling in before, arousal flooding you at his suggestiveness.

And because you want to stay well-behaved for him, to see how far being good will get you, you bite your swollen lip and nod your head. “Subin, can you say it again?” You beg shyly, cheeks reddening. Subin observes the way you’ve begun to breathe a little heavier and considers how obedient you’re being so far.

“Say what?”

You gulp down your embarrassment. “G-Good girl. Call me that again, please.” You sound desperate even to your own ears, but it’s a sound that beckons his dominant side into coming out to play. He’s waited far too long to ruin his innocent little angel to hold himself back.

His head drops to litter kisses around the skin not covered by his hand, seeking out the one spot that makes you whine the loudest. He finds it and nips lightly, soothing the unexpected yet not unwelcome sting over with his tongue. Your sighs grow more and more frequent as he sucks multiple hickies along your collarbone, thighs rubbing together when he licks a tantalizingly slow, seductive stripe along the entire outline of it.

He reluctantly drops his grip to replace it with his mouth, feverishly marking up your neck while he busies himself with sliding the sweater another inch off your shoulders to give him more room. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs into your skin, “Already so needy for me when we’ve barely even started. My good girl, all wet and eager. I’ll give you what you want, baby, I’ll give you whatever you want if you tell me to. Use your words for me.”

It’s these words, hurried and half-muffled by the way his mouth presses against you, that begin to unravel the strings laced up inside your core. You can feel yourself falling apart, succumbing to Subin’s obvious control, letting your desire to feel everything he promises to make you feel cloud out any doubt in your mind. You wanted Jung Subin, and even if it killed you to ask for it, you wanted him now.

The only problem is that you don’t know what to ask for.

“I want you, Subin.” You inform him with a slight wobble in your voice, “I want to feel more... please.” You add the please at the end in hopes that it might cause him to suck a little harder at your neck, but your pleading instead makes him pull off of you and gaze down at the mess he’s made of his beautiful girlfriend.

“You want more?” He prompts you, “What do you mean by more? You wanna be choked some more? Is that it, angel?” As appealing as that is, you shake your head meekly, wiggling noticeably underneath him.

“I wanna feel you.” You say with crimson stained cheeks.

Subin takes his hand and lightly caresses your hickey-covered jaw, unable to resist the temptation to slip two fingers into your wet mouth. You suck on them the moment his fingers are there, unsure of what possibly made you do it but liking the results nonetheless, especially when he curses under his breath at how fucking hot you look in this position. You swirl your tongue around them experimentally and it sends him into another world, making him remove his fingers hastily before he envisions how well you’d suck his dick.

You whine at the loss of contact and Subin chuckles darkly, not wiping off his fingers. “Where do you wanna feel me?” He asks you in a sultry voice. His hand slides beneath the sweater easily and finds its way to your chest, where he runs his large palms over the white lace bra you wore under it. “Did you want to feel me here?” He continues. You’re too flustered to speak when he playfully snaps at your bra strap before moving down lower.

Your breath hitches audibly when Subin ghosts over your stomach, descending even lower, hand cupping cautiously around the place where you needed him the most. “Or maybe... you wanna feel me here.” He remarks, “Is this where you want me, princess? Want me playing between your pretty thighs, tasting what no one has ever touched before?” His dirty comments are sending stars into your vision.

He’s relentless in his teasing, fingers edging around your innocent white panties under the cute skirt he can’t wait to push up later. “Want to see my head between your legs as I eat you out, make you sigh and whine until you can’t stand it anymore? Wanna fuck yourself senseless on my tongue? Do you want that, y/n?” You can't control the moan that leaves you at his words, hips unintentionally rising off of the bed to push yourself against his body. He hisses at your actions and lifts the band to your underwear, the cool air hitting your core making you whine. The sensation of his finger tracing your pussy gently is unlike anything else on the planet.

“Yes,” You call desperately when he softly rubs against you, the friction giving you only the tiniest bit of respite from the overwhelming heat spreading through you, “Subin, please.”

“Please what? Be a good girl and tell me, baby. I told you to use your words.” He instructs as he teases your core with his hand.

You can’t take it anymore. “Please give me m-more,” You gasp out despite your horrible embarrassment, “Make m-me feel all the things you just said you would. I-I wanna feel you... between my legs.” You stutter furiously, but it’s all Subin needs to push his finger into your pussy, groaning at the same time you let out a rather shaky sigh.

“Fuck, princess,” He curses when he feels how warm and tight you are. “You’re absolutely fucking perfect, you know? You take my fingers so well, you dirty girl. You’re behaving so good for me tonight.” He praises you as he moves his fingers in a steady rhythm, trying to go slow so he won’t hurt you even though every bone in his body is screaming to fuck you into next week with his hands alone.

But all efforts of slow are abandoned the second you latch onto his neck and begin sucking, attempting to make him feel half as good as you do right now as you press little kisses to his skin. Subin’s pace quickens while you pepper open-mouthed lovebites on his throat, your small wrist tugging at his shirt to signal that you want it off. You don’t know what’s gotten into you- you have a nearly carnal desire to run your hands along as much of his skin as you can, to rake your nails down the abs you’ve only seen once or twice at the beach.

He gets the hint and strips the shirt off of himself without removing his fingers from your pussy, tossing the garment somewhere before leaning back down to loom over your writhing figure. Your hands explore his naked chest with an enthusiasm that you didn’t know you possessed, appreciating his warm skin with little kisses and scratches as he continues to pleasure you at an increasing rate.

“Fucking hell, y/n,” He says with his brows furrowed, “how long have you been so desperate for my touch? How long have you felt this needy, this wet?” He coos mockingly, speeding up as your back begins to arch slightly, pushing you even further into him. “Your body is practically begging to get fucked, baby. Look at you, whining so prettily for me while your pussy tries to suck my fingers in. You like fucking yourself against my hands?”

A loud cry escapes your lips at his downright nasty words. They’re obscene and crude and filthy; and you love it.

“M-Mouth,” You sigh pathetically as you grip his broad shoulders for dear life. “I wanna feel y-your mouth, Subin, wanna feel your mouth down- down there.”

And because you asked so nicely, Subin smirks and slides his slick-covered fingers out of you, making you flush shyly when he raises them to his lips and tastes your essence. He pins you to the bed with just his heated stare, head spinning at how much he’s gonna taint you tonight.

“You might wanna hold onto the sheets, princess,” He warns as he sinks to kneel in front of your needy core, “because I don’t know if I can be gentle after tasting how fucking sweet you are for me.” You moan again at the firm kiss he places on your inner thigh. He’s so close to where you want to feel him; so close to bringing you to a high you’ve never even dared to dream of before.

He doesn’t dive in until he’s positive you want him to. Your little sighs of content turn into cries of his name the second his tongue is flicking at your core, sucking skillfully while his fingers return to the scene to slowly drag along your walls. You find yourself heeding his warning and bunching up the sheets in your fists to keep yourself from screaming out at how utterly good his tongue feels against your folds.

“Subin, fuck,” You sigh weakly, unable to handle the image of his head between your thighs, “I-It feels so good, Subin, so good.”

“Yeah?” He replies, and the vibrations against your sensitive pussy almost send you careening over the edge, hurtling into the clouds of complete ecstasy. But before you get the chance, Subin once more removes his fingers, causing you to whine for him. You were almost there, almost ready to have your very first orgasm.

“Why did you stop-” Your words are cut off when he resumes fucking you with his mouth, turning your protests into mewls of how good everything feels.

“You’re gonna come on my tongue, y/n” He demands, his dominant tone making you meet his eyes, “You’re gonna fall apart in my mouth and I better hear you saying my name as you do. Got it angel?” He leaves no room for argument, and as soon as you nod your head yes, he’s back to eating you out like a champ, head moving to reach every little spot that drives you wild.

You’re within seconds of falling apart as he guides you to your high with his tongue- but the single thing that pushes you over the edge is his hot whispered praise of “good girl.”

You come undone with a cry louder than any of your previous noises, mouth repeating his name like it’s the only word you know as your vision momentarily blanks. You’re on top of the fucking world- your head is spinning like a top but you swear you’ve never felt so good before in your entire life, never felt like you’re both falling and flying at the same time. Subin’s tongue guides you through your high, cock fully hard at your lust filled moans of his name as you ride out on cloud nine.

He only detaches his mouth when you squirm away form him, panting and breathlessly relaxing your hold on the sheets.

Your blush is practically painted on your face at this point, fully aware of the way your panties are still shoved to the side and the skin still exposed by your skirt. You pull Subin back from his place between your legs and press soft kisses to his bare chest to wordlessly express your thanks.

Subin, meanwhile, is fighting hard to keep you from noticing his raging hard-on. His only focus tonight was you: your pleasure and your cries and your orgasm, his only goal being to bring you the feelings your sweet innocent mind hadn’t dreamt of before.

But now that he’s had a glimpse of how perfectly good you are for him in bed, he can’t help but wonder how good you’d feel under him, how well you’d take his cock as you sigh out his name. He can’t rid himself of the mental image no matter how hard he tries to, grounding himself in the sweet kisses you’re spreading on his chest. He’s got to snap out of this; he has to keep being gentle-

“Subin,” You mumble into his skin, “Did that- did you feel good, too?” As amazing as he made you feel, you want to know that he’s satisfied too, to know if he enjoyed it as much as you did. It wouldn’t seem fair to you if he did all the work with nothing in it for himself.

Subin gulps, nervous for the first time tonight. “Yes, princess. I loved every second of it. You were so good for me.” He praises you, and you can’t believe how easily his praise stirs up another fire inside you, making you feel like you’re ready for even more.

“I can keep being good for you,” You tell him in a modest whisper. “I can keep being your... your good girl.” You offer, the new part of you he’s unlocked making you bold enough to suggest that maybe, just maybe, you wanna go further with him tonight.

Subin opens his mouth to protest and tell you that you don’t need to do that, that you’ve done more than enough for one night. He even tries to persuade you to put on some pajamas and get ready for sleep; but you aren’t having it.

You cut off his rambling with a kiss so wanton that he can hardly believe you had the guts to do it, but he’s far from complaining as he hungrily accepts everything you have to give him, feeling how eager you are to please him.

His precious girl, so needy and obedient, wanting to please him like he’s just pleased you. Sadly for Subin, that’s a thought for another time, because he knows he won’t last long at all if he starts fantasizing about your mouth on his cock. Instead he settles for another fantasy, the one that brings you both pleasure.

He’s discovered tonight that you seriously get off on hearing his thoughts, hearing about the dirty things you plant in his head, and now is as good a time as ever to talk you through one more.

But he has to make sure you want it first. He’s already taken you so far- he won’t let it go any further until he’s absolutely positive that you won’t regret giving him more.

He ends the kiss and stares straight into your eyes, the gesture so meaningful and loving that your heart melts a little bit. He’s always taking care of you, always putting you first. You wish he’d let you put him first for once- but the warmth lingering in your core says maybe you’ll still get the chance to.

“Y/n, you know you can always stop.” Subin says seriously. “You don’t need to do anything else if you don’t wanna. Please don’t push yourself into doing something if you aren’t ready for it.” He kisses your cheeks, your nose, and lightly pecks your lips. “I would never want you to go too far to please me, baby. I’m always satisfied just to be in your heart, and I... I don’t need to be anywhere else, angel. I promise.”

His confession is laced with so much love that it brings tears to your eyes. His words are sincere, the proof in his statement made obvious by the adoring gaze he wears. You’ve never felt so safe- never felt so wanted, so secure. You don’t think you can love anyone else the way you love Subin.

And it’s this display of love, this moment of sweet vulnerability, that makes you more sure of yourself than ever before. You’re ready for what comes next- you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanna give him your all. You wanna give him every little piece of you, body and heart.

“I love you so much, Binnie.” You say with a smile. He’s so whipped for you that he doesn’t bother to comment on the nickname.

“I love you, and... I know I’m ready. I don’t want to stop tonight, please. I want you to make me yours.” You add.

Subin abandons any reservations about going further the moment the words are out of your mouth, seeing clearly the trust and desire that shines in your eyes. He nods and gently lays you back down, sensing zero fear from you as he slides the sweater off of your body.

He can’t believe how lucky he is. “You’re gorgeous, y/n, fucking gorgeous,” He worships with an awestruck look on his face, wiping away all of your insecurities, “every inch of you is perfect baby.”

And with that, he slides off your skirt, leaving only a thin layer of clothing between your skin and his.

Your hands itch to grab for his belt, but as you begin to reach out, Subin tsks and lightly swats your hands away. “Let me do that y/n. Just relax for me, yeah? Lay there and keep on looking like a fucking angel, that shouldn’t be a problem for you.” He says in a lower voice- you whine when you realize he’s back to being bedroom Subin.

He removes everything in one swift motion, and you fail to hold back the loud gasp at how hard he is. You’ve never really seen a dick before, never wondered about it or thought about it, but seeing Subin’s cock standing decidedly at attention makes you wish you knew more. You can’t stop staring at how intimidating it looks- does it hurt him that it’s so obviously hard? Will you be able to feel the veiny ridges along it as it drags against your walls? Or for that matter... will you even know what to do with yourself when it’s inside you?

Subin hums at your innocent surprise, memorizing the way your head tilts to the side while you study his cock. He comes back into your personal space to run his hands along your sides, giving you no warning before he tugs your panties off and rubs you without any barriers. You whine again, back arching off of the pillows to push your bodies together.

His body pins you against the bed, keeping you right where he wants you- but you have other ideas. Ideas that involve straddling his lap and seeing what would happen if he fucked up into you after you’ve been lying down for so long.

You look up at him with the prettiest pout you can muster. “I wanna... wanna get on top. C-can I please get on top, Subin? Please?” You beg him with stars in your eyes. Subin is so fucking whipped for your dirty request that he allows it, marveling in what a good girl his y/n is. He leads you into another brutal kiss, and you feel the knot reforming itself in your stomach when you break away with a strand of saliva still tethering your lips together. It’d be nothing short of nasty if it wasn’t with him.

“Climb aboard, baby.” He beckons you, and you blush at the mere thought of sinking yourself down on him.

He moves so you’re straddling his lap with his back against the headboard, bare pussy still slick from your orgasm. You grind down on his thigh when his hand makes its way into your hair, wrapping the strands around his fist and tugging just ever-so-slightly, enough to give you a taste of the stinging sensation on your scalp. You gasp, not expecting to like the feeling as much as you do, and it provokes Subin to tug a little harder, eventually drawing out a moan.

“You gonna ride me, princess, or do wanna keep fucking my thigh?” He coaxes. Your blush deepens but you stop rubbing against his leg anyways, not totally coherent when you moan out that yes, you’re gonna ride him.

“I’ll be gentle.” He murmurs suddenly, cupping your face with one hand so he can tenderly gaze at you. You nod and hover over him, bracing yourself for the initial pain you’ve heard every girl has on their first time, and Subin frowns at how your nose scrunches up unhappily.

“Baby, don’t think too hard.” He persuades you to loosen up, knowing you’ll hurt more if you’re tense. “I’ll talk you through every step of the way if you want. You gotta relax for me though, okay? You’ll feel better if you let yourself go. I’m right here, love.” His reassurance is the final push you needed to unclench your muscles, mind going completely empty as you slowly, slowly begin to lower yourself onto him.

And oh fuck did it burn.

You cry out at the uncomfortable sensation, feeling your core stretch to accommodate his length. Subin doesn’t dare move a millimeter, allowing you to have control of your pace since he knows your little body has never done this before, never had to adjust to this. You pause your movement to let yourself get used to the burn for a second when he’s halfway inside, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you hang on for dear life.

“It stings, Subin.” You whine, “Is- is it supposed to sting?”

He shushes you affectionately, kissing your temple. “Shh, angel, I know it hurts. It’ll go away real soon. I promise it will.” He consoles in a soft voice. You nod and continue to sink down, biting your lip to keep from complaining again when he’s fully entered you, the intense burn making you think something’s just snapped inside of you.

Subin stays totally still as you stop again to adjust to the stretch. He oh so desperately wants to buck up into you, wants to drive himself into your pussy that he swears must’ve been made for him; but he restrains himself because he doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want to bring you any kind of pain. So he waits patiently until you start moving.

You move your hips experimentally, whining sharply at the burn but finding that the more you do so, the less it stings. Subin groans lowly when you find a steady, slow pace, lifting yourself up and down- and all at once, the stinging turns into pleasure, an earth-shattering sensation that sets every nerve ending on fire with a delicious heat.

The pain dissipates entirely. Subin sees the change in your expression, your furrowed brows raising and your mouth opening as you let out an airy sigh that carries no hint of discomfort. Your walls suck him in like a wet vice, warm and tight and such a perfect fit that he thinks he could be in danger of cumming first, solely because of how amazing you feel.

“S-Subin,” You call out his name in a breathless moan. “Fuck, Binnie, I feel so- so good.” You sigh again in sheer bliss, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your head.

“How good, y/n?” He asks, making your moans increase rapidly in volume when he begins to meet your hips with slow thrusts of his own. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

You babble incoherently as you attempt to describe the otherworldly pleasure that shoots through every inch of your body like a forest fire. “So good, Subin, so full, so much...” You can’t finish your sentence as a particularly deep thrust causes you to cry out once more. “Oh my god, Subin!”

A self-satisfied smirk rests on his lips when he hears you gasping for breath, unable to keep yourself together as he fucks into you at a quicker pace. “That’s it, y/n. I’m gonna give you the best fucking night of your life tonight. You’ve been such a good girl for me, so obedient. Good girls deserve to come, yeah?”

His question is rhetorical but you answer anyways, a strangled yes escaping you when he brings his hand back up to loosely grip your throat. The knot is pulling tighter and tighter inside of you, feeling like a rubber band being stretched out and it’s only a matter of minutes before you break.

Subin could come right then and there when he sees your fucked-out expression as he takes you with his hand on your neck, a steady mantra of his name leaving your mouth over and over. But he’s determined to make you come first- good thing he knows your weaknesses.

“You’re close, baby, I can feel it,” He begins to talk dirty to you once again and prides himself on the way your pussy clenches around him, “I can feel how close you are to losing it, to cumming on my cock. You think you can do that for me, y/n? Will you fall apart on my cock like my good little princess?”

You nod frantically as you chase the high that waits for you, the high Subin is providing with his nasty mouth and his heavenly thrusts. Your hips bounce in an irregular pace as you feel it approaching, a wave of pleasure about to crash over you, about to send you into a state of euphoria.

“Please, Subin, please,” You plead as his hold tightens on your throat, “I- I wanna come on your cock, Binnie, please make me c-come!”

Subin growls at your high pitched begging and sets the pace at a breakneck speed, seconds away from destroying you. “Your wish is my command, princess.” He says hotly.

It takes three more moans of “oh my god” for you to reach your high, officially falling apart when Subin whispers in your ear as he thrusts up into you, “Come for me, y/n.”

And you obey easily, screaming louder than you have all night as you lose yourself in the feeling of spinning out in a haze of pleasure. You’ve never felt anything as fucking good as this- not in a million years.

Subin can’t wait another second before he pulls out quickly, cutting it really close as your orgasm causes him to lose all control and comes over your tummy, covering you in his seed; thankfully, you’re too blissed out to give a damn about the sticky mess, the both of you panting like you’ve just run a marathon as you collapse onto your sides with eyes shut tightly.

You both wind down with your chests heaving, unsure of how many minutes pass by (at least four, but you guess it’s more than that) until Subin turns to face you with a warm grin.

“How was it, princess?” He asks with just the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks.

You smile back at him, your fingers weaving with his and pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “I loved it, Binnie, every bit of it.” You admit softly, your face taking on a glow of sheer happiness that looks so damn sexy on an angel like you. Subin can’t help pulling your head towards his to give you a long, sweet kiss, this one slow and unhurried as you bask in the intimacy of just being together.

“I love you y/n.” He murmurs, and you smile against his lips as you tell him you love him more.

You stay curled up like that for a few moments until Subin remembers what a mess he’s left on your tummy, the pink flush spreading when he moves to get up from the bed. You whine, thinking he’s leaving, but he shushes you and strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m just gonna get you cleaned up, baby, I’ll be right back.” He promises. You let his hand go, eyes sliding shut as you begin to feel exhaustion setting in. He gets up and walks to the bathroom to get a wet rag, still feeling dazed from the wild ride he never expected to happen tonight, and comes back to dab at your stomach. You wiggle at the tickling sensation, laughing quietly when Subin purposefully blows cold air on your skin just to be funny.

He grabs a t-shirt once he’s finished cleaning you up, coaxing your tired body into sitting up for a few seconds so he can tug it on you before letting you flop back down. You lay there on your back, eyes shutting again, and Subin can’t stand how cute and sweet you look all swaddled in his clothes with your cheeks glowing brightly. You’re perfect, he thinks to himself as he slides on some pajama pants, absolutely freaking perfect.

He manages to get you underneath the covers and turns out the light before he slips into bed with you, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of your chest. He can hardly believe that you’re asleep so quickly; but your little sighs give you away, confirming that you have, indeed, drifted off into dreamland.

Subin smiles to himself and kisses your cheek lovingly as he cradles you in his arms.

“Sleep well, princess.” He whispers softly, “You deserve it.”

𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗹 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗵, 2021. 𝗻𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 @𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖿𝖿𝗌; 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒! -𝗸𝘆𝗹𝗮

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