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florencemtrash · 15 days

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Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips.

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears.

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was.

But that was his own fault.

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.”

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing.

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered.

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there.

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass.

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured.

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now.

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame.

No.

Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own.

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you.

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look.

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!”

“I have more just like them.”

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips.

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel.

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.”

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out.

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another.

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.”

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word.

“Yes… I know.”

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home.

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching.

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it.

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him.

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again.

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong.

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.”

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin.

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it.

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him.

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else.

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.”

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.”

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.”

“I like it when my clothes are loose.”

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth.

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!”

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door.

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing.

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others.

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now.

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward.

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics.

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome.

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!”

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered.

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go.

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace.

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?”

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!”

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care.

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!”

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face.

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating.

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled.

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave.

“Well?” You snapped.

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.”

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy. “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…”

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.”

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.”

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was.

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged.

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly.

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his.

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs.

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic.

But his hands.

His hands.

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste.

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree.

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there.

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt.

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt.

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more.

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving.

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…”

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.”

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel, it’s ok.”

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—”

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.”

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it.

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried.

He couldn’t help himself.

He started laughing too.

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support.

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled.

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.”

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes.

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere.

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily.

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones.

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.”

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.”

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away.

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted.

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone.

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in.

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt.

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath.

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.”

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening.

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore.

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this.

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears.

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms.

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.”

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.”

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions.

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.”

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself.

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst

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louebel · 9 months

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[ " 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆! " ] — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): luffy, robin, law, sanji, kidd × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread 'n quick, lots of fluff! they are all babies. (i KNOW kidd's crew raid fashion stores and complain about them if they're lackin. if. if there's a fic like that pls share in the comments. i BEG you.) also some swearing with kidd!! dripping divider by @ benkeibear like always,, i live for these dividers damn.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

"you too!!"

you swear his smile widens so much his face is stuck that way.

he is adorable. he smiles every day but hearing you say that? it's exactly what he wants!! he wants people to look at him smiling AND wants them smiling in the process (continuous cycle,,)

it's so easy to notice just how much he loves you saying that. round cheeks tinted pink, eyes shut, and set of teeth shared to the world. he is always so animated with everything he does, and this is no exception.

this little rubber man is immediately engulfing you in his arms!! you are not allowed to leave until he says so.

"i'm gonna make you smile too! forever! that way, we'll both look cute when we smile! shishishi!"

scratch protecting him at all costs. he's gonna protect you at all costs.

if you tell him again, grab his cheeks and shake him as if he were a pupper. if he had a tail it'd be wagging 'till he flies. will probably make all types of noises while you do it.

pat the boi.

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

her smile might be tender but she's giggling internally,, she's flattered!!

"is that so? i'm glad to hear that."

robin gained confidence growing up and she knew she was a gorgeous woman — but hearing it from your lips is still a surprise. sure, she gets compliments on the daily, especially by sanji, but... yours felt much more intimate. she's not blushing because she's flustered or anything, it's just because she loves you. and that comforting warmth in her chest propagated to her neck and face.

it's small moments such as this that remind her of saul's words. each day on the sunny is a reminder, but the little things reinforce those feelings. it was such a wonderful sentiment.

you had no idea what she was thinking about, but the way the corners of her lips eased, your heart jumped too.

she really did look cute while smiling.

"you look pretty, too. smile more often, dear."

she's so lucky to have you. and you're so lucky to have her.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖

dies

you think he looks... cute?

his eyes widen and he just. stops functioning for a moment. his heart feels lighter and funnier than normal, and his smile returns, a bit more timid than before.

"... really?"

"of course!"

he doesn't even believe it— he did notice from time to time how you suddenly just,, softened when he did it but he didn't think you'd like it that much. he doesn't smile a lot, sure there are definitely various moments where he feels at peace with the crew, but they come easier with you

when he showed you his coin collection, when you both took a stroll or when you simply cuddled. law might look scary to those outside — but inside, he is still the small boy whose curiosity shined above all. he is very fond of those he cares about, even if he has trouble expressing his emotions and thoughts to others. the confidence he wore doubled for you and his loyal crewmates, but he deserved rest every once in a while. years of trauma dulled him, however, when he felt something, it was strong; almost as if breaking out of a cage. he kept them deep inside, only to burst and even tremble when he was pampered. he didn't know how to react, and only with time would he grow used to it.

so,, please be patient and take care of him,, he looks after himself with everything else, but he's a lost puppy with love and physical affection. if it doesn't show on his face, his heart definitely speeds up at every small thing you tell him, casual or not.

"thank you."

you see him smile a bit more now. give him any type of compliment, affection, or anything,, and the "cold" surgeon of death will be nothing but putty in your hands.

"and... you too."

he really does love you.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

dies 2.0

"o- oh... my love! you look adorable smiling, too!"

never-ending swarm of compliments. oh and he's hugging you as if his life depends on it.

he's not really used to the sweet words and might think he's undeserving of them. sure, it's a simple smile... but that's exactly why it gets him so much. something so mundane and common yet you see a unique beauty in his and his alone. others can warm your heart too, but he does it in a different way — in a special way.

if you tell him this in the middle of the night and you're both having a calm and peaceful moment he might cry. (if it's daytime and he's feeling a lil sensitive it's tears of joy mixed with laughter,, please hold him)

he's so happy. he'll smile as much as you want him too. if that gets you to do so too, it's a win-win for everyone!

it's usually clear when he feels affectionate,, he is most of the time. but now it DOUBLES. that comment made his day.

he's so giddy and adorable.

"you light my world up, mon rayon de soleil. if i can do so too with a simple smile... then i shall every day."

𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐃

mf's smile never dropped so fast.

"the fuck do you mean CUTE??"

was about to throw a fit but then he just. stares at you. so genuine...

"why you lookin' at me like that?? stop. 'm not fuckin' cute."

staaaare...

"... zero point one percent cute. happy? now stop looking like a goddamn puppy."

but you end up smiling even more. and no matter what he thought, his heart still beat a little faster. you looked pretty cute, too.

yes. he's a bit mean sometimes but you know he means well. he's your little man. like, he made you a tiny metal butterfly once so that even if he was busy with designing and crafting you had something to remind you of him. (he sputtered profanities and became as red as his hair before storming off walking in a wall but he still peeked from a corner to see if you liked it. when he saw your pleased expression, he smirked like the lil shit he is.)

plus... deep inside, he appreciated it. you and killer always managed to calm him down.

he truly is grateful.

"urgh. c'mere. let's go get killer 'n the others to raid a store."

...

bonus after the raid: he does your makeup and uses a great lipstick he stole found to really make you pop with the looted new clothes he got for you. hyped you up and grinned like an idiot. he's doing your nails next. killer gave you a thumbs up before finding more products himself,, raiding stores sure is fun!

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vanderilnde · 1 month

Text

cw for kidnapping and emotional manipulation

Ghost spots a bird across the pub with her wings clipped. She trembles as she watches her friend disappear into the sea of gyrating bodies, holding onto a man she just met and is deciding to abandon her for.

“You don’t mind, right?” Her friend had asked.

She chirped ditheringly. “Um… sure, yeah. You go have fun.”

A fickle smile split her cheeks. A warm wash of liquid glossed her eyes.

Ghost watches her watching her friend. Sadness is written into her features. That type of sadness so deep-seated you feel it crushing your ribs, denting your heart. She sighs and hangs her head, staring down at her drink. Her ice cube has melted, the salt crusting her rim having hardened. Her shoulder start to shake.

Ghost decides it would be remiss of him to not check up on her. The bird with frilly feathers and bent wings, wounded, too feeble to fight back.

He throws back the rest of his drink. He doesn’t wince at the burn, but still, Ghost’s face puckers into something different. Something mean as he approaches her and lays his elbow on the bar’s sticky countertop, splitting his hand across the top of her spine.

“What’s a bird like you doin’ all alone?”

She girdles. It’s like she’s been folded in two and hung out to dry, the way she shrinks into herself and flexes her shoulders.

His words hang stagnant for a few seconds. Perhaps it will make him lose interest and slip away, but Ghost is a persistent one. The badges embroidered into his uniform are a testament to that.

He passes his thumb over her neck. She shivers.

“I… um. Well, my boyfriend’s in the bathroom.”

Ghost almost chuckles. The bird says it with such skittish conviction that surely, not even she believes it.

He grunts. “It’s rude to lie, y’know.”

She gulps. “My friend’s with me.”

“The one that just left you?” He asks. “A pretty shit friend, if you ask me. A bird like you deserves someone better.”

She purses her lips because they begin to quiver. She tries shouldering him away, tries blinking back the fat tears of brine that threaten to thaw and slip down her cheek. Her voice is distorted with discomfort and self-pity when she replies, “That’s stupid. I just want her to be happy.”

“And her?” Ghost prompts. He distracts her with his rough lilt as he slips his hand low, into the divot between her ass and waist. “How often does she fuck off with the men you fancy?“

She flinches. It’s the sudden recoil of her muscles, and her mind’s attempt at getting away from him.

“I-it’s not like that.”

“Yeah?” He asks. “It’s not like she leaves you alone every time you go out, lookin’ like a dolt when she finds someone more fun?”

She swallows thickly. Her lips warble around her next words. “… Sometimes, I guess.”

Ghost’s cock jumps. The fat mass pushes against his jeans, angled towards her.

“Yeah,” he croons. “I know how hard it can be. Why don’t you come over to my flat, huh? Give ‘er a taste of her own medicine.”

She inches away. Ghost only holds her tighter, gripping that broken little wing of hers and doting on it.

“I don’t… do that stuff. Sorry.”

Something primal in Ghost barks. That stuff. She’s never taken dick? Or never taken dick from a stranger? Either way, Ghost’s cock stirs and starts drooling on his thigh. She can probably see it. That blotchy stain on his jeans under the mellow lighting.

“I play nice, bird,” he mutters. “And wouldn’t it be nice to get back at them? Your mate? All those blokes who ignored you?”

She squeezes her thighs when Ghost settles his hand on her ass. She has trouble pulling them back apart, her thighs that is, as they’re adhered with slick.

“I asked you a question. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

“I guess so…” she whimpers. Keening into Ghost’s whispering touch, the heat of his cock.

He pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slams it onto the table. He stands up, looking something like a predator on its hind legs, and pulls her from the barstool.

“Let’s go, pretty bird,” he leashes his hand around the base of her neck, leading her outside and into his rust-spattered truck. “You deserve it.”

A stroke of heat licks up her innards. She’s already dazed by the time she’s in his truck, preening as he splits his hand across her leg and digs divots into her thigh, kneading her supple flesh. She’s bleary eyes and impaired on arousal as they drive past the city’s margins and into the outback, the roads turning pebbled.

She’s too excited, too sweet to heed Ghost pulling her out of his truck and hauling her into a neglected flat.

She only feels his hands on her, big and warm. And the cool carbon steel of handcuffs locking around her ankle.

She smiles.

#unedited unplanned and written on my phone #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon writing #orion writing

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zylev-blog · 2 months

Text

The batkids decide to hop on the trend.

Dick, walking as Steph records: We’re vigilantes. Of course we have to be over dramatic.

(Cut to Nightwing back flipping off of Wayne tower)

Tim: were vigilantes. Of course we have issues with caffeine.

(Cut to a video of Tim as Red Robin snoring while hanging from a grappling line. Batman can be seen in the background facepalming.)

———

Damian: No.

Tim: oh come on, Robin, we’re all doing it.

Damian: I refuse to partake in such idiotic videos.

Tim: (while Damian is still behind him) We’re vigilantes. Of course we get to punch people without getting in trouble.

Damian: actually—-

Tim: Robin, you’re supposed to play along—

Damian: I am not going to spread false information—

Steph, interrupting: well, I’m not one of Batman’s sons so he legally can’t yell at me.

Tim: wanna bet?

(Cut to Batman scolding all three of them about the improper use of force)

—-

Duke: we’re vigilantes. Of course we go to Batburger.

(Cut to Duke happily eating a Batburger meal, and playing with a Signal toy)

Duke: what? I’m allowed to have hobbies.

——

Steph: we’re vigilantes. Of course we can scare anyone we want to. Right, Black Bat?

Cass: (nod)

(The next series of videos is a compilation. The first is Superman being scared, followed by Green Lantern, Flash, Cyborg, Starfire, Dick, Tim, and a failed attempt to startle Wonder Woman. Cass isn’t even upset about not being able to scare the woman, she accepts the defeat with grace.)

——-

Dick, Tim, and Steph: we’re vigilantes.

Dick: I’ve gotten stranded on the moon. Don’t ask.

Tim: I got lost in hell.

Steph: I accidentally followed Green Lantern into space.

Tim: what? When?

Steph: turns out if you hug a Green Lantern really tightly, their life support on their ring will support you too

Dick: yknow, Batman shouldn’t find out about this-

(Cut to Batman’s lecture about the proper use of protective gear when going to space)

——

Dick: we’re vigilantes. Of course we’re best friends with all of the villains.

(Cut to Red Hood kicking down a door)

Jason: hey (bleep), you’re late to dinner

Dick: (currently tied to a chair and gagged)

Jason: hang on, I’ll help. (Shoots everyone and unties dick) Harley said she’s going to rampage if you’re not there in five minutes.

Dick: Blame these guys, not me! (Jumps through the nearest window, shattering it, and the sound of a grapple is heard)

——

Jason: I’m a crime lord

Dick: and I’m a vigilante

Jason: and you’re ruining my video, (bleep) off. (Shoves Dick out of the frame, ignoring Dick’s muttered cursing) now that we got the riffraff out, let me start over. (Brushes imaginary dirt from hands) I’m a crime lord. Of course Batman fights me every other day. I look forward to the day I can break his kneecaps.

Dick: (shocked) Hood!

Jason: what?

Dick: he’s your dad too!

Jason: yuck, don’t remind me.

——-

Duke: we’re vigilantes. Of course we know all of the gossip. (Very obviously looking around) like for example, Superman has the biggest crush on Bruce Wayne—

Clark, who was obviously eavesdropping: Nonononononono—- (trying to turn the camera off as he darts into the frame. There’s a flash of red, blue and yellow as Duke and Clark fight over the camera)

——

Tim: we’re vigilantes. Of course we visit other cities.

Wally, as Kid Flash: What the (bleep) are you doing in Central City?

Tim: I’m honestly not sure, it’s so bright that I think I’m blind.

#batman #batkids #batfamily #batfam #tiktok reference #Superman #kid flash #Red Robin #signal #black bat #red hood #red hood is part of the Batfamily #Batman is an overprotective parent #batgirl

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elia-the-bibliophile · 2 months

Text

Mrs. Who? (Carlos Sainz Jr. x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 2,6k

In which Y/N and Carlos’ wedding is fast approaching yet she has trouble remembering his infamously long and complicated name.

As the wedding day approached, your crisis over remembering Carlos' full name is proving to be rather irresolvable. Y/N spent hours rehearsing, repeating the lengthy string of names to herself, but they seemed to evade her memory each time.

"Mi alma," she began tentatively, fingers twisting nervously, "I have a confession to make. I... I can't seem to remember your full name." With a defeated groan, Y/N confessed aloud, her head sinking into her hands in frustration.

Carlos turned to her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "That's okay, amor," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "It's quite a mouthful, isn't it? Don’t fret we still have time. I’ll make it fun!"

Over the next few days, they turned her struggle into a lighthearted game, with Carlos eagerly offering kisses whenever she stumbled over his name.

__________________________________________

As they sat down to dinner, Y/N took a deep breath and attempted to recite his full name. "Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro... um, wait, where was I again?"

Carlos chuckled, reaching across the table to take her hand. "Close, amor. You're doing great," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Let's try it together this time. Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Birto Moreno de Aranda de Anteruriaga Tiapera Deltún."

Feeling a surge of determination. "Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Birto Moreno de Aranda de Anteruriaga Tiapera Deltún," she repeated, stumbling slightly over the syllables but pressing on with newfound confidence.

Carlos's smile widened as he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her cheek. "Perfecto, mi amor," he whispered, his heart swelling with love for the woman he was about to marry. “See! You can do it.”

__________________________________________

As the warm water cascaded over her in the shower, Y/N found herself once again attempting to recite Carlos' full name. She had promised herself she wouldn't let a moment slip by without practicing, determined to be rid of her struggle before the big day.

Lost in concentration, she didn't notice the bathroom door creak open, nor did she hear Carlos' soft footsteps approaching. It wasn't until his warm embrace enveloped her from behind that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Practicing again, amor?" Carlos's voice, full with amusement, broke through her reverie.

Startled, she jumped slightly, turning to face him with a sheepish grin. "Uh, maybe just a little," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Carlos chuckled, his arms still wrapped around her as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her temple. "You're adorable, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest. "I just want to get it right," Y/N confessed, her gaze meeting his.

Carlos's expression softened, his eyes reflecting nothing but pure adoration. "You already have, preciosa," he said softly, his words echoing in the small space between them. He couldn't resist making a cheeky remark. "Well, if you keep practicing my name in here, we might have to schedule a shower session," he teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/N shot him a playful glare, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Didn't you just have one like 20 minutes ago?" she retorted.

Carlos feigned innocence, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Eh, who's counting?" he replied with a shrug, earning a playful splash of water from Y/N in response.

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes affectionately. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll let it slide," a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Carlos grinned, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on her cheek before reaching for the shampoo. "Besides," he added, "I needed an excuse anyway to escape that meeting with Fred."

Y/N couldn't suppress a laugh, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "You're terrible," she teased, reaching for the soap with a playful swat in his direction.

“A meeting at 7 in the morning should be illegal," he exclaimed. "Especially when I could be here with you, practicing my name instead."

She shot him a playful look. "Well, lucky for you, you have a very dedicated fiancée who's willing to help you out," she replied with a wink.

With a contented sigh, Carlos leaned in. "The luckiest," he murmured.

__________________________________________

Y/N pressed the doorbell of her soon to be in laws' home, balancing a basket of freshly baked homemade bread in her arms. The door swung open to reveal her future mother-in-law, Reyes.

"Hi, Reyes!" Y/N greeted warmly, offering a smile as she shifted the basket slightly.

Reyes returned the smile, but there was a hint of playful reproach in her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you to just call me mamá?" she chided gently, stepping aside to welcome Y/N inside.

Y/N chuckled. "I know.. I know, mamá, I'm sorry," she admitted sheepishly, stepping over the threshold into the cozy foyer. "I'm still getting used to it, but I promise I'll try harder."

Reyes raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the clock. "You're awfully early, dear. Dinner's not until 8," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly as she shifted on her feet. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something."

"Of course, cariño. What do you need?"

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "I need your help practicing Carlos' full name."

Reyes's eyes widened in surprise before she burst into laughter, the sound filling the room with warmth. "Oh, you poor thing," she chuckled, shaking her head affectionately. "I apologize for the trouble I've caused you, naming my son that long. But come, let's get started. It's a tradition, after all." And with a playful wink, she led Y/N into the drawing room.

For the next hour, Y/N and Reyes worked tirelessly, repeating Carlos' full name over and over again until it flowed effortlessly from your lips. With each repetition, you felt a growing sense of confidence.

Unbeknownst to them, Carlos had finally arrived from playing golf, his footsteps quiet as he approached the room. Peeking around the corner, he couldn't help but smile at the sight before him: his beloved fiancée and his mother, heads bent together in deep concentration, practicing his full name.

Clearing his throat to announce his presence, Carlos stepped into the room, his expression a mix of amusement and affection. "Am I interrupting something?" he teased, eyes twinkling.

Startled, Y/N looked up. "I... we were just..."

Reyes cut in with a playful smirk, "Practicing, Carlos. Your fiancée is determined to get your name right."

Carlos's heart swelled with affection as he crossed the room to join them, enveloping Y/N in a warm embrace and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're amazing, amor," he murmured, planting a kiss on her temple.

Then, he leaned back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a soft gaze. "You don't need to go through all this trouble just to remember my name, you know," he said earnestly.

"I know, but I just don't want to embarrass you in front of your big family," she admitted, her voice tinged with genuine concern. "I want to make sure I get it right, especially on such an important day."

Carlos can’t help but chuckle. "Trust me, even if you do make a mistake, no one would even bat an eye," he reassured her. "I mean, people have been complaining about my name for years."

You couldn't help but snort at his candid admission. “Well, in that case, I'll just blame it on tradition.”

Carlos grinned, “Exactly.“

__________________________________________

On the bustling morning of the wedding day, Carlos Sainz Sr. found a moment of quiet reflection with his son, in the midst of the joyful chaos. As they stood together in the garden, surrounded by the wisteria blooms and the gentle rustle of leaves, Carlos Sr. couldn't help but tease his son.

"So, hijo," he began, his tone light but his eyes twinkling with affection, "are you absolutely sure your bride hasn't run off yet? Your mamá has filled me in on how nerve wracking it has been for her to practice your name."

Carlos laughed, the sound echoing through the tranquil garden as he shook his head in mock exasperation. "Oh, come on, papá," he replied with a grin, nudging his father gently with his elbow. "You know Y/N wouldn't do that, even if she tried."

But beneath the playful banter, there was a tender understanding between father and son, a shared bond that transcended words. And as they exchanged a meaningful glance, Carlos Sr. placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his eyes misty with emotion. "Carlos, I am beyond happy that you found the kind of love that your mother and I share," he said. "I believe that you made the right choice with Y/N."

Carlos smiled, feeling a swell of pride and gratitude for his father's words. "Thank you, papá," he replied, his voice cracking. "I couldn't have asked for a better role model than you."

With a gentle pat on his son's shoulder, Carlos Sr. nodded. "Now, let's go get you married then, eh?”.

__________________________________________

At the same time, in the bride's suite, amidst the flurry of hairbrushes, makeup palettes, and scattered bridal magazines, Y/N found herself in the midst of a full-blown meltdown. She paced back and forth, her hands flying in exasperation as she muttered to herself.

"Should I even be getting married if I can't remember my future husband's name?" she wailed, her voice tinged with panic. "I mean, what kind of wife can't even remember her husband's name?"

Her bridesmaids exchanged worried glances as they tried to calm her down, offering words of reassurance and tissues in equal measure. But Y/N was beyond reasoning, her mind consumed with visions of disaster and embarrassment on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

"I'll be the laughingstock of the entire wedding!" she exclaimed, throwing herself onto the nearest chaise lounge in despair.

Her bridesmaids exchanged bemused looks, struggling to contain their laughter at their friend's dramatic outburst. But amidst the chaos, they knew they had to act fast to salvage the situation before the ceremony began.

With a collective sigh, they sprang into action, showering Y/N with comforting hugs, cups of soothing chamomile tea, and a hastily assembled flashcard deck of Carlos's full name.

Her best friend couldn't help but interject with a touch of humor. "Baby, even if you turned his name upside down, he'd still marry you in a heartbeat," she quipped. "That man adores you, butchered names and all." She said as she dabbed your eyes carefully before you ruin your elaborately done eye makeup.

Y/N draped her hand dramatically over her forehead. "I'm being a bridezilla, aren't I?" she moaned, her voice filled with equal parts self-awareness and melodrama.

Her bridesmaids exchanged amused glances. "Just a tad," one of them teased gently, earning a playful swat from Y/N in response.

Sensing the brewing crisis by sheer maternal instinct, Reyes swept into the room with all the grace and poise of a matriarch. Her presence commanded attention, her calming aura instantly soothing the tense atmosphere of the bridal suite.

"Alright, ladies, what's the commotion about?" Reyes inquired, her voice a perfect blend of concern and authority as she surveyed the scene before her.

Y/N's bridesmaids exchanged sheepish glances, unsure of how to explain their friend's theatrical meltdown. But before they could utter a word, Y/N herself stepped forward, a sheepish grin on her face.

“I think I might be losing my mind.” she confessed.

Reyes chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she crossed the room to envelop her daughter-in-law in a warm embrace. "Oh, bonita, every bride has a moment of panic on her wedding day," she reassured her, her voice filled with understanding.

"I remember feeling the same way on my wedding day," she admitted, her gaze drifting off into the distance as she recalled the memories of her own nuptials. "It was a beautiful day, much like today," Reyes began, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "But I was so nervous that I had a coughing fit right in the middle of the ceremony!”

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the image, her tension easing slightly as she imagined Reyes, the epitome of elegance, succumbing to a bout of nerves.

"But you know what?" Reyes continued, her eyes meeting Y/N's. "Despite the hiccup, it was still the happiest day of my life. Because at the end of the day, it's not about everything going perfectly—it's about the love that you share with your partner."

As if on cue, the distant sound of wedding bells began to chime, their melodic tones echoing through the air and signaling the start of the ceremony. Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sound, her nerves alight with excitement as she realized that the moment she had been waiting for was finally here.

Reyes placed a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. "It's time, dear," she said softly. "You're going to be stunning out there."

With a deep breath and a newfound sense of resolve, Y/N rose from her seat, her gaze meeting Reyes's with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

Reyes smiled, a carbon copy of Carlos’, “You're family now, hija," she replied. “And we couldn't be happier to welcome you into our hearts.”

__________________________________________

Y/N stood at the altar, heart racing with anticipation as she locked eyes with Carlos, looking so devilishly handsome he almost made her forget all her earlier tensions. Their hands intertwined, they stood side by side, ready to finally become husband and wife.

As the priest began the solemn words of the ceremony, Y/N felt a surge of emotion wash over her. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air as the priest posed the vital question: "Do you, Y/N, take Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Birto Moreno de Aranda de Anteruriaga Tiapera Deltún, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into Carlos's eyes, her heart overflowing with love. This was it—the moment she had been preparing for, the moment she had feared and anticipated in equal measure.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, a sense of calm washed over her. She took a deep breath, summoning all the courage and determination within her. Carlos nodded in encouragement.

"I do," she declared, her voice miraculously steady. "I take Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Birto Moreno de Aranda de Anteruriaga Tiapera Deltún to be my lawfully wedded husband."

The words hung in the air, a solemn declaration of love and commitment that seemed to reverberate throughout the church. And then, as if on cue, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their joyous voices filling the sacred space with an overwhelming sense of celebration.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she felt the wave of support wash over her. She stole another glance at Carlos, her heart swelling at the sight of him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he discreetly wiped them away with a handkerchief, his emotions raw and unfiltered.

Carlos fought to keep his composure, his lips trembling slightly as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions. Yet his gaze never wavering from Y/N's, his love for her shining bright in his eyes.

Carlos's voice boomed with pride and joy as he declared, "I present to you my wife, Mrs. Sainz Jr!" His words reverberated through the church, earning another round of applause and whistles.

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bandgie · 3 months

Text

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever.

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you.

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking.

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort.

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange.

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking.

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined.

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man.

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer.

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice.

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today."

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave.

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him.

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?"

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining."

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against.

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine.

"Shut up," he mumbles.

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?"

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt.

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it.

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue.

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face.

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him.

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head.

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively.

Fuck, you taste even better inside.

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground.

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #stray kids seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #seungmin skz smut

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tinyluvs · 1 year

Note

Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it

i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*

the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad

“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”

rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest

you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head

your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”

he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you

“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you

stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues

you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”

“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out

a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude

rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours

“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest

he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”

you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk

“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”

sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs

still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”

“because what?”

he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck

“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you

puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics

you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple

he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit

“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.

his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.

“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

#❥ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #❥ my rafe works #❥ rafe cameron drabbles #❥ rafe cameron fic rec #❥ rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

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#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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