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ihops-golden-closet · 3 months

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How To Care For A Bunny 101

Pairing: Jungkook x Bunny Hybrid Reader, mentions of Dog Hybrid Jimin x Bunny Hybrid Reader

Genre: Domestic, Smut, Fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of the past, a little bit of sliding timelines

Rating: 18+

Summary: You were head over heels for your owner but you always buried your feelings in fear of damaging your relationship with Jungkook. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was also in the exact same predicament. After you experience your heat for the first time, Jungkook decides it's finally time for him to come clean.

Author's Note: Hello! This is the first piece of work that I am uploading to this site. I hope I don't scare anyone off of here. A bit of a warning but there is a bit of a sliding timeline here. If this gets confusing, I would appreciate the feedback. If you liked this story, please leave a like and give my blog a follow! I would really appreciate it!

Italics=Past

Clutching the stuffed animal closer to your body, you watched as the alarm clock struck midnight. It’s been over an hour since the tattoo shop that your owner works at was supposed to close but Jungkook has yet to arrive home. The stuffed toy, which you affectionately named Cooky, was a birthday gift your owner had gotten you. In times when you feel lonely, such as this one, Cooky provides some comfort but you would rather be cuddled up in Jungkook’s arms as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle singing.

It didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels for Jungkook after you started living with him. How could you not? Jungkook was everything a girl could want. He was sweet, had the voice of an angel, attractive (although you always felt too shy to tell him that), and cherished every moment he spent with you among other things. Most importantly, he cared for you, a feeling you were robbed of growing up in that wretched hybrid care center you used to call home.

You don’t think of your past home as much as you used to. Preferring the memories you make now with your loving owner than the lonely ones back at your old home. It was at this bunny hybrid care center that you could recall your earliest memories. It was there where you were raised by the facility’s caretakers and received your education, making a few casual friends along the way. As kind as some of your caretakers were, you never grew as close to any, at least not in the way you did with Jungkook. They often never stayed long to form that kind of connection anyway. It wasn’t the best place for a child, the facility not receiving as much funding as it should to properly care for its residents. You often felt alone. You had some friends but for the most part, you missed out on forming deep and meaningful bonds.

You didn’t get adopted as a kid. Most families preferred to adopt hybrids when they were still very young. But you aged out of the preferred age bracket and eventually came to the realization that finding another home might as well be impossible. Hybrids who chose to stay could work for the center in exchange for basic housing and money (albeit a poor wage). With nowhere else to go, you really had no other option.

That was up until Jungkook came into your life.

It was never Jungkook’s intention to adopt a hybrid. He had only come to your residence to accompany his friend Eunwoo. Eunwoo already had his own hybrid at home but wanted to adopt another one as a companion. It was on that day that Jungkook met you for the first time.

He first came across you doodling on your sketchbook at the care center’s living room area. You were curled up in a huge chair besides the room’s massive window. He even remembered exactly what you wore that day because of how cute he thought you looked. A fluffy oversized sweater and some fuzzy socks. You were so focused on your work that you took no notice of the buzz around you.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”, Eunwoo quipped from behind Jungkook, snapping the other out of his staring daze.

“Y-yeah, she is”, Jungkook choked, feeling sheepish at being caught, “have you seen her yet?”

“No, but I’d like to get to know her”, Eunwoo shrugged, “maybe she’d be a good match for my Hana.”

After asking around a bit, Eunwoo was able to land a meet session with you that same day. He just wanted to get to know you better, see if you’d be a good match for his own hybrid at home. Being that Jungkook was already there, he stuck around for the meeting. Although if he was being honest, he was curious about you too.

“I like your body art.”

“Body art?”, Jungkook asked, “you mean my tattoos?”

“Oh I meant tattoos! Sorry! ”, you quickly apologized, embarrassed at your own mistake. You have seen tattoos before in magazines and in movies but didn’t know what to call them.

“No worries, I knew what you meant”, Jungkook laughed, “wanna see them?”

“Sure!”

Jungkook giggled at your enthusiasm before removing his jacket. You blushed at the sight of his well defined biceps decorated with numerous tattoos. His body itself was it’s own work of art. The next couple of minutes were spent with you gushing over how cool Jungkook’s tattoos looked, curious to find out the meaning and detail behind every one of them. Jungkook doesn’t think he has ever met anyone as excited about tattoos as you were, especially with how innocent he thought you looked.

Although the session was meant for Eunwoo to get to know you better, he ended up basically being third wheeled for the remainder of the enthusiastic exchange between the two of you. It didn’t bother him however, it was pretty amusing watching his friend of over a decade turn into a pile of putty in front him.

“She seems smitten with you”, Eunwoo commented over his steaming cup of coffee.

After the session was over, Eunwoo had let the staff know that he needed more time to think it over before adopting you. Both he and Jungkook deciding to stop at a cafe close by after the ordeal.

“What do you mean?”, Jungkook replied over his own iced americano.

Eunwoo shrugged before taking a sip of his own drink, “have you ever thought about adopting a hybrid?”

“No.”

It was true, it had never really crossed Jungkook’s mind before. He knows of people who have, and from his perspective, it seems like a huge hassle. There are specific diets, expensive medical visits, the dreaded heat spells, and who knows how many more complications out there.

“Well if you ever change your mind, I know a cute one.”

Being a new and relatively inexperienced owner, Jungkook missed all red flags of your impending first heat. You were extra affectionate and clingy. Not that it bothered him at all. He loved basking in the extra attention and affection you provided, chalking it up to you simply missing him due to the heavy work schedule he had that week.

Then it was the restlessness. Just before he left for work or to run errands in the morning, he would stop by your room to check up on you only you find you still awake from the night before with red eyes and a tired face. The lack of sleep was an immediate cause of concern in his eyes. He thought it warranted a doctor’s visit but you insisted that it was nothing to worry about and it was all caused by you staying up late to play games on your computer. His instincts told him it was something else but he took your word for it anyway and decided to wait and see if your sleep improved.

He finally dragged you to see the doctor after your restlessness only worsened and you started to complain of hot flashes. You tried to brush that off with different excuses as well but nothing you said this time was going to stop this doctor’s visit from happening.

“She’s experiencing her first heat.”

Jungkook nearly chocked on his own salvia upon hearing those words come out the doctor so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since Jungkook described your symptoms to the middle aged woman before she already had a diagnosis.

“Are you sure? I mean, the symptoms are kind of broad, could it not be an indiction of something else?”

“I’m positive”, she left out a laugh and adjusted her glasses, “I see it all the time. Besides, she’s due for one. I’d be more concerned if she hadn’t experience her heat yet.”

Jungkook chewed his lip. He had researched your symptoms on his own and found that your symptoms marked all the signs of a hybrid heat but he had just wanted to make sure. He felt his heart drop as he remembered all the posts recommending hybrids go through their heats with other hybrids.

“I see…she’s going to need a hybrid partner, right?”

“Ideally, yes. However, any partner will do so long as she has her needs met. Whether you decide to find her a hybrid partner or assist her yourself is going to be something for you and her to decide.”

As much as he despised the idea of another man touching you, Jungkook knew that he had to set his feelings aside and do what’s best for you. He didn’t want to take advantage of your instincts.

He knew of another hybrid like you who could help you through your heat. Jimin, a dog hybrid, was his coworker and one of his closest friends. Many businesses actively discriminate against hybrids and typically don’t hire them but Seokjin had known Jimin for a while and knew it’d be silly to pass out on a valuable employee because he happened to have ears and a fluffy tail. Most customers loved Jimin anyway because of his charm and skills, few ever turned him away for his hybrid status.

He feels uneasy at the prospect of asking Jimin if he would be willing to help you with such an intimate activity but he knew he could trust Jimin. Sex between hybrids is almost always done for instinctual needs and intimacy isn’t an aspect typically involved but Jungkook can’t help but feel his stomach churn at the thought.

“I’ll do it.”

Jungkook felt his heart drop a bit. Theoretically, he should be thankful that Jimin didn’t outright turn on him or even worse, cut all contact with him then and there. But still, part of him had hoped for a little more resistance from the hybrid.

“A-are you sure?”, Jungkook hopes Jimin doesn’t catch on to the reluctance in his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? I know how much of a pain heats are, especially when you don’t have a partner to help you out. She’s really lucky to have an owner like you who looks out for these kinds of things Kook.”

Jungkook didn’t speak to Jimin for a couple of days after that night. He knew it was a wrong and shitty thing to do but he couldn’t stomach any sort of interaction with him. Every time he looked at Jimin, the image of you beneath him crossed his mind and it haunted him. It’s not like he was mad or upset with Jimin. Jungkook was the one who had asked him for his help after all. He just needs some time to forget the whole thing. As much as Jungkook tried to not show how bothered he was by the whole ordeal, the others quickly caught on to the change in his character. He didn’t joke around or engage with the others as much as he used to.

After the tension between them became too unbearable for Jimin to handle, Jimin decided to finally confront Jungkook privately. He wanted to catch Jungkook at closing hour as soon as the others left but he’s not too sure how that’s going to work out considering Jungkook is almost always the first to leave these days. Jimin knows that was surely in an effort to avoid him since Jimin had to almost drag Jungkook out of the parlor after closing before. Fortunately for him, Jungkook had forgotten a few of his belongings back in the parlor so he had no choice but to come back and retrieve them.

Jimin was just about done sweeping up the place when he heard the unlocking of the parlor’s door. There stood Jungkook, who looked like a deer caught under headlights as soon as he met Jimin’s stare.

“H-hey”, Jungkook could feel his hands start to get clammy as soon as he realized he was alone with Jimin, “I just realized I left some of my stuff here so I came back to pick them up.”

“Oh yea, no problem. I left them on the counter in the back”, Jimin quipped. Despite not confronting him yet, Jimin already started to feel awkward.

Jungkook bolted for the door as soon as he had grabbed all his things. He was only a few steps away from the exit when Jimin made his move.

“Jungkook, wait.”

Shit.

“Yes hyung?”, Jungkook had inched towards the door, resting his hand on the handle but he had turned around to reply to Jimin anyways.

“We should talk.”

Despite trying to avoid the situation altogether, Jungkook knew this would inevitably happen. It was difficult for him to completely hide the change in his character altogether. Jimin was also a sensitive guy by nature, he knew Jimin could feel the tension in the room become impalpable when they were together.

Jungkook let out an awkward cough before speaking, “sure, what’s on your mind?”

He could have replied that he had somewhere to be and spared himself from the conversation at hand but he already felt like a piece of shit for avoiding Jimin. This was the least he could do.

Jimin sighed. How does one even start a conversation like this?

“Well…to be honest, I just feel like something’s changed between us”, Jimin let the words flow out, it’s too late to go back now, “I don’t if you been trying to avoid me lately but that’s the impression I’m getting. I just wanted to know…if I did something wrong or something?"

“N-no”, Jungkook suddenly felt extremely guilty, “of course not hyung. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin knew Jungkook was still hiding something, so he pressed further, “but something’s definitely bothering you Kook, I can tell. You know you could always tell me right? I won’t be hurt or offended.”

Jungkook sighed, he going to have to come clean for Jimin’s sake, “it’s not you hyung. Really. It’s me.”

Setting his stuff down, Jungkook decided to tell finally tell someone what was on his mind.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that…after that night between you and Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jungkook started trailing off again, he wanted to Jimin his true feelings but the words just keep getting lodged in his throat. Jimin was relieved to hear that he didn’t fuck up his and Jungkook’s relationship but it still bothered him to see Jungkook look so down. He’s been close friends with Jungkook for so long now that Jungkook is practically like a little brother to him. Even if Jimin isn’t the reason for change in Jungkook’s character, he’s still going to help him in any way he can.

“What do you mean? Is Y/N still in pain?”

“No”, Jungkook quickly interjected, “she’s ok now, what I’m trying to say is that this is more about me than it is her.”

Jimin thinks be beginning to understand now.

“I love her hyung and not in a way that an owner should be with their hybrid,” Jungkook felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he began to pour out the feelings he had bottled up inside for so long, “you did nothing wrong. I’m not mad at you or anything. I just feel… hurt and jealous about the whole thing. I know it’s a shitty thing to be feeling that way but everytime I’m with you…all I can think about is you and Y/N, well y’know.”

Oh. Jimin had a small hunch about what was really going on but he never thought that Jungkook would actually come to him and confirm it. Jimin felt like shit. He was just now starting to understand just how deep Jungkook’s feelings for you ran and he had jumped in and ruined it. Jimin felt as if he had betrayed his own brother.

“Jungkook, you have to tell Y/N.”

Jungkook’s eyes doubled in size at Jimin’s word of advice. How could he tell you something like that? What if you don’t feel the same and it totally ruins your relationship? He couldn’t burden you with something like that.

“Hyung, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea-”, Jungkook started but Jimin quickly interjected.

“You can’t carry this burden forever. And Y/N deserves to know the truth. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way if you don’t confess how you truly feel? You have to trust her.”

Jungkook understood what Jimin was getting to. His feelings were getting in the way of his relationship with you and Jimin. He had to tell you how he truly felt so he could finally let this burden go.

He just hoped you felt the same way.

Jungkook didn’t say another word as he walked up to the dog hybrid and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He was just glad that his relationship with Jimin could be salvaged. As vulnerable as he feels right now, it felt good for Jungkook to open up and have this talk.

“It’s going to be okay Kook”, Jimin reciprocated the younger man’s embrace, he’s grateful that Jungkook could be honest with him.

“I’m so sorry hyung for everything, I hope you can forgive me”, Jungkook felt guilty for making Jimin believe he did something wrong. He’s doesn’t deserve to have someone as kind and understanding as Jimin as a friend.

Jimin chuckled, patting Jungkook on the pat, he reassured him, “it’s ok Jungkook, I understand. That’s something hard to go through, especially when you bottle up those feelings and keep them to yourself. Everything’s gonna be ok.”

Jungkook’s been with a few girls here and there but his relationships never latest for more than a few dates. Not after they would find out about you. Of course, when the topic would inevitably come up, Jungkook always insisted that his relationship with you was strictly familiar. Most of the time, it would work in qwelling any relationship doubts but only temporarily. It was impossible to miss how Jungkook’s eyes would light up when you walked into the room, the attentiveness he displayed everytime you spoke, or the sweet smile and giggle he gave you when you said something funny.

Jungkook could feel himself start to feel nervous again as he fumbled with the front’s door to his apartment. Either you would awake and waiting for him (it’s a cute little habit of yours to always wait for him after work to greet him, no matter how late) or you would be snuggled up on the sofa fast asleep if you couldn’t suppress your sleepiness long enough to see him.

Jungkook finally opened the door only to be greeted to the sight of you quietly asleep on the softa. He felt his heart melt at how peaceful and gentle you looked snuggled up under the heavy pink blanket. Your face was just barely peeking out of the covers as was your favorite stuffed animal Cooky.

The conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.

Quickly locking the door behind him, Jungkook was quiet as he set his things away as to not to disturb your slumber. In times that you would fall asleep on the couch, you would wake up and find yourself in your room again. Jungkook moving you back to your bedroom the night before. As peaceful as you looked, Jungkook figured the couch probably wasn’t as comfortable as your mattress.

After Jungkook finished setting his things away, the first thing he did was pick you up as gently as possible from the couch. Being mindful of not making too much noise and making sure he brought Cooky with you, he swiftly moved you from the couch into your bedroom as if you weighed nothing. He’d get ready for bed after he moved you.

Jungkook had just set you down on your bed when he felt you stirring beneath him. Shit. He must have awoken you during the procress.

“Kook?”, you said in a voice heavy in sleep, “that you?”

“Yeah Bun, I’m just moving you”, Jungkook replied, almost whispering, “sorry for waking you, I’ll be leaving now, ‘kay?”

“Wait no, don’t go yet Kook”, you were fully awake now, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand in a weak attempt to get him to stay, “how was work?”

“It was great. Lots of clients”, Jungkook shrugged, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “you sure you don’t want me to leave so you could go to sleep baby?”

“Nah, I’m ok”, you replied with a shake of your head, “I’m fully awake now, see? Don’t worry ‘bout me. Why’d you come home so late? Was it really that busy today?”

“N-no. I just forgot some things at the parlor so I had to go back. Then me and Jimin talked for a bit about something important…”

“Oh?”, you sat up now, using your elbows to prop yourself up from the bed, “what about?”

Suddenly, the world started to feel like it was slowing down to a stop. Jungkook felt extremely vulnerable again under your curious gaze. Even more so than when he was with Jimin. He can’t recall if he ever felt as nervous and as clammy as he did right now. Can he really go through with this?

“Y/N…there’s something important that I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now but I never had the courage to say it.”

“Yeah?”, you fully sat up now, feeling your heart speed up now in anticipation at what Jungkook had to say, “what is it Kook?”

Jungkook sighed. Why did this have to be so difficult?

“Y/N, the reason why I stayed up so late was because I told Jimin the truth about how I felt. About that night between you and Jimin. About you.”

Jungkook was gnawing at his bottom lip now, it was too late to go back now. He had your attention completely. He felt like a 12 year old boy confessing to his crush for the first time. His heart could burst out of his chest at any second now.

“The truth is”, Jungkook took a second to clear his throat before he continued, “I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’m in love with you and I know as an owner I shouldn’t feel- hmph”

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to Jungkook’s, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. It wasn’t lustful or needy but a delicate kiss. For a second, Jungkook froze. Your lips were softer than he had imagined. You two locked lips for what seemed like forever before you gently pulled away to properly respond to Jungkook’s confession.

“I’m happy to hear that Kook because for the longest time now, I’ve loved you too. I was also scared to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same or not. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward in your own home. To be honest, I’ve always tried to hide my feelings but I knew I couldn’t ignore them anymore when you brought another girl here for the first time. It was that client from your work, remember? I felt so jealous that I cried that night. I don’t think I can handle seeing you with anybody else.”

Was this really happening or were you still dreaming? Even if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.

Jungkook felt the massive pressure he had carried with him for so long just dissipate in an instant. It was just like all his worries and doubts had been flushed out of his system. You loved him back. Not just in a familiar sort of way but you were in love with him too.

“Ok, I won’t ever bring another girl home again, I promise.”

Jungkook couldn’t help himself but slowly smile at your cute confession of jealously, who knew you were so possessive?

“Kook, why didn’t you help me with my heat?”

Jungkook chewed at his lip again, not knowing how to best respond, “It just didn’t feel right for me as your owner and a human to use your natural instincts as an excuse to have sex with you. I just wanted to do what was best for you and so I fiigured finding you another hybrid as a partner would be the best course of action.”

“You wouldn’t have taken advantage of me Kook, I may be a hybrid but I have enough control to know what I’m doing”, you reassured Jungkook. You were finally glad to hear that Jungkook didn’t offer himself as a partner to you because he felt unsure of himself and not because he didn’t want to be your mate, “Jiminnie… he’s nice but…I wanted you to help me.”

“Hmm, is it too late for me to take care of my baby girl?”

Maybe it was low or the raspy tone in his voice, but his words immediately made you squirm.

Taking your hands in his larger ones, he brought your hand up to his face, tentatively leaving tender kisses on your fingertips. Its little actions like this that turned you into a pile of putty in front of him.

“Mhm”, you inched closer to him, practically purring your next words, ”I mean, it’s not too late at all, please mate with me Kook.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice, his lips were already back on yours at your command. Unlike your first kiss, this one quickly turned into one laced with pure lust. You moaned as you felt Jungkook’s tongue slip inside your own mouth before exploring everything he could.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook leaned back and took a couple of seconds to take you in. Here you were, beneath him and in desperate need of his touch. Even in this state you were beautiful, your hair was fanned out, eyes glossy and heavy, and your lips were parted as you let out short breaths.

In Jungkook’s attempt to better re-adjust his position to where he was hovering above you, his rapidly inflating shaft had unintentionally made contact with your clothed pussy. You moaned as you felt him rapidly stiffening under your touch.

“What do you need from me baby?”, Jungkook’s voice was laced with pure lust, “No need to be shy now, I’m all yours.”

“Want you to touch me here”, taking his hand in yours, you trailed it down to your body right down to your cunt. Your wetness had soaked through the fabric and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you had surely left a huge stain.

You shuddered as you felt Jungkook’s larger hands finally reach the place you most wanted them.

“We just started and you already made a huge mess Bun”, Jungkook teased as he slipped his hand beneath the band of your panties. He could your slick immediately coat his fingers as he rubbed lazy circles around the sensitive flesh.

Before you could respond, Jungkook slipped his finger inside you. You were already so wet that the action brough no discomfort.

“Hngh”, you squimed at the sensation of Jungkook fully immersing a digit in you. Jungkook watched your face scrunch up in pleasure as he slipped yet another digit inside. Using his free thumb to rub small circles on your numb, Jungkook began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them slightly to fuck you at a more pleasurable angle. He only had two digits in you and yet your cunt was already squeezing tightly around him. When he moved his fingers out, he could feel your pussy try to suck them back in.

“So tight around my fingers,” Jungkook spoke, moaning at his own words,”How are you gonna handle a cock stuffed inside you, baby?”

“Mhm, I c-can handle it.”

You suddenly felt Jungkook slip his fingers out of you, instantly letting out a whine at the loss of him inside you.

“Don’t worry bunny”, Jungkook laughed at your adorable whine, “we’re not done yet.”

Jungkook pulled back, now moving himself down your body to bring himself closer to your quivering core. He was pleased to find a huge wet stain decorating the front of your panties as he gently tugged you pajamas off of you. You lifted your hips slightly so Jungkook could fully remove your pajamas off of you. After discarding your pajamas somewhere on the floor, Jungkook leaned his face in to hover over where you desperately wanted him before placing a gentle kiss through the fabric.

Hooking his fingers on the sides of your panties, he slowly peeled the fabric off, taking every second of the view. Once again, you slightly lifted your hips to assit him with taking the wet fabric off. You shuddered as you felt the cool air hit your exposed core.

As much as he wanted to take in more of the gorgeous view in front of him, Jungkook decided not to waste time any longer and lowered himself until his face was mere centimeters from your pussy. You smelled as divine as you looked. Tentatively, he placed another soft kiss on your folds before licking a strip.

You mewled at his actions, earning a hum of satisfaction from him.

“That felt good huh baby?”, he chucked from in-between your legs. Slipping his hands beneath your thighs, Jungkook hoisted them over his shoulders to give himself better access to your clenching pussy.

“Mhm, want more of it Kook”, you muttered breathlessly.

Only this time, instead of going straight for your needy cunt, Jungkook opted for a bit more foreplay to prepare you. He placed a few more gentle kisses on the surrounding flesh of your core. Very gently, he bit and sucked on a few areas, leaving behind the faint marks of hickies in some places.

“Kook, p-please”, you were practically muttering to yourself at this point. Diving your fingers down to your pussy, you parted your lips to show Jungkook exactly where you needed him, “touch me here.”

Jungkook chuckled at your needy request, “since my princess asked so nicely...”

He dove straight to your pussy, his mouth covering the slick flesh. Jungkook wasted no time in attacking your pussy with his tongue and lapped at the slick pouring out your wet hole. A wave of pleasure washed down your entire body. It’s like you were experiencing your heat all over again only this time Jungkook was the cure.

Jungkook’s free hand came down to rub gentle circles around your clit as his tongue continued it’s assault on your cunt. With just a few more laps, you came completely undone. Your thighs began to shake as you rode off your orgasm with Jungkook’s tongue still buried in your pussy. Jungkook ensured that not a single drop of your juices went to waste.

With your orgasm fully washing over you, Jungkook pulled away to give you a few moments to let your body calm down. His hard cock was now digging through the fabric of his jeans and his balls heavy from neglect. Never had he given himself blue balls from a sight as beautiful as this before. Catching your breath again, you felt a vivid shade of pink dust your cheeks as you caught on to Jungkook’s dilemma.

Jungkook’s hard cock sprung out from his pants the instant he peeled them off. You moaned at the sight, your thighs instantly spreading a little farther as Jungkook wasted no time in getting inbetween your legs. He looked down at you with his pupils blown out in lust as he stroked his throbbing cock.

“Ready, baby?” You nodded furiously, almost forgetting your own voice. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s throbbing cock so close to your pussy. Jungkook took notice and decided that you suffered enough to keep teasing you. Hoisting your thighs and pulling you close to his lap, Jungkook proceeded to run the tip of his cock up and down your slit. You squirmed at the sensation, instinctively pushing yourself closer to what you needed.

“So impatient”, Jungkook let out a small laugh, though truthfully, he himself couldn’t wait much longer. You felt the air in your lungs disappear as Jungkook gently slowly pushed the tip of cock inside you.

“F-fuck”, Jungkook grunted, bottoming completely inside you. Your walls were squeezing his cock deliciously but he resisted the urge to fuck you. You were clearly still trying to adjust to his size, your face cutely screwed up in a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort at Jungkook’s full size inside you.

Jungkook took a moment to drink in the beautiful sight of you beneath him, taking him in completely. It’s like you were made for him.

The initial discomfort of Jungkook’s cock buried inside you was quickly fading into pure bliss. You started to wiggled your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, desperate to find the relief you were looking for.

“Fuck, you know how fucking cute you are, right?”, Jungkook leaned down to peck your lips, “you’re so good for me.”

“M-move Kook, puh-please”, you stuttered, too far gone in the absolutely euphoria you were experiencing.

Taking your word, Jungkook began moving his hips in a steady rhythm. He too became increasingly more vocal the more he fucked you. He was entranced with the sight before him. Whether it was the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made, the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight pussy, or your face screwed up in pure bliss. He didn’t know where to look.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you too were just as entranced at the sight before you as he was. You don’t think you can ever get enough of the sight of Jungkook’s cock sliding in and out your cunt.

You racked your hands up Jungkook’s abs and chest before wrapping them around his neck, instantly pulling him a little closer to you.

You always admired Jungkook’s well defined abs, he had the physique of a greek god. You remembered the first time you caught a glimpse of his hard abs and how weak in the knees it made you. Jungkook had just come out of shower with only a pair of sweats on. You were in the living room, buried in a book when he strotted into the kitchen to grab a bottle water. You remembered blushing furiously as you tried to hide your face behind your book before he could catch you staring. Since then, you dreamt of feeling his abs beneath your fingertips.

Once again, you felt your breath hitched in your throat as Jungkook leaned his face only a few centimeters away from yours. He was now resting himself on his forearms from above you. Your heart was beating in your ears now from how close his face was to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your skin and you could count every eyelash as he fluttered

Catching you by surprise, Jungkook pressed his lips onto yours, snaking his tongue into your mouth. As he pulled away, a thin string of salivia connected you two.

“How could I have been such a fucking idiot to let another man have you like this?”

“M-mhm, no need to worry Kook”, as fucked out as you were right now, you managed to pull yourself together to give him a coherent reply, “a-am all yours..”

Jungkook felt his heart swell with pride in his own chest at your declaration, “and I yours, bunny.”

With each thrust hitting you in your sweet spot, you inched closer to that familiar sensation. Jungkook too could tell that you were getting close, evident by your pussy clenching more sporadically around his cock. Griping the sheets beneath you, you started babbling pleas and cries for more almost incoherently as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

Re-adjusting his position, Jungkook now sat up and griped your hips as he began fucking you faster and at a deeper position.

“C’mon, bunny”, Jungkook grunted, he too was unsure how much longer he’d be able to last, “Cream all over my cock.”

It was Jungkook’s words that finally edged you to your high. You felt your eyes squeeze shut as you screamed in pure bliss, muscles contracting as you finally felt the relief that your body had been begging for wash over you.

It was a glorious sight, really, watching you lose yourself beneath him. You were milking his cock for all he was worth and he could feel himself start to lose himself as well. You could feel it too, his thrusts gradually becoming more shallow and losing their rthymtic pace. Locking your arms around his neck, you leaned forward to pepper kisses on his jawline.

“Come in me, Kook”, you whispered softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “wanna feel you.”

Not a second longer passed by and Jungkook’s warm seed was spilling inside you, filling you up completely. The world around you seemed to slow down and you drew dizzy at how full you felt in the moment.

Slowing down his pace to a stop, you felt Jungkook lay himself to rest behind you. Still partially buried inside your hole, he wrapped his arm around your tummy, pulling you snug to his chest. For a few moments, the two of you laid like this, just caught up in the moment and trying to catch each other's breath.

“You good now, bunny?”, Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence. You replied with a hum of satisfaction, buring your head deeper in his chest, you could hear his rapidly beating heartbeat slow down a bit.

Feeling you relax beneath him, Jungkook slid his cock out from your trembling pussy. A conconation of his semen and your juices instantly squelching out. You whined at the loss of him and at the sensation of your juices running down your hole.

Grabbing a few tissues from the side of your bed, Jungkook lazily wiped both of you down as to not sully the bed further. Making a mental note to wash your sheets first thing in the morning.

“Jungkook?”

“Yes Bun?”

“Don’t date those other girls anymore, ‘kay?”

Feeling himself melt at your cuteness, Jungkook chuckled before leaning down to kiss you on your forhead.

“Okay, promise I won’t. Not when I have you.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook x hybrid reader #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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roseykat · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 1

Title: Same coin, different faces

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Despite not being together with Chan anymore, you somehow end up in the back of his car...fogging up the windows.

TAGS: pre-established breakup trope, swearing, a dash of angst but also a hint of resolve, mentions of alcohol (neither the reader nor Chan is drunk), a bit of manhandling by both parties, oral sex (reader receiving), car sex, unprotected, sort of hate/rough sex.

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER LIST

(This is currently unedited but I will be proofing it later on)

It wasn’t as fun as you had hoped it to be, a party that is. Given it was the end of the semester, people usually prefer to go all out - which they did, but you weren’t feeling it. There were far too many people off of their faces, including your entire friend group that you showed up with.

Two of them were playing drinking games in the kitchen, one of them - Minho, who had completely disappeared for the past few hours, and another one who had found himself someone to hook up with.

In the end, you were on your own for the remainder of the party. After having found a way into the lounge through the masses of people attending and remained on the couch, watching those around you for a while, you decided to get back up and grab a drink. There wasn’t an entire selection to choose from; either warm beer or cheap wine, which you grab from the latter and pour some in a plastic cup to try and fit in with everyone else.

The briny taste of the wine was enough to make you think that maybe it was time to go home. It wasn’t fun, interesting, nor a good way to spend your time on a Friday night. Before being able to make the decision to leave, you find yourself planted on the ground when your eyes catch onto a familiar figure amongst the people.

Chan. Your ex-boyfriend - your ex-best friend at that too.

It was a surprise to see him given that he isn’t really a party goer, but also a surprise to see him in general after the pair of you went through such a tumultuous breakup a month ago. Things just didn’t work out the way they were supposed to which was unfortunate because Chan is one of a kind.

There isn’t anybody like him that exists in this world. He’s gentle, caring, and has a bottomless well of love to give. Now that you’re not together anymore, you know that whoever he ends up with in the future is well taken care of.

“Hi,” Chan says, walking up to you.

“Hey,” you respond back, unsure of how to actually talk to him now. “What are you doing here?”

Chan sighs, looking at the screen of his phone momentarily then turning his attention back to you, “trying to find Minho. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him. Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him for the past couple of hours,” you answer. “I highly doubt he’s actually here still.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “course he’s not.”

“He probably went to Jisung’s at some point,” you add.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he replies before his eyes peer down at the plastic cup. “Drinking? That’s not like you.”

“It’s the end of the semester,” you say in your own defence. “I was trying to finish off strong.”

“Right. Have you got a ride home then?”

Your eyes dart beyond Chan to ‘your ride home’ who has probably now consumed half of his body weight in alcohol. Chan catches your gaze, turns around and sees Seungmin throwing back another shot with a couple of strangers, presumably his classmates.

Chan sighs once more and faces you again, “don’t tell me he was supposed to sober drive.”

“He won’t be now,” you respond.

“Okay well, I can drop you off. Minho’s not replying and he’s probably not here, plus I’m getting tired,” he offers.

You ponder for a moment. Since Chan had come up to you, you hadn’t felt that sting of pain that a breakup usually induces. Not since the day you both called it quits on the relationship. But that’s only because things were never awkward with him. It’s only until now that you realise how depleting life has been without him. It’s not colourful anymore.

It’s an issue because you don’t want to be reminded of what you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, the best things can be the worst for us.

“It’s okay, thank you though,” you decline respectfully. “I might tell the others to get ready to head off.”

“And who’s going to drive them? You?” He asks with a brow raised then shakes his head with disapproval. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” you retort. “I’m not even tipsy, plus I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Seems like they left you behind,” Chan points out a very good point which you find hard to not be in denial about.

He takes the plastic cup out of your hand and places it on the nearest surface cluttered with other discarded items. He then returns back to you to gently take hold of your wrist and leads you out of the lounge full of people.

“Wait-”

“I’m not letting you drive under the influence, end of story,” he decides.

With that matter in hand, you’re quickly reminded that Chan has always had a strong head on his shoulders and his morals are very clear cut. He held reasonably strong opinions on doing unnecessarily dangerous things, particularly when it comes to you. It happened to be one of the poisonous factors that pierced the final dagger into the relationship.

The cold air then hits you when you both make it out into the front yard.

“I can walk thank you,” you say to Chan who forgets that he’s still holding your wrist. He looks down at his hand and releases.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Car’s this way.”

He leads you once more just across the street to the vehicle while you think about the fact that you never actually agreed you were going to accept his offer to take you home. In saying that, there was no other alternative other than walking which Chan wouldn’t have put up with anyway.

The pair of you hop in his car, finally able to catch a break from the blaring music that was blasting throughout the house. After both of your seatbelts are on, Chan starts the car and drives away down the street.

It’s not long until silence falls quickly. Things had never been this terribly awkward between you both, but there had been pockets of quietness which used to be comfortable to sit in. Now you can see that it’s not as nice.

“So what have you been up to these days?” Chan asks out of the blue, breaking that silence.

“Nothing interesting I guess,” you answer blandly. “Just studies and that’s it.”

He nods, “how’s that going so far?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Chan lets out a small huff, “you know, it’s still okay for us to talk right? We don’t need to be so hostile.”

The glow of your phone from your lap catches your attention away from his comment. You blink down at the screen and read a text from Felix.

Lix: ‘Saw you leave with Chan. Please tell me you’re both back on.’

You roll your eyes. You love Felix, but sometimes he can be too optimistic. There wasn’t any way you and Chan were going to find your way back to each other. If anything, it wouldn’t be the same anymore.

“I wasn’t being hostile, plus there’s not much to my answer anyway unless you want me to lie?” You respond back.

“No, I don’t want you to lie,” Chan adjusts his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But you speaking just proves my point on why we shouldn’t act like that.”

You turn your head, shooting him a well-deserved glare. This isn’t usually how Chan acts. He never says backhanded things as such even though he can be relatively blunt. Whatever subtle malice was behind his words obviously came from the same place that helped the relationship tear apart.

“This is why we never worked out because you always had to have some degree of control,” you scoff, ignoring the fact that you’ve now doused the flicker of the argument with petrol.

“I was only doing what I though was safest for you,” Chan argues back strongly. “It was never about having any type of control, it was because you couldn’t see what the consequences were.”

“Then why couldn’t you have let me figure it out for myself? How else am I supposed to learn, when you’re not here anymore?”

“You, driving drunk isn’t something that you just learn not to do. You don’t do it, full stop. Anyone with common sense knows that,” Chan bites back.

“I’m not even talking about that! When have I ever driven drunk? Now you’re just fucking reaching for things! All I’m saying is that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with you, I never got to be my own person. It was like I was turning into another ‘you’.”

Chan shrugs, “in comparison to what you can be like sometimes, I honestly don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing.”

The last nerve inside you, had been struck.

“Stop the car, I’m getting out.”

“No, we’re nearly at your h-”

“I don’t care Chris, I seriously don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” you cut him off sharply, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth.

Chan looks over at you, absorbing how painfully angry you look right now and the fact that your hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt as soon as he pulls over. It was fairly obvious because once he did, you were out of the vehicle before he could say anything more. But as fast as you are out the door, Chan is already on the other side to meet you.

“Don’t go home angry,” he says urgently.

You shoot him a dirty look, thinking who the hell is he to tell you what to do, “or what?”

“Well can we at least talk then?” He questions, trying to grasp onto some common ground here.

With as much force as you can muster, your arms come up to shove Chan by the chest, “fuck you.”

He stumbles back a few steps and is not as nearly as surprised as you are by your own behaviour. Never has anyone elicited as much of a reaction from you until now. The shock has you to the point where you can barely assemble an apology to Chan. Even so when he comes back forward, grabbing you by the sides of your arms, and shoving you right back against his own car.

Before either of you say another word, his mouth crashes straight against yours. His swift hands are quickly groping and roaming in every place around your body that he can reach while you submit to his moves. You’ve forgotten how electrifying Chan can be at times when it comes to intimacy, that you really start to feel it when he slides his knee in between your thighs.

You gasp against his lips, yelping almost when his hands reach behind you to squeeze your ass and to try to bring your body as impossibly close to his as he can. For a split second, you break away to consolidate what is happening. Chan remains latched onto you, his mouth now working its way to your jaw and down to your throat, sucking and biting into your skin.

Neither of you care about whether or not he’s going to mark you up. All you care about at this point in time, is the hope that he’s going to fuck you.

“The door…open the door,” you mumble to him, even though you’re trying to find the handle yourself.

Even with the unshakeable frame of mind that he’s in right now, Chan listens to you. He pulls you forward with him so that he can yank the backdoor open. You hop onto the seat, pushing yourself backwards to the other side of the car to create room for him to join you. But Chan had his own idea planted already.

He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you right back to the edge of the seat closest to him. His hands take pride in reaching underneath your skirt and tearing your underwear down your legs.

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to fully take them off as they dangle on one leg. In saying that, it doesn’t take you very long to click onto what he wants to do. So you help him by doing your best to hike your skirt further up your thighs. Chan decides to take a few seconds to appreciate being able to relive this moment once more by using his thumb to swipe over your wet slit, collecting your juices only to bring it up to his mouth and suck it right off.

“Fucking missed this,” he speaks for the first time in about five minutes before lifting both of your legs and separating them for his head to slot in perfectly between.

The fan of his hot breath washes over your skin, already making your squirm forward towards his mouth. It’s been a long time since someone had touched you and Chan could tell. He knows how needy you can be, but not when you’re like this. Not when you’re straining to reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to your pussy. Not when you’re already moaning when he’s barely touched you.

Not when you’re wetter than what he usually thinks you are.

“Y-Yes…right there,” you sigh out and lie back down, waiting eagerly.

One of your hands threads through his dark hair and tugs every time he sucks on your clit. Shivers of pleasure reverberate throughout your body, already making your legs tremble on his shoulders. If anyone were to drive past, you know you and Chan would get done for public indecency. Except that devious consequence became an elicit far away thought drowned out by your own moans the more Chan continued to eat you out.

The best thing about it is that he’s not going easy on you. He’s being deceptively rough by digging his nails into your thighs and showing zero remorse when he relentlessly licks over that same sweet spot. The more work he puts into trying to make you cum, the harder he gets in his pants, straining at this point.

“P-Please Chan, hurry,” you cry out, trying to sit up and slide down further into his mouth. “Need to cum, please.”

When your begging and moaning become increasingly louder and more frequent, Chan knows you’re on the cusp of an orgasm. However, as much as he used to enjoy you cumming on his face, the idea of you cumming on his cock is just as good, if not better. So just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Chan pulls back.

You blink in amongst the haziness of what was about to be a mind shattering orgasm to see Chan who’s head had lifted up from in between your legs. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and is completely unashamed about it.

“You can just fucking wait,” he snaps and begins to adjust your legs so that he makes sure they cage his body at his sides, that way he can grab onto your thighs and fuck you hard and steady.

Although you can barely see, you hear the zipper to his pants open before he takes out his cock, hard and ready to put it to use on you. You bite down on your bottom lip when Chan uses his tip to tease your entrance. He pushes his hips forward, enough to make his cock slide up and in between your pussy.

Chan’s shaky hand manages to get a proper hold around his dick, aligning it with your wet hole, and slowly pushes in as the heat begins to encapsulate around his length. The top half of his body nearly falters forward if it weren’t for his hips that thrust forward first.

“Chris…” you mutter in an aspirated voice, feeling the fullness of his cock stretch you out.

There is no forewarning for the strength he has behind each buck of his hips. It takes you back to times before during your relationship and how deliciously memorable the sex always was. Chan’s main priority was to always make you cum first and regardless of his own needs and pleasure. Whether you misbehaved or were being an outright undeserving brat in bed, even then he would still let you cum. That’s how much he loved you.

“Nobody can ever fuck you the way I do,” Chan grits his teeth, his eyes watching his cock disappear inside of you each time he rams forward, hard and fast.

Every second that goes by, you’re grappling more and more onto your last threads of sanity. It’s hard to keep up and absorb Chris’s stamina and pace - a relentless and unapologetic pace that hits the same spot inside you over and over again until that build up of pleasure starts spreading around your lower abdomen.

“Make me feel…so good,” you mumble incoherently. “Gonna make me cum.”

It’s been a long time since Chan has heard you say those words - hell, even heard you moan at the very least. It’s enough to keep his pace steady but he’s very wary of the fact that he himself is already near the edge of an orgasm too. Nonetheless, he’s determined to get you there first once more.

So Chan lets go of one of your legs at his side so that he can use his thumb to now rub fast circles over your clit. Your hands grip at the hem of your skirt, back arching as you start submitting to the crest of intense pleasure Chan has built up for you. Then within seconds, Chan has you cumming hard around his cock, shuddering, and straining his name out of your mouth as it rings throughout his car.

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as his head tips back before he starts spilling white inside of you.

His hips stutter finally, gently slowing down to a leisurely pace while he drowns in the afterglow from one of the most transcendent orgasms he’s ever had. He gives you both time to come down before he carefully slides out of you. It takes you a while to fully fathom what just happened, but you allow yourself to think about it. Whatever it is, it’s not regret. There’s a longing feeling there, a borderline sense of relief.

Once Chan is decent, he helps you slide your underwear back on even though you’re both fully aware of the fact that he just came inside you. It’s not like either of you were prepared for this to happen. In saying that, Chan gently takes hold of both your hands and gets you to sit up.

“You okay?” he questions, using his finger to hook some of your messed hair out of your face.

You nod, “yes. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he answers, making you smile. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry as well for being so stubborn. I figured that the more hostile I am towards you, the more I push myself away so that I don’t have to deal with any feelings from before.”

Chan completely gets it, “I know. I thought I could do the same, but it seems that I’m too nice.”

You roll your eyes, “you’ve had your moments.”

“I definitely have,” he replies. “Anyway, we should go in case anybody just saw that.”

A bashful sense of embarrassment washes over you. It’s been minutes before you realised that you just fucked your ex. But even so, it doesn’t really feel that way. It’s just Chan, someone who you still have a lot of love for.

“You can stay at mine, it’s late,” you suggest to him.

Chan smiles softly, “as if I’m going to say no.”

A/N: Yes, I am a day late already to Kinktober - I just realised bc my dumb ass was trying to figure out time zones and when would be the best time to upload for people bc I’m quite some hours ahead from other countries. So I’ll just stick to my time zone, that way you’ll get my works a few hours earlier x

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv @luneskies 🩷🩷

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #kinktober

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honkytonk-hangman · 2 months

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How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you.

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

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safetycar-restart · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 12: CAUGHT MASTURBATING [CHARLES LECLERC X READER]

NOTE: This fic is NSFW and features sub!Charles and dom!reader. I also added mommy kink to this one despite it not being mommy kink day because it just works. So if you're under 18 or uninterested in this kind of thing, scroll past. Alternatively if you like what you see here, check out the rest of my blog :))

This fic forms part of a kinktober series where we discuss a different kinky concept with a different motorsports person every day. We also discuss the concepts in more detail through answering asks so if you have any of your own thoughts, feel free to stop by!

Charles tries to wait, really he does. He tries to watch random things on TV, tries to workout, tries to call some friends, tries to play some piano and even tries to read a book. But no matter what he tried, he couldn't keep his mind off it.

Because your poor little darling was horny. Way too horny.

He had woken up hard, as he almost always does. This time you were with him, so naturally he immediately snuggled up against you, slowly grinding against you and waiting for you to wake up so you can make him feel good.

Except when you did wake up, you had to get up immediately because you had agreed to breakfast with some friends. You would have been late if you stayed and gave Charles the attention he wanted.

Naturally he gets all pouty when you tell him, whining and trying to get you back into bed. He pulls out the big guns and mumbles, 'mommy' over and over because he's needy! He's needy and horny and you're supposed to help him but now you're leaving!

You tell him that you're just going out for breakfast and that you'll be back in about two hours, giving a nice kiss and telling him to go make himself some breakfast and be a good boy for you. He nods, because of course! He will always be a good boy!

So you leave and it starts off well enough. You told him to go make himself breakfast, so he goes to make himself breakfast. But after that, he's still horny! He has run out of tasks from you to distract himself and he's still horny! He knows he's allowed to masturbate, but he also knows you would help when you got back if he hadnt, so he tries his best to distract himself and not touch himself.

But he can't help it! He does as many things as he can to distract himself but he can't do it. He's so hard and he keeps on thinking about what you might do to him when you get back and he just.... he's alone and he's horny and he misses his mommy and there's no way in hell he'd be able to do anything else at this point.

Which is how he finds himself back in the bedroom. He grabs one of your hoodies from the closet, intending to put it on but he doesn't get that far because he ends up just collapsing not the bed, his free hand moving down to touch himself.

That's how you find him, laying on his back on the bed, his head buried in your hoodie, his hand down his boxers. He's letting out little whines as he slowly strokes himself, not noticing you because he's got his head hidden in your hoodie.

You spend a little while just watching him, watching your good boy playing with himself on your bed, hiding in your hoodie. You wait until you can see he's getting close to make yourself known.

"Charles?" you call, watching the way his head shoots up and he turns to see where you are.

“Mommy?” He asks, hand still in his boxers.

“Well isn’t this a pretty thing to come home to,” you tell him, moving forward to sit on the bed.

You want to praise him immediately so that he knows he isn’t in trouble. Sometimes when Charles gets like this he’ll be scared you’re upset with him for touching himself. Which no, of course you aren’t. You could never be upset with him for that.

“Making yourself feel good?” You ask him, cupping his cheek. He nods and turns his head to rest in the palm of your hand, eyes fluttering closed as his hand starts to move again.

You decide to let him carry on jerking himself off, rather than interfere too much. But you do make him take off his boxers and use some lube, just so you can see better.

He’s such a whiney mess for you, trying to put on a good show for his mommy but also feeling too good to be able to really concentrate on looking good.

The moment he cums, he’s crawling into your arms for cuddles and to hear about how your breakfast went.

#kinktober tag #sub!charles #cl #f!reader #nsfw.#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagines

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wehaveimagineshere · 7 months

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Prompt: Artist Reader decides to give Astarion their sketchbook filled with sketches of him. Couple: Astarion/Reader

Frost actually gave me this prompt right as we opened up this blog. I knew I had to write it.

-Ren

~*~*~

"I'll be your mirror."

It had been a casual statement, handed forward with a small smirk and light words. It was taken casually, a fleeting kindness to be snatched by the night wind and forgotten.

The sketchbook being slipped into your small pack now speaks of a different tale, your fingers quickly but carefully tying the twine closed before sliding the strap over your chest. Glancing around, you spy your favorite vampire in front of one of the room's bookshelves, book in hand.

Hooking a thumb under the strap, you stride up, adopting an air of nonchalance. The rest of your fingers grip the leather as he looks up, a half smile bending his lips. "Well hello, darling." Tossing the book back on the shelf, he gives you his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," you start, trying your best to keep your fingers still, "I was hoping you'd follow me to the roof."

"The roof?" he echoes, eyebrows going up. "I don't believe we're allowed up there." His smile grows. "Which means we should definitely do it. I'm in."

The grin on your face almost hurts. "Let's go."

"One question." His eyes roam the room before tilting up, then back down to your own colored hues. "How are we getting up there?"

Pressing your lips together, your eyes dart away for a split second. "Aren't you the one good at getting into places you aren't suppose to?"

"Well yes, but. Hm." He holds up a hand, index finger half pointed and head slightly tilted. "Is this a challenge?"

You pause. "Yes?"

"Wait right here, darling. I'll be right back."

You turn and watch as he goes to his pack, rustling inside before drawing out whatever it was he was searching for. Then he walks to Karlach, who looks at him with confusion before her face bursts into a grin. Her axe is handed to him, her laugh boisterous as he tries - and fails - to hold it up. There's a bit more back and forth before Astarion physically huffs and comes back to you, tiefling in tow.

"So I hear you're breaking some rules?" is the first thing out of her mouth once you're in earshot.

A smile reaches your lips. "You could say that."

"Sweet. I'll help you guys get on the roof, follow me."

And so you do, out onto the veranda under the bright full moon. Karlach gestures for Astarion, who hands over rope, and she gets to work typing it onto her weapon. One of your eyebrows shoot up as she looks at the roof, bounces the axe a few times in her hand, and throws.

The sound of crunching wood meets your ears. Tugging onto the rope and grinning as the axe holds, Karlach sketches a bow. "Enjoy the stars. If you get caught, that's not my axe."

Astarion gestures to you. "Ladies first, as they say."

Karlach rolls her eyes and heads back inside, muttering, "Thank you, Karlach. You're very welcome, Astarion. Ugh."

You eye the rope warily. "How gentlemanly."

"This was your idea. Now go ahead, and don't worry, I'll consider catching you if you fall."

Huffing but unable to hide the smile, you make your way onto the roof with no issues. Settling onto the tiles, still slightly warm from the sun, you tug your pack onto your lap and look up.

While not as beautiful as they were on the Sword Coast, the stars still twinkle bright and fierce, the moon emphasizing their shine.

"You're not tired of the stars yet?" you hear Astarion ask, settling next to you.

"I don't think I ever will be," you respond, hugging the pack to your chest before turning to him. "That's not why we're here though." Drawing the strings open, you fish out the sketchbook and hesitantly hold it out.

His eyes drop to the book, noting the worn and dented leather, back to you, then back to the book. "What? Are these love poems? For me?"

"Just take it."

Grasping the book with gentle fingers, he settles it onto his lap and flips it open.

Your fingers twine together as his eyes lock onto the contents of the pages. His eyebrows furrow, and you feel your heart sink. "Am I suppose to know who this is?"

Oh. Glancing at him, you say quietly, "It's you."

His chest stills, fingers frozen above the pages.

So quiet, almost blending into the air, you hear him exhale, "What..."

"Turn the page."

So he does. And does again. And again. Each turn more slow, more careful, as his brain processes all he's seeing.

It's him, book in hand, face half in shadow. It's him, head on the owlbear cub's body, one knee up and fingers laced together over his stomach. It's him from behind, arms raised and to the side. It's him, a side countenance, hand on a hip. It's him, his face, the dips of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw, the arch of his brows and bend of his lips, the hair curling around his pointed ears and the nape of his neck.

It's him. On every page, a different angle, a different side of him.

He doesn't speak, barely even breathes, as he takes it all in. As his fingertips trace the panes of his face. Every line, every curve.

Chewing your bottom lip, you shift, unsure if you should break the stifling quiet but knowing you'll go mad if you don't. "I, uh. I said I'd be your mirror, so..."

His inhale is shaky. "You..." Pressing fingers to his eyes, he takes another rasping breath. "There is truly--" His voice hitches and he swallows. "There is truly no one like you."

"I'm glad you like it," you say quietly.

"Like it?" he echoes, hand falling from his face as his eyes snap back to the pages. "I love it."

Smiling gently, you scooch so your shoulders touch, reaching over to give a small, gentle peck to his cheek before slowly resting your head on his shoulder. "The entire book is filled."

He sniffs, a hand wiping across his eyes. "How can I ever..."

"Don't. I didn't do this so you'd pay me back. It's a gift, Astarion."

"A gift I will forever treasure." His head gently rests upon your own, eyes not once straying from the sketches. "Thank you."

You smile. "Always."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #reader insert #x reader #bg3 astarion/reader #bg3 astarion x reader

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ms-demeanor · 8 months

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Not to be rude or derailing your answer to the ask about the scorched earth post, but I do think quite genuinely that the site is becoming more openly hostile to its userbase, or at the very least its disabled userbase. While I’m not a fan of mobbing people’s personal blogs in targeted harassment campaigns, I think some people are also ignoring that staff blatantly said in a recent post that epileptic users would need to pay for ad-free to have their safety assured

I kind of don’t think that’s being ethical or user friendly, to me that sounds like they’re refusing to meet basic accessibility requests and answering with ‘pay us money to be safe’. Strobing and flashing ads aren’t just eyestraining, they can legitimately lead to serious injuries for epileptic folk, and telling people with epilepsy to just pay up or get lost is kinda… I dunno… disgusting?

So it looks like in a livestream (not on a post so far as I've been able to see) either photomatt or zingring made a glib and inappropriate response to an epileptic user asking about flashing ads and suggested that maybe they needed to pay for ad-free.

That's bad, I don't like it, and if it was supposed to be a joke it was a shitty one.

Zingring, tumblr's COO addressed that comment in a post where she said:

Buying ad-free (or gifting ad-free to someone else) is always an option, but that is not the solution (and of course, some folks simply can’t afford it). Sorry that it sounded dismissive in the session! That was not my intent.

I still think that's inappropriate (it's not that ad free isn't *the* solution, ad free shouldn't be *a* solution to accessibility), but it looks like Zingring has addressed this issue multiple times.

She got tagged in this post listing ways that tumblr could improve accessibility for photosensitive users and seems to have pretty consistently followed up; she has explained that there are rules against flashing ads that are sometimes violated by the advertisers and asks people to please report ads that break those rules so those advertisers can be blocked, has noted that there is apparently a "stop all autoplay" option in the works behind the scenes. She does also seem to take it seriously when users reach out with complaints about accessibility issues and seems to be willing to explore options.

Looking through that blog, this does not seem to be a site that is hostile to users with accessibility issues so much as, like everything else that's wrong around here, it is ridiculously understaffed so every project that someone wants to have as a priority is a project that someone else needs put on the backburner.

However, to very gently push back: how much of what you're experiencing as hostility from tumblr is actual hostility and how much of it is seeing posts like this, which suggests that tumblr is removing accessibility features because the lightbox didn't have double-tap-to-zoom on mobile for some users for a short while, claims that the blocking/flagging issue is a false flag against trans women, shared the inaccurate fearmongering post about tumblr live's ToS, and also claimed that tumblr "allowed" flashing ads that violated the in-place rules that tumblr has for advertising?

(this kind of goes with the 'nobody understands the ToS' but also nobody understands ads; tumblr does not have enough staff to look over the ads that go on their site every day, no social media company does, they rely on advertiser agreements as a sort of enhanced honor system and reports from users if the advertisers don't hold up their end of the bargain; the only way around this for any site that uses ads is to not have ads and that post is explicitly saying don't pay for tumblr because they are doing ads wrong - either they have to run ads and some bad ones are going to slip through and users will have to report them or tumblr will have to be 100% paid by the users or tumblr will go away. If you see ads that are unsafe for photosensitive users on *any* website you should report them to the site because the site almost certainly doesn't know that there's an advertiser violating the ad ToS unless someone tells them)

Generally speaking, I am actually *not* seeing worsening accessibility features, I'm seeing improvements compared to where we were five years ago - alt text on images is now built-in and devs are working hard on making tumblr more compatible with screen readers (as noted in the changes blog regularly); tumblr itself started offering different dashboard themes for users after years of complaints about contrast levels and readability; the "tiktok/twitterified" desktop dash view that everyone hates is supposed to be more readable on wider screens.

Compare this post in October of 2022 when Changes celebrated adding animations for posting (and told users those could only be disabled at an OS or browser level) with this post from July 2023 when they rolled back a feature because of an unexpected use case that could cause problems for photosensitive users.

These aren't things that I'd expect to see from a company that didn't care about accessibility, or that was openly hostile to questions around making the site more accessible.

I don't disagree with you that the comment from the stream about buying ad free was inappropriate; it absolutely was and it must have made photosensitive users feel like shit. But in the three months since that comment tumblr has been very responsive about getting flashing ads removed as soon as possible and seems to be working on more permanent fixes. I think this may be an instance of able-bodied people not realizing how shitty and dehumanizing their joke was (and it was) and taking the steps to do better.

If you don't think they're doing better, I probably can't convince you. I certainly don't think that tumblr is perfect about accessibility and I think that users need to continue pushing for improved user control of how the site displays and interacts with various devices. But compared to the kind of responses users complaints got from staff in 2018? I feel like things have improved a lot.

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diagonal-queen · 2 months

Note

Your blog is very safe, me thinks. Very comfort, if that makes sense lol. I have a request, feel free to ignore this but I can't help but to wonder what a few BSD men would be like with a very mature/maternal and responsible s/o who tends to put themsleves last and burn themselves out (preferably fem, as I am an older sister who has taken on the role of caregiver and project HEAVILY) I'd like to see Fyodor, Poe, Ranpo and Jouno. (You can throw in anyone else if you want)

BSD boys with a self-sacrificing girlfriend

♡ pairing: Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Edgar Allan Poe, Ranpo Edogawa, Saigiku Jouno x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are they with a caring and self-sacrificing girlfriend?

♡ cw: Swearing, use of fem titles, she/her pronouns, mentions of stress and burnout.

note: Thank you for the sweet message anon <3 it's truly a shame that you and i are the exact same person who have experienced the exact same burden of raising children we didn't choose to have. but i've moved out now so i'm free!! come live with me queen tf we're besties now. apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fyodor:

Fyodor is a trad man. I'm sure he has some weird beliefs about how women are supposed to have some normalised feminine traits, but this is too much even for him.

It really pains him to see you be so selfless, truly. Though he admires your kindness and patience, he just wants you to be content. He wants you to be comfortable.

Does he enjoy having what is basically a personal maid around? Yes, yes he does. Does he feel guilty for feeling that? No. But does he recognise that your current self-sacrificing routine is unhealthy? YES HE DOES.

So...he simply does not make you do anything at all. If you want to do something for him that's on you.

If you want to do something for someone *else*, he probably won't really let you. Unless it's like family or something, then he understands, but no, you're not helping that random child get their kite unstuck from that tree no matter how much you want to, myshka.

Fyodor absolutely doesn't involve you in his work. He knows that'll only stress you out more, and that's the last thing you need. As such he keeps you away from his coworkers (especially Mykola. Sorry Mykola lovers)

He comes to value his time spent relaxing with you, because he also acknowledges that he could use a break every now and then as well. There's nothing quite as comforting to him as lounging around alongside you- you don't have to be talking or even doing the same thing, as long as you're there together.

Listen, Fyodor does care about you, and he values your health and wants you to be relaxed and uncaring as much as is possible. But if you, his sweet woman, wants to make him a cup of tea, who is he to turn you down?

Poe:

I don't know exactly how to explain Poe here. Just hear me out

He is genuinely so like stressed and anguished about your lack of self-preservation in favour of caring about others. He constantly thinks about it and writes tragic poems about it and shit

Like he's like 'my love......she does not see herself as i do, as a beautiful star....with every act of kindness her light dims ever so slightly...until she's reduced to nothing.........the irony of the good deeds of man..............;-;'

HE'S SO SAD OKAY HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WANTS TO SEE YOU RELAX FOR ONCE

He will go all out in his attempts to make you feel calm and comfortable and happy. Oh he will buy you SO many presents it's disgusting. He will rent out whole restaurants and like even theme parks and shit if that's your thing. He'll stop at no lengths to give you some respite, and it's honestly quite sweet

All that being said, he does love that you're so attentive and caring about Karl. He's definitely watched you play with him and then started blushing super hard because the word 'parents' suddenly crossed his mind and now he's thinking about children and aaaaaa

ABSOLUTELY writes a scenario in which you can relax. Whatever you want- an empty beach, a forest, a liminal space, he'll write it all for you, and gift you the book so you can go there whenever you want :>

He's basically a sugar daddy, except you're in an actual relationship and it's not all about the money. Your boyfriend just happens to be loaded as fuck

At the end of the day, Poe is such a hypocrite because he himself is such a workaholic that he practically lets it consume him, too!

You're both absolute messes. Drink some water and sleep for god's sake. And for the love of all things good take care of each other.

Ranpo:

Bro knows exactly what's up. Sorry, he's got you all figured out fr

That doesn't mean he won't let you baby him though. At first. He'll just let you, along with everyone else, clean up after him and buy him shit

BUT soon, soon he realises that this behaviour is rather detrimental to your health. He sees the circles under your eyes, he notices these things. And he's like '...oh shit'

Ranpo doesn't have any shame or reservations. He straight up confronts you about it. 'Why don't you ever take care of yourself?' And he's not playing around this time

And no matter what your excuse is, he's like 'not good enough. We're going to get ice cream RIGHT NOW and you're going to talk to me about this. Now lead me to the ice cream parlour immediately'

(I may or may not be paraphrasing this particular quote)

The point is that he presents you an avenue to open up about your struggles, stress and psyche. And he really does want to help- the fact that he gets ice cream out of this is just a bonus

From here on out he'll keep an eye out for you. Every time you find yourself getting overworked or burning out he'll make you take a break. This could be a nap or sending you home or a surprise outing- anything to get your mind off work and people.

Ranpo is a stickler for the rules, sure, but he's also lazy as shit. Any time he doesn't feel like working, you're now not allowed to work either. You have to hang out with him or else (he'll be a little sad)

He doesn't necessarily introduce any...permanent solutions to your predicament, but he does have you looking forward to your couples-down time each day, and that's something!

Over time, you do learn to balance yourself and external responsibilities. And he will absolutely be taking credit for it lmao

Jouno:

Jouno is very...self-important, we'll say. Not like, completely selfish or anything, but very much tends to prioritise his own opinions and time and such.

You make him do a complete reassessment and breakdown of all of his thoughts and beliefs he's built up over the course of his lifetime

/j but really, you're unbelievably different from him. You're both willing to put yourself in danger or wear yourselves down, but *you* don't have anatomical medical adjustments that practically make you invincible.

Jouno wants to protect you- and he's not willing to negotiate. He's not letting anyone hurt you, even if on accident. He's especially not willing to let anybody take advantage of your generous nature, which is probably more likely anyway.

He's such a scary dog actually (lol get it?? get it cause he's one of the Hunting Dogs? DO YOU GET IT-) he'll accompany you anywhere if you ask him to.

When he wants to do something for you, he will do it. You're not lifting a finger miss girl

Like he really will take care of you! When he's off work, of course. His job is kind of important, but you best believe you're getting pampered when Jouno is off the clock.

My mans is romantic as FUCK: cooking you nice dinners, reading to you before bed, massages, cuddles- as well as engaging in your interests alongside you of course

He just thinks it's so cute to see you engrossed in something that YOU enjoy, and will encourage your down time

Jouno is gonna make sure that you take care of yourself too, because when he's not around, who better to look after anybody than you? That's the most important thing to him.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

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leclsrc · 3 months

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darling audrey, congratulations on 5000 followers! ur witty personality and words of gold have charmed us all <3 considering your celebration, i would like to request a drabble with charles based on the song margaret by lana del rey. there’s just something about “he met margaret on the rooftop, she was wearing white, and he was like, ‘i might be in trouble’” or “when you know, you know” ughhhhh love is so sickeningly wonderful

good as gold – cl16

This is the story of Charles experiencing a rooftop conversation with a stranger. For Charles, this is the story he will tell of how he met the love of his life for the first time.

auds here... much like lana in this song i am messy with the pen, but missed this blog very much, i love you all & genuinely hope you're well mmmwaaahhhh :)

You’re wearing this dress. This long, white, lace-linen thing, too chilly for a London rooftop, too chilly for a London ground floor, too chilly for London, really. It’s the first thing Charles says to you, as a poor excuse for an opener, but you soothe his supposed troubles away with a laugh and a wave of a hand. It’s alright, I’m used to the cold, your lips form cloudily. Worst case scenario, I spill some wine on the dress.

The wine you mention is in a glass wrapped by your left hand, which brings itself upward to your lips, staining them violet for a second before you lick the residue off. You should know, I’m more a white wine kind of girl. He laughs, and every other word he thought would come easy comes so stuck, wrestled out of him. For once it’s not because he’s nervous, definitely not because he’s unsure. In fact he’s never felt surer of himself, and his self-assurance is almost foolish if it wasn’t so resolute in the fact that he’d one day like to slip a band over your blank slate of a ring finger.

Already he feels like it’s too late, he’s missed out on too much time with you. He should’ve known this laugh years ago, felt your skin when he was much younger, known you in an embarrassing phase while he was in his own. His desires feel childish, juvenile, but they feel so real, so much so that he verbalizes them to Lando in a desperate attempt to stave them off at the end of the night.

But that is later and this is now, now you tell him you’re here for work. You’re a something-something at somewhere, too professional for him to repeat back to himself in the fluid way you’re gifted. He asks what else is keeping you in a city like London and he phrases it like London is a shit city, and you joke: “Aside from the fact that it’s basically a first-world city?” He stutters in response, he stutters. “I’m joking. It’s work.”

Work, you say, not a guy, not a girl, work. No ring on your finger. You, like him, are committed to nothing but work. And because you’re two people in your early twenties, the rooftop conversation gradually ebbs in that direction, a foray into the worlds you’ve traversed by yourselves. He shares, ever a man of little words, stories of ex-girlfriends he’d rather not bring up again. He says the usual. He’s thankful, but it’s over.

You too, you sentiment. A while ago. I knew him for years, but we wanted different things. Just wasn’t right, something like that. Your index finger tugs at the plain gold chain resting on your collarbones and slides back and forth. The lights—strung up on poles on the roof and from establishments below—shine on certain angles, illuminate your hair, the beauty mark on your cheekbone, the stain of burgundy lip gloss on the wine glass in your hand. “Maybe in another universe.”

“Do you believe in that?” He asks. All he knows about possible universes is that Marvel and that Oscar-winning A24 film Lewis made half the grid watch and give roses to. The concept is interesting and likely true, but he feels secure thinking this is his only universe. Which, technically, is true, too.

You say kind of. “But that idea gives us too much allowance for mistakes.”

“I know. I guess I believe in it in a…” He’s afraid he sounds stupid, but your eyes are egging him on, genuinely curious, burning bright with a want for him to keep talking. “In a… I feel like I’ve met you before, kind of way.” Like he knows everything he has to know about you and him and it’s been barely an hour.

“I get that.” You pause. “I get that.” Then, with a pretty smile and meek hand over the linen chest of your dress, you excuse yourself to refill wine and make talk with the party host. He lingers, of course, watches the sway of your dress, waits to see if you will turn and smile a funny little just us smile, but of course you don’t. You’re a stranger after all. He turns away to find Lando, and for a second he feels like there are eyes on him, but he keeps walking and shakes it off.

“Marry?” Lando repeats half an hour later, when they’re both tugging their coats on. “You just met her. She got out of a long-term relationship a while ago. And so did you.”

They’re in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lando is pulling open the door now, under the impression that his words successfully permeated Charles’ delusions. He turns and Charles is stationary on the last step, humming to himself.

“Mate,” bogs Lando, eyes dead serious. “How do you even know—”

“I know.” Charles says simply. He never even had to ask himself. He just did. He just does. “I have to run up and do something… don’t wait up.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble

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jamiewintons · 4 months

Text

All in a Day’s Work (Felix Fickelgruber/F!Reader)

Summary: Being Mr. Fickelgruber’s personal assistant involves a lot of duties that one might not expect, but you’re willing to go that extra mile.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY!), Oral Sex (M!Receiving), Desk Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Implied Exhibitionism, Unprofessional Behaviour, Boss/Employee, A little bit of degradation, softness towards the end.

A/N: Hope you enjoy 😘 The idea of Fickelgruber asking you whether you prefer the taste of chocolate or something else (😉) was inspired by @reluctantjoe

Word Count: 1922

Fickelgruber Tag List: I don't have one yet!! Send me an ask (off-anon or with the blog you want me to tag noted in the ask) and I'll make sure to tag you anytime I write stuff for him ❤️

~~~

Things like this certainly hadn’t been in your job description, but at this point, you weren’t really complaining. For starters, the pay was amazing, and Mr. Fickelgruber gave you all kinds of perks when you did a good job. He wasn’t the most generous man you’d ever met, but he always appreciated your hard work.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice strained as he tangled his fingers in your hair. You moaned softly at the praise, and the vibrations sent bolts of pleasure through his entire body. That made him moan too, and tug gently on your hair.

Your knees were beginning to ache where you were kneeling, but honestly, you didn’t mind too much. You were far too focused on the task Mr. Fickelgruber had assigned to you to think about the pain, because you were nothing if not efficient.

Your tongue swirled gracefully around his shaft as you took him deeper into your mouth, the movement making Fickelgruber’s hips buck upwards slightly. It almost made you gag, but you were used to it - you’d been his personal assistant for nearly two years, and you’d been fulfilling his… non-professional needs for just under half that time.

And because of that, you could read him and his reactions quite well. You could tell from the sound of his breathing and the way his fingers were rubbing against your scalp that he was getting close. Any moment now he would either cum down your throat or pull out of your mouth - sometimes he’d cum on your face, while at other times he’d want to fuck you properly (and that’s how you knew when you’d done a particularly good job).

Then, like clockwork, he used his grip on your hair to pull you off of him. He hadn’t cum yet, so you knew that meant your work was far from finished. His free hand grabbed for the box of chocolates that he always kept in his desk drawer for these exact occasions. Your mouth was still open, and Fickelgruber placed the little treat on your tongue once he’d removed it from its wrapping.

"There you go, my dear," he said in a tone that was almost affectionate, but it was offset by the nearly painful grip he still had on your hair. The chocolate was absolutely delicious, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and moan while you savoured the taste. This made him smirk, a quiet, dark chuckle escaping him. "Tell me, which do you enjoy more? The taste of my cock, or chocolate?"

Once you’d swallowed the chocolate, you spoke. "I can’t decide, sir," you said softly, staring up at him with your eyes wide. "I like both too much. I don’t think I could pick one over the other."

"Well, I suppose that’s an adequate answer." Fickelgruber smirked, finally letting go of your hair. Whether it was his cock or his chocolate that you were tasting, it was all him, wasn’t it? He pulled his chair back slightly so that you could stand up, and once you had, he reached out to idly play with the hem of your skirt. "Now, you know what to do, my dear." He held his finger up and twirled it around - a silent order for you to turn around.

You did so, and anticipating what he would ask next, you bent forward over his desk. Your skirt - which was scandalously short by professional standards, though Mr. Fickelgruber had called it your 'special uniform' - rode up so that Fickelgruber could get a glimpse of your panties beneath.

Fickelgruber snickered. "Oh, I am so glad to have an assistant that takes the initiative." His hand trailed up the back of your thigh until he reached your skirt, which he then pushed up. Now that he had a proper view of your undergarments, he let his finger brush over the wet spot that had formed there. "So wet already, dear, and I haven’t even touched you yet," he told you in a teasing voice. "You really must love having my cock in your mouth."

"Yes, sir," you moaned, trying to push your hips back against his finger in an attempt to get some more friction. In response, Fickelgruber laughed softly and gently swatted you on the backside. You whimpered slightly at the sting, and immediately ceased your movements. "Sorry, sir."

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, and he slowly began to pull them down your thighs, savouring the sight of you bent over for him. Fickelgruber loved how obedient you were, how needy you always were for him. But most of all, he loved that you were all his, and that he was the only man who had the pleasure of having you like this.

You heard Fickelgruber stand up from his chair, and then you felt his warm fingers teasing your pussy, moving from your clit down to your entrance and then back again. It took all of your willpower to not squirm. His finger dipped into your wetness for a moment, before he pulled it back out. He leaned over you to whisper into your ear. "I think you’re more than ready. Isn’t that right, my dear?"

"Mmm, yes, sir… please…" You nodded frantically, bracing yourself for him to finally enter you. He stood back up straight behind you, and you felt his cock against your entrance. He didn’t push inside right away, however - instead taking a few moments to tease you. You didn't complain, because you knew that it would be more than worth the wait.

You let out an almost pathetic whimper - which you tried to cover up by clapping your hand over your mouth, but you weren't quick enough - when you felt him sink inside of you. Though you couldn't see, he smirked at the noise, and placed his hands on your hips.

Fickelgruber let out a deep sigh, giving the both of you just a few seconds to adjust before he began to move. He moved slowly but deep and hard, making sure you felt absolutely everything with each thrust he made inside of you. You were sure that your brain had switched off already, resting your cheek against the surface of the desk beneath you. If you weren’t careful, you’d probably end up drooling. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You didn’t even realise how much noise you were making, but your curses and pleas of "sir" and "Mr. Fickelgruber" were echoing throughout the large room. Fickelgruber loved it - the idea that he could turn such an intelligent and hard-working woman into an absolute mess who could think of nothing but him and what he was doing to you. He valued the power he had over you more than anything else, though he’d probably never admit such a thing out loud.

When he pulled out suddenly, you whined in annoyance, but Fickelgruber simply tutted before flipping you over so you were laying on your back. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything - if you were even capable at this point - he’d already grabbed onto your thighs and thrust himself deep inside you once again.

"You’re being so noisy, my dear," Fickelgruber said with a somewhat mocking tone, leaning down over you so that he could whisper in your ear as he sped up the pace of his hips. Then, he brought his mouth to your neck so that he could suck bruises into the sensitive skin, which you’d have a lot of fun trying to cover up so none of your coworkers saw it. Of course, this did nothing to keep you quiet, only making your moans louder, but that was exactly what he wanted. "If you’re not careful, someone might hear you, and come in here to check what’s going on. Is that what you want, hmm? For everyone to see what a little slut you are for me?"

Having locked the door yourself before you went down on him, you knew that there was no chance of someone walking in and seeing what was happening. But the thought of it alone, combined with the way Fickelgruber was whispering in your ear, made your pussy clench around his cock. He laughed, loving how easy it was to affect you, but it quickly turned into a moan.

"Oh, you like that idea, do you? I suppose you’re even more naughty than I thought." Fickelgruber’s words were scolding, but you knew very well how much he loved having you like this. "That’s what you want, is it? For people to see you getting fucked over my desk like a whore? Maybe next time I’ll take you up against the window, and let everyone on the street below see that you belong to me."

That was it. That was what pushed you over the edge. The combination of possessiveness and degradation that made your head spin. You let out a loud sob as your climax hit you, writhing helplessly beneath him as he continued fucking you through it. Fickelgruber shifted so that he could kiss your lips to quiet you down a little - you really were getting loud enough that it might draw attention now, and he liked keeping you as his little secret. For now at least.

Eventually, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer - not with how your warm, wet walls were squeezing him for dear life - and he came as well, buried as deep inside you as possible while his warmth flooded you. He moaned against your lips, and the way your name sounded when he uttered it in such ecstasy made you feel like you could finish again. But thankfully, you didn’t, which was probably a positive since you were already exhausted after one orgasm.

"Good girl," Fickelgruber mumbled breathlessly, pressing kisses against your neck and jawline as both of you slowly recovered from your highs, and there seemed to be a genuine softness in the way he spoke to you that hadn’t been present the first time you’d done this. Now that you thought about it, it almost seemed as if he’d become more and more fond of you each time you had sex, and he’d certainly become more possessive as of late. Almost as if he actually had feelings for you. Maybe. Your stomach fluttered at the possibility.

He gave you one last kiss on the lips as he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, gazing approvingly at the sight of some of his cum leaking from your pussy. Fickelgruber quickly pulled your panties back up for you, keeping any more of it from dripping out. That was quite the contrast to your first tryst also - he’d been somewhat dismissive then, and this was the first time he’d ever helped you redress, even if it was just helping you put your underwear back on.

"I suppose we had better get back to work, hadn’t we, dear?" Fickelgruber told you with a smile as he fixed his trousers and rebuckled his belt, before sitting down in his chair once again. With shaking legs, you stood up from his desk, intending to walk back to your own workstation, but he grabbed you by the wrist to stop you before you could get too far. Then, he gave you another quick kiss before letting you go.

It’s safe to say that you found it difficult to concentrate on your work after that, but you powered through, as you always did. Fickelgruber was glad that he'd hired you, for oh so many reasons.

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wishluc · 4 months

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Hi!!! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a yan!alhaitham/Kaveh or heizou for a fem!reader? Anything else is up to you! Totally cool if not tho - love the blog!!!

CW: Yandere! Kaveh (though on the subtler side), drunk Kaveh, manipulation, Reader makes poor decisions

PAIRING: Y! Kaveh x Fem! Reader

I really like Kaveh ♡ Sorry this took some time! Supposed to be a drabble but...(Happy Holidays!)

In retrospect, the first time was already a mistake.

It was hardly a sensible decision to make, but given his pitiable state and your bleeding heart, you couldn't just leave him slumped over behind some building in the city. Kaveh had always been friendly with you, sparing you a warm smile and going out of his way to make light conversation when he bumped into you, though the two of you weren't exactly close, and it would be heartless to walk away from him when you had a perfectly good room that he could stay in for the night. It wasn't the best idea you had—most things involving unfamiliar men weren't—but it would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?

It's exhausting, having to drag an inebriated Kaveh down the streets of Sumeru City, but after a couple of gentle attempts at introducing yourself and making your intentions known, Kaveh seems to sober up a little. He rubs at his eyes and mumbles something incoherent, still stumbling on his feet as he tries to walk, but him being able to support some of his own body weight is enough to make the journey noticeably less strenuous on you and your conscience.

You lose yourself in nervous chatter while guiding him down the stairs and past large gates. You tell him about mundane things regarding your job and stories from your time in the Akademiya, and updates on the project you've been working on; the one he took special care to ask about whenever he saw you. (Kaveh was always so thoughtful, remembering the littlest of details. The kind of person who'd wait for you in the mornings with the snacks that always sold out before you could make it after you had mentioned it to him once. The kind of person you couldn't leave in such a vulnerable state.) In response, Kaveh only hums and yawns, his head bumping into yours and his arm almost sliding off you. He must have had more to drink than you thought.

When you first saw him sitting out on his own, you wondered where his housemate was, and if you should try to contact him. But you figured Alhaitham had a strict routine he abided by and wouldn't like being bothered at such a time, and the two of them may have gotten into a fight; which was far from an uncommon situation. For a minute again you consider taking him to the scribe, but one thought of the indifferent—or perhaps more likely, irritated—look he might shoot you and you stick to getting home as soon as possible.

At your doorstep, you sit Kaveh down beside you with a quiet sigh of relief and search your pockets for your keys. His head lolls sideways against your legs, his unkempt hair brushing against the side of your calves. You'd think it was endearing if not for how awkward the position was. After a few moments of struggling, you push the door open and lean over to lift up the dozing man again. But when your hands go to pull his face away from your legs and lean him against the wall instead, Kaveh slowly blinks and looks at you with a dazed look in his eye.

It dawns on you then that your position—crouched over him with your hands on his cheeks—coupled with where you had taken him, would look extremely suspicious to someone just waking up from a drunken nap.

"It's not what it looks like!" You cry out, immediately letting go of him. His head flops against the wall and you wince.

Kaveh blinks again, unaffected by the sudden movement, and says your name with a slight frown.

"You were passed out outside and I thought you might need a place to stay," you splutter, "I really wasn't going to—to—do anything else!"

Kaveh groans instead, a hand over his eyes, "Can we...talk later?"

"Sure! I'll just help you to the spare room—if that's alright? I'll leave right after, I swear, and—"

He reaches out for your hand with his free one, and you scramble to carefully pull him up. With a little effort on your side, you manage to take him to his bed for the night, ignoring the growing discomfort of having his head buried into the side of your neck at an uncomfortable angle. It wasn't like he was aware of what he was doing, anyway.

You catch a sigh of gratitude when you slowly lower him onto the sheets and tug off his shoes, and it's enough to make you feel like bringing him here was ultimately the right thing to do, even if a little out of the ordinary.

The next morning, Kaveh apologises to you profusely over breakfast.

“I can’t believe you brought me all the way here. I’m really embarrassed—I’m usually not so careless when I go out,” Kaveh only pauses his rambling when you fill his plate again, sending you yet another bashful look before continuing to eat.

“I’m sure anyone would have tried to help if they were in my position."

“Thank you, really. I’m…glad someone cared that much.”

You take in his slumped shoulders and the relief in his eyes. His mouth is drawn into a straight line and you find yourself making an offer without thinking.

“Kaveh," you begin, "if you ever need someone to talk to, you could always come here. I’ll be happy to have you.”

His eyes widen, "I don't want to trouble you again."

"It's alright," foolishly, you don't let yourself think over it for a moment longer, "I don't mind helping out when I can."

You know it's mostly out of pity, far from a sincere offer, and clearly not a rational one. But Kaveh is nice, you reason with yourself, he's polite enough to never take you up on it. And even if he did, he'd be considerate enough to not stay too long. You were certain that you knew all there was to know about Kaveh from the cordial smiles and the tranquil mornings. Certain that you would not regret the offer.

You start seeing Kaveh more, after what feels like an abrupt shift—far more than you ever had in your years of staying here. At every opportunity, he would make sure to ask you about your day (listening, you note, with unnecessary eagerness and an onslaught of questions you pretended not to have time for), and offer to have a meal with you. Each time, you find another reason to decline him. You even struggle to find a polite reply to his increasingly intimate compliments; from commenting on your outfits, the clips in your hair, and the color of your eyeshadow to your smile and the sound of your laugh. You thank him, your voice hollow, while desperately wondering when he'd run out of things to say.

It's not that you don't like Kaveh; it was only that his newfound interest in you was starting to be distressing.

But it wasn't enough reason for you to be suspicious.

He shows up, a week or so later, a little less drunk but far more talkative, and your evening is spent learning all about the fight he had with Alhaitham. You don't tell him that you agree with his housemate (if only out of courtesy), but you can't hide your shock when he casually mentions his bankruptcy.

"It's not that bad," he rushes to assure you, "I'm working towards fixing things. It'll still be a while before I can move out, but things could be worse."

You accept his explanation, realizing that there was no point in admitting that you were now certain that Alhaitham was right to chide him about his spending habits. Instead, you offer to let him stay for the night to cool down before going back. He beams at you and thanks you profusely, and you decide against commenting on the overnight bag he brought with him.

You wake up the day after to find Kaveh preparing breakfast in your kitchen.

"It's the least I can do for you," he says, carefully bringing over two plates to the table. He blushes when you thank him, and when he places your mug next, you're surprised to find that he's made you your usual drink. You pretend it doesn't bother you that he already knows how much sugar and milk you prefer to have and match his smile with a weak one.

Questions can wait until after breakfast, you think. Or after he's out of your house. But while you're halfway done with your meal, Kaveh hasn't even had a bite of his. His eyes are glued to your face with an expectant look in them.

"...It's very good." you swallow what feels like sand and rubber in your mouth, "thank you."

Kaveh grins before finally starting to eat. Was it his eagerness to please that made it difficult for him to hold on to money, too?

He takes your plate before you can stand up and goes to wash them, ignoring your protests. You've never felt more like a guest in your own home, but Kaveh's humming under his breath while scrubbing at your plate, still donning your apron.

"It's the least I can do for you," he parrots.

He eventually leaves, dragging his feet out sometime before midday with a somber look back at you. You only hope your smile doesn't betray your relief as you wave him off, anticipating lounging around without another lingering presence.

Some mornings Kaveh walks with you, arm pressed too close to yours and eyes on you. He picks up on every flicker of interest, offers to buy you the small trinkets that you pause to run your fingers over, and folds into himself every time you turn him down. It's only pity that forces you to swallow down any signs of discomfort when he reaches out for your fingers moments later, but Kaveh is oblivious to it all. He brightens up and tells you instead about the details of his latest projects. You hum, hoping your stiff fingers send the message for you. It goes unheeded; Kaveh is observant, but only when he wants to be. He's good at ignoring signs, too, when they upset him.

When he has to leave for a long trip into the desert, he frowns and drags his feet throughout the entirety of the morning. He looks at you, catches the concern in your face, and immediately springs upon you an invitation.

"It'll just be us two for a whole month," he says, as though you should find the prospect enticing, "and you've never been, have you? You'd love it there."

The sweetness of his voice candies the nightmarish reality of such a trip. Honestly, you might have entertained the plan if he wasn't always giving you strange looks and standing too close. A whole month, alone in an unfamiliar place with Kaveh? Your fingers curl into themselves as you shake your head. You mechanically recite an excuse from the top of your mind, meshing together mentions of work and obligations. Kaveh tries again, to lure you in with promises of adventure and excitement, but you take a moment to think of spending hours cramped with him and sharing meals only with him, and your refusal is stauncher this time.

The distance and time spent so far apart, you hope, would make him realize how uncomfortable his constant proximity was.

A week into Kaveh's absence, you find that you've never felt so excited to step out in the mornings. The days feel lighter, the mandatory trips out less daunting, and talking to people comes with an ease you've missed. A letter—the first of many—arrives and lays unopened on your desk.

You've fallen back into your usual (pre-Kaveh) routine by the start of the second week, and everyone around picks up on and fusses over your brighter demeanor. Despite this, you still have to bite back the frustration at the lingering mentions of your friend Kaveh and his whereabouts.

Nearing the end of the third week, you meet someone you've only ever been able to catch a glimpse of from afar on your way back home. Alhaitham regards you with a glint of curiosity and his mouth set in a straight line. He's more captivating up close, you realize—something you hadn't thought was possible—almost like a doll with the unusual color of his eyes and his impassive expression.

"Kaveh mentions you a lot," he says, in lieu of a greeting, "but I suppose that should come of no surprise to you."

"He talks about you, too."

He raises an eyebrow, sleek and fluid, "I don't expect that he would find me as pretty or as charming as he makes you out to be."

Your smile falters, "I don't think—"

"I received a letter from him the other day, and he asked me to check up on you. I think you would know why that may be."

"I haven't had the time to respond to him," you attempt to explain, "it's not on purpose."

"It doesn't matter to me," Alhaitham replies, "and I won't be writing back to him either. I only thought you'd want to know of this," then, after a brief pause, "You're too kind to him."

His parting words, coupled with a polite smile, sound almost like a warning to you. As he seamlessly falls back into his usual route, you wonder if it would have been the right choice, after all, to simply send Kaveh back to his housemate that night. At least, you're certain the unhappy looks would have been far more welcome than this puzzling conversation.

And maybe you are too kind to him. Too tolerant of his many unannounced visits, too sympathetic to his drunken admissions. Too careful of his feelings and too accommodating of his proximity despite how it troubles you. Maybe you should tell him to go home the next time he shows up, bottles of wine in hand. Put your foot down, and make it clear that you'd like to be alone.

Maybe you will try.

Kaveh stands, shifting on his feet by your door a few days later; earlier than you had expected him. As you approach the door from behind him, you entertain the notion of running away, but he turns around almost immediately, as though sensing your presence.

He's flushed, wringing his hands together, "it's been some time, hasn't it?"

He smiles at you and it's deceivingly warm. Your own smile is plastered on.

"I hope your trip went well."

He shrugs, then hesitates for a moment, "I missed you. Did you get my letters?"

You nod. Kaveh's smile grows tight.

"I didn't get anything back, so I figured..."

You stare at the bag beside him, "there was nothing for me to say. Nothing new to tell you about."

Kaveh follows your gaze and goes to pick it up, "for you," he says, and your stomach drops.

"I thought we could have dinner together."

"I already had my dinner," you tell him, gentler than you had hoped to sound; as though coaxing a distressed animal, "I'm heading to bed now. You should go back too, Kaveh. You must be tired."

"I don't mind. I can even spend the night here."

No, you think.

"I don't know," you say instead, "I'm really tired."

He steps forward, "just for a while? I really missed you."

At your lack of a reaction, Kaveh tries again, with yet another step forward, "I don't really want to go back yet. Alhaitham...wasn't happy with me taking up this job. I wanted some time before—"

He cuts himself off and sighs.

"But you're right, I should be on my way." He sends one last glance to the paper bag leaning by the wall and then a sorrowful look at you, before going to leave. You're reminded of his efforts; of the money he shouldn't waste on you and the letters he carefully wrote out. The sky, cloudy and restless, was starting to grow dark.

One night shouldn't hurt too much. You could talk to him in the morning, when the both of you are well rested, and you're certain he'd understand then. Certain that he wouldn't see through you and shut you down before you could even start.

You never learn from your mistakes, do you?

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