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#Big Y Fly Co
ncttytrack · 3 months
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"Not your type?" - l.hs (m)
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“Oh, Sweetheart.” He says and looks at you with a massive smirk, his hand never leaving your soft cheek. “I heard everything"
Summary: Your new summer job was great. The salary was great and the scenery was beautiful. But what made the job perfect, was your hot older co-worker Lee Heeseung, who you swear is not your type.
Genre: SMUT, Co-worker!Heeseung x reader.
Words: 3,7k+
Warnings: HardDomHeeseung, Heeseung is lowkey mean, chocking, creampie, lowkey size kink, degradation kink!!!, reader is lowkey a masochist...
‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙︎ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ☠︎︎♡︎☠︎ ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
You load dirty spoons and plates Into the dishwasher, sweat running down your neck. It was a hot summer day, and while the average person your age is down by the beach sunbathing, you are working at your new restaurant job. When you applied, you didn’t actually think you would get it, but here you are during your vacation from college. Not that you could really complain, it is a nice restaurant you are working at by the coast. It’s always sunny, you are surrounded by people wearing little to no clothing because of the hot weather, and the nearest sea is just about ten meters away from you. The perfect summer job for someone who is in a desperate need for money. 
But there is one thing that makes working there difficult. 
The first day on your job, your boss wanted an experienced college to help you out. For example, showing you how to load the dishwasher, the different courses on the menu, what you should do after the restaurant closes - and so on and so forth. What you didn’t know however, is that the man getting the “help the new coworker” mission, would be the hottest man you have ever seen in your life. 
Lee Heeseung.
When Heeseung showed you around on your first day, it felt like you became 16 again. Every time his eyes met yours your whole body would tingle, only being able to look into his eyes for 3 seconds before looking away. Every time he asked you a question, you became a stuttering mess trying to compose yourself. It was really difficult, and because you two always seemed to get the same shifts, you couldn’t avoid him either. Not that he seemed to complain, he probably loved the attention he got from you. That is what you at least internally tell yourself. 
You did however get close to some of the people working at the restaurant over the last two months, one of them being your now close friend Sunoo who was your age. That is what is peculiar about this working place, everyone is about the same age. Over the age of 17, but younger than 24. And because of the young staff, it wasn’t an unusual thing that people hooked up with each other. And the first time you heard about it from Sunoo, you couldn’t help it but get almost too excited.
“Are you serious!?'' You shout with a shocked expression, the food you chew almost flying out of your mouth. Sunoo laughs, putting a hand right in front of his mouth. “Yeah, it's true! And can you please whisper, we don’t want the others knowing what we are talking about”. You look at him with big eyes, before looking around making sure that people aren’t listening to your conversation. 
You lean in and begin to whisper. “Like who?” Sunoo leans in as well, right by your ear. “Which ones have hooked up with each other? Well where should I even start. Um, well there was this one time with Yujin and Jay, and oh! Yunjin and Hee-“ you cut him off abruptly, not wanting him to mention Heeseung. 
You lean back beside him, trying to act casual. “Yeah I get it, I get it, you don’t need to continue!” You look away from him, but Sunoo looks at you. “What, do you like Heeseung? Y/n…” He says and punches your shoulder playfully. Your face turns beet red, trying not to unveil the secret you so desperately have been hiding for the two months working here. 
“What do you mean? Heeseung? Nooo he is like, sooo not my type” You say trying to sound convincing. “Not your type?” Sunoo says, not convinced by your false statement. Instead of answering him, you look away and shake your head confidently. 
Sunoo suddenly smiles teasingly, grabbing your arm and leans in. Because of his sudden touch, you look at him surprised. He maybe leaned in a little too much, though he is so close that you can feel his breath tingling your neck.
“You know what I think?” He says slowly, making sure to pronounce every syllable, and looks at you with innocent eyes. You get nervous, not knowing what he is about to say and try to look away. “What?”
His smile gets bigger, and he continues while having a teasing pout on his lips. 
“I think that you want big, sexy, Heeseung to grab your tiny, little, fragile body, push it against the hard wall of the storage room and manhandle you with,“ he makes his voice lighter, trying to mimic yours “his, big, manly hands, and strong arms”
Your mouth gapes open and you begin to laugh nervously, hitting Sunoo playfully several times until he backs away from you. You shake your head. “No! No! It’s not true!”
He looks at you and laughs while hitting the table in front of you. “Are you serious? You are lyiiiing! That is totally what you want!” You shake your head “No! I promise I-“. 
Before you can continue defending yourself, you get interrupted by Sunoo rolling back his eyes. “OhmaGAWD, You are so BIG! Don’t stawp Heeseungie-“ 
Sunoo suddenly stops, and look away at someone standing in front of your table. You slowly look towards the same direction Sunoo is looking. You begin to internally panic. 
“Um I think your 30 minute lunch break is over”. 
It’s Heeseung. 
You and Sunoo look at each other. 
Omg, did he hear all that? 
Heeseung is looking at you two confused, did he interrupt something? 
“I mean, I need to get my lunch break too” Hee continues, looking down on the salad he picked out. He seemed…nervous? Before you could make this situation even more awkward, you and Sunoo quickly grab your dirty dishes and walk away trying to ignore Heeseung's intense gaze. 
You could hear Sunoos' quiet laughter beside you while walking away from Heeseung. You look at him.“Promise me to never do that again Sunoo! And why are you laughing!” You whisper-scream trying to sound intimidating. “What?” He laughes, “It was sooo funny!” 
You look at him with a worried expression. “But what if he heard everything?” 
“So what! Just wait until the next Friday-night shift you have with him, drink the last 30 minutes at closing, and see what happens!” 
You look at him, smiling. “Are you allowed to drink on the job?” Sunoo looks at you and grabs your shoulder. “I don’t know? But what I do know, is that amongst the older coworkers-“ he points his finger towards Heeseung and the others, “it’s a Friday-tradition, and if you want what I think you want…then you know what to do” He says and winks, walking away to help a customer. 
And here we are, the Friday night shift. It would be embarrassing to admit, but the night before you did a 3 hour long everything-shower. Every inch of your body was shaved, scrubbed and cleaned. You were partially oozing vanilla. You hope that if something happens he doesn’t acknowledge the small wound you got from shaving too enthusiastically. Even though you put on matching underwear, an inch of you silently hopes that nothing happens. What if something goes wrong? What if you do something wrong? You try not to get too anxious, afraid that the nervous sweating will smell more than the perfume you put on this morning.
The final customer walks out of the restaurant, and you look at the clock. It’s exactly 30 minutes before the shift ends, which means it’s cleaning and drinking time. 
“Is it your first time on a Friday-shift?” The voice behind you, surprises you, making you do a small jump out of fear while looking over your shoulder. Heeseung looked down on you with an amused expression. “Did I scare you? Sorry I didn’t mean it” You try to say anything, but the scary thought of you stuttering is enough for you to stay quiet. You tap your foot on the ground trying to fill out  the quiet atmosphere while looking away. 
Heeseung tilts his head, while biting his lips, trying to hold in his laughter. Why is she so cute? “Um… So..If you don’t know already, we have a tradition where we drink during cleaning so it makes it more fun. I mean, it is Friday soo” You look up at him again trying to act as if you don’t know about the “tradition” - as if Sunoo didn’t tell you a week before. “Oh, well, that sounds fun?” You answer. 
Heeseung looks at you with bright eyes, turns around and grabs two glasses of beer, probably around 50ml, and hands it to you. "Perfect! You drink beer, right?” He says and looks at you. To be honest beer is the least you want to drink right now, but not wanting to be a burden, you take the big glass. You press it against your mouth, looking up into his eyes, while swallowing a big gulp of beer. You feel the bitter drink hit your tastebuds. Heeseung takes a deep breath, looking at your lips while you swallow the beer. Does she know what she is doing? 
You put down the glass, it is already half empty. “It tastes better than what I imagined!” You say, feeling the courage entering your body with every second because of the alcohol. Before Heeseung can answer, you pick up the glass again, only for him to take it from you. You look up at him irritated “I think you might slow down on that, the beer is extra strong and we don’t want any…accidents”. Heeseung says, bringing his hand up, laying it on your cheek. His thumb strokes your top lip, swiping away foam left from the beer. Your breath hitches, and you stop moving. Heeseung's hand leaves your cheek, before walking away, leaving you with a beating heart. 
Your body is swaying to the music coming from the speaker Sunghoon brought from home. The Broom you are holding gets heavier, the alcohol making your body weaker every minute. You don’t really remember how much you drank. Was it two glasses? Maybe Three? You don’t really care. All the staff members working this shift seem to be having a great time. Jay and Sunghoon were singing their brains out while putting up chairs on the tables, and Jake leaned towards the wall, holding his drink while laughing at his friends. You try to look around for Heeseung, but you can’t see him anywhere. 
Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you look back to see Heeseung looming over you. Why does he always sneak up on me like this? 
He looks at you with an innocent smile, pointing back at delivery boxes filled with vegetables and meat. “It seems like the food supplies are here, do you mind helping me load the boxes into the storage room?”  He says. The storage room? Omg the storage room! That’s where the hook-ups that Sunoo talked about happen! You look at him trying to calm yourself, hoping he didn’t notice your body reaction to the word ‘storage room’. You look at him, confident enough to talk back without stuttering. “It seems like I am done cleaning the floor, so I can help you” 
He looks down on you, grabs the broom from your hand and leans it against the nearest wall. “Well come on then”. He says, picking up two boxes, and walks away, signaling you to follow him. You do so, lifting a heavy box with vegetables in the process. 
The storage room is in the far back of the restaurant, and it’s now when it finally hits you that you two are completely alone. Even the others were too far away for you to hear, and only the music from the speaker was the sound reaching your eardrums. Trying to do your best, you turn around towards the shelves, stacking up cucumbers and carrots. 
While opening up the second bag a hand suddenly leans on the shelf in front of you. You already know who it was, but decide to look back anyway, thinking he needs to stack up this shelf as well. Heeseung is looking down on you, his other hand resting in his pocket before bringing it up and grabbing your chin - making you look up at him. You could smell the alcohol from his lips, and you were super close, only a few inches keeping you apart. “W-what are you doing?” You say almost pathetic, as if you already don’t know the answer. 
Heeseung lets out a small laugh and bites his lips. “I think you know, not that you should be complaining” You look at him confused, before realizing what he might mean. He looks at you and sighs, leaning down right beside your ear and whisper sensually. “I think you want big, sexy, Heeseung to grab your tiny, little, fragile body and push it against the hard wall of the storage room and manhandle you with his big, manly, hands and stroooong arms. Or isn’t that what Sunoo said?” You look back at him trying to object before feeling his hand leave your chin and meet your lower back, pushing you towards the shelves, making you drop the bag of cucumbers on the floor. He pushes his leg between yours, rubbing it against your core to tease you. 
You try not to let out a moan, bringing up your hand in front of your mouth to muffle the sound. “Don’t think you can hide those sweet sounds from me princess” Heeseung says and grabs both of your wrists and puts them above your head. His other hand is now playing with the hem of your shirt, slightly brushing against the side of your stomach. Too drunk by his touch, the only thing leaving your lips are your heavy breaths. Heeseung grabs your waist and pushes you harder down against his leg, making you grind on him. The sudden friction is making you moan, and you tilt your head back to lean on his shoulder. His hand now leaves your waist and unbutton your shorts, sliding his hand over your panties. 
A smirk forms on his lips when he can feel how soaked you are, and only from using his leg. He lightly touches your core with the tip of his fingers, making you let out a small hiss. Getting inpatient, he turns your body around making you face him and he let goes of your wrists. He grabs your shorts harshly, pulling them down with your panties in one go. You gasp by the sudden movement while Heeseung crouches down so he is eye-level with your core.
While licking his lips, he puts his finger between your folds. “Aww, baby, you are completely soaked already!” He says amused, trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t tear you apart then and there. Not wanting to wait anymore, you let out a small groan. “I know, I know, baby. Heeseungie is going to take care of you ok? Do you want that?” He says and looks up at you while rolling his head to the side, his fingers still lightly touching your folds. You desperately shake your head and down. To your surprise, he stands up and grabs your chin. “Use your words baby, only good girls get what they want.” You look at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would spare you from the embarrassment. 
He suddenly slaps you hard against your check, making your gasp. “I said use your words y/n” he says, his soft voice not matching his hard demeanor. He grabs your chin harshly. “Hee, please, I really want you” He looks at you and shakes his head. “I’m not sure I understand, what do you want me to do baby?” 
You can’t take it anymore. Your whole body is aching for his touch, and the only thing you want right now is Heeseungs cock buried deep inside of you. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. “I want you to fuck me”
Heeseung wraps his hand harshly around the back of your neck, and pushes your head towards his, passionately kissing you. His tongue slides in your mouth while you feel his hand massaging your clit. You leave his lips, letting out a moan by the feeling of his rough hand pleasuring you. He takes off your shirt, not sparing a single second before unclipping your bra. He starts licking your nipple while his hand starts massaging the other. Cum is dripping down your leg and he kisses you down your stomach down your thigh. He drags his tongue against your leg to taste your cum, from your inner thigh up to your core, pushing his nose up to smell you. “Mm, baby, you smell so sweet”. 
You feel his tongue circling your clit, making your head fall back towards the hard shelf behind you. Your hands grab his soft hair, a feeling Heeseung can’t get enough of, he loves how good he makes you feel, and how weak you are for his touch. Wanting to bring it one step further, Heeseung pushes his tongue inside your soaked pussy, making sure to push it as far in as possible. His hands grab your thighs harshly for support, and you roll your eyes back at the feeling. You know his harsh touch is going to leave bruises tomorrow. Heeseung speeds up his pace, using his nose to touch your clit while his tongue is deep inside of you. You begin to feel a clump in your stomach, and by the way you are pulling Heeseungs hair he knows you are close.
But then, he stops. You look down on him, disappointed and confused. “Why did you stop? I was so clo-“, before you can finish your sentence, Heeseung stands up and turns your body around. He leans down towards your ear “Don’t think we are stopping yet”. His nose brushes against your neck. He takes a deep breath to take in your sweet vanilla scent, before sucking your neck - making sure to leave a bruise. You tilt your head back, feeling both pain and pleasure from his actions. 
He then stops, unbuckles his belt, and pulls down his pants, and that’s when you feel it.
You feel how his cock teases your wet fold and he is big, really big. At least 9 inches, if not more. Not wanting to wait anymore, You need to feel him inside of you,  you whine “Just fuck me already!”. He slaps your ass, leaving a red mark and making you shut up. “Eager now are we? Don’t forget who is in charge here”
Before you can talk back you feel his cook slowly entering your hole, making you let out a moan. His hands meet your waist, pulling you in on his cook deeper. He is so big that it is actually difficult to take all of him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you begin to bleed because of his size. He is stretching you out completely. “Common princess you can do it”. He says between heavy breaths, encouraging you to take his length completely. “Oh god, you are so tight” He says, pushing the last part of his cock into your pussy. 
He waits a few seconds, so you can adjust his big size, before beginning to slowly slide his entire cock out of you. You look back at him, “Why did you take it ou-“ you say, before he harshly slams it back fast and deep into you. Your body slams on the shelves and you moan from the pain. You are not sure anymore if it is blood or cum sliding down your leg, but you don't care. The only thing you care about is the man behind you, pushing his deep length inside of you. Using you, for his pleasure, like his personal fuck toy. 
Heeseung grabs the front of your neck while he fucks Into your tight little pussy, tilting your head back so he can take over your mouth, and your tits are bouncing with his thrusts. He then stops kissing you, still holding your neck almost shocking you till your light headed. You From the feeling of his large cock ramming into you to his hand on your neck is almost too much for you to handle, and you begin to see black spots forming in front of your eyes as if you are going to pass out from pleasure. “Aww are you about to cum? Do you think Heeseungie should let you cum?” He teases you, not slowing down one bit. 
“Please Hee, please let me cum” You say desperately, trying to hold in your orgasm before Heeseung lets you cum. He fastens his pace and the before steady thrusts turns into sloppy, and you know he is about to cum soon as well. “You want me to fill you up with my cum baby, be my little cum slut?” Sweat is running down his back, and his hand leaves your neck and he instead grabs your waist to deepen his thrusts. 
It’s not long before you both cum, his filling you up and leaking out of you when he pulls out his length. You are breathing heavily, and you feel too weak to stand on your feet. You lean back on Heeseung, your whole body aching because of him, and he hugs you from behind, kissing your neck. You feel his naked sweaty chest on your back, you can’t believe how tal he is compared to you. 
“How much did you actually hear from mine and Sunoos' conversation?” You ask, breaking the silence, while turning around still leaning on his chest. He lets out a slight chuckle, one of his hands holding your waist, helping you stand, and the other grabs your shin. His thumb sliding across your bottom lip, playing with it, wanting to slide it into your mouth. 
“Oh, Sweetheart.” He says and looks at you with a massive smirk, his hand never leaving your soft cheek.
“I heard everything” 
The moment you slam your front door you pick up your phone from your pocket to call Sunoo. “Sunoo, you have NO idea what happened at the shift today”
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periprose · 8 months
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Fly Away
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Michael Berzatto x Reader
You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.
Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)
Word count: 11k
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There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.
Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.
“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”
“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet. 
“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.
“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”
There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.
“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.
Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.
You wish you could be there for him too. 
It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.
You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.
Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.
Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.
“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.
He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.
“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.
“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”
“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”
You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”
“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”
The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself. 
You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad. 
“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.
“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”
“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.
“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember. 
He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.
Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.
“How have you–”
“How’s law sch–”
Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.
“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”
“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”
“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that. 
“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”
Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.
Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.
Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing. 
Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age. 
“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”
“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”
“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”
“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”
“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”
Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”
“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”
Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.
You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it. 
He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.
“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”
“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”
“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little. 
“What?”
“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.
“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”
“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.
“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”
“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”
“Business administration specialist.”
“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”
“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”
Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”
“Acquaintances.”
“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”
“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”
“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”
You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”
“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”
Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.
/
Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry. 
You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.
“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.
“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”
Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.
“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.
Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.
“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”
“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”
She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.
“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.
 Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.
There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.
“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.
“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”
“Hubris.” 
“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”
“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”
“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”
You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.
“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.
“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”
“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”
“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”
“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.
/
You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.
You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”
Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too. 
Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.
You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.
But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?
Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.
You might never stand out.
You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick. 
They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice. 
You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.
It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.
You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.
/
Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.
“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”
“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.
“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.
He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.
“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”
“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.” 
“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.
Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.
“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included. 
“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”
“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”
“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.
“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”
She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.
You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?
You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.
Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”
Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.
Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”
“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.
“What?”
Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient. 
Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”
“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.
“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”
“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.
Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.
“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.
“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”
“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”
“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.
“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”
Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone. 
“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”
“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”
“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late. 
He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt. 
Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.
/
Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.
You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.
When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear. 
“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.
“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.
“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.
You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.
You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all. 
You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.
Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.
You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.
He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.
“Birdie?”
You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees. 
“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”
“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.
“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”
“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”
“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.
Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort. 
He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.
“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small. 
He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust. 
“Yeah, Birdie?”
“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."
“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”
“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”
“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”
Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.
Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.
He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you. 
"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again. 
"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are. 
“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”
“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said. 
You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.
But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.
“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”
“Wait, Birdie–”
“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”
“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”
He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.
“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”
“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.
“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”
Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.
“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”
“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off. 
“Yeah.”
“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”
In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.
“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”
You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.
“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”
“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.
“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod. 
“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something. 
Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb. 
Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.
He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.
Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?
Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.
He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.
Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours. 
You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security. 
Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.
Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far. 
“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”
You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.
“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.
“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”
His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.
“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”
“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”
“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”
Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”
“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”
You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.
“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”
“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you. 
Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that. 
It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.
You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.
Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this. 
For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough. 
You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.
He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.
That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too. 
When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.
“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance. 
You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.
Were you too much for him? Maybe.
You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?
You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.
The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often. 
Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.
Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.
“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.
Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.
Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.
You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.
You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too. 
Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.
Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.  
“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.
Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.
"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”
Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”
“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”
Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.
“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.
“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.
“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.
“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.
But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him. 
"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”
"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"
He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better. 
“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about. 
Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.
“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.
"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?” 
You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.
“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.
Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”
You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.
Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.
Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.
You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.
Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.
Michael throws the third fork.
It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other. 
Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.
Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.
Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.
Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.
Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do. 
You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.
Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.
Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.
You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.
You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.
You hope next Christmas will be better.
/
Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.
Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.
He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.
Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.
He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further. 
Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.
1K notes · View notes
marksmelodies · 4 months
Text
lovestruck
idol mark lee x fem nct member reader
genre: fluff, smut
warnings: suggestive, sex, mentions of sex
minors dni
note: one thing about me is i will eat the one bed trope up everytime
—————————————————————————
you and mark are close, considering you’re both in the same units you guys spend a lot of time together, you both get along really well and your friendship is easy going, at least that’s what everybody thinks
the truth is you’ve have had a massive crush on him since you became apart of nct, it was like love at first sight for you, the first time you saw him butterflies invaded your stomach and to this day you still get that feeling when you look at him
on the plane currently flying to japan to preform at the nct nation concert you sit next to taeil as your head begins to lean on his shoulder falling fast asleep, “y/n psst y/n wake up we’re here” you feel somone shaking your arm, taeil and mark stand over you as you blink a few times rubbing your eyes “oh okay thanks” you say getting up and collecting your belongings before leaving the plane
you head straight to soundcheck after the flight, you and your members all gather at the arena, walking over to jaemin you lean the top of your head to his chest and he pets your hair “how was your flight?” you ask since you two didn’t fly together “it was good i slept the whole time” he said as you laugh “i did too, i fell asleep on taeil”
you, mark and haechan switch between stages for different units practicing for the show, after long hours of hard work you’re finally able to go to the hotel, as you arrive it was decided that you and mark would share a room since everyone else was already paired up, once getting checked in everyone went to their respected rooms
mark opens the door as you follow behind him into the room, you both look at each other with wide eyes as you notice there’s only one bed.
“um i-i can go get the staff and have them sort it out or i could just sleep on the floor or something” mark stutters scratching the back of his head
honestly you were way too sleepy to even care “i don’t mind really im just exhausted let’s not disturb the staff they’re probably just as tired” you say dropping your bags on the floor
“yeah you’re right it’s not a big deal” mark says before opening his suit case “you showering first or am i?” mark asks
“you can shower first, i’ll order us some food what do you want?” you ask as he gives you his order making his way to the bathroom, you ordered the food as you sit on a chair in the corner of the room “oh my god i’m sharing a bed with mark” you realize
this isn’t the first time you and mark shared a room, you’ve shared rooms before but not often, usually jaemin was your roommate for tours with nct dream and taeil was your roommate for 127 but sometimes it would get switched and you’d end up with a different member, you two sharing the bed however would be the first, you hear the water stop, you try and act natural scrolling aimlessly through your phone “oh shit” you hear mark whisper through the door, he comes out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist “sorry i forgot something” he says grabbing a pair of boxers before heading back into the bathroom
“stop it, he’s your co worker that’s weird” you tell yourself as you feel yourself getting wet from the sight of him, finally he walks out again completely dressed as he shakes his head in attempt to dry his hair “the bathrooms all yours” he says walking over to sit on one side of the bed
you turn the shower on as you feel the warm water hit your back, as you shave your body you can’t help but imagine mark naked, his dick moving in and out of your pussy as you moan his name running your hands through his dark hair “ fuck” you say to yourself as you become extremely horny, you finish up trying to ignore the feelings in between your legs as you dry off and change into your pajamas that consist of white cotton shorts with tiny red hearts all over them and matching cami top, you look at yourself in the mirror noticing your pajamas are quite revealing, your shirt was slightly cropped showing off the diamond of your belly button piercing as and your shorts showed the tiniest bit of ass peaking through the bottom
you sigh before drying your hair and doing your skincare routine, putting lotion, deodorant and perfume on considering you were going to be sharing a bed with the man of your dreams you wanted to smell addicting
opening the door you see mark laying in bed on his phone, the delusions are running wild in your mind “he looks so good” you say to yourself as you walk to your suitcase putting some things back into it, mark looks to you and then to what you’re wearing, his eyes widen, as much as he tries not to.. at the end of the day he’s still a man, his eyes travel down to your ass as you’re bent over in front of him rummaging through your suitcase, once you stand up he looks at your boobs practically spilling out of your top, the blood quickly runs to his dick as he tries his best to hide the growing boner under the sheets “damn it y/n” he cusses in his head as he desperately tried to palm himself without you knowing
as you were about to lay next to him in bed the knock on the door keeps you from doing so “oh that must be the food” you say exactly walking to the door
“mark the foods here” you tell him as you set everything up on the table, he gets up taking his food before sitting down across from you “oh my gosh this is so good” you practically moan as your eyes roll in the back of your head, in any other circumstance mark would have just found it a funny gesture to how much you love food but he was extremely turned on and what you just did made it so much worse
mark nearly chokes on the food in his mouth as he hears the moan leave your lips, the thinks about how you would sound in bed as he fucks deep into you, “how are you feeling about tomorrow” you ask him bringing him back from his thoughts “oh um i’m pretty confident with everything i think we’ll all do really good, im excited” he smiles at you “i agree” you say finishing up your food
you and mark both stand in front of the bathroom mirror brushing your teeth, the bathroom was small making it hard to move around with two people, you stand by the sink as mark hears his phone go off “i should probably check that” he says with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, he attempts to scoot behind you but as he does his dick accidentally slides across your ass as he leaves the room
you stand there in complete shock to what just occurred and on the other side of the room mark does the same, both of you however acted like nothing happened as you continue finishing getting ready for bed
“i’m gonna sleep on the floor” mark says as you approach the bed
“mark don’t be stupid, get in bed, your whole body is going to ache if you sleep on the ground and we have a show tomorrow” you say to him getting under the sheets as he sighs doing the same, both of you are on the edge of the bed in attempt to be as far away from each other as you possibly can “goodnight mark” you say turning off the light “goodnight y/n”
it was silent the both of you were to scared to move which resulted in feeling really uncomfortable and not able to fall asleep, without thinking you shift you body away from the edge and closer to mark, mark turns his head looking at you before scooting closer as well, shoulders practically touching its impossible not to feel the sexual tension between the both of you, it’s almost too much to handle, the more tired you get the more bold you become due to your slight deliriousness
the both of you turn your heads towards each other at the same time locking eyes “mark” you whisper inching closer to him really hoping you aren’t misreading the signs, you’re both inches away you can feel his breath coming from nose, you place one of your hands on his stomach and he slightly flinches from your touch as he blinks at you before he makes his move
mark places a hand to your cheek before leaning in closer “can i kiss you” he asks looking at your lips “yes please” you beg before his lips smash into yours, it was a heated kiss, his hands move from your face and behind roaming your body as one of them lands on your ass scooting you even closer, he slightly grabs your ass causing you to slightly moan into the kiss, mark pulls away as you both catch your breath “god you smell so good” mark says as he looks into your eyes
“mark i need you” you whine as he looks to you with big eyes “are you sure” he asks as you nod your head yes “im so sure” you say tracing his abs
you’re now underneath him as his lips are back on yours, tongues fighting for dominance as mark clearly wins, he trails kisses down your neck and chest as his hands play with the hem of your shirt “can i take it off” he asks as you give him permission
mark groans from the sight of your boobs, feeling like i virgin again who can’t control himself over a pair of tits “fuck your so pretty” he says looking at you before his lips attach themselves to one of your boobs at he plays with the other “mark” you whimper as your hand goes straight to his hair “you like that baby? you like your tits getting sucked” he says leaving a few kisses to your nipple before trailing more kisses down your body “when did you get this” he asks pointing to your belly piercing, you chuckle at his obliviousness “like two years ago”. to be fair you never showed much skin to the members so you wouldn’t have expected mark to know “it’s so hot” he replies before moving up to give you a kiss on the lips “you’re so hot y/n” he says kissing you once more, you give him permission to keep going as he takes off your pants
“no underwear?” he asks smirking at you “and here i thought you were so innocent” he says before pulling his own shirt off along with his shorts leaving him in nothing but his boxers
“mark fuck me please” you whine
“be patient baby, be a good girl for me” he says as he pulls his boxers off causing his hard cock to smack against his stomach, you gulped at his size, honestly you were not expecting that from mark but he was bigger than what you’ve ever handled
mark spreads your legs as he stand on his knees in between them looking to you for one last yes before he slowly pushes his dick into you causing you both to moan “you’re pussy is so pretty baby,fuck princess you’re so wet for me” he says pushing himself deeper “you’re so tight babe, you feel so good” he says leaning over to hover you “mark you’re so big” you moan holding both of your hands to his face pulling him into a kiss
mark lets you get used to his size before finding his rhythm as he fucks into you faster and faster, you wrap your legs around his hips as your head falls back letting out moans
“you sound so pretty for me baby” he says interlocking your hands together on the mattress as he gently pins you down “god you feel so good” he repeats himself as he takes his hands from yours grabbing onto your waist as he takes himself out of you roughly ramming back into you, he does that a few times before he brings your legs over his shoulders fucking himself deeper into
“fuck mark i’m going to cum” you moan as a smile creeps onto his face “ cum for me princess” he says as you let yourself go feeling tingles shoot through your body “mark” you moan as your legs begin to shake
“good girl, you’re doing such a good job for me baby, you’re taking me so well” he says kissing your lips
he switches positions again as your legs are now pressed against your chest, the headbord is smashing against the wall as the bed slightly creeks due to his fast thrusts
mark feels you tightening around his cock as he brings his fingers to your clit roughly rubbing it until your jaw goes slack as strings of moans leave your body and your legs shake announcing your orgasm as he lets you ride it out
mark feels himself getting close as well as he pounds himself into so hard you start to see stars, he brings his hand up wrapping it around your throat as his thrusts become sloppy and his head hangs low “fuck i’m coming baby, i’m coming” he says as his hands go back to your hips before you feel a warm sensation fill you “fuckkk” he moans as his cum releases into your slightly fucking the cum deeper into you before pulling out as it leaks out from you whole “ fuck that’s hot” he says pushing his cum back into your pussy causing you to squirm
he kisses your lips as you look up to him completely out of it “look at you so fucked out for me princess” he says pushing your hair out of your face as he gets out of bed to clean you up
laying on his chest as the both of you lay under the covers completely naked “mark?” you say playing with his fingers “yes baby?” he says looking down at you “do you actually like me or did you just want to fuck” you ask almost regretting it
mark sits up a bit making you sit up as well as he grabs your chin making you look up at him “i’ve been in love with you for a long time, you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this” he says kissing your lips “everything i said was true,you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen” he says
you look up to him with a big smile “good because i’ve been in love with you for as long as i can remember” you say settling back down into his chest “i wished we had figured this out sooner” you laugh “yeah me too baby” mark responds
“you’re my girl you know that?” he says rubbing your stomach
“i wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s” you say as your eyes begin to drift off into a deep sleep
the next morning you wake up to johnny, jaehyun,jeno and jaemin bursting into your room
“get up love birds and get decent, we have breakfast to attend to” johnny yells throwing a pillow at you two as you lay cuddled next to eachother without a single piece of clothing on
“yo get out” mark says waving his hands to shew them away as they all chuckle before leaving “hope you used protection” jaemin yells before closing the door
you and mark shoot up starting at eachother remembering the events of last night and how you in fact did not use protection
“fuck”
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taylormarieee · 11 days
Text
Co-Stars turned Lovers A Callum Turner love story
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Chapter 1: "Welcome to the Beginning"
Pairing: Callum Turner x Fem!Bestfriend!Actress!Reader
Word Count: 2.k
Warnings: Kissing for like 2 secs, none really
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You and Callum were the best of friends. Every Interview didn't feel the same without the other. You and him first starred together on Fantastic Beasts: Crimes Of Grindelwald and you bonded ever since.
You loved him so much and he loves you just the same. You were always spotted around LA together, always around in photos in Paris or New York to the point rumors went around that you guys were dating.
That wasn't the case at all. You were filming a new show and it took place in Paris and sometimes New York, so you constantly had to fly back and forth and you felt alone at times.
So you always invited Callum to which he happily obliged when he was free. You booked a hotel for however long you stayed in that place and always ordered a room with two beds.
One for you, and one for Callum. He was your favourite person in the whole world as you were his. He enjoyed your company and you felt as though you couldn't live without his company.
You had separation anxiety so you always felt sad when he wasn't around and would drive or fly as many hours as it took just to be with him. He was your Earth and you were his Moon. Without you he felt as though his world wouldn't spin anymore.
Without him you felt as though you had no purpose in life. Your sole purpose was to orbit around him, be around him as much as possible. You couldn't breathe without Callum.
But there were times where you had to just thug it out and do things on your own without him. He had a life too and you didn't want to seem like that annoying friend that seemed as though she didn't have a life and was just constantly around him.
There were times you will distance yourself from him if it meant you didn't seem or look annoying. But Callum of course, the sweet soul that he is never minded you clung to him 24/7. He enjoyed it actually, it made him feel appreciated and loved.
You gave him attention like crazy and he was a mama's boy. He loved feeling your validation and feeling as if he was wanted. He was drawn to you and you were drawn to him and this was the beginning of a love story you both never anticipated. The beginning of a story you both would soon realize was fate and destiny, the universe bringing you two together.
~ Welcome to the Beginning~
"Welcome to the late late show, I'm your host James Corden and I would like to welcome out our lovely guests."
Everyone in the crowd cheers and your giggling with Callum and Austin. You were so excited to be on the Late Late Show with THE James Corden. You loved James Corden.
"Gosh why am I so nervous!" You nervously giggle and look at Callum and Austin. "Maybe it's because you love James?" Austin says with a smirk on his face. It was more of a statement then a question.
"Y/n Y/l/n, Callum Turner, and Austin Butler!" He screams out and that's your cue for all three of you to walk out. You smile and wave at all the lovely people that have come out to see you guys.
Because your the first one out because the boys decided ladies first, Your the first to give James a hug. You laughed as he gave you a big loving hug. You sat down and waited for the boys to sit.
Austin sat closest to James and Callum sat on the opposite side next to you. So in shorter words, you sat in between the two.
"Welcome Welcome!" James says happily. "It's lovely to have you guys on the show." He says.
"Well were happy to be here!" You say with a dashing smile on your face.
"Alrighty let's get started shall we? Y/N! You are a beautiful amazing woman and an even more amazing actress! What was it like to first get into acting? Who were your role models and people you would have liked to tell that they inspired you to act?" He asks.
"oo that is a wonderful question. I found it quite easy and hard at the same time. I was a very dramatic kid, as my mother would say" You say with a chuckle, the audience chuckles as well.
"And it just made things easier. But at times I was very forgetful so it was hard to remember some of my lines, but being a kid actor who's just starting you realize that the adults working with you aren't going to be harsh because your a kid, you know? So that really helped because Adults have a big impact on kids cause your taller, seem more intimidating. But no yea, it was very easy. And my role model growing up I would have to say was either Leonardo Di Caprio or Will Smith. I really liked The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."
Everyone claps at your answer and the queit down the moment James talks, "That's a wonderful answer. I love that! Now Callum and Austin, I heard you guys went to boot camp training for Masters of the Air. What was that like? Training to just be really hot and outlook people like me?" When James maks that comment you burst out laughing and the whole crowd laughs too.
James really had a way of making jokes and making people laugh. Austin and Callum laugh as well.
"That's what I've been saying James! There both incredibly attractive and I feel like that boot camp didn't give them any training except how to make other men feel bad!" You say through laughs.
James grabs your hand and laughs with you. "Right! At least I have someone to back me up and not call me insecure, Thank you!" He says.
You nod and smile at him before letting Austin and Callum answer. "Ugh well no it was a very fun time of training to outlook other men! No I'm kidding. It was very fun and felt so real, and when you really see the work we did on the big screen it's like, woah I didn't think it would come out that good. Cuz you know behind the scenes were goofing around and having little to know clue what's gonna happen next so yea it was a huge roller coaster." Austin explains.
You nod and give out a hum of approval and look at Callum, "Do you have anything to add on to that?" James asks.
"Nope, I mean I would have said it just like that. It was very fun and having y/n on set? Oh it was never a dull moment when it came to her. We all had a lot of fun." He says. You smile and look back at James.
"Alrighty, let's get to the juicy stuff!" James says smiling. You face fall and you mutter out an "Oh no." And the crowd starts laughing because you forgot that the mic's pick up everything.
"Why oh no y/n." Your face lights up with surprise and you cover your face in embarrassment.
"Because I know exactly what the juicy stuff is! So, to answer your question, no me and Callum are not dating Mr. Corden!" You say with a laugh at the end.
"Wow! Do a lot of Interviewers ask you that question?" He asks.
"yes, everyday!" You and Callum say at the same time. "I promise you were just really good friends who hang out alot because one of us has separation anxiety from their comfort person." Callum says motioning towards you.
You laugh and then hit his arm playfully. "I'm filming between Paris and New York so you'll spot me with Callum alot because sometimes I get lonely so of course I'm gonna bring my best friend!"
"Yea there was a few times she brought me but I guess paparazzi don't see us or they do and just don't ship me and her together." Austin defends.
"Ok ok, so well then that question is moved over, completely erased."
After that the interview, you, Callum and Austin decide to go out to eat. You chose the restaurant, you always did. You never wanted to because you were always indecisive but you eventually chose a place and you guys went to dine.
Sadly, Austin couldn't stay with you guys as his girlfriend called and needed him home for something urgent. Something about her cutting her hand. You both said your goodbyes and wished she was ok before sitting and ordering.
This was the night you realized your true feelings for Callum Turner...
This was the night you would never forget... The night it all happened and was brushed off as a mistake.
"Callum... today was so exhausting. I hate when people ship us, I mean I don't hate James, I'm just tired of getting asked that same question over and over again! Aren't you?" You ramble on about today's earlier events.
"I mean, if i'm being honest... I don't care. Me and you both know were best friends so why bother entertaining it." he says as he leans closer to you from across the table.
"Unless of course...You wanna deny the fact that you would ever date me? Do you not love me or something?" He teases with a smirk on his face.
That. That right there is what started it... What started your feelings and the electricity that shot down your spine.
"N-No that's... that's not what I'm saying or i-implying Callum!" You say nervously. You were never nervous around Callum.
"Mhmm yeah...sure." He says still leaning forward even closer to you know. 'Maybe he's intoxicated' you thought. He was never this straightforward with you or even this flirtatious with you.
You guys were drinking in the car but not heavily. His hand reaches your cheek and you giggle nervously. "C-Callum what are you doing?" You ask nervously.
"I'm feeling your face duh! What else would I possibly be doing..." He says. You notice he's not making eye contact with you but more so your lips. You lick them nervously and you see his eyebrow raise for a second.
He leans in just a little closer whispering a "God your so beautiful" before he kisses you. Your eyes are wide and you melt into it. He quickly breaks away and apologizes before you could even kiss him back.
"Oh my lord, I'm sorry... i don't know what came over me. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable that-that was a mistake." He says before rubbing his face with his hands.
"I-It's ok Callum. I'm not uncomfortable. Let's just eat ok?" You say with a sweet smile to hide the sadness in your face from him. He sweetly smiles back at you and you both indulge.
That night was a night you've never forgotten but what you were completely oblivious too was that that night was unforgettable to Callum too.
He thought about that night everyday he looked at you... everytime he touched you... everytime he sees lip gloss coat your full lips.
It plagued his mind like a virus corrupting a humans mind. He wanted you badly but he knew he couldn't have you. He couldn't ruin this relationship he had with you, this beautiful friendship, but goddamn were you addicting.
you and Callum were polar opposites yet destined to be together...If only you two could open your eyes and see what is right in front of you.
You and him were made for each other, you just needed to find each other. Like two lost souls searching for a purpose. Like the Earth and the Moon, they look platonic but one can't live without the other. Destined to fall in love either way.
Love, fate, and desire... Something you two need to give into in order to find yourselves.
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Taglist: @dustbunniess @willyoubemycherryy and anyone else that wants to join!
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c-d-9 · 4 months
Note
hiiiii i love your work!
could you possibly write danny ric x actress!reader please??
THANK YOU💙
Everything & More
Warnings: Smut❗️; dirty talk; some swearing; fluff
Category: Requested; One Shot
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It was Oscars night and Y/N’s latest film had just made it big with 4 wins. While she didn’t snag an award for her performance, she was happy that the film’s crew got the recognition they deserved. Plus, how many people could actually say that they are a freaking Oscar nominee?!
A few hours later she and Daniel found themselves dancing along to the beat of the roaring afterparty music.
‘I’m finding it really difficult to keep my hands off of you.’ He whispered to her seductively as they swayed back and forth to the beat of the music.
His hands ran themselves down her hips, admiring the way her silk black dress hugged her body in all the right places.
‘I could sense that.’ She giggled, noticing how his erection was straining against his perfectly tailored pants. ‘You know, that’s the exact same thing you told me when you had me pressed up against my front door after our first date.’
His eyes smiled as he looked at her.
‘So it is. I still can’t believe how eager we were.’
‘How eager you were, Danny. I may have found you attractive, but you were the one who slid into my dm’s because you just had to meet your favourite actress. A VIP pass to the British Grand Prix was a nice touch, I must admit.’
She tried to suppress a laugh as he looked at her with a defensive manner.
‘Don’t pretend like you didn’t want it as much as I did, little lady. As far as I can recall, you were the one who was practically begging me to touch you on the drive back to your apartment.’
‘Only because you had been teasing me all night.’ She slapped his chest lightly. ‘You really can’t blame me. You are very skilful with these fingers.’
She lightly traced the vainly hand that laid on her hip and the anticipation to relive the events of that night grew thicker.
‘That was the night I knew I was going to marry you.’ He confessed lightly.
While Daniel had never failed to express just how taken he was by her when they first met, he never told her that their first night together was when had decided that she was the one he wanted to spend forever with. To grow old with.
‘Really?’ Her breath caught in her throat slightly and their movements came to a halt. ‘You wanted to marry me then already?’
‘Well, yeah.’ He laughed at her shocked expression. ‘Of course I knew. You are everything and more, Mrs. Ricciardo.’
‘I’ll never get tired of hearing you call me that.’ She sighed as they began to sway again.
‘Good, because I plan on calling you that for the rest of our lives.’
‘Hey, lovebirds! I am three tequilas in and I need someone to dance to Beyonce with.’ Y/N’s good friend Jennifer Lawrence announced above the music. ‘Can I steal her away for a few, Daniel? I promise I’ll bring her back.’ She teased.
‘Go ahead. You ladies have fun.’ He gave Y/N a quick peck before she hurried off with Jen.
He rounded the gentleman’s table and chatted away with some of her co-stars and fellow actors. He tried his best to remain focused during the casual conversations that flowed, but found it hard to do so as he only had eyes for his wife dancing in the distance. She looked mesmerising.
As if she could feel him staring, her eyes drifted across the room to his. When their eyes caught it said something that their mouths didn’t need to. It was the look of love and consuming lust.
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‘Just like that, don’t stop.’ She moaned breathlessly as Daniel continued to thrust into her.
It felt like a lifetime had gone by before they finally reached the door of their hotel room. There was no time for talking or mental comprehension as clothes came flying off at a groundbreaking pace and mouths were moving together in an endless fevered kiss.
‘You always feel so good around me, Y/N. I’ll never get tired of fucking you.’
He continued to drive into her at a slow but rough pace, the sweat beads on his forehead indicating that he was trying his best to last as long as possible.
‘Oh, Daniel.’ She groaned as he started to assault her hardened nipple with his fingers. ‘Put a baby in me.’
His thrusts came to a pause and the realisation of what she had just said hit them.
‘Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’ She stated in a panic, readying for his disapproval.
‘Did you mean it?’ He asked her in a gentle tone while moving her hair away from her heated forehead.
‘Maybe, yes. I don’t know.’ She bit her lip and looked up at him with fearful eyes. ‘I mean, I didn’t not mean it. I know we have only been married a year, but I have been thinking about it for a while now. All my friends are having babies or had babies. I am constantly hearing from Jen how amazing becoming a mom has been for her and I guess… I guess something in me realised that my fear of having children in the past had nothing to do with me, but rather everything to do with the fact that no one amounted to what I wanted in a husband and the father of my child. That was until I met you. So I guess you could say that babies were never an option until you came along.’
He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like she held the universe that he wanted to claim for himself.
‘Please say something.’ She whispered worryingly.
‘You are everything and more, Mrs. Ricciardo.’
He stated a second time that evening before pulling her into a loving kiss. His thrusts began to pick up again and they moved together in perfect sync.
‘Going to put a baby in you. Going to fill my wife up.’
Every stroke, every movement was intensified by its intent. Nothing but love and need surrounded the two as they came close to breaking point.
‘Daniel, I’m close.’ She moaned loudly as he hit her sensitive spot over and over again.
‘Come for me, baby. It’s okay. You can let go. I’m right behind you.’
One more thrust sent Y/N off the edge. Her toes curled and her back arched just in time for Daniel to release himself inside of her.
‘That was…’ He tried to speak the words but was too overwhelmed for his mouth to follow the flow of his thoughts.
‘Perfect.’ She breathed, almost as if she had stolen the words right from under him.
‘Yes.’ They giggled at his flushed demeanour before he moved to lie on his back next to her.
She cuddled into his side and they laid together for a long while. It was only after their breathing had slowed down that Y/N was made aware of an unavoidable reality.
‘I’m still on the pill. How the fuck were you supposed to impregnate me?’
Daniel’s body began to shake as a loud laugh rippled through his chest.
‘Welp, practice makes perfect.’ He continued to laugh and she simply rolled her eyes at him.
‘I’ll stop taking it from tomorrow.’ She stated but he merely continued to laugh at the situation. ‘What am I going to do with you, Mr. Ricciardo?’
‘Love me till we are fat and grey, Mrs. Ricciardo.’
And so she did exactly that with two beautiful children to bear witness.
The End.
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lotusbxtch · 26 days
Text
The Best Ride in the Galaxy (one-shot)
Pairing: Poe Dameron x AFAB!Reader
Summary: You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue. Word count: 2k
Warnings: Explicit 18+, MDNI! Mostly porn with a little plot // Established relationship, thigh riding/dry humping, vaginal fingering, swearing, name calling, use of pet names (English and Spanish), dom!Poe, brief light violence (slap to the face), Poe uses a Spanish pet name (bebita) which is probably not canon but idc it's hot, no physical description of reader besides being AFAB and being taller standing than a sitting Poe, Poe makes a corny joke, Poe being a cocky smug asshole comes with its own warning, no use of y/n
a/n: This picture of Oscar & his thick-ass thighs, and @for-a-longlongtime mentioning how Poe-coded it was, inspired this fic in its entirety. A little over 24 hours later and here it is! This is my very first posted fic, so please show it some love, send it to someone who might enjoy it, and feel free to give (constructive) feedback if you wish! If I missed any warning tags, please let me know and I'll add them in. Big big thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for beta-reading and cheering me on, it means the world to me.
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You run outside as soon as you hear the X-wings land, your heart in your throat. 
It’s been 7 days, but when he left, Poe promised you it wouldn’t take more than 4 for his small band of rebel fighters to complete the covert mission. Of course he insisted on going with them; he’d been stir-crazy as of late, the endless strategy meetings and arguments amongst leadership boring him to tears. He jumped at the chance to get back into the pilot’s seat. You paced restlessly those last 3 days, imagining the absolute worst had happened to him, with no way of knowing if he was even alive.
So when you rushed out to the tarmac and spotted him climbing out of his X-wing, immense relief flooded your body, followed quickly by a potent swirl of both anger and anxiety. He spotted you, his eyes lighting up, jogging towards you with that brilliant smile.
“Hey good-lookin’,” he crooned as he approached, “didn’t miss me too much, did you?”
What he didn’t expect was for you to slap him straight across his face.
You surprised the both of you - Poe was staring back at you, open-mouthed and silent, a rare occurrence; you were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes, your palm stinging slightly from the impact.
“Baby, I know you weren’t keen on me leaving,” Poe stammered, “but this seems a tad bit–”
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE!” you snapped at him, loudly enough for the people around you to look around for the source of the outburst. “You told me four days, Poe, and it’s now DAY FUCKING SEVEN.” You turned and started storming back to your pod, Poe on your heels.
“Bebita, I told you it was a small team,” Poe tried to explain while keeping up with you. “We hit some hiccups in the plan and had to hide out a bit longer than we thought. If I’d tried to contact you, it would have given away our position. You know how these missions go.”
You angrily punched in the access code to the door of your pod. “Yes, I know, which is exactly why as co-general you’re not supposed to be out in the field putting yourself in harm’s way.” The metal door slid open, and you walked forward, not even looking back at him. “I don’t care if you got bored playing politics, that doesn’t mean you get to go rogue and get back in the cockpit.” Slamming your hand on the button to slide the pod door closed, you finally turned to face Poe since slapping him. You let out a shaky breath as your rage subsided. Your stomach was morphing into a simmering pool of nerves and regret. 
“Look,” Poe said, “I just… getting cooped up on base listening to those talking heads was making me crazy. I miss flying and I saw the opportunity and took it.” You knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier on you. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you scanned his body for signs of injury, until you realized… he was wearing his flight suit.
Fuck. That damn flight suit always did things to you. Obviously he had to wear it for functionality’s sake, but god, it was almost like he was made to look good in them. His shoulders looked so strong and broad, and the unisex, utilitarian cut of the orange suit somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his ample, round ass, one of your favorite features of his. You felt your mouth water as you drank the sight of him in, arousal slowly kindling in your belly.
That suit was your weakness, and the cocky smile slowly dawning on his face let you know he knew, too.
“I mean,” Poe smirked,  “at least you get to see me in your favorite outfit of mine.” Walking slowly away from you to give you a clear view of his rear, he turned and sunk into the chair in your room. You followed, magnetically drawn to him while simultaneously being flustered that he caught onto your ogling. You crossed your arms and put on your best annoyed face.
“I’m sorry for slapping you, but I’m not sorry for being mad,” you said, pursing your lips and looking away. “And trying to seduce me with your stupid uniform isn’t working.”
It was, in fact, working too well. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to ignore the gentle heat filling your body from your center outwards. Poe’s smirk deepened.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a covert operative because you are the worst at lying,” he said, grabbing your thighs and coaxing you closer to him. You acquiesced, trying and failing to look irritated, the desire plain as day on your face. Poe ran his hands slowly up and down your legs from your hips to your calves. Sliding his palms back and around your ass, he squeezed and your breath hitched. You looked down and those liquid brown eyes were staring up at you, twinkling with mischief. “I know you better than that, sweet thing,” Poe teased. “You absolutely cannot pretend that me wearing this suit doesn’t make you cream your panties.”
You fought to control your traitorous body, breathing slowly through your nose as Poe lifted the hem of your shirt and planted soft kisses on your belly, right above your pants. “Fuck you, you cocky asshole,” you tried to spit viciously, but it came out sounding slightly strangled instead. This Maker-forsaken stupid man and his stupid bubble butt and this stupid suit, you thought, your fingers weaving into the curls on his head. 
Poe’s smile only turned even more predatory, like a cat playing with a mouse. “Oh, I would, baby” he whispered, nipping your torso lightly, “but I haven’t showered in days. How about this instead…”
Suddenly Poe grabbed your hips, pulling you down into his lap and forcing your knees to buckle, your legs on either side of his thick thigh. His right arm wound around your lower back, holding you in place while his left hand snaked up your neck and into your hair. He pulled you in for a slow, soft kiss, which snapped the final tether preventing you from melting for him like he knew you wanted to. You surged forward, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth and tasting the minty aftertaste of the gum he always chews while piloting. He groans, biting your lower lip, then sliding his tongue along yours. This draws your first moans out from somewhere deep in your chest, and his eyes quickly darken when you begin grinding on his thigh.
“Oh, you like that,” Poe crooned, lips turning up into a smirk. “So fucking eager for me. So desperate to cum.”
“Fuck you, Maker-damn it,” you pant, burying your face into his neck, the smell of sweat, jet fuel, and him invading your senses. “This stupid suit is going to be the death of me.”
Poe smiles wickedly. “Why don’t you take a ride on the best pilot in the galaxy before you die, then, honey?” he purrs into your ear. You roll your eyes at his cheesy line until you feel him flex the thigh you’re straddling, creating the most delicious friction against your clothed core. You let out a breathy moan and clench your own thighs around his, starting to rock your clit against his ridge of muscle through your clothes. Slick starts dripping out of you with each roll of your hips against him. Poe moves your arms to brace on his shoulders, then slides both of his hands onto your hips to help you ride him.
The pleasure in your core starts to ratchet up, and you grind yourself harder into Poe’s thigh, throwing your head back with a moan. Poe leans to your ear, kissing and lightly licking just behind and below your earlobe, that spot he knows drives you wild. “That’s it, baby, ride it out,” he whispers into your ear. “Use all that frustration to make yourself cum on my leg.” You mewl, circling your hips and chasing your high. Your pussy contracts around nothing, and suddenly all you can think about is how much better it would feel if Poe was inside of you.
“Poe,” you whine, “I need more.” Your slick is soaking through your underwear, the smell of your arousal filling Poe’s senses. He groans, his cock painfully hard in his flight suit.
“What do you need, bebita?” he says, kissing your forehead sweetly while gripping your hips like a vice, a contrast that has you moaning wordlessly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I need you,” you beg, “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me, please.” You can feel your clit throbbing, almost painfully. Poe moans into your neck. “Baby, I told you, you do not want me to unzip this suit,” he chuckles. “But I think I can still help. Lean back a little.” You comply, and watch with glazed eyes as Poe stares right back at you, slipping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to get them wet. A shudder rips through your body when he slips both digits past the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. He groans loudly when he feels your slick folds.
“Fuuuuck me, baby, you’re absolutely drenched,” he breaths out. “Is this all for this dumb orange jumpsuit I’m wearing?” That cocky smirk reappears as he laughs at his own joke.
Letting out an annoyed breath, you huff, “it’s for you, idiot. You fucking drive me crazy. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten me this wet. Now fill me up before I lose my ever-loving mind.” 
Poe lets out another chuckle. “Yes, ma’am,” he quips, and then quickly slides the length of his fingers into your cunt, forcing a moan from your lungs involuntarily. He rocks you forward again so that you’re sitting directly on his fingers, with his palm cradling your pussy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he commands. “Take what you need from me.”
You do exactly that, rising and falling on his thigh, swirling your hips over his soaked digits, your clit rubbing against the meat of his palm deliciously. He adds another finger, stretching you out and making you want to scream. Your hips speed up as you desperately chase your high. The wet squelching and slapping sounds of your pussy on Poe’s hand echo in the room. Poe’s panting fills your ears and your wanton moans fill his. You invade his senses in every way possible, and he can feel his dick pulse with every thrust of your hips against his thigh.
Suddenly, you start feeling the knot in your core tighten as you rocket ever-closer to your orgasm. Poe moans as he feels you clench. “Fuck, that’s it, honey, I can feel you getting close,” he whispers. “Give it to me.” His hips start lifting up, grinding, pressing his length into you as much as he can.
“Oh Maker, Poe, oh fuck,” you cry as your walls tighten. “You want me to fucking cum for you?”
“Fuuuuuuck yes baby, that’s all I want,” Poe pants. “Fucking cum all over my fingers, soak my hand, honey.”
The filth pouring out of his mouth finally snaps the knot in your stomach, and you nearly scream in ecstasy as your release shatters and blooms through your body. Poe moans your name as a rush of your slick coats his hand, and you feel him bite your shoulder as his body tenses. Sated, you slump against him, his hand still pinned under your body, both of you sticky with sweat and panting for breath. Poe uses his free hand to softly cup the side of your face, pressing kisses slowly and gently across your cheeks and nose.
You sigh as he carefully extracts his hand. Just as you peer down at him, he closes his eyes and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking every bit of your essence off. You shudder in pleasure as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.
“Feeling better?” Poe asks, the warm molten brown of his eyes having returned. You sigh and giggle a little. “Yes, thank you,” you murmur quietly, “but I wish I could have made you cum too.” 
Suddenly Poe looks sheepish, something that’s a rare expression for him.
“Well, uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and averting his eyes. You pause, perplexed. He glances back at you, then down at the floor, and then back at you again. Poe clears his throat before he finally speaks.
 “I… actually did…”
You freeze silently, and then erupt into laughter. “Poe Dameron!” you screech. “The ‘best pilot in the galaxy’, commander of the Starfighter Corps, co-general of the entire fucking Resistance, fucking JIZZED in his pants like a teenager???” You start tittering uncontrollably, much to Poe’s embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, idiot,” he grouses, which only makes you cackle even louder. He sighs, annoyed but begrudgingly satisfied.
“At least this suit needs to be washed anyway,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and you laugh so hard you start crying.
Tag list (it's here y'all!): @for-a-longlongtime @nerdieforpedro @lu62 @purelyoscar @clemdango04 @survivingandenduring @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @beezusvreeland @alltheglitterandtheroar @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry @agentjackdaniels @dizthemonster @beezusvreeland @queerponcho and anyone else who was interested!
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marksbear · 1 year
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police consultant reader who constantly flirts w spencer reid? things like "the perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being cute" and "the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief!"
just pure fluff with a charming reader —⚰️
It's short BUT not too short y'know. And I made sure this is all pure fluff my love! ⚰ and thanks for requesting!
SPENCER REID X CHARMING POLICEMAN READER
"When are these guys about to arrive?" Morgan says impatiently crossing his arms and taps his foot growing tired of all the waiting.
"Be patient Morgan. These guys are flying all the way here from Georgia just to help us in this case." Hotch says looking over the case once more trying to figure anything out.
The BAU hasn't made any progress trying to figure out who the unsub is and why they're doing this. So Rossi made a few calls and punched a favor in from Georgia's own BAU unit to come help them out with the case.
"How did you even convince them to come out all the way here?" Reid asks looking up from the folders to Rossi. "Well the team leader over there owes me a big favor from a few years back, so why not use it now." Rossi answers with a smirk.
Before Reid could ask another question the room door opens wide as a group of people walk inside. "Agent Rossi?" An older man's voice rings out looking around the room for his old friend. Rossi stands out his chair and welcomes the older man with a small hug.
"Xavier, hello my friend how are you?"
"Good Dave. Boy how I missed you! Please tell me, what has been going on with you?"
Before Rossi could respond back an unknown and younger voice cuts him off. "Great, theres nothing worse than two old men catching up." Earning a few laughs from the group of agents. Xavier rolls his eyes at the younger male before introducing everyone to his team.
"And this is special agent---" "Y/n L/n. And you are? Let me guess. Agent cutie?" Y/n cuts off his boss again looking at Reid with a smirk. Morgan and Penelope giggle among each other looking at the flustered doctor.
"U-uhm... Doctor Spencer Reid." Spencer says with a stutter making him even more embarrassed than before.
"You know doc, I think I maybe have hurt myself on the plane while getting here. Like my whole head and especially lips hurt, but~ theres nothing a little kiss can't fix, isn't that right doc?" Y/n says with a wink and taps his lips. Y/n stalks up closer to Spencer and leans down by him, so he can get a better look. "I bet---" Before Y/n could flirt with Reid more he was pulled away from one of his workers.
"That's enough L/n. You're acting like a predator with its prey." The worker Anne says pulling her friend away. "If that's true he must be the beautiful rabbit and i'm the---" Anne covers Y/n's mouth with her hand shutting him up.
Xavier laughs out and says "Sorry about that. Thats Y/n just being Y/n. Now lets get down to business shall we?"
Both BAU teams work with each other. They imagine the unsubs profile and picture them having a reason why and how the unsub is doing this. But why all have to figure out where the unsub picking up/ taking the women.
"The perp must be taking them out to dinner, which i am also going to do if the nerd doesn't stop being so damn cute."Y/n flirts giving Spencer a wink as well. Anne groans and rolls her eyes. "What? That wasn't good? Cmon y'all know that was good." Y/n says with a laugh.
"Y/n is right. The unsub must be inviting them to dinner or a bar since every victim dressed like they were going somewhere fancy something with romantic intentions." Reid adds also trying to ignore Y/n's last comment, but fails from the obvious blush on his face.
"The case also lists that the victims were already dating someone. So it's most likely the unsub is going for cheaters or something of that sort." Hotch also adds in. Everyone in the room begins to list theories and possible reasons as to why the unsub is doing this. Y/n whispers into his co-workers ears while eyeing Spencer no doubt giving him signals that he's talking about him.
"Guys... After this case is done I have another case involving me. the doctor stole my heart, arrest the thief! And have him sentenced to life with me~" Y/n says causing both teams to aww and tease Spencer. "Awww~ Spence got himself a boyfriend!~" Derek teases causing Penelope to giggle and join in. "Y/n and Spencer kissing in a tree--" Before Penelope could finish Spencer covers his face in embarrassment causing everyone to laugh and giggle.
"You two just get a room already." Hotch adds in with the jokes causing everyone to pitch in their own joke to make the doctor even more embarrassed. "When is the wedding? And where are my grandchildren?" Rossi says with a laugh.
"I'm already planning to get on one knee." Y/n says causing everyone to laugh and giggle.
"Alright alright. Everyone gets back on track, then we can plan me and Spencer's future together. Like how much kids were having, who's moving in with who. When can I kiss him. And so on and so on. I don't my future husband to die from being so cute~ and from blushing." Y/n says wrapping his arm around Spencer's shoulder.
THE END
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mermaidfanficlibrary · 6 months
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Hello, Hello!!
I hope my request isn't much of a burden-- however, I was wondering if you could do a one-shot with the decay of angels(Fyodor, Nikolai, and Sigma) with a male reader who has white wings?
Quick rundown for the idea;
The reader is the leader of a different organization called the Aviators; the Reader doesn't exactly have an ability but they do have wings-- the reader and their group side with the Armed Detective Agency because reader is heavily in love with bringing people to Justice, like the Decay Of Angels; however, something goes wrong and the reader gets captured while the three DOA members figure out what to do with them.
You can choose if it's more yandere-like or violent, I don't mind, really!! I usually write requests longer but I'm in a rush <\\3
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These wings bind me | Bungou Stray Dogs x Male Reader
Characters: Nikolai Gogol, Fyodor, Sigma
Summary: Those wings you had didn't even grant you freedom
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Gore, Obsessive behavior, manipulation, death, kidnapping
Taglist: @nightshade-clown
A/n: This is very Nikolai heavy because I am biased. Also, sorry, the wings aren't mentioned as much
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Y/n was a big name in Yokohama, well, a moderately big name. He was a well-known justice bringer with his group called the Aviators. It was a group of people who thought everyone deserved freedom and the choice on where their wings take them. Some of them were like Y/n, with giant wings granting them flight through the sky. 
But some had abilities that helped with bringing justice into the world. Y/n heavily believed in bringing justice to everything that tried to inflict on it. The Aviators seemed to be of decent popularity that even the ADA sought them out as an extra branch. The two organizations were seen as partner groups, essentially. 
Y/n still did whatever he really wanted under his association, but he would give the ADA extra people when they needed them. The same went with the ADA sending the Aviators people when they required them. It was quite the relationship between the organizations. No one really expected it, since Y/n was more about vigilante work and the ADA worked with the government in a way. 
But here is the leader of the Aviators, analyzing a case with some of ADA's best detectives. Dazai, Kunikida, Autsushi and Y/n were all lurking around the crime scene, looking for any form of evidence to link anyone or anything to the scene. Y/n was with Atsushi, as not wanting to deal with Dazai's shenanigans or Kunikida's harsh comments. Atsushi and Y/n were decent acquaintances and worked well with each other.
The two made basic small talk as they searched the crime scene and conversed with passerbys to see if any of them were a reliable witness. Atsushi left Y/n on his own to look for something, though Y/n didn’t know what. He was on his own, just standing out in the open, it seemed pretty safe with the amount of people around. However, there was something off, and Y/n felt it. 
Something in him made his white iridescent wings fluff out in anxiety. None of Y/n’s associates were near bye, and that worried Y/n. No one was there to protect him if something bad were to happen, well, something incredibly bad. Y/n could fend for himself, he knew basic martial arts, but against ability users all he could really do was fly to avoid as many hits as he can until back up comes. 
Y/n wasn’t completely helpless, but he preferred being with someone who could save him if he were in trouble. Y/n didn’t only feel just one pair of eyes on him, but multiple. They were watching him, marking his move and every twitch he made. But Y/n didn’t know who was watching him.
Just as the paranoia subsided, Y/n was swept away from where he was standing. The kidnapper knocked him out, and everything else was blurry in his head. Atsushi came back only to find where Y/n stood was blank. He wasn’t the only one who was worried, however. 
Atsushi went to his two fellow co-workers and told them what had happened, both seemingly hid their panic on the inside. Those other pairs of eyes that kept a close watch on Y/n left, to find their dearly beloved Angel. The crime scene was left barren by both the ADA and the Decay of Angels. Both were on the hunt to get Y/n back.
Sigma, Nikolai, and Fyodor looked everywhere in Yokohama, all the places they knew Y/n might have been taken. But there was no luck, not until a few days later. It was late at night, and the three DOA members followed some of what passing witnesses said they heard or saw a couple of days before. There was a tiny sliver of hope in all three men. 
Nikolai was the first to step into the abandoned shed that rested near a busy roadway. It was covered in foliage and trees, keeping the whole building a secret, or so it seemed. Nikolai, however, paid no mind to any of that, only focused on finding his Angel. Fyodor and Sigma only followed Nikolai, keeping the white haired man at a distance. 
The two didn’t trust anything about this place. They were prepared for any form of attack from anyone. Nikolai wondered in, carefree, not caring about anything else other than his Angel. The three stopped in their tracks as they heard metal bars swishing around. 
Nikolai ran in deeper into the building, stopping to marvel at the sight of a beautiful golden cage. What quickly knocked him out of the trance was the iridescent, feathered wings of his Angel. Nikolai felt angry that someone would do this to his Angel, no one should cage his dearly love up like this. He jumped up against boxes that were stacked to reach the cage. 
Y/n was startled by the sudden stop of the cage he was trying to escape from. He looked outside the bar with teary, enraged eyes. He was met with piercing blue gray eyes that streamed raw anger, yet there was love that trickled lightly. Y/n was left so confused as he just stared deep into the eyes that looked back. 
Y/n didn’t notice two others walking into the room that held him in the golden cage. The metal shined slightly with the whisps of moonlight beaming through the cracks of the wooden roof. Sigma glanced up to see Nikolai gazing at Y/n, holding the cage still. Something wasn’t right about the whole situation. 
Fyodor felt the same as Sigma as the two shared a knowing look of imminent danger. They stood back to back, covering each other's blind spots. Nikolai used his ability to bring himself into the cage. Y/n was taken aback by what this man did, why bring himself into the cage?
Nikolai crouched down to meet Y/n’s face, a sickly smile graced his face. It unsettled the winged boy, he tried to move out of range, but he was stuck to the floor of the cage. He felt the touch of Nikolai, and it increased the anxiety that floating in him. He brought Y/n into a warm embrace, his smile not ceasing from his lips. 
Nikolai gave the other two men a knowing look, and they nodded in agreement. The kidnapper seemed to notice the three and came out of the shadows. Their eyes gleamed with insanity, their laughing was incoherent to the three men and Y/n. Y/n’s fear was practically spilling out of his body, and Nikolai noticed. 
“Don’t worry, my dear Angel, we’ll set you free!”
Y/n felt disgusted by that nickname, coming from a stranger. There was so much going on, he didn’t know what to make out of anything. Nikolai covered Y/n’s ears and brought him even closer to him. He silently whispered to him. 
“No need to be scared, my Angel. Everything will be okay. You’re safe now! Sigma and Dotsoy have it all covered!”
Just behind Y/n, Sigma and Fyodor were fighting the kidnapper. Their anger was shown in their attacks, and it was scaring the kidnapper. The hood fell off, and it showed the face of the persecutor. Y/n glanced behind his back slightly and gasped as he saw the face of his kidnapper. 
“How did you find this place?! I was sure I kept everything out of the public eye!”
Sigma’s face stayed flat, but his emotions were clear to both the kidnapper and Fyodor. Nikolai was too busy with Y/n and comforting him to even notice. Fyodor managed to immobilize the assailant, pinning him to the ground. Sigma walked closer, as he bent down.
“It’s easy for us to find what we want. Now you will pay for stealing from us.”
Sigma looked at Fyodor with an approving look. Y/n and Nikolai were watching from the cage, Nikolai waiting for a change to get Y/n out of said cage. He gripped Y/n harder, to a point it hurt, but he didn’t want to let the h/c haired boy go. Blood splattered everywhere, as Fyodor used his ability to get rid of this pest. 
Y/n wasn’t shocked about the death and red soaking everything around him, but it amazed him how easily someone would end other's life. He has killed others before, but only because they were hurting and taking other’s freedom. Nikolai scooped Y/n into his slender arms, hopping out of the cage, unknown to Y/n how he did, but Y/n couldn’t get out of his grip. Y/n was then surrounded by Sigma and Fyodor. 
Y/n tried to stand, but his legs were still asleep and he collapsed. Sigma caught him, being careful of his white wings. As Sigma stroked Y/n’s h/c hair, loving how it felt against his fingers. Fyodor was busy taking care of the dead body, and Nikolai was gently touching Y/n’s wings. 
Y/n looked up at Sigma, with watery eyes glistening the little moonlight that let itself into the cracks. His lips quivered a bit, fear still settling in his heart after a traumatic event. Sigma brought one of his hands to cup Y/n’s cheek, wiping away tears that threatened to fall. Y/n’s voice was sweet and soft to the three men that surrounded him, they all slightly blushed, feeling honored to hear it. 
“Why did you come and save me?” 
Fyodor came back, gently walking to the side of Y/n. Y/n’s e/c eyes looked at Fyodor, he stopped slightly. Oddly enough, those e/c eyes froze Fyodor right in his place. He sighed, trying to keep Y/n’s eyes on him. 
“Why wouldn’t we? We adore you, my dear.”
Y/n was so confused and look to all three men. He didn’t know who any of these people were and why they were here. The silence filled the building, making Y/n even more uneasy. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him. 
Y/n looked back to Sigma, hoping he could bring himself to ask the most important question. For some reason, Y/n already knew the answer based on the grip Sigma had on him. The more Y/n slightly struggled to get out, the harsher Sigma’s grip became. The hope Y/n had was slowly diminishing. 
“Can I go home now?”
The quiver in his voice was noticeable. Nikolai slightly hugged Y/n’s back as a big grin once again found its way to his face. He was noticeably giggling, seemingly finding the question Y/n asked funny. He brought a hand to pat the winged boy’s head. 
“Oh, my dear Angel! Of course not! How else are we supposed to keep you safe if you go home? We can’t watch you every day now, can we?”
Y/n’s eyes widened, more questions and confusion were swirling in his head. Before Y/n could speak again, he was knocked out once again, but this time no one would come to save him. Fyodor carried the winged boy out of the building, leaving NIkolai and Sigma to walk behind him. 
Y/n woke up in a dark room, nothing but a bed, a desk, and a bathroom as all that filled the room. The bit of light came from a small lamp on the desk. Y/n panicked and ran to the door, trying to open it, but to no avail. His wings fluffed out in panic, feathers falling due to the amount of stress Y/n was under. 
Y/n fell to the ground, trying to hold in sobs. He was so busy with trying to not make a lot of noise, he didn’t notice the three people that came into the room. Y/n froze, feeling arms snake around his body. He frantically looked around and recognized the people as the ones who saved him. 
Sigma looked down to Y/n, seeing the fear in his eyes. It did something to him, he cupped Y/n’s face and brought his lips to Y/n’s. Y/n’s e/c eyes widened with fear, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to push Sigma away. Fyodor and Nikolai kissed Y/n’s cheeks softly, trying to calm the boy down.
Sigma spoke up, his voice was warm and loving.
"No need to worry anymore my doll, you are safe now. No one will take you from us. Never again."
Y/n choked back sobs. He didn't understand what went wrong. He remembered being with Atsushi, and somehow it came to him being caged once more.
What irony this was, wanting to bring freedom to others and not having any of his own.
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Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!
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sunsetkerr · 6 months
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Y/N L/N BREAKS DOWN 'CORNELIA STREET' | s.kerr
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summary: you breakdown the story behind and the lyrics of your song 'cornelia street'. [1k words]
pairing: singer!reader x sam kerr
notes: classic genius video
[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND, Y/N SITTING]
Y/N L/N: Hi, I'm Y/N L/N and today I'm breaking down my new single 'Cornelia Street'.
'CORNELIA STREET: THE BREAKDOWN'
[CORNELIA STREET INSTRUMENTAL PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND]
[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND. Y/N SITTING, A SMILE ON HER FACE]
Y/N L/N: I wrote this song about my girlfriend, Sam and how we kinda came to be? I guess? It's about realising how much a newer love means to you and how much it could ruin you.
[INSTRUMENTAL PAUSES]
Y/N L/N: Well.. that was a little dramatic, wasn't it?
'WE WERE IN THE BACKSEAT DRUNK ON SOMETHING STRONGER THAN THE DRINKS IN THE BAR // "I RENT A PLACE ON CORNELIA STREET" I SAY CASUALLY IN THE CAR'
[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND. Y/N SITTING, A SMILE ON HER FACE]
Y/N L/N: These lyrics reference one of the first times that I ever met Sam. She was in London and playing for Chelsea, I was there co-writing with another artist at the time and we were introduced by some mutual friends. We ended up in an Uber together after a night out and she asked what I was doing in the UK, and I told her about a little apartment that I rented at the time.
[CUTS TO A CLOSER SHOT OF Y/N'S FACE]
Y/N L/N: She soon became very very well acquainted with that apartment.
'WE WERE A FRESH PAGE ON THE DESK FILLING IN THE BLANKS AS WE GO // AS IF THE STREET LIGHTS POINTED IN AN ARROWHEAD LEADING US HOME'
Y/N L/N: Sam and I weren't really sure what we were doing at the time, if it was official or not, we were making it up as we went really. She's got a super busy schedule, her workload is very demanding. That was something we both came to terms with very quickly in our little 'will they, won't they' situation.
[CUTS TO Y/N HOLDING UP A POLAROID OF SAM POINTING TO THE 'CORNELIA ST' STREET SIGN]
Y/N L/N: I think we were really lucky that my schedule wasn't super hectic at that point in time, because I'm not sure how we would've managed it (CHUCKLES). Now we've been together for nearly two years, we've worked out a system.
'AND I HOPE I NEVER LOSE YOU, HOPE IT NEVER ENDS, I'D NEVER WALK CORNELIA STREET AGAIN // THAT'S THE KIND OF HEARTBREAK TIME COULD NEVER MEND, I'D NEVER WALK CORNELIA STREET AGAIN'
Y/N: This part is my favourite.
[CLIPS OF SAM FILMED ON A SUPER-8 FILM CAMERA, Y/N IS FILMING. SAM IS LAYING ON THE COUCH LOOKING OVER TO Y/N, SHE WAVES SHYLY FROM HER SPOT UNDERNEATH A GREY THROW BLANKET]
Y/N L/N: It's pretty self-explanatory to be completely honest. I don't plan on losing her anytime soon.
[B-ROLL FOOTAGE; SAM SITTING ON A CHAIR BEHIND THE CAMERA, WATCHING Y/N SPEAK. A BIG SMILE ON HER FACE]
'AND BABY, I GET MYSTIFIED BY HOW THIS CITY SCREAMS YOUR NAME // AND BABY, I'M SO TERRIFIED OF IF YOU EVER WALK AWAY'
Y/N L/N: I had never watched football before Sam... like, ever. I wasn't a fan, I had no interest in it. So when we started dating she took me to my first ever game and I watched her play again Man City. The crowd just loved her (Y/N SHAKES HER HEAD IN DISBELIEF). I never realised how much Sam could hold thousands of people in the palm of her hand. They adore her.
[CLIPS OF Y/N ON THE BIG SCREEN AT A CHELSEA GAME, PANS TO SAM ON THE PITCH, SMILING UP AT THE FOOTAGE]
Y/N L/N: It was funny because.. we had just gotten back from flying from.. somewhere? who knows. but Sam had gotten in the morning of the game and the crowd did this chant. It was 'even with jet lag, she's better than you' (LAUGHS).
[CLIP OF THE CROWD CHANTING 'EVEN WITH JET LAG SHE'S BETTER THAN YOU'. SAM TURNING AROUND TO LOOK AT THE CROWD SHYLY]
Y/N L/N: I mean it's true (SHRUGS). I was so taken aback by how much they all just loved her, but now whenever I sit in the crowd section, I make sure we chant it... it's my favourite.
'BACK WHEN WE WERE CARD SHARKS, PLAYING GAMES, I THOUGHT YOU WERE LEADING ME ON // I PACKED MY BAGS, LEFT CORNELIA STREET BEFORE YOU EVEN KNEW I WAS GONE'
Y/N L/N: There was a moment before Sam and I officially got together that I almost.. ran away? kinda.
SAM (OFFSCREEN): Kinda?!
Y/N L/N: (LAUGHS ALONG WITH THE CREW) I did, I completely did. I for some reason just got really nervous that she wasn't as serious about it. I had lots of conflicting feelings at the time, but Sam was very quick to get me back on track and make me realise what the important things were.
'BUT THEN YOU CALLED, SHOWED YOUR HAND, I TURNED AROUND BEFORE I HIT THE TUNNEL // SAT ON THE ROOF, YOU AND I'
Y/N L/N: She fixed it all, as she does. Sam is very good at that.
[CLIP OF Y/N AND SAM KISSING OVER THE BARRIER OF CHELSEA'S HOME GROUND]
Y/N L/N: She fixes everything.
'YOU HOLD MY HAND ON THE STREET, WALK ME BACK TO THAT APARTMENT. YEARS AGO, WE WERE JUST INSIDE // BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN, SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS THAT BECAME MY RELIGION, LISTEN'
Y/N L/N: I don't stay at Cornelia Street anymore, Sam and I live together now when we're both in London. We went back before I wrote this song and it was so surreal to realise that someone else was now in that apartment.
[PHOTOS OF Y/N AND SAM FADE ONTO THE SCREEN, ALL FROM INSIDE THE CORNELIA STREET APARTMENT]
Y/N L/N: We spent so much time in that apartment it was like our first home together. Really it was just a place for us to spend our down time. I love that apartment and I try to go back every time I'm in London... which is a lot. So, thanks to Cornelia Street for having me and thank you to Sam for having me.
[CUTS TO A CLOSE UP OF Y/N]
Y/N L/N: I'm very lucky.
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tired-biscuit · 1 year
Text
Grow Fonder
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𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: kiba inuzuka/fem!reader
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 18+ mdni // age gap (10+ years), teacher/student relationship, power dynamic, mention of explicit pictures, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, slightly dominant reader, slightly awkward professor!kiba. reader is a senju, cos i couldn't bother with y/l/n. modern/college AU.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 18.4k+
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this one was a challenge to write, not gonna lie. whoever reads this entire monster of a fic, i'm sending you a big kiss and a hug, 'cause you're a real one fr. <3
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: After sending an accidental email containing your nude to your zoology professor, interesting things commence.
𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
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YOU’RE tired.
There are plenty of reasons as to why. It’s late. You’ve studied all night. The clock that’s situated across the old refrigerator currently ticks a little over half past eleven, annoyingly reminding you that it’d be a wise decision to head to bed and get some much needed rest before your morning classes start. 
The sink you now linger by has finally been emptied of the dirty dishes that had been piling up over the course of the week. Unlike yourself, both of your roommates had been smart enough to finish their chores early and part just as quickly. Already soundly asleep; the doors that lead to their respectful bedrooms are closed shut.
You aren’t surprised, really. It’s a perfect night for snoozing, after all – cold and quiet. As you stand in the little kitchenette of your modest student apartment, dressed in your warmest pajamas and fuzzy socks, there isn’t a sound to be heard besides the mellow pitter-patter of rain that occasionally makes the window to your left rattle.
The sound calms you, but your mind still continues to whir as you open the tap and wait for the water to reach room temperature. Much like the ancient boiler that takes ages to start working, your kitchen is just as busted and could definitely use some renovating. 
Perhaps you could gather a couple of your friends and throw a splash of colour on the walls with their help, maybe add some indoor plants that you could place on the windowsills? Now that you’ve finally finished and submitted the assignment to your dumb zoology professor, you could do it over the weekend, buy a bottle of wine or two, and–
Wait.
Did you send the assignment…?
You’re nearly finished with filling up your water bottle when it dawns upon you, the acknowledgement sharp as ice. Blinking whilst still standing next to the sink, you watch as the cool liquid begins to overflow the rim of the bottle, dousing both of your hands with cold water that never even got the chance to heat up. 
Your face twists at the unpleasant sensation.
It must be a mistake. Has to be. 
Right?
Staring at the tap you’ve just turned off, anxiety begins to creep in. You must be wrong – you’re sure of it, no, you’re positive – and yet slow, albeit steady panic still continues to crawl inside your brain like an icky spider. With every passing second you spend inside the kitchen you’re barely paying rent for, looking like some stupid standing emoji, the cloud of doubt looming above your head grows bigger and bigger.
You definitely remember seeing that file amongst the mess of documents on your computer whilst you’d been typing the email. And that’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with that, but now you’re stuck wondering if your stupid, idiotic self actually managed to… send it somehow?
In mere seconds, your water bottle is sent flying into the sink as you sprint back towards your bedroom with quick-paced footsteps; all of them executed in absolute haste. You haven’t even run a long distance, and your breaths are already shaky by the time you reach your desk, teeth chewing on the fresh manicure that you've saved up for as you practically yank open your laptop and tap the browser with eyes as wide open as a frightful fawn’s. 
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Impatience seeps out of you now. Your pupils turn big as saucers as you take the moment to just scan the page that finally opens up after the computer comes back to life. 
Palms turn clammy as you begin to click around. Dread is blooming and increasing inside your chest, pulsating inside of you in a beat like that of a warrior drum. Even your fingers are trembling above the used touchpad in the same quivery way your upper lip does now. Every breath you suck into your lungs is becoming increasingly painful.
Finally landing onto the thing you’ve been searching for like some fucking maniac – special thanks to your shitty apartment’s equally as shitty Internet connection – you check and skim through the email you’ve sent out just a couple of minutes ago. 
[You] Thursday, 11:27 PM
Dear Professor Inuzuka,
I’m terribly sorry for reaching out this late, however I’ve finally finished fixing all of the mistakes in my assignment that you were so kind to point out. Attached below is the document containing the final version. 
Again, I apologize for all the inconvenience I might have caused with my tardiness. Hopefully this email finds you well.
Kind regards,
y/n Senju
So far so good, right? As your eyes scan the text, you attempt to ignore the way your heart continues to thunder inside your chest. Besides the dryness, there’s nothing off with the message itself, it seems.
And that is indeed true; there really isn’t anything wrong with the message. The problem hides in the assignment you’ve sent – or the lack thereof.
So you open the file that is attached below your rather snippy email. And cringe at the image that pops up. Ignoring the sweat that trickles down your neck, you close the damn thing so swiftly that the screen threatens to lag, and repeat it all over again. And again. Just to be sure and to suffer some more while you’re at it.
There’s no doubt about it now. Stomach clenching in pure horror, nausea overcomes you as you see yourself on the screen – body almost completely nude – instead of the paper you’ve just spent hours working on like a lunatic.
Congratulations! Being the braindead girl that you are when you’re tired, you’ve just succeeded in sending your nude to the worst person imaginable, if you exclude your parents. Your fucking nude – sent to your fucking zoology professor, who you borderline despise because of how mean he can get during lessons.
Great.
Speaking of mean, you’re surprised you aren’t dead already because of it. Whenever you look at the screen and see his name, the world begins to spin. You actually feel physically ill. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt of biting down a miserable sob and stabilizing yourself, you’re beginning to tremble in your cheap desk chair that had come along with the dorm’s furniture.
I mean, what the fuck are you supposed to do now? Yell at your professor in all caps lock to not open the email? Block him? Never show your face on campus again? Move across the state and start a new life under the pseudonym of your favourite fictional character?
Now that you think about it, he’d probably like that. Considering how the first semester is going so far, getting you out of his class is probably his number one priority. He’s always had it in for you for absolutely no reason – not any reason that you know of, anyway. You’d just be doing him a favour at this point.
But pushing all of that to the side, you’re still panicking. Staring at the screen through blurry vision because of the quickly-upcoming tears that are threatening to spill any moment now, you’re just about ready to bawl your eyes out. To tear your hair out. To take yourself out. 
Ping!
The sound makes you nearly jump out of your skin. Dread overcomes you all over again as your phone flashes the notification of a new email that shows up a second before your laptop comes in sync with the device, and updates the list of unopened messages in your browser. 
It seems that Mr. Inuzuka doesn’t intend to give you enough time to do any of the, ‘getting rid of this situation, and consequently yourself’ schemes you were planning on executing, because right now, his response is waiting for you to click open in bold font.
Your stomach is still twisting; pressing even harder on your rising nausea. The lump that’s formed inside your throat is so big that it’s impossible to swallow as you take a deep breath and – click!
As is expected, his reply is snippy, but nonetheless mortifying.
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:39 PM
Miss Senju,
I think you might have sent me the wrong file by mistake.
While I do feel flattered by your attempt (?) at bringing light to the nuisance that is your overdo assignment, I am not quite sure if it’d be proper for your email to find me as well as you’d hoped for.
If you can, send the proper document as soon as you’re able.
Sincerely,
Kiba
Jesus almighty on a fucking cross, he’s seen it. All cute and glistening underneath the nearly see-through damp patch of your lace thongs; your bitter professor has seen your all the more sweet pussy in 4K. Bent over and yearning to be filled. At this point, you might as well begin your search for a gravestone, because you’re just about ready to dig yourself a hole and simply die in it.
But instead of doing that, you read the message again.
Flattered, he tells you. What a fucking prick, of course he’s chosen to fuck with your already crumbling sanity just for the fun of it. 
Zoning out whilst staring at the email, you can nearly taste the sarcasm dripping off of the letters in that taunting sort of way he prefers using with you every chance he gets. If you try hard enough, you can even hear him in your head – oddly enough, it fails to make you sick.
Flattered.
You should feel repulsed by the word and the way it’s used, you know that, and yet all you feel coursing your veins… is piping hot thrill.
Because whether you like it or not, whenever Mr. Inuzuka zeroes in on you during lessons, you cannot keep yourself from perking up like you’re his dog – or his bitch, so to speak. He walks over and looks down at you with those sharp, brown eyes, and fuck, it feels like a gift of sorts. One with your name on it, specifically. Pretty bow on it and everything, even though he’s fucking mean as hell.
Truth be told, you don’t just dislike it; you hate it. Hate him because of the way he chooses to treat you. 
Or do you? 
Yes, he makes you answer the silliest, most complex of questions for reasons unknown all the time, but have you ever asked yourself why he does it? Maybe him pestering you, not being fair just like the world isn’t fair, constantly drilling you to strive for higher goals and getting better grades could actually be considered… a good thing?
Because let’s be honest, professors rarely give a crap, don’t they? More often than not, their salaries just aren't high enough for them to actually care about their students and waste any more time on them than what is absolutely necessary. But Mr. Inuzuka… He clearly cares about you in his own weird, overbearingly strict way, right?
After all, when you nearly get every single one of his questions wrong  – of course you do, you’re nothing but a ditzy girl that’s constantly daydreaming about things that have nothing to do with his lessons, apparently – it makes him smile. It’s this conceited grin that shows off his pretty teeth, and that makes his face radiant. A complete change of character.
And as if that wasn’t enough already, he likes to rest both of his palms on your desk then. With no ring in sight and with eyes as dark as ever whilst they search your own, he tells you to apply yourself. Low and serious, despite the smile, which you yearn to slap off of his pretty face as soon as it appears. He looks at you almost like he pities you in a way. 
Some small, docile part of you wishes he did.
You just can’t help yourself. Because even at those times, it isn’t anger that brings your very blood to a simmer as you stare at that wretched grin that adorns his lips. No, it’s pure infatuation, no matter how harshly he drags you down with it. Right there; in front of the entire class, as well as all the super popular girls you’re low-key terrified of, with all their sneering and whispering going around.
However, all of that you can endure – to a reasonable degree, of course. Trouble starts whenever Mr. Inuzuka decides that just smiling at your incompetence simply isn’t enough. When the time comes that he chooses to kick it up a notch for whatever reason and he bullies you some more. As he leans back in his chair, leisurely crossing one ankle over the other like he owns absolutely no care in the world, and chides ever-so-sweetly, “Wrong again, Miss Senju. Like I’ve suggested before, maybe you should apply yourself if you wish to see better results.”
And yet he’s telling you he’s fucking flattered, now?!
Confusion fogging your mind, your fingers are sweat-riddled to the point of slipping off the goddamn keys as you begin to type your reply, paying no heed whatsoever at keeping the email as formal as you had done with the one before it.
[You] Thursday, 11:42 PM
mr. inuzuka, i am SO, SO, SO SORRY!!!! ik i’ve sent the wrong file, i am absolutely mortified that you had to see that. please forgive me, i swear it was an honest mistake!!!!! i really am so sorry
i’ll send the right one right away, don’t report me to the faculty or something. please please pLEASE i’m so close to graduating, oh god
Not even two full minutes later, another reply chimes in.
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:44 PM
Reporting you would be utter nonsense. 
Besides, you’re an adult, are you not? 
A flash of anger rushes through you at his choice of wording, however you somehow succeed in stifling it as you type the short reply with utmost aggression. Who does he think he is, talking to you like that? You’re about to die from embarrassment, and here he is: being snarky at your expense.
[You] Thursday, 11:45 PM
yes, sir. i am indeed a functioning adult
Only semi-satisfied with your rather snippy reply, you secretly hope that he can distinguish the sarcasm amongst the intimidation that lingers in-between. Even if you’re in absolutely no position to be commanding the situation, you can at least try to touch the reins that he holds in his hands, right?
Ping!
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:45 PM
Good. Please act like one, then. 
Ping!
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:45 PM
If it’s not too hard of a task for you, of course. :-)
Fucker. It seems that he indeed can recognize sarcasm over text. You’d roll your eyes at the stupid emoji if you weren’t so jittery. He’s already getting on your nerves from how flustered and stressed he makes you over goddamn email.
[You] Thursday, 11:46 PM
with all due respect, professor…….. it’s pretty hard for me to remain calm and act like a ‘functioning adult’ after the picture i’ve just sent you
Ping!
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:47 PM
Why so upset? It's not even that bad of a picture.
Another email immediately follows after the first one.
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:48 PM
What I meant was that you shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all by the little mishap.
Of course. You haven’t even been given the chance to ask for an explanation and he’s already giving it to you.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you fail to suppress the flush of heat that blooms on your face as you reread the two messages. Telling you that your nude isn’t bad; Mr. Inuzuka cannot possibly be serious. But now that you already have him here… 
You could ask? 
Your fingers linger over the keys for a moment as you stare at the screen. It surely wouldn’t hurt. You’ve already dug a hole deep enough, what’s another inch?
Right?
[You] Thursday, 11:50 PM
am i supposed to be saying thank you for the ever so kind semi-compliment?
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:53 PM
Maybe I should be the one saying thank you instead?
Holy shit. His suddenly lewd answer sends a heatwave rushing through your chest. It aims straight down to your stomach, your very core; warms it up real nice. Are you actually reading this right?
Ping!
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:54 PM
fuckk i can’t believe i actually sent that 
Ping!
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:55 PM
i’m sorry, that was terribly uncalled for. i don’t know what got into me, but i’ve had a bit to drink
Your heart hurts from how fast it’s beating now as you watch his nice and tidy spelling deteriorate with every extra email he sends you. Palms turn clammy again and digits fidgety in a way like they do during pesky finals week. The stress has gotten so bad that you even have to take a minute just to breathe, and breathe, and breathe. 
In and out, the intensity you’re using to suck air into your aching lungs makes you feel light-headed by the time you begin to type your response.
[You] Thursday, 11:58 PM
it’s okay... we’ve both made mistakes tonight.
Ping! He answers nearly in an instant.
[K.I.] Thursday, 11:59 PM
might make more if we keep talking… i should go.
He should go, it’s true. And yet the thought of ending the conversation saddens you all of a sudden. You’re not ready to let him go just yet, are you? 
Christ, what is with you? Are you that sleep-deprived that you’re willing to mess with your professor just for the fun of it?
[You] Thursday, 11:59 PM
oh…. are you sure?
It seems so.
It feels like eons are passing as you wait for Mr. Inuzuka to finish brooding and weighing his options miles away. Sitting in silence, with your face illuminated by the screen of your laptop, you can’t believe yourself. I mean, truly, what on earth has gotten into you? You’re flirting with your professor at midnight, asking him to keep chatting with you as if he’s your classmate instead of your teacher. 
It all makes you start biting your nails again; skin pulling taught with nervosity. By the time his reply finally arrives, you’ve almost ruined the pretty manicure.
[K.I.] Friday, 12:03 AM
well… would you like me to stay?
Your pulse quickens. He wants to talk to you, it’s obvious, he’s just too big of a coward to admit it. Silly man. But it’s not like you’re going to outright admit that you wish to chat with him some more, too.
[You] Friday, 12:04 AM
well, you’re actually bearable now... so i guess i can talk to you a bit more if i really have to haha?
[K.I.] Friday, 12:06 AM
you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, sweetheart. i can always go grade your assignment if you’d prefer that, just send it to me :-)
Now that makes you tingle all over, if you ignore the jab. Makes you pull your knees all the way up to your chest so that you can press your forehead against them and stifle the squeal that’s bubbling up your throat and threatening to slip past your lips, forming a risk to wake your roommates. He’s such a smartass; so insufferable, and you’re so in love with his wit and crude charm.
And you're also lucky that he can’t see you right now. That he can’t guess how much the pet name actually fazes you just because it comes from a man like him. Even the corners of your lips are twitching from the smile that keeps insisting to form as you type.
[You] Friday, 12:06 AM
no, no!!! talking to you is just fine
[K.I.] Friday, 12:07 AM
yeah? even if i use these bad boys? :-) :-) :-)
[You] Friday, 12:07 AM
sure… 
[K.I.] Friday, 12:08 AM
continuously? :-) :-)
[You] Friday, 12:08 AM
mhm
[K.I.] Friday, 12:09 AM
damn. you must really like me then, hm? ;-)
Heat crawls up your neck as you read the message one, two; three times. His little emojis are so stupid that they’re almost endearing in a way. It turns you soft – pliant like a naive teacher’s pet. You have to physically shake your head to snap out of it.
[You] Friday, 12:11 AM
i’ll like you even more if you give me a good grade on my assignment
There, that’s better. You’ve even attached the right document this time.
[K.I.] Friday, 12:12 AM
haha. do you think you deserve it?
[You] Friday, 12:13 AM
enduring your emojis like the tough bitch i am, i think i deserve the world
[K.I.] Friday, 12:14 AM
:-(  are they really that bad?
[You] Friday, 12:14 AM
i just think the lil nose makes them weird
[K.I.] Friday, 12:15 AM
well, i for one am rather fond of my nose. flatters my side profile
[You] Friday, 12:16 AM
sure, but your pretty side profile isn’t enough to convince me into liking your silly emojis, sir
Too far?
[K.I.] Friday, 12:20 AM
pretty, huh?
Seems not.
[You] Friday, 12:21 AM
that wasn’t the point and you know it
[K.I.] Friday, 12:22 AM
aha, right right. i’m sorry, sweetheart
[You] Friday, 12:23 AM
gosh, i’m surprised your head doesn’t float away with an ego that big
[K.I.] Friday, 12:25 AM
probably because i’m lucky enough to have another big thing that grounds me just as good
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How did you get here so fast? 
Oh, right… The nude.
[You] Friday, 12:25 AM
yeah? and what exactly is this big thing of yours?
[K.I.] Friday, 12:27 AM
my brain
[You] Friday, 12:28 AM
oh wow
Oh, wow really.
[K.I.] Friday, 12:29 AM
what? did you think i was going to say something else?
[You] Friday, 12:29 AM
no, of course not!! i was just surprised you actually have a brain
[K.I.] Friday, 12:30 AM
sure you were :-)
[You] Friday, 12:31 AM
ughhhhhh……….. here you are, forcing me to see those stupid emojis again
[K.I.] Friday, 12:32 AM
B) look here’s one without a nose! lil guy has sunglasses on hehe
[You] Friday, 12:34 AM
sir, please….. this is silly. even for a millennial like u
[K.I.] Friday, 12:37 AM
well, how about you give me your number so i can call you then? that way you won’t have to see ‘em?? :-)
A smile ghosts over your lips as you read the message, pulse erratic. It’s surprising how smooth he is; circling around you so slowly that it doesn’t even feel rushed. Making you comfortable, stripping you layer by layer before going in for the kill.
Perhaps he actually does have a brain, after all.
Kiba can barely keep his eyes open when he arrives to work the next morning.
The poor man is still half asleep and is tired to the point it’s becoming too exhausting to even stand straight. He can feel the tightness in his shoulders when he rolls them in an attempt to release some tension that’s been building up over the course of a restless night, however the seams that hold his button up together make him halt midway as soon as they begin to protest to the sudden flex in his biceps.
He loosens a sigh. Just had to doll up, didn’t he?
It had been a mistake; looking handsome for someone who he definitely shouldn’t be trying to impress. The conversation you had with him over the phone last night hadn’t exactly crossed any boundaries, but it did leave him feeling somewhat thoughtful and lonely. 
After you had said goodnight with what he guessed was a smile on your face, he had started to feel empty inside. The line disconnected and all of a sudden he was alone with his thoughts; contemplating his life choices. Surely, he wouldn’t be having any reason to talk to you – his student – until three in the morning if he had a wife? 
Kiba had never married, after all. No, he’s all alone; still vigorous and full of life as he had been in his twenties, and is completely left to his own devices exactly like he had been during that time, too. He picks and chooses only what’s best for him. Concerns himself only with his own interests. Only thinks about himself. Some may call it a life without a sense of purpose, but he likes it just fine.
Never having kids to hold him back, he’s now slowly inching towards his mid-thirties by being the fun uncle instead of a dad. More and more of his friends are building families and settling down, and he’s just… drifting.
So, can he even be blamed for trying to woo his pretty student after seeing her equally as cute cunt? 
You’re young and soft, he wants to touch you all over. Is just thinking about letting off some steam, it’s not like it’d be anything serious. Only a quick roll around the sheets; a single night of greed you’ve certainly been hinting at over the phone, too. After all, you’ll graduate real soon and forget all about him. Will marry and have kids just like nearly every other person he knows is doing right now. So, what’s the problem?
Well, he could lose his job for starters. And you’re nearly a whole decade younger than him. He holds tremendous power over you with the position he possesses. It’d be frowned upon if anybody found out. It’s super risky. The faculty could expel you for it. His mother would beat his ass. Had he mentioned that he could very well lose his job?
But that picture… goddamn. 
He even has it saved on his phone.
Speaking of the picture, to say that he was shocked when he had opened the file the first time would have been an understatement. He had closed the thing so fast that he felt like a panicked teenager again: hearing his mother slip the keys into the front door whilst he was still looking at porn on the family computer. Pure stress.
But after a couple of quick-paced breaths, all of which had been so heavy they nearly fogged the blank screen of his computer, Kiba’s fingers found the mouse again. He’d moved the cursor slowly; cautiously. Clicked the file once more. Stared. Felt his eyelids turn heavy and his grey sweatpants strain by the time he had clicked the reply button and started typing.
Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk those two beers. Not that he was by any means drunk from them, but perhaps it would have stopped him from responding to your email the way he did. Would have stopped his hand from ever reaching the waistband of his sweats and slipping under. Would have halted all the stroking and grunting to follow right afterwards. Would have stifled the need, and wiped away the sticky mess he had spilled all over his hand and stomach by the time he had decided to start flirting with you and convince you into giving him your number because he just couldn’t get enough – not even after cumming.
Post-nut clarity, my ass.
Guilt seeps into Kiba’s chest, filling it with something gooey and disgusting as the thought of what he did crosses his mind for the hundredth time ever since yesterday; forcing him to drop his gaze in shame with a brow furrowed so tight, there’s a small ‘v’ etched right in-between. 
God-fucking-damn. It feels like everyone knows he’s jerked it to his student and came all over himself like some pathetic loser, because – by some odd miracle – a picture of her pretty pussy had somehow made its way onto his computer screen.
This is bad. So bad, in fact, that he even feels the need to place a hand over his heart, pretending that he’s whisking away imaginary dust from his fancy shirt instead of trying to tame the sudden jump in his accelerating pulse.
But speaking of the shirt, the light blue button up he’s yanked from the hanger this morning compliments his burly physique and hugs the broad span of his shoulders so tight that it’s no wonder the seams are threatening to tear. The pants he’s picked are in a colour of soft beige he usually never wears and doesn’t even remember buying. 
The combination he picked is good, but is also unlike him to pick it in the first place. He’s at least rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows as a meek attempt to feel more like himself, but it doesn’t ease the discomfort, just like the fact he’s wearing his favourite pair of shoes doesn’t.
All right, perhaps it’s not all that bad. Looking down at his outfit, the young professor has to admit he actually looks pretty decent for a change. Even a couple of his co-workers that linger in the halls flatter him as he starts heading towards the teachers’ lounge, twirling his keys around his index finger in an attempt to seem unbothered. 
Sure, the small praises are probably given only because the leather jacket he usually opts to wear is nowhere in sight, but Kiba still supposes that he understands it to some extent. He actually looks like a teacher for once instead of a burly biker. 
Still, his hair remains as wild as ever, no matter how nicely he dresses himself. The chestnut spikes stick in various directions, but are slightly droopy from his failed attempts to smooth them down. He looks like he’s been tossing and turning amongst the sheets all night instead of sleeping in them. And to be fair, he did just that… amongst other things. 
But never mind that! Besides the hair situation, Kiba also lacks a tie; the top two buttons where it should reside, already undone. He had tried putting it on, he promises that he did, but the damn thing just chokes him to oblivion and makes him want to flick it in the trash instead of tying it into a tidy knot around his neck.
Well, at least he’s tried to look presentable if anything else. Him being – sort of, kind of – dressed up to code should practically be celebrated at this point.
And yet, the reason as to why he’s done it creeps back into his mind and makes him spiral all over again. He hasn’t even reached the lounge yet and his feet are already dragging down the hall that’s filled with students whose names he can’t even recall most of the time; mind clouded with a thunderstorm so big you’d be able to see lightning flashing behind his eyes if you looked closely enough. 
Luckily for him, nobody does. He turns some heads from college girls he’s never spared a glance for; invokes a quicker heartbeat in the new substitute teacher he thinks is called Hinata H-something, but that’s it. Some of the young adults that surround him are just too busy still being half-asleep much like himself to notice their zoology professor passing by, whilst the other, more upbeat and social half is buzzing with chatter consisting of upcoming plans on how they’re going to spend their weekend. 
The fog in his head clears for the briefest second at that. 
Oh, right. It’s Friday.
He knows that he should feel chipper about the upcoming weekend, but for some reason he doesn’t. Deep down, Kiba knows it’s because he won’t see you until Tuesday, but he won’t admit that, of course. Won’t admit that he’s already formed some sort of twisted attachment to you like the sick fuck he is. Jesus, he seriously needs to get his shit together. You’re like, what, twenty? Twenty-two? He isn’t old enough to be your dad, but ten years is still… a lot.
His train of thought is broken when he bumps into somebody.
“Oops, I’m so sorry–” a voice starts.
Oh, lord.
There’s a brief beat of silence that makes blood rush into Kiba’s ears as his eyes connect with your own and he feels his pupils dilate to the point of ache from how fast they overtake his chocolate brown irises. Even his stomach twists uncomfortably at the tingling sensation your hand leaves behind when it grazes his arm in a rather foolish attempt to keep yourself steady. It makes his skin heat up underneath all the layers of clothing he’s got on, and fuck; it feels so good.
God, now that you're so close, he can tell that you smell absolutely divine. He has no clue what perfume it is that you’re wearing, he’s never really been a fan of them, really, but this one specifically makes his nostrils flare and his jaw turn slack as he turns so fucking desperate that he tries inhaling the scent through his mouth.
What an idiot. Keep yourself together, moron!
“It’s, uh, it’s fine! I’m fine.” He takes a small step back when he sees your lips begin to curl into a smile in response to the stupid expression that’s still lingering on his face. He’s wary; cautious – you’re in public and he’s your teacher. “No biggie.”  
You stare up at him, eyebrow quirking in pure puzzlement. He’s just so red now; face blooming a bashful crimson as he literally has to fight against his instincts to not stare at you for too long. He can’t stop the colour from tinting into an even deeper shade, it’s almost pathetic. And fuck, the change of tone you equip now only makes him blush even further as you say, “Well, good morning to you, too, professor.”
What the fuck? Weren’t you supposed to be the bashful one, considering that he’s your teacher and that you were the one that had sent him the picture by mistake?
The twirling of the keys Kiba holds in his hand has long since come to an abrupt stop as he swings them into his palm and holds on tight. Never mind all the pressure, he’ll sort this out like the big boy he is. He’s handled worse than cute lil’ you. 
Well, probably. He’s not so sure about that anymore, to be honest.
“Yeah, uh…” Wow. Some big boy he is; right off the start Kiba’s grip remains so tenacious that it turns his knuckles stark white, similar to those of a common coward. And as if that wasn’t bad enough already, he even has to clear his throat before he mutters back a meek, “G’mornin’.”
“Slept well?” you ask, making sure you’re quiet just enough that nobody else can hear you. The last thing you want is to scare him off.
And despite your caution, his gaze still immediately falls to the floor that had been scrubbed clean by the janitor just the previous night. “Not really,” Kiba answers, rubbing the back of his neck. The sleeve of his sky-blue shirt strains around his bicep with the action, making your eyes linger on the muscle that’s rippling underneath the cotton. God, he’s built so big and strong. So dreamy.
“Hmm?” Batting your eyelashes, you pretend to be coy just because of the flex alone. “How so, Sir?”
He swallows hard at the title; his Adam’s apple bobbing. The way he’s scratching the back of his head is so unnerving. “Well…”
“Not to be nosy, or anything,” you say, and before he can even start another sentence, you intrude with a grin, “but I can’t help but wonder what exactly was the thing that had kept you awake at night?”
Why, you little minx.
Your head tilts to the side at the timid nature he portrays all of a sudden. He’s jittery as hell, even more so when you step onto the tips of your toes to observe him even more closely. By the time you run your eyes along the sharp line of his jaw and skip over the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, he’s feeling nauseous just from how fast his heartbeat has gotten behind that broad ribcage of his. Even a thin film of sweat covers his forehead now, making his tan skin slightly glisten under the fluorescent lights of the school.
You’re just dressed so cute, it’s no wonder he’s sweating. A short skirt that’s just up to code from how high it reaches above your knees, and a pretty blouse tucked right into it; the buttons properly done all the way up unlike his own. Looking so nice and tidy, he just wants to ruin you entirely. Especially because he now knows what’s hiding underneath the pretty skirt that you insist on flaunting around him.
Yes, he actually knows. The blood that’s previously been turning his ears hot, rushes straight below Kiba’s belt at the realization. 
And so, all of the arrogance is gone in mere seconds; the subtle disdain that he usually offers you whenever you step foot inside his classroom, nowhere to be seen now. Standing in their place are nothing but nervousness and fidgety fingers – to which you secretly offer just the tiniest fraction of your attention towards for reasons you’ll never admit to a living soul besides him – perhaps.
However, nervous or not, Mr. Inuzuka still manages to move before you can get another word in, or better yet: lean into him even further. He steps to the side in one fluid movement, causing space between you whilst giving the keys in his hand a single, nerve-wracking spin again. 
The sound of the jingle makes you want to chuckle, but you resist the temptation as you fix your bag onto your shoulder and plant your heels back onto the ground.
“Cat got your tongue, Sir?” The smile you offer makes him want to teach you a lesson. A proper one.
“See you in class,” he disregards your witty comment instead, gaze already flicking onto just about anything but you. He clears his throat again, the hand that had just been rubbing his neck, running through his chestnut hair now. Goodness, the unruly spikes look so fluffy to the touch, you wanna twirl one right around your finger. Especially as his voice softens and he says, “Try not to be late for once, yeah?”
Your smile comes off as more of a smirk than anything else, even though he can’t see it because he’s already headed towards the door leading to the place you’re not allowed to enter; is practically scurrying down the hall like a petrified little puppy despite being so fucking big. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Inuzuka.” 
Oh, fuck you, Kiba thinks as he dismisses you with a flick of the wrist. 
But goddammit, in the span of a just mere couple of seconds, he slows down as the distance between you increases. Turns his head back. As if an invisible rope is tugging him right back to you, he looks over his shoulder; looks at you. And there you are. 
Looking right back. 
“Kiba,” Mr. Aburame acknowledges his colleague with a subtle jerk of his chin the moment he frantically steps foot inside the teachers’ lounge. “Good morn-”
“Yeah, mornin’,” the man in question cuts in, absent-mindedly walking right past Shino as if he were a mere ghost. He doesn’t even spare him a glance, much less his signature grin. No, with his expression oddly troubled, Kiba just makes a beeline leading straight towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room, turning his back towards him in the process. 
The action could be considered rather rude – perhaps even insulting to some – however, it’s the way he looks so utterly zoned out whilst doing it that tells the entomology professor all he needs to know.
The impoliteness hadn’t been intentional at all. 
And that sparks Mr. Aburame’s attention almost immediately.
After all, Shino knows Kiba like the back of his own hand – perhaps even better than that. If the years spent working in the same building, co-existing as colleagues and later on as friends, have taught him anything, it’s that the menace that’s currently standing in the opposite corner of the room – stepping from one foot to another and looking fidgety as fuck – is quite literally his polar opposite. 
Immensely introverted and silent to a point he sometimes comes across as eerie to certain people, Shino Aburame is a man who tends to keep to himself. While Kiba thrives on chaos and mayhem, he, on the other hand, prefers logic and order.
And whilst we’re on the topic of logic, there is none whatsoever when it comes to finding an explanation for how such two different people manage to get along, nor for how exactly the dynamic proceeds to work. It’s just how things function around here; how they’ve always functioned when it comes to them.
Still, Shino remains pleased about the fact that it works, no matter that it’s unexplained and that he oftentimes comes off as aloof and uncaring when compared to his boisterous opposite. Actually, he finds it just fine. But now that the harmony has been disrupted, he finds himself feeling obligated to sort it out. So he crosses one ankle over the other and asks, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” the brunet replies with a gesture that resembles a tired wave of his hand. His response is almost automatic. It’s like he blurts it out by default as he adds, “Jus’ dandy.”
Shino quirks a brow whilst he watches him mess around with the coffee machine. The thing is brand new and still requires some learning. “You’re sure?”
Luckily for Kiba, he keeps his face hidden as he rummages through the cupboard for his mug. “Yup,” he mumbles, popping the ‘p’. Child.
“Well, all right… It’s just that you seem to be slightly off, that is all.” And that’s worry. Concern for his friend, hidden underneath a clear statement that nobody had asked for. 
The cupboard closes with a soft click. There’s a small pause before the friend in question sighs. “I’m just tired, man.”
“Because?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah,” the other professor mumbles in reply. That certainly could explain his inability to focus. But on the other hand… he seemed completely fine until stumbling into one of his students. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, now would it? “Anyway, I saw you with that Senju girl earlier... Out in the hallway.”
Thump, thump, thump. Fuck, Kiba’s heart starts to hurt immediately at that. He should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy when it comes to Shino fucking Aburame. Where the fuck had he been hiding anyway? Did he hear anything? See something?
“Yeah? Ya did?” The way the mug almost slips out of his hand at the mention of you could almost be considered comical. Kiba’s jaw clenches, making the cords in his neck turn stiff and protrude against his tan skin as he grips the handle so hard his knuckles turn white from the sudden pressure. 
He swallows audibly whilst placing it under the machine. The sound of him swallowing his own spit is the only thing that can be heard besides the brewing noises to follow soon afterwards he presses the button. It’s so quiet; just him and the stupid Megamind in the room. Kiba’s arrived early for once, after all. Nobody feels the need to be here yet. “Is that what her last name is, then?”
“Yep,” is all Shino offers, popping the ‘p’ just like he had done earlier. Kiba can’t quite tell if the action is meant to mock or to comfort him.
“Well, uh,” the poor man takes a breather, rubbing the back of his neck with one twitchy palm. “You know me… Can't even remember a student’s face, much less an entire name, hah. Especially a last name like that… ‘Senju.’ Silly last name, don’t ya think?”
“Is that so?” Shino angles his head in almost a nonchalant manner, tuning in on his sudden babbling and overexplaining. “Because it seemed to me like you knew her rather well?”
Silence. And then: beep! 
Coffee’s done, Mr. Inuzuka!
Kiba jumps at the sound, looking like he might just bounce right out of his skin. He clears his throat whilst grabbing his mug almost urgently now; as if in relief that he gets to do something with his hands, even though the ceramic mug is probably going to burn the skin right off of his fingers. 
“Well, I don’t,” he says finally, eyes insisting on steering clear from the only other person in the room. He sucks in a sharp breath through pursed lips as he sets down the mug onto the counter and shakes his hands to get rid of the heat searing his palms. “Don’t know her all that well, I-I mean.” Jesus, has the room always been this hot?
“Really? You’re sure?” Mr. Aburame repeats and blinks at the loud thud that comes from the drawer as his colleague pushes it with way too much fervour right after grabbing the teaspoon.
“Yes, Shino. I don’t know her.” Fed up. Kiba mixes the sugar into his coffee with too much force, making a couple of droplets spill over the rim and onto the counter. Not bothering to clean up the little mess properly, he just swipes his hand across it.
But his stiff posture and refusal to say more don’t stop the entomology professor from prodding further, “Well, what did you talk about for so long, then? If you don’t know her like you say you don’t, of course?”
Mr. Inuzuka shrugs. “Nothing much.”
And Mr. Aburame pushes. “Try and enlighten me, please.”
“Christ.” He scrubs a tired hand across his face; two fingers rubbing circles into his left temple as if it hurts just to think. “She just said good morning, all right? Damn… What are you breathin’ down my neck for, all of a sudden?”
“Just good morning, huh? That’s interesting.” Shino doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he doesn’t believe him. Ignoring the question, he seems utterly unconvinced.
“Why are you acting so weird about this?”
“Why? Because you’re acting weird.”
Kiba groans at the stare he feels burning into his back, but otherwise remains silent; tossing the spoon into the little dishwasher they had all pitched in for the previous year. For once in his life, he doesn’t wish to talk and elaborate any further.
And that makes the other professor hum as he feigns light amusement, even though it’s much deeper than that. Much more nerve-nibbling. 
Seconds pass and nothing but thick silence settles between the two men. Not being able to endure it any longer, there’s an agitated, “What?” that’s voiced from Kiba right before the exasperated exhale joins it soon after. Before Shino can even answer, there is yet another, “What is it, dude? Spit it out.”
“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Aburame says, shrugging him off with a wave of his hand. His voice is light as a feather, despite the depth. “It just seemed to me that the girl had a lot more to say to you than you’re willing to tell me… Other than ‘good morning’, that is. But I could be wrong, of course.” He had even put the air quotes in. Damn fucker.
Chocolate brown eyes dip down to the hot drink of similar colour. Kiba blows on the liquid, the rich smell of coffee filling his nose before he takes a small sip. It warms his insides, despite that he already feels hot all over. Great. He can’t even relax enough to consume his daily dose of caffeine now.
Brows furrowed, he places the mug back onto the counter with a frown. “Well, she didn’t.”
“Do you really–”
“For fuck’s sake,” Kiba snaps, turning and meeting Shino’s eyes for the first time ever since stepping into the room. He’s clearly riled up, judging by the sudden need to adorn every single sentence with a dirty cussword. “I fuckin’ told you; she said good morning, and that’s it. Besides, even if she didn’t, what me and her have is none of your goddamn business.”
Shino’s eyes widen slightly behind the thick spectacles he never seems to take off. If he’s shocked, he definitely doesn’t show it. Even his voice remains placid with that blunt undertone he always possesses in both classroom and hallways alike as he finally breaks the quiet to say, “You must be joking.”
“What?” The zoology professor is beet red now, the blush still subtle but persistent enough to tinge his cheeks when he turns back to fully look at his colleague.
Goddammit, you and your tight little body. You just had to doll up and look so pretty today; with your uniform extra nice and tidy, thigh-high socks a crisp white and pinching the plush fat. He just couldn’t help but steal a glance when you had passed by – act all weird about it like some stupid moron, too – and now Shino is getting suspicious. “What?”
Shino’s brows knit together as he uses his pointer finger to fix his glasses that sit on the bridge of his narrow nose. He wastes no time with dilly-dallying around the subject, but his voice does turn a smidge quieter in fear of anybody walking in as he says, “She’s your student, Kiba.”
Kiba’s expression copies the one his friend wears now. He tilts his head like a dog before crossing his arms across his chest. “I know.” All wary, his posture immediately turns defensive; spine ramrod straight. He definitely does not like this piece of knowledge. “I know that she’s my student.”
Turning even more quiet, Shino says, “Well, then you should also know that you shouldn’t have anything forming between yourself and your student.”
“We were just–”
“You were looking,” the Aburame interrupts. “At your student. You even turned your head back as she passed, I saw you do it.”
The brunet blinks in surprise. “Is it illegal to look at other people now, or somethin’?” Fuck, he can feel the tingle of the blush on his face as it deepens into a darker colour. There you are: prancing around in that little skirt again right in his mind’s eye. Not now.
Shino doesn’t miss it, Kiba can tell by the downward twitch of his lips. “When you’re looking at them like that; it sure could be, considering the position you hold.”
“Wow.” Kiba’s jaw clicks in bitter disapproval as he taps his fingers against his bicep and laughs with a huff. “I didn’t even–”
“You’re red.” Mr. Aburame cuts in again. “Your face,” he gestures over to him, “it’s completely red.”
“Well, it’s hot.” That must have been the stupidest excuse he’s ever given him, even he knows that.
The entomology professor sighs before he retaliates, “The temperature in the room is the exact same as it was a couple of minutes ago. There’s nobody here but us, and as far as I know – neither of us have touched the thermostat.”
Silence lingers between the two men yet again. It’s almost half a minute of tension before Kiba swiftly spins on his heels, aiming for the door. Listening to the sound of footsteps and the soft jingle of keys that sound out immediately after, a prominent scowl forms on his sun-kissed face. Of course Shino feels the need to follow after him. 
“Kiba, just listen–”
“Get off my back, Shino.” The demand is spoken through gritted teeth. He doesn’t even turn around as he adds, “You’re fucking insane.”
“Listen–”
“No.”
“Stop behaving like a child with your little tantrum, and just listen to me already,” Mr. Aburame hisses. “You’ll cause a scene with the way you’re acting, for crying out loud.”
Kiba shakes off the hand that Shino puts onto his shoulder as if it burns him. If they weren’t in public, he’d break his fingers one after the other, he’s positive. “I said no.”
Shino’s brow furrows. “I could report you for this, you know.”
Now that does make Kiba come to an abrupt halt. 
He stops in his tracks, turns around, and takes those couple of footsteps keeping him from Mr. Aburame like an angry bull; all until he’s close enough to be glaring up at the slightly taller man with daggers in his eyes and hushed anger on his tongue, “What the fuck are you goin’ on about?” His voice goes even lower, turns even more dangerous, “There’s nothing to report.”
“Yet.” The glare he receives in return for the statement doesn’t faze a calm and collected man like Shino. Doesn’t even make him flinch, despite that he knows Kiba’s hand is absolutely itching to grab him by the front of his tweed blazer.
And speaking of Kiba; he is at a loss for words now. His expression is blanching, skin turning pale. And yet he still somehow manages to croak out, “I thought you were my friend.”
There’s actual hurt lacing his voice.
“I am.” Mr. Aburame’s shoulders slump at the disappointment in his colleague’s voice. “This is me looking out for you as your friend, can’t you see that?”
“Yeah, right.” Kiba stares at him. Something seems to shift somewhere deep within his conscience, because now he scoffs and his eyes turn hard. “Friend, huh? As far as I know, friends don’t threaten each other like that, Shino.”
“I’m serious.” Shino’s lips are a firm, straight line of not judgment, per se, but rather concern. “I don’t care what kind of opinion you have about me right now. You’re not thinking rationally, and I could report you for it.”
“Do I ever?” There’s fire inside his eyes now; caramelized sugar that’s long since been burned by the dancing flames. “Think rationally?”
There’s a pause. And then, “No.” Hesitance.
Kiba’s scowl deepens, it sits on his face like a mask. “So, are you gonna report me, then?”
It’s a talent, really – how fast he’s able to become sturdy and protect himself just by sheer will and intimidation when the need calls for it. It’s like he uses his personality as a shield, instead of the body and strong bones that hold it together.
Transforming into an entirely different person in a blink of an eye.
The entomology professor sighs, eyes unmoving from his friend’s burning stare that just refuses to budge, now. He’s nothing like the flustered mess he had been just five minutes ago. Still pale, his eyes look slightly bigger and darker than they normally do. It’s instinct for survival that makes Kiba’s eyes so big, Shino knows. They grow even larger as long seconds drift by; each of them lasting an eternity. 
Mr. Aburame has no clue how much time has passed before he finally bows his head and says, “No. I won’t.”
And all Mr. Inuzuka replies with, is a, “Thought so.” before he taps Shino’s chest roughly and walks away.
And that’s it.
But the problem is that that isn’t it.
Guilt still eats away at Kiba’s morality when he looks up and finds you standing across his desk at the end of his final lesson; looking eager and surprisingly – expectant.
Shino’s words from this morning had really done it for him, he can’t lie. Ever since their little argument in the teachers’ lounge, Kiba had been doing nothing but chewing on and turning over the warnings that his friend had planted into his good for nothing brain. Comparing them, too, and tossing them to the side, just to bring them right back. 
So far, the whole situation has put him onto an emotional rollercoaster; one with hundreds upon hundreds of seemingly never-ending loops. He can’t wait to get off of it, honestly.
And as if Shino being a pain in his ass wasn’t enough already, you had also offered Kiba your fair share of things to think about. Giving him the googly eyes whenever you’d seen him roaming the halls; your smile had been riddling his troubled mind even further, making him lose that last bit of focus he had been devastatingly clinging onto for hours on end.
Far too busy forming a mental pros and cons list if he should try and chase after you or not, nearly all of Kiba’s lessons had suffered for it as a result, and had ended up becoming a complete academic disaster. At this point, all he wants to do is go home and crawl into bed.
But he can’t do that with you here, of course. 
So he stays put. Like a good boy.
“Hi there,” you chime happily when he snaps back into reality and acknowledges you. “Long time no see.”
“H-hey.” Kiba’s face blooms with colour almost immediately when his voice cracks and he stutters as a result. How many more times will he blush today, goddammit?! He forces himself to maintain eye contact with you as he clears his throat, but it’s almost exhausting to do so.
Calming down his pulse is work enough, after all. You make his heartbeat accelerate with just a mere greeting. With the way you’re standing so close to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could actually hear it – his heart. And speaking of close, looking up at you and all your pretty glory that’s just mere inches away now: Shino’s warnings are becoming somewhat blurry and faded.
Especially so when you press both of your palms against his desk and smile at him. Just like he has a habit of doing to you.
God, he could eat you right up because of it. You’re like a little cupcake; all sugary and nice. It’s so damn hard to not stare at the way your blouse tightens around the fat of your tits, but he tries. He really tries.
“So,” you start.
“So,” he repeats, knee bouncing without stop. So nervous.
“How are you holding up?” you ask, drumming your fingers against the desk. The sound of your nails tapping the wood makes him realize how quiet the place actually is. There’s nobody left inside the classroom but him and you. Crap. 
He almost doesn’t hear you as you add, “Still tired?”
“A bit, yeah,” he chokes out finally, voice so low you hear him only because you’re leaning in so close. “I’m gonna, uh… head home soon. To get some rest.”
He’s done for the day and so are you, it seems. It’s barely half past four, but it’s already dark out. Winter sucks, it makes Kiba miss the sun. But despite all of that, he catches himself preferring the darkness outside when you round the corner of his desk and rest your lower back against it.
“Aww… Leaving so soon, Mr. Inuzuka?” He can see the way the tops of your socks dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as you pout; you’re that close. The moment you cross one ankle over the other and sigh, he follows the movement with his eyes, not being capable enough to hide the greed anymore. Fuck, even your skirt has lifted by an inch. “I was actually hoping I’d be able to talk to you about my assignment. If you don’t mind.”
“Well, I… I guess I could stay,” Kiba finds himself saying, gaze still glued to your legs that he yearns to reach out for and touch so badly, “for a lil’ bit longer…?”
Wow, he’s way easier than you’d expected.
“Really, you would? That’d be so great,” you utter, nudging his foot with your own. The sudden contact makes him visibly flinch in his chair, causing him to push away and roll back a small distance until you have to step in front of him and catch the armrests as a means to stop him.
Staring up at you now, Kiba stills entirely. You’ve got him trapped, and his breath hitches in the back of his throat because of it. So close that he can count your eyelashes one by one if he wanted to, he feels his body turn rigid by the nearly non-existent proximity. It’s all so overwhelming: your warmth, the way you look at him, the sickeningly sweet scent of strawberries that comes from the chewing gum that’s inside your mouth. 
“Going somewhere, professor?” you ask sweetly, smiling a grin that he realizes makes his legs weak. “I thought you said you and I were gonna talk.”
“We can talk,” Kiba mutters, his throat feeling so dry and tight because your hand is slipping and is touching his thigh now, “just stop with the games. I ain’t good at playin’ them.”
“What games?” You bite the inside of your cheek, puckering your lips in a way that makes you look coy despite that your hand is literally inching higher and higher. “I’m not playing any games.”
His voice is a shaky whisper, “Stop fucking with me.”
And yours is a goddamn purr, because it’s so rewarding to see him this helpless for once; it’s an absolute treat, “But, Sir… I thought you wanted me to do just that? Didn’t you like the little picture I sent you?”
“I–...” It’s hard to be mad at you when you keep batting your eyelashes at him. As if you’re this innocent little thing that doesn’t want to be bent over. Ignoring the thought, he tries to be stern as he says, “I never said that.”
“No?” You blink, eyes glazed over and pupils big. “But you were hinting at it over the phone last night, weren’t you? After I gave you my number when you had asked for it?”
“I–... You can’t–”
“Yes, I can.”
Bullseye, you’ve shot him right through the morality with that one.
It’s hard to breathe properly at this point, the accusation you’re making against him is making his vision spin. Kiba is tugging at the collar of his shirt, lips parting as he tries to let more oxygen into his lungs and say something smart back as a means to throw you off your game. 
That pathway soon becomes useless, however, because the moment he opens his mouth, you slam your own right against it without any warning whatsoever.
And just like that, he’s done. 
The kiss sucks all the air right out of him, no matter how delicate it is at first. Wipes his mind clean, makes his eyelids flutter shut. Makes him melt into you, until he’s yours to command. And fuck, the realization of what you’re doing – kissing your professor – hits you bright and clear just as it hits him. Like you’re both sitting inside a speeding car, aiming straight towards a cliff that neither of you knows how to avoid.
The drop is going to be deadly if you reach it. And that scares the shit out you, but thrills you at the same time. So it’s no wonder that he can sense your hesitancy before the courage kicks in, your lips nudging his own until he finally opens his mouth a fraction wider so that you can slip your tongue in.
And wow, he tastes sweet. Like a goddamn blueberry muffin he’s probably had for lunch earlier. You can still taste it in your mouth by the time he cups your jaw to lightly push you back so that you can part.
“What,” you gasp softly, your Cupid’s bow touching his upper lip with every word, “don’t you want me, professor? Not even a little bit?”
“No, you don’t get it… I want–” he starts, unable to finish when you kiss him again in answer. It seems to deepen the daze he’s in, making him lose his train of thought in an instant. You’re practically digging the hole for him at this point. “Fuck, I want you, pretty girl. I mean, look at you… ‘Course I want you.”
“Yeah?” You smile again, the beam sweet as summer fruit. “How bad do you want me?”
“So bad,” Kiba mumbles in an instant, brown eyes already hazy with lust when you come closer and merely hint at kissing him again. “I wanna do such nasty things to you; fuck you stupid on the desk and all of that, but I need you to sit on my dick first, ‘kay? Think you can do that?”
Your pulse quickens at how fast his decency fades, but you force yourself to remain calm. “Even if I’m your student? You still want me to do that?”
“Yeah, yeah… C’mere, now.” It’s shameful how quick he answers. Maybe if he wasn’t as down bad as a freshman at a frat party; too busy staring up at you whilst impatiently patting his thigh and tugging at your hand, he’d actually manage to acknowledge the disdain he should be feeling for himself. “Be a good girl and sit the fuck down, will you?”
His gaze is hard when you look at him, profound impatience lacing every word. That’s the Mr. Inuzuka you know, all right. All bad and horny as hell.
It seems like Shino is bound to be disappointed after all.
Because now, things are escalating fast. You’re already crawling into your handsome professor’s lap, making him spread his legs in a way that gives him better footing so that he can keep the chair from spinning. Making him groan into your mouth as his hand rests on the side of your head; thick fingers tangling into your hair with a need to push further and gain more, more, more.
But it’s all so sweet and gentle, no matter the speed. Your mouths connect and part slowly, thin strings of saliva barely there. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and dips down to trace the curve of your hip with the tips of his fingers. Unusually cautious; he’s taking his time, trying to calm himself down during it. 
By the time he allows his hands to finally begin roaming your body, Kiba’s lips are already sticky from how much lip gloss you’ve managed to smear onto them with your own.
So keeping the steadiness in mind, poor, flustered Mr. Inuzuka starts with your thighs first. He reaches the hem of your skirt and pushes it ever so slightly up your legs before he rounds the curve and squeezes your ass instead. His hands become full immediately, and you definitely like to be groped like this; you tell him that with the way you preen and start to claw at his fancy dress shirt like you’re some desperate kitty in heat.
You’re already grinding against him, so young and demanding that he can barely keep up. Making him plead for you to do something – anything. And you may pretend that you’re calm and collected, perhaps even nonchalant, but your pussy is clenching; sopping hole fluttering around nothing. He’s pressed so tight against you after all, nudging you right between your legs – the ridge of him prominent. 
And it’s all so warm, Kiba can feel the heat right through his pants. Can feel how warm and soft your little cunt is as you press it even harder against his clothed cock and start to grind against it; dragging it up and down in these slow, salacious kind of movements that could, quite frankly, make him consider marriage at this point.
Blood rushes south at the contact, leaving his head empty aside from the overwhelming buzz that’s otherwise plaguing his mind. His dick is starting to strain his pants, and the pressure from the zipper hurts. Growing big and hard fast, the cotton of his underwear sticks to him because of the pre-cum that’s already leaking underneath.
“Fuck,” he hushes so quietly that you want to laugh, his rough palm drawing patterns over the curve of your spine. He’s a greedy man, his hands touch you all over when you hide your face into the crook of his neck and start to kiss him there, eager mouth searching for his sweetspot. 
He seems to have one everywhere – a sweetspot – as long as the kisses come from you. The little affections are even making his hair stand up; are making him bare his teeth. “You gotta–... Mmh, you gotta do something, pretty. My dick is starting to hurt, so how ‘bout you lemme shove it in that cute pussy of yours, yeah?”
“Is it, now?” Your hands grip his broad shoulders as you readjust yourself, every word resembling a soft purr. The smirk that adorns your lips the moment he stiffens underneath you touches his pulse point, now. His heartbeat is so fast that your own feels like it’s stalling behind. “Need me to make it all better? To fuck you until it doesn’t hurt anymore?”
He starts nodding vehemently when your hands land on his chest and start fiddling with the buttons instead; pushing his limits even further, making him see red. You’re holding him in the palm of your hand and he doesn’t even know it yet. No matter what framed degree he hangs on his wall, he’ll still turn dumb at the mere chance of scoring some pussy.
Your nostrils flare as you exhale through your nose in a derisive huff. “Can you ask for it nicely, maybe?”
“Please.” The word is breathless, a mere pant, but it’s blurted out quickly. He clears his throat when you raise your eyebrows; tries to hide the blush that overtakes his entire face as you wait for him to try again. “Pretty please.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You kiss him once more before ending the affection much too quickly for his liking. A lewd pop noise forms; one that usually sounds out whenever you’re finished with a sucker, not your zoology professor’s mouth. “Lemme take care of it, now.”
“Why are you– Oh.”
The small wink you offer him as you slide off of his lap and kneel right between his legs makes Kiba’s heart stammer and his chest tighten as the realization of what’s to happen sinks in. 
He takes the hint of what you’re trying to do now, and he just can’t help it, but this lewd sort of happiness overtakes him in an instant. You’re just so young; still thriving in your slut-era, which most of his ex-girlfriends had long since moved on from in search of boring routine and family-oriented weekend trips he’d much rather miss out on than attend. 
But you – you’re not even nearly there yet. No, as you kneel in front of him: clearly willing to take his dick down your throat right underneath the desk, perhaps even contemplating the chance of letting him cum all over your face at the end of it, you’re absolutely perfect. You’re a mere pet; one that loves sucking up to her teacher. Quite literally.
So he spreads his legs wider, giving you the space you need as his insides begin to twist with naughty anticipation. He’s excited; throbbing in his pants, his dick eager to meet your throat. “How come you wanna do this instead of sitting on me? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let me do all the work?”
“It’s just–...” It’s hard to hide the tremble of your fingers as you reach up to unbuckle his belt and undo the button of his pants. The nerves are finally catching up to you. “I wanna leave a good first impression.”
Kiba’s toes twitch in his shoes when you trace the ridge that pushes up as soon as the zipper is tugged all the way down, heat rushing up his thighs. The way you palm him over his boxers tells him that you’ve definitely held a cock before. Good for you, even though it’s hard to ignore the sudden flash of jealousy. What the fuck is he feeling envious for? “And why is that?” 
“Because,” you say, your shrug seemingly nonchalant, even if you’re far from it, “if I suck your cock good enough, then maybe you’ll consider giving me a decent grade on my assignment…?”
Oh.
“You’ll like me more if I do that, right?” His voice is a mere mumble now, a gentle coo, “Like you told me last night?”
“Mhmm.” His fingers graze your cheek. You can see his pupils dilate when you press your lips to one fingertip and kiss it. He’s completely red in the face again by the time you kiss another one and add, “I’ll love you for it, actually.”
“Oh, honey.” 
“Yes, baby?”
Kiba’s eyes turn soft like his heart does at that, and he needs to remind himself that you’re just using him. After all, there’s literally no way in hell that a young, pretty thing like yourself would be at all interested in loving a man that’s inching towards his mid-thirties and teaches stupid college kids for a living. And come to think of it, why should he be even thinking about a thing like that; much less stressing over it? 
Wasn’t he perfectly content being alone?
So he blinks. Snaps out of it and taps your temple twice as if he’s trying to get through to that wicked brain of yours, tone all of a sudden patronizing and complacent instead of warm, “As far as I remember, the due date was two weeks ago.”
You blink, too. Surprised. “Yes, but–”
“So, is that my problem, then? My fault?”
What? “But–”
He taps your temple again. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”
“No, sir.” Heat creeps up your neck at how stern he is with you all of a sudden. It seems that a switch had been flicked inside his head, you’ve said something he didn’t like. Finally gaining the self-control he’s been desperately trying to grasp for all this time, he’s back to being mean again. “It isn’t your fault.”
“The best I can give you is a D.” He pauses to look down at you. And winks.
Rolling your eyes, you puff out an exasperated exhale. “Funny.” Fucker.
“I think so, too. Now,” he says, “are you gonna take it or not?”
“I will.” You pout at the change of demeanor, digits tightening around his girth when his hand rests atop your own. He still hasn’t given any hint that he’ll give you a better grade, but he does coax you into palming him slowly now; guiding you to a steady rhythm that drags across his entire length. 
Christ, he’s so big that you can feel the pain in your throat already. It makes your mouth salivate. “Professor…”
“Mm?”
“About my grade…?”
Ouch.
“Tell you what– hah…” The chuckle that slips past his lips and interrupts him mid-sentence never seems to reach his eyes. “You look mad cute on your knees like that, so if you blow me good enough, I’ll consider raising your grade. How’s that sound?”
“I thought you wanted me to sit on your dick?” you grumble, but hook your fingers to the waistband of his boxers in silent agreement. It’s about time you face the monster cock that’s hiding underneath.
“I thought you wanted to leave a good first impression?” he quips in an instant, brain working at full capacity, now that you aren’t all lovey-dovey with him anymore and aren’t kissing him all over. The fact that he sort of wants it back makes him feel bitter inside. It’s all so fucked up and makes him all the more agitated. “Stop actin’ bratty. You’re not gonna win.”
“I liked you more when you were all red and stuttering, you know,” you manage to say before your breath hitches as you at long last tug down the waistband and get a good look at him. Your eyes look sad despite the hearts in them. “You were actually nice to me.”
His own heart stutters deep in his chest at that. It’s almost enough to break him.
Almost. But not quite enough.
“Yeah? Well, that’s just too bad now, is it?” His gaze turns heavy-lidded the moment you press a kiss right atop the vein that runs along his entire length. The skin your lips touch is silky smooth, its warmth transferring to your hand and nestling itself between your fingers. You can feel the rush of blood within – the heat makes him readjust himself on his chair as he grips the armrest tighter. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t be such a dick.”
“That’s rather ironic, don’t you think?” You sigh, giving him the smallest kitten lick to lap up the bead of pre-cum that’s leaking out of the head already. His teeth sink into his bottom lip at that; eyelids turning even heavier at the sensation. The salt is fast to melt on your tongue as you say, “I mean, aren’t you taking advantage of me, too?”
His hand rests on the side of your head, thumb stroking your cheekbone before he touches the corner of your lips. There’s a beat of silence – a comfortable one, despite all the words that want out. But instead of answering the question, he just says, “I don’t like being used.” 
“Me neither,” is all you reply before you open your mouth wider to take him.
It’s hard to resist a groan for Kiba when you finally start to suck. Everything hits him all at once. Your ‘o’ face is adorable. Lips plush and cheeks hollowed; throat tight. The way you twirl your tongue is skilful, clearly experienced. It drags drool all over his cock, making it even easier for him to push it deeper as you attempt to relax.
“That’s it,” he mutters, running his fingers through your hair. He pulls it back from your face, helps you out. Like a proper gentleman, even if he’s far from it. “Such a good girl... So pretty, with a mouth full of cock.”
You try to pretend you don’t drink up the praise. He pretends he doesn’t notice it.
He’s deep in your throat fast – bulging. Throbbing and twitching, you can feel every rush of blood that makes him harder, bigger. When you push your tongue out to take more inches, it makes his palm slam flat against the desk. Even his digits curl at the pleasure. Knuckles turn stark white.
The tears come forth only when he’s more than halfway down your throat, turning the whites in your eyes glassy. It’s not long before the gag follows, the first tear spilling and messing up your mascara as it slides down your cheek. He snickers at that, his lips twitching as you pull back to take a breath. There are strings of saliva connecting you to him already – thick and glimmering ropes of silver that break only when you use your hand to stroke him. 
“Pretty good,” he comments with a smile, mischief prominent in his eyes. He’s clearly over the moon, but he isn’t going to tell you that, of course.
“I know.” You gasp for air but keep the sass. One quick little breather before taking him again, you’re rubbing your cheek against his dick – nearly worshiping it. “I can take more, though.”
“Yeah?” His brow arches. His heartbeat is just about to become violently quick from how you keep petting yourself against his cock. Goddamn, who knew the younger generation was so messed up? “Gonna do a lil’ show-and-tell for me, then?” 
The moment you nod, he’s on you. With his hand on the back of your head, he pushes you further now; doesn’t exactly force you to take more, but clearly encourages it in his brutish ways. His eyes are big and dark when you look up through your blurry vision. They watch your every move, warm and rich like hot chocolate.
Christ, you’re so into this. Clearly adore sucking dick just to make men weak in the knees. The sounds of your sloppy blowjob fill the classroom, they make him only fall harder for you. But despite all of that, and how they present such a lovely contrast to the dull subject he otherwise teaches inside the space, he’s becoming worried someone might walk in and hear you.
He never locked the door, did he?
Kiba’s hand tightens its hold on the desk at the thought; blunt nails sinking deep into the wood. It’s dangerous and it might ruin his life, he knows, but you’re already here, aren’t you? Already choking on his cock, making it glimmer with your drool that’s only there because of how exquisitely sloppy you are.
So, what’s a little more risk? 
He doesn’t think anymore as he tugs on your hair and makes you moan in answer. Doesn’t ponder anymore the moment the whine slips out of your already full mouth. No, he just focuses on the shiver running down his spine, turning his mind even more blank than it already was. 
It’s such a delicate little noise – your moan. One that brings him closer to cumming in an instant, especially because you suck him in even harder now and your tits are rubbing against his thighs like you’re some deity with a whorish mouth.
No, seriously. You know how to work that mouth so well. The way you take his cock down your throat forces sweat to coat his brow. It’s all so intense; the fever in his belly rising every time you use your hand to stroke the length you can’t reach with your lips. You even cup his balls and squeeze them in a way that makes his toes curl in his shoes again. Pull your head back to drag your tongue along the side of his dick, kissing it softly before sucking it again. All of that.
He’s groaning and sweating. Manspreading and pushing back into his chair. Blushing, cursing.
So it’s no surprise how it takes him only mere minutes to cum. You don’t even have to try for long because you’re his student, his little pet that’s just too good at sucking his cock and fulfilling a fantasy he didn’t even know he had hidden somewhere deep within him. It’s all so easy.
“Jus’ a lil’-... m-more, sweetheart.” He’s panting now, holding on for dear life. “Oh, fuck yeah, mhmm.”
The thrill only shortens his line of endurance. As the bobbing of your head quickens and your throat tightens, holding him prisoner – he’s done. Your eyes squeeze shut, mascara running; drool escaping the corners of your lips as you fight back a gag from the way he hits the back of your throat. His teeth sink into the knuckles of his fist to stifle the guttural moan that’s about to leave his mouth as soon as that last twitch hits him and heat spills inside his stomach.
And then he starts to cum.
His chest is heaving during it, eyes closing the moment your own open. He’s such a gorgeous man; so handsome in the most rugged way. His jaw is clenched tight as your own turns slack from hurting so much. Chestnut hair tousled and chiseled cheeks red, you want to kiss him, no matter the thick layer of sweat on his skin. 
But you know better than to move whilst a man is cumming, it makes them too sensitive to function properly and it’d probably hurt him more than please him if you chose to suck the life out of him right in that moment. 
So you stay put. Allow the thick ropes of white to coat your tongue like a good girl, and slowly start to feel him soften in your mouth. 
His release tastes salty and slightly bitter; probably because of the beer he’s told you about drinking last night and because of all the stress he’s endured ever since. Perhaps you should treat him to a fruit salad and tell him to fucking relax when you get the chance. Perhaps.
“Hey… I’m done,” he whispers after a while, his fingers caressing your face to bring you back from your trance. The intensity you’ve made him cum with has turned his voice appealingly raspy. He’s not just done, he’s finished. Utterly spent.
You blink after staring at him for too long, eyelashes fluttering. Slackening your jaw even further, you let him pull his softening cock out of your mouth. Oops.
Kiba sighs, gaze almost droopy as he reaches to take care of the single droplet of cum leaking out the sensitive head. He’s still half-hard, still so hung even though he’s spilled everything he’s had. But you lean in before he can. Help him by cleaning up the droplet by dragging your tongue across it instead. 
And that turns him wide-eyed, makes his upper lip quiver with a subtle hiss as you continue to tidy him up all nice and neat, and keep doing so until all he has left to do is zip up his pants and fix the button. You don’t miss the lovestruck expression adorning his face now. He’s infatuated. So easy.
But so are you.
Silence lingers as you stare at each other; him in his chair, you on your knees. Chests rising and falling in nearly the same rhythm but not quite.
He offers you his hand after a moment of thought. “Will a B suffice?”
You take it in a heartbeat. It’s much bigger than yours. So warm that it makes you burn from within as he pulls you up, fingers long and thick to touch your own. “I don’t care about the grade anymore, professor.”
“No?” He finds it hard to hide a smile as you sit onto his lap and fix his collar. “How come?”
“It’s like you said,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. 
“You don’t like being used.”
The next few weeks to follow are interesting, to say the least.
You haven’t done anything else with Professor Inuzuka ever since that Friday in his classroom. Excluding the couple of kisses you’ve shared, he’s left you feeling utterly confused after parting that same evening; has sparked something you don’t particularly understand, and has jumbled your heartstrings into a messy knot that closely resembles the old headphones you had kept inside your pocket before switching to AirPods. 
And besides leaving you puzzled, your growing feelings for him had also been the sole reason why you’d chosen not to take advantage of him and his position.
Somewhere in-between, you had just realized that you were on your knees – sucking his dick, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Wanted him. 
And whilst your decision had been rather sweet, he’d still chosen to take pity on you by grading your assignment through rose-coloured spectacles first thing Monday morning. 
C+, with a little note of encouragement attached. Way more than you’d expected to get from him, to be honest. It seems that your blowjob really was superb.
But even after getting the grade, you still continue to talk to him. Usually over the phone, all of your conversations are kept on the down low as a precaution to not attract any unnecessary attention. After all, he’s told you all about Mr. Aburame and his suspicions, which certainly explains why the man has been patrolling and swooping above you like a hawk whenever you sit in his entomology class whilst Kiba attempts to fix his friendship with him. It just makes you all the more careful.
Speaking of Kiba, you exchange brief glances with him whenever you pass by each other in the halls. It’s almost invisible – the look – but you catch the meek twitch of one corner of his mouth whenever you smile and say good morning. He always just nods his head in reply. It’s become quite the routine.
And it’s all so discreet, too: the subtle way his eyes follow you, the mere brush of his arm against your own before the second of contact passes and it’s all over as quickly as it started. And that’s pretty much it.
Because unlike yourself, Kiba holds back. Like, really holds back. He’s still trying to figure out what he wants; if he’s ready to commit. So he merely dips his toes in the water occasionally, and doesn’t give you special treatment of any kind – not even in his classroom. 
He doesn’t hug you or kiss you. Doesn’t text you good morning and good night. You take the same exams as everyone else, complete the same assignments and study for the same final. 
But sometimes – rarely – he softens. Allows himself the pleasure of something more. Like right now – indulging in a completely spontaneous study session, for example. One that’s held at his apartment, the only person he’s teaching being you. 
How fun.
“Ugh… I’m not quite getting this, Si– Kiba.” Saying his first name so casually, without any title whatsoever, still feels weird. He had insisted that you use it whenever you’re alone, but to remain wary when you’re in public because of obvious reasons. After testing it out for a couple of weeks or so, you suppose that you’ll stop mixing it up with ‘Sir’ eventually.
The small chuckle he lets out right after your whiny sentence immediately brushes the nape of your neck. You’re sitting on his bed, staring at the screen of your laptop that you’d brought with you, with your back propped against his chest. It’s all so comfortable and cozy that you could fall right asleep if you didn’t have something else already riddling your mind.
Something rather nasty and naughty.
Because with each passing minute, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as well as the way how it grows faster whenever you move; how it spikes when you touch him. Despite the white cotton t-shirt he has on, his skin is warm and smells like coconut. He’s all fresh and tidy, like he’s showered just before you got here.
And does that mean something? Sadly, you can’t tell when it comes to him. He’s one confusing man, constantly refusing to let you into his fickle mind.
“You wanna take a lil’ break?” The light kiss he presses to your neck all of a sudden yanks you from your thoughts. He’s so cautious all the time, but seems to be more willing to give affection in the safety of his home. It makes you all the more eager to accept it, especially as the tip of his nose brushes your jawline and he says, “It’ll probably help you focus later on.”
“Yes, please,” you chime, despite that you can’t focus at all. Not when his mouth is this close to your pulse point, at least. “A break sounds so nice, actually.” Goodness, your tone is so sugary that you might just give yourself a toothache. 
“We can watch a movie if you’d like?” he says as he begins to pull back, thoughts innocent for a change. “‘Cause I think I’ve still got–”
“How about we stay like this for a while instead…?” Fingers tangling into his hair, you bring him right back. Make his mouth linger in the very same spot he had been accommodating before. “Pretty please, hmm?”
He stiffens underneath you in an instant, you swear that you can feel the tension that overtakes him so fucking fast. Even more so as you run your fingers through the brown locks and tug, twirling one right around your finger like you’ve always wanted to do.
“Well, I, uh–” He stumbles now, his breath shaky before he swallows hard. “I suppose that we can?”
“Yay, great!” Your tiny cheer is hushed. The room has become so dark, shadows dance across the walls of his bedroom that you haven’t gotten the chance to look at more clearly. It’s almost six already. Winter really is fast to push away the sun, and you hate walking in the dark, but maybe you can convince him to let you stay the night if you play your cards right.
“So…” He’s so quiet as he asks, “What do you wanna do, then?”
“Well…” And you’re so confident as you reply, “I think you know.”
“Do I?”
“Mhmm.”
Silence.
“You want me to…?” He stops immediately, unable to finish the sentence. It’s so cute how awkward he gets whenever you obtain the dominant role. It might be the risk of losing the way he lives his life. Might be the pride. You suppose you’ll never know.
“Yeah,” you finish for him simply.
Silence falls between you again as he thinks. Eons pass and you hear his breathing quicken with each one. His voice is deeper than it normally is as he suddenly says, “Shut the laptop, then.”
You do as he asks without another word, of course you do. You even shove the device onto the edge of the bed with the help of your foot to gain more room. 
The darkness to fall upon the space gradually eases Kiba’s worries as he lets his eyes get used to the shadows. They make him more comfortable because the shame isn’t as visible when they’re near. Especially as your hand lands atop of his own and guides it right between your legs so effortlessly that he knows you’ve pulled the same trick on someone else before. 
But it doesn't matter. He’s too busy purring, because the other one continuously strokes his cheek, your fingers pricked by the stubble to scrape the skin. It’s as if you’re urging him on. Coaxing him to succumb. Maybe it isn’t his fault, but yours.
Still, he doesn’t dare say anything. Just stares straight ahead, eyes focused on the window across the room as he starts to stroke your thighs; nice and slow. He does it for several minutes, easing his touch closer and closer to the center. Traces it ever so gently and hears you fight back a curse. 
He traces the waistband of your cute leggings, then. Glides one finger along the edge and listens to your breathing stagger when his hand finally slips underneath them and your equally as cute underwear. 
And fuck, your little cunt is so fucking soft. Sticky and warm right at the first touch, it’s delightful. The little button of nerves he presses his finger against the moment he finds it makes you squirm instantly. He applies pressure steadily, experience telling him it’s better this way instead of going all in at once. So he circles slowly, parts your gooey pussy lips even slower. Gathers the wetness and feels your back arch against him in answer.
Your Cupid’s bow twitches when his other hand sneaks up to your tits without any warning whatsoever, making its way right underneath your t-shirt. He pinches your nipple between two rough fingertips and circles your clit at the same time. It makes you burn from within as your head falls back against his shoulder.
The flames grow bigger and hotter when he hunches slightly to kiss your neck, then. Chestnut hair tickles your cheek as he opens his mouth by a fraction and latches it to your throat; the scent of coconut overriding your senses fast. His tongue is warm as it twirls across the tendon on your neck repeatedly, preparing the terrain for his teeth, which he sinks into you when you least expect it. 
When both of his incisors strike home, you flutter your eyelids shut despite the darkness. The sensation turns your vision violet, with dots of dark blue.
The way he places a hickey onto your skin should bother you, but it doesn’t. Who cares if your friends will bombard you with questions later, all that matters right now is that it feels good. That he’s making you feel good.
Especially as his fingers reach even lower and he slowly eases two of them inside your sticky hole that craves all of his attention. Slick covering every inch of those two digits, he pushes them in right to the knuckle in a series of steady pumps that make your legs quiver and your knees want to meet.
Not once does he let you squeeze your legs shut, however. The way you try and fight against him arouses him so much that you can feel the hardness pressing against your lower back. He’s already beginning to get big – is beginning to yearn.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You finally let a moan slip after nearly fifteen minutes of sweet torture. This little mewl that makes his ears perk. That makes his cock semi-hard. “Ki–”
“Shh. Stay still,” he hushes as his other hand lands on your stomach. “I got you.”
But you aren’t listening. Making him stop just long enough so you can pull your leggings and panties down your legs in one go, you’re throwing your clothes onto the floor with one careless swing of hand. And before he can even say anything, before he can even do anything; you’re turning around and pushing against him. Crawling right on top of him.
He laughs quietly as his head hits the pillow, looking up at you with rather giddy eyes. “Somebody’s impatient, huh?”
“Shut up,” you utter before you fumble with the waistband of his sweatpants. “Been waiting for this for weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” 
He only snickers in answer as you pull his cock out and begin to palm it desperately. You’ve even come to such a point that you spit onto your hand just so the drool can help you out when it comes to taking him faster; you just need him that bad. The final rush of blood to get him ready cannot come soon enough, but when it does at long last, he’s sweating and grunting – begging you to sit on him.
And despite the begging, he’s acquired that signature spark in those warm brown eyes of his by the time you finally straddle his hips and align yourself with his leaking cockhead. They burn bright – all mischievous and playful, and so fucking youthful at the face you make when you feel the stretch and still proceed to sit down on his dick like the good student you are.
You take him slowly. Inch by inch, but he’s so big that it hurts nonetheless.
His hands find your hips, one reaching up quickly to caress that same face and push back the strand of hair that obscures it. His pupils are humongous when you make eye contact, it’s ridiculous, and his voice is a mere grunt as he says, “Good lord, you feel so fuckin’ good.”
“I know,” you mumble, brow furrowed in the same focused manner his own dips into. You can smell yourself on his fingers. The scent only spurs you on. “Sure took y-you long enough to realize that.”
“I didn’t wanna lead you on,” he explains, panting. “Didn’t want ya to think I was using you, just because I didn’t make up my mind yet… Especially ‘cause you didn’t wanna do it either.”
“That’s sweet and all,” you reply, his words secretly making your pulse quicken, “but you have no clue how badly I’ve wanted your dick inside me. You’ve literally left me hanging for weeks. Get that through your thick skull, will you?”
“I’m sorry.” He snickers, the laugh soft and light. Like wind chimes. “Truly this time.”
A shiver rushes down your spine at the sound; at the feeling of warmth settling inside your belly. He’s so big inside you that it’s hard to stay still. It makes you all the more wet, causes the inner side of your thighs to glisten with transparent slick. “You better be.”
“Trust me.” He looks up at you as he speaks further, “I am. If I knew you wanted me that bad, I would have fucked you silly on the desk I grade papers on, like I told you back then.”
“I’ll take that as a promise. You owe me.” You roll your eyes at the sudden flash of ego whilst your fingers curl around the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Fully bare and exposed, you finally feel free; skin burning hot to the touch no matter that there’s nothing to cover it anymore.
Fingers stroking your sides, Kiba’s gaze turns soft immediately at the sight of you. He seems to be struggling to find the right words, but nevertheless gathers the courage to say, “You look lovely.”
Your voice is as warm as his eyes, now, “Really?”
“Mhmm.” His eyelids grow heavy all over again. “Pretty.”
“How about now?” Poor man, he looks like he’s losing brain cells just because of getting some pussy. Especially as you lift your hips just by a few measly inches and slam them back down just as slowly. The squelch that sounds out makes both of your faces heat up instantly. “Am I still lovely?”
“Y-yeah,” he stutters and hates himself for it. Fingers twitch, pores ooze sweat. He hasn’t felt this nervous fucking a woman ever since he was nineteen. 
And while that may have been a long time ago – ages, actually – he can still compete with your peers, right? He’s still just as vigorous and full of stamina as them, right? He just needs to take it easy. To really concentrate. He’s not that old yet, he can do this, goddammit!
“Yeah?” You push him further, palms resting on his chest until his shirt is starting to crinkle underneath them. “You like seeing me sitting on your cock like this, handsome?”
Oh, Jesus motherfucking Christ–
He nods, his expression almost pained when you repeat the exact same movement. Couple inches out, then slamming back down onto them, right to the hilt. Until your clit kisses the dark hair he’s trimmed just for you. Until he’s near your cervix and feels so fucking snug beside it.
“You’re so fucking big, Kiba,” you pant, smiling. “Your cock feels–… Feels s’good inside me.”
God, you’re one nasty girl, aren’t you? Always teasing and provoking him. Making his eyes look at the place where you connect, and then smirking when you catch him ogling.
“Fuck me,” he breathes.
“I am, baby,” you reply.
“No,” he says, trying to focus, focus, focus. His hands find your hips again, one immediately slipping onto the curve of your ass to squeeze it. “Ride it, princess. Need you to move.”
Oh?
There’s a look of determination in his eye that wasn’t there before as he looks up at you and narrows his gaze. He’s so red again, it’s stupid how red he gets all the time, but you oblige by quickening your pace in a way that makes him sigh in delight.
His hand moves by its own accord. He traces your hip, rounds the curve. Glides across your soft stomach, inching up between your tits. Stops to feel your heartbeat before reaching even higher. All until he’s got it wrapped around your throat; squeezing just enough to hear you gasp.
Still completely dressed, he’s so sweaty that your fingers practically slide across his abs when you push his shirt upwards in response to him choking you. Your nails drag across the skin and firm muscle; making him hiss through gritted teeth. It hurts, but it’s not nearly enough to make him relent.
After all, the way you try to gather air into your lungs whilst bouncing on his cock is just so nice to watch. It’s all so unhurried and relaxed. Kinky. You’re so wet, he can hear it. Strings of silvery arousal that bridge the narrow gap between his cock and your cunt. He’s never had a girl this delirious before, never had the pleasure to see someone melt for him as intensely as you do right now.
You truly have been waiting for him to come around. 
With the thought still in mind, his fingers move from your throat and tangle into your hair as he pulls you closer. Your chest collides with his own; teeth clash in a messy series of kisses he initiates first. You’re both sucking on each other’s tongues, exchanging saliva and moaning into each other’s mouths when you feel him bend his knees and get ready.
“Ki–” You moan, the high-pitched squeal breaking your voice. “Ki–ba.”
“Mhmm, yeah,” he hums, eyes glazed over, mind blank. “Pretty name your professor’s got, huh? You like saying it while bouncing on his cock?”
You nod frantically, like a little bimbo. Like a good student – a teacher’s pet. Even if you wanted to answer, nothing but quiet whimpers and slutty moans manage to escape your mouth. It brings a crooked grin forth – one you’ve never seen before. It’s almost boyish.
Meanwhile, Kiba doesn’t seem to mind your inability to answer him properly. Not when he presses his lips into a firm line of concentration and starts to buck his hips upward, meeting your own halfway. Doing his fair share. Helping you out.
The first thrust makes your mouth form a tiny ‘o’ he’s already seen before. The second makes your eyelids flutter, threatening to become squeezed shut. By the third, you’re gasping and begging him for something neither of you knows what it is.
“Goddamn, you– Hah...” 
A droplet of sweat trickles down his temple at how hard he tries to keep himself in check. At how intensely he’s focusing. It’s enough to make his teeth hurt from how hard he’s gritting them. But god-fucking-damn it, the friction is wonderful. Young pussy, just for him.
And he, well, he obliterates it. Straight up ruins your tight little cunt. He lacks speed and stamina, sure, but he possesses enough raw power to bully your womb into fucking shambles just the same; even better than that. He screws you dumb, splits you in half from how deep he reaches and how harshly he makes you sink right back.
He manages to make you cum once, and almost breaks his endurance with it, too. You just get so tight when you become undone, after all; clench around his dick and suck him right in, so persistent to milk him dry. But he saves himself. Clenches his jaw again, and stills for long enough to take a breather and to calm down enough to keep on going.
But yes, even with the little breaks, he absolutely wrecks you again the moment you give him the okay to do so. He overstimulates you by rubbing tight little circles into your clit, until you’re gushing and purring for the second time around; eyes crossing and mouth drooling.
He’s doing so good. It’s a little over thirty minutes as he reaches the point of no return and can’t possibly last any longer. Thirty fucking minutes of brutal rawdogging that makes you cum once more – bullied pussy trying to milk him all over again.
“Pill?” He’s panting so hard that he can barely say the word.
You’re not doing any better, nearly wheezing, fighting for air as you reply, “Implant.”
“Good girl,” he praises, pressing you so tight against him that you can’t possibly suck a breath in. “Gonna fill you up, then… Nice and full.”
You laugh, all breathless and exhausted. “When?”
“Mm, now.”
Kiba doesn’t lie. A couple of more thrusts that are so fast and brutal that they have you spilling tears, and he really does fill you up all nice and full. Paints your velvety walls entirely white; sticks his seed so far into you that it coats your cervix and almost surely floods your womb.
“Oh, god. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He squeezes his eyes shut; furrows his brow so hard that it makes his head hurt. He can even feel the end of one eyebrow twitch because of it. 
It doesn’t stop even as he calms down enough to listen to your erratic breaths that you puff out right into the crook of his neck.
“Sweetheart.” His arms release the death grip he’s held your smaller frame in until this very moment, before he cautiously runs his broad hand along your spine. You’re sweating just as much as him, he can feel the salt lingering on your skin. Christ, he really must have worked you up, huh? “You okay?”
“Mhmmm.” You’re still so high from everything that the expression you give him is comically dazed. Your head feels so heavy, you can barely keep it up from his chest. “Dandy, baby… Jus’ dandy.”
He snorts, trying to stifle his laughter immediately.
“Whaaat?” You pout when he chuckles again. “What is it, hmm?”
“Nothin’,” he mutters, lips twitching into a lazy grin. “You’re just so fucking cute, goddammit, ahh… Just wanna squeeze you to death.”
“That isn’t gonna work, you know,” you whisper, despite that you feel heat searing your face at the compliment. “One little praise isn’t gonna make me fuck you again… ‘M too tired.”
“Mm… How ‘bout a lil’ kiss, then?” He can’t believe how soft he’s become so quickly.
“Just one?”
“I can do more.”
“Hmm…” Your eyes narrow. “Alrighty then.” You can’t believe it either.
Kiba holds your face with both hands when you lean down to press your lips against his own. It’s a soft kiss. Sweet and tender, like a marshmallow roasted on a stick; all gooey inside. Promising something that could hurt you if you’re too eager to taste it before it cools off, but also offering something that can satisfy you just as well if you just take your time with it.
And speaking of hurting you; he’s bound to do it. Whatever you have right now won’t work out, it can’t possibly work out. This kind of relationship just isn’t done this way. He’s a teacher and you’re his student. And besides, he’s been alone for so long... He’ll never be able to partake in the role and fill the part you want him to play.
Or maybe, he just needs time. To get to know you, to adjust. Maybe you just need to graduate. Maybe going on a couple of dates isn't such a bad idea, because it doesn’t mean that he’s expected to settle, necessarily. Maybe you can take it slow. Make him drift, instead of sink right into it.
It’s the reason why he says, “I wanna take you out when you’re done with school. Like a real, proper date... If you’d be cool with that.”
“Why, your heart’s running away with your head, mister,” you tease, wiggling your brows when you both feel content to speak again. “What ever happened to staying away from me?”
“Well, you know what they say,” Kiba sighs, pulling you in for another tender kiss. Everything feels so intimate and warm – he’s going to burst from how good you feel.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
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tags: @mrs-bakashi
658 notes · View notes
sweetestofchaos · 6 months
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➵ Parings: Teacher!Jungkook x OC!Netta ➵ Genre/Trope: Fluff, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Co-Worker AU, Teacher AU ➵ Rating: 18+ ➵ Summary: The new English teacher has a big fat crush on the PE teacher Jeon Jungkook and everyone know about it...including Jungkook, himself. ➵ Word Count: 6.1k ➵ Warnings: Kissing, Thigh Riding, Ass Smacking, Food Play, Oral (fem receiving), Fingering, Mentions of Periods
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𝘮.𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ▵ 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 ▵ 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
a/n: 10 months later and I’m finished!! I have to thank @dawnagustd​ and @vvh0adie for helping me ease into the smut from when I first started writing this bad boy. I was starting at the screen for hours just looking dumb. Thank you @hobeemin​ for being my beta, your comments made me giggle!! Banner made by the wonderful @floralkive. MDNI/Support divider made by @benkeibear​​​
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It was a known fact that Little Flower Academy was one of the few elementary schools that didn’t have a dating ban for its employees. The headmaster wasn’t stupid; he knew that if you worked around people for days at a time, crushes and even love were bound to happen. Netta was the kind of woman who never mixed business with pleasure, but when Jeon Jungkook came into her world, that idea was washed away like the chalk lines at recess. Netta had a huge crush on Mr. Jeon, the cute Health and PE teacher. She wasn’t sure what it was about the man that made her heart pound so harshly. With just a single glance or if he smiled, Netta swore there were yellow jackets in her stomach, or maybe it was just pizza sticks she ate from the cafeteria. 
The first time Jungkook spoke to Netta, she couldn’t stop staring at the mole on the bridge of his nose; it was cute. She was so lost just staring at it that she completely missed the question that had been asked. It wasn’t until Jungkook laughed and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck that Netta snapped out of whatever trance she had been in. She apologized for zoning out, and Jungkook shook his head, his dark hair flying around his ears before he repeated his question. He wanted to know how she liked the school, and if she had any issues, she was more than welcome to come to him. Issues? There was only one that Netta could think of, and it was standing in front of her.
The two quickly became the topic around the water cooler of the academy. Teachers and parents alike all whispered about how good they looked together, the dream team they were called to their faces, and behind their backs, they were the perfect couple. Netta heard the rumors and wasn’t sure if Jungkook had too. If he had, he never let on about it. Jungkook was kind and very funny in the weirdest of ways. He was a giant nerd, to be honest, and Netta was thankful that she could see that side of him as his friend. That’s how she ended up here, now. All alone in Jungkook’s home, helping him grade papers while eating Thai take away on a Friday night.
Jungkook has his bluetooth speaker playing music at a lower volume, sitting on the couch with papers spread out all around him. Netta is sitting on top of a pillow on the floor with her legs folded underneath her, twirling a set of red chopsticks between her fingers. She glances at Jungkook when he sighs and pushes his hair from his face for the nth time that night. Jeez, can he look any hotter? A familiar beat catches Netta’s ear, and she bites her lip as Jamie Fox’s voice fills the air. 
You know what, I'm ma make it do what it do baby,
I'm ma make it do what it do baby
Netta drops her chopsticks, and they fall to the floor, making Jungkook look away from the papers in front of him. “You good?”
“Huh?” Netta stares at Jungkook and tries to ignore the sexual words spilling from the speakers. Does Jungkook not hear what’s playing? “Y-yeah, I’m good. Just…yeah.” Netta turns her attention to the papers in front of her and squints at the black text. What does this even mean? It’s like she’s reading a different language all of a sudden.
“How many papers have you gone through?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through Netta’s foggy mind, and she can feel heat warm her face. Honestly? She hasn’t graded much; it’s kind of hard to focus when Jungkook’s scent is all around her; plus, the oversized smokey green denim shirt isn’t doing anything for her well being either. How can he wear something so simple and look so hot? It’s not even fair at this point in life. “Net?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, and Netta quickly pulls herself together, ducking her head down as she bites her lower lip.
“I didn’t get much done.” Netta sees the frown pulling at Jungkook’s lips and swallows. “S-sorry Kookie.” Her voice is soft as she spots the chopsticks on the floor by her leg. “I-I need new chopsticks!” Netta jumps to her feet, and Jungkook’s jaw clenches.
“Sit down, Ms. Robbins!”
One second, Netta is standing, and the next, she is sitting on the edge of the love seat, the fallen chopsticks clutched tightly in her fist, staring at Jungkook with wide eyes. Jungkook sighs and takes his reading glasses off, setting them on the table before he sits up and runs his hand through his hair…five times, not that Netta is counting or anything. Jungkook tucks his hair behind his ears and inhales with a smack of his lips. He stares at the unmarked papers on the table before he turns his gaze to Netta, who refuses to meet his eyes.
Jungkook’s lips press into a line as his eyes flicker up to the ceiling, licking his lips as he tries to gather his thoughts together. He sniffles once and runs a hand through his hair once again, his bangs falling right back in place, framing his face. Netta risks a glance Jungkook’s way, and her breath catches in her throat as their eyes meet. Jungkook raises an eyebrow and presses his tongue against his cheek while Netta looks away. 
“Netta?” Jungkook calls her name softly, speaking just above a whisper as if anything louder would spook her.
“Y-yes?” Netta squeaks out, and she clears her throat. “Yes?” 
Those rumors about Netta having a crush on him may be true after all. Keeping that thought in mind, Jungkook nods his head and sighs. Jungkook smiles, his lip ring catching the light and forcing Netta to focus on his lips. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Huh? Tell you…what?” Netta fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist and starts to bounce her left leg as she tries to figure out Jungkook’s question.
He cracks a sly smile, “The rumors are true, huh?” He swipes through his hair once more, shaking his locks before he sits back in his chair. Netta has no thoughts, his arms are folded, and his legs spread. Her mind is empty as she stares at Jungkook’s massive thighs. Were they always so thick and inviting? Netta’s thighs press together subconsciously, and she shifts in her seat. Seeing her movement, Jungkook strikes. He uncrosses his arms and holds his hand out to Netta. “Come here, Netta.” Jungkook’s voice is magnetic, pulling Netta from her seat to stand between his legs.
Jungkook tilts his head back to get a better look at Netta’s face, “What’s going through that pretty head of yours, Ms. Robbins?” Jungkook slowly raises his arm and places a hand on Netta’s waist, keeping his eyes locked on her face. He doesn’t want to miss any signs of discomfort. “Humm?” Jungkook’s thumb slips under the hem of Netta’s shirt, and he forces himself not to look away from her face even though he wants to see the goosebumps that he feels on her bare skin. Wrapping his other hand around Netta’s wrist, Jungkook pulls her closer, and reaches out, her arms caging Jungkook on either side of the couch as she stops herself from falling on top of him.
“J-Jungkook!” Netta gasps, and Jungkook’s smile is wicked as he gazes at her.
“I’m not reading the room wrong, am I?” Jungkook questions as the rest of his hand slips underneath Netta’s shirt.
Netta opens her mouth, and no sound comes out. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Jungkook’s warm palm pressed against her side so softly. His hands are large, so very large, and his fingertips are calloused. Netta lets herself wonder how they would feel against more of her skin. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Netta gathers whatever resolve she has and lowers herself onto Jungkook’s lap, her knees on either side of his left thigh.
Jungkook mutters something under his breath, and before Netta can question him, Jungkook cups the back of Netta’s neck and pulls her into a feverish kiss. Their lips mold together, their tongues taste each other, and Netta’s full weight falls into Jungkook’s lap, her legs refusing to support her any longer. Jungkook groans into the kiss, feeling the pleasurable weight settle sweetly on his upper thigh. The heat from between Netta’s legs seeps into the fabric of his jeans, and Jungkook squeezes Netta’s hip tightly. His lungs burn, but he fights the urge to breathe; he doesn’t want to part from such sweet lips. Jungkook never knew that peanut pad thai was so delicious.
Netta slides her hands from the back of the couch and tangles her fingers into Jungkook’s hair. The strands are silky soft, and when she accidentally tugs, Jungkook moans into her mouth. Netta pulls away from the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connects their lips, and she pushes at Jungkook’s chest as he chases her lips.
“W-Wait…Jungk-kook.” 
Jungkook hums and licks his lips as he inhales deeply. His heart is beating rapidly under Netta’s fingers as the rise and fall of his chest starts to slow. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and alert as he stares at Netta concerned. He cups her cheek in his hand and swipes the spit from her bottom with the pad of his thumb.
“Are you okay? D-Do you want to stop?”
“God, no!” Netta shakes her head, and Jungkook smiles, all bunny teeth and scrunched up nose. 
“What’s wrong?” Jungkook whispers as he bumps his nose against Netta’s, trying to kiss her lips again.
Netta firmly pushes at Jungkook’s chest and puts space between their bodies, “I don’t want to do this on your couch…we could ruin the paperwork.”
Jungkook glances over Netta’s shoulder at the piles of ungraded tests and the rainbow of markers scattered on the table and floor. Jungkook’s tongue darts out to play with his lip ring as he thinks over Netta’s words. His hands slowly trail to Netta’s buttocks, and his fingers tap out a random beat that matches the current song playing from the speakers.
“My bedroom is a mess,” Jungkook pouts, and Netta giggles as she plays with the necklace hanging at Jungkook’s throat.
“Jungkook, we work with a bunch of children. I doubt your room is any worse than theirs.”
Jungkook narrows his eyes and gives Netta’s butt a firm slap, making her yelp and jump in surprise.
“I don’t think I like your tone, Ms. Robbins.” Jungkook leans forward and nips at Netta’s jaw before he licks up the length of her neck to her ear. “Are you a messy girl? Is that why you won’t mind my room? Just gonna make it messier for me, yeah?” 
Jungkook’s words go right to Netta’s core and settle so deep that she can feel her walls clench around nothing. Empty. She suddenly is so self-aware of how long it has been since she last had sex with someone. Netta bites her lower lip, and a shiver crawls down her spine as Jungkook ghosts a gentle path of kisses from her ear to the corner of her lips.
“No, no, Ms. Robbins,” Jungkook easily pulls Netta’s bottom lip from between her teeth and soothes the tender flesh with his own lips. He licks at the bitten skin and sucks Netta’s lip into his mouth, his hands pressing firmly against Netta’s butt and she moans. Her hips start to move on their own, back and forth, over the meaty length of Jungkook’s thigh. Jungkook breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers, “That’s it, make a mess for me. I can’t wait to clean it all up.” Jungkook’s tongue is sinful as he licks back into Netta’s mouth. He leaves no space unexplored and slides his hands around a little to sink his fingers into the sides of Netta’s upper thighs. 
Jungkook pulls Netta down more onto his thigh, and he flexes, giving her something harder to grind against. A broken moan slips past Netta’s lips, and Jungkook swallows it whole, devours every sound that continues to spill from such sweet lips. Everything feels too hot; Netta’s nerve endings are on fire, and the coil in her stomach is wound too tight. Her panties are wet, embarrassingly so. So wet that Netta knows she has soaked through the fabric of her yellow jeans. She wonders if she has soaked Jungkook’s jeans as well. The blood rushing behind her ears becomes louder than her thoughts; all she can do is feel. 
There is a damp patch of skin that Jungkook keeps nipping and licking at; it’s right below her ear, and it’s driving her wild. Jungkook’s body is warm, firm, and strong under her hands. She wants to touch more than just his hands and face. Netta pants, her head lolls backward, and her eyes screwed shut as a warm wave of pleasure washes over her body. She whines, and Jungkook curses under his breath; he can feel the pulse from between Netta’s legs. He can see the wet mark she had made on his jeans and wants more. Jungkook grabs the back of Netta’s neck, mindful of the passion, twists in the way, and crashes their lips together.
“In my room, on my bed, now!” Jungkook pushes Netta away from him, and she scrambles to her feet, her legs wobbly and weak from her first orgasm of the night. “Second door on the left,” Jungkook informs Netta as he stares down at the wet patch on his thigh. He can see that Netta hasn’t moved, and he picks his head up with a raised eyebrow. 
“What-” Netta wraps her arms around herself and shifts her weight from foot to foot. 
Jungkook slowly stands from the couch and cups Netta’s face once more. He runs his thumb over the seam of her lips and tugs the bottom lightly, “What’s holding you back? We can stop if you would like.”
Netta looks down at her sock clad feet, and Jungkook gently grabs her chin between his thumb and index finger before he tilts Netta’s face upward.
“What is going through that mind of yours?”
Netta’s eyes well with tears, and her lower lip starts to quiver. Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he pulls Netta into a tight embrace as he wraps his arms around her.
“Hey, hey! It’s okay.” Jungkook smushes his cheek to the top of Netta’s head and rubs her back. “We don’t have to do anything; you don’t want to do Netta. We can even pretend that it never happened!”
“I-I’m s-sorry,” Netta cries into Jungkook’s shirt and shakes his head.
“What are you - no! You have nothing, and I mean nothing, to apologize for, Netta. Do you hear me?” Jungkook pulls away and bends a little at the knee to get a better look at Netta’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you-”
“No! I-I liked it…I-I wanted it.” Netta fists Jungkook’s shirt in her hands, and Jungkook just stares. Why is Netta crying if he didn’t read the room wrong? “We work together, Jungkook.”
“Yes…is that a problem?” 
Netta pulls away from Jungkook and wipes at her face, embarrassed to be seen crying like this after she just ruined his jeans. 
“I can’t sleep with you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook licks his lips, and his tongue goes right to his lip ring, “Because we work together?” Jungkook questions slowly and carefully as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Netta nods her head and links her fingers together as she speaks, “I just don’t want to make it awkward at work or anything…you know?”
Jungkook inhales and nods his head. Yeah. Okay. He can understand where Netta is coming from. Their work place was full of gossip, and he can understand why that would be off putting.
“I understand, Netta. I guess I misread the room, huh?” 
Netta shakes her head, and Jungkook frowns, “I really do like you, Jungkook,” Netta admits, and her face heats up. “I just can’t do a one night stand with a coworker.”
Jungkook repeats Netta’s words, “A one night stand?” Netta looks up and sees the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes. “I don’t think I was clear with my intentions, but that’s my own fault for doing things out of order.”
“What?” 
Jungkook pulls his hands from his pockets and grabs Netta’s hands gently between his. “I would like to date you, Ms. Robbins.”
Netta stares at Jungkook, face lost and adorable, making Jungkook giggle as he bops her nose with his finger.
“May I do that, Netta? Can I take you out? On a real date, officially?”
“Officially?” Netta parrots, and Jungkook motions towards the take away boxes. Netta quirks an eyebrow, and Jungkook’s ears heat up. “This was a date?”
“I-I had more planned!” Jungkook defends, and Netta laughs with a shake of her head.
“An official date would be lovely, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook’s whole face lights up, and he surges forward, capturing Netta’s lips with his own. The kiss is light and sweet, a clear way to show his true feelings. Netta rests her hands on Jungkook’s chest, and he nibbles at her lower lip, making Netta whine against his mouth.
“I have a spare bedroom…you can spend the night.” Jungkook whispers, and Netta sighs softly. “It has a lock that I don’t have the key to if that makes you feel better.”
Netta giggles and pecks Jungkook’s lips three times before she pulls away, “What would I sleep in?”
“I’m sure we could find something.”
“And if we don’t?” 
Jungkook grins and snakes his arms around Netta’s waist, his hand resting low on the small of her back. “The sheets are really soft, perfect to sleep nude.”
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Things at work are interesting. Netta and Jungkook are seen carpooling to work often, and they sit next to each other in the break room with their lunches. The Art teacher, Taehyung, is sure that the two of them are dating, while Seokjin, the Headmaster, is certain that they are in the beginning stages of a relationship. He likes to point out that Jungkook is more reserved around Netta; he isn’t touching her or making slick comments. He is very respectful, and Netta is the one that usually touches his hand. Hoseok, the Math teacher, doesn’t really care. He’s just happy that Jungkook has finally stopped talking his ear off about the new English teacher. 
Netta sits with Jimin, who teaches Social Studies, and Yoongi, the Science teacher. Everyone, students, teachers, and parents are  gathered outside for the teachers versus students kickball game. Namjoon, another PE teacher, is the referee for the match, and Netta giggles along with Jimin as all the moms drool over him. The teams are mixed with different grades from kindergarten to fifth, and the teachers were well rounded. Jungkook, Namjoon, and a handful of other teachers are together on a team and wear matching white mesh tops over their blue t-shirts. The kids wear yellow mesh tops over their shirts, and the school provided them with new cleats so that no one gets injured while playing.
Taehyung and Seokjin are the announcers for the game, and they are dressed for the part, both wearing black slacks with button up shirts and colorful ties. Taehyung has a yellow beret to match the children, and Seokjin, a white one to stand with the teachers. As the last of the parents and staff fill the bleachers, Seokjin announces the teams and Netta smiles. This is going to be a great game. Plus, Jungkook is looking right in those black sweatpants.
“You’re drooling,” Jimin teases as he nudges Netta with his elbow, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“Leave her alone, Min. You know she’s down bad for Jeon.”
“S-Shut up!” Netta whines as she clicks her tongue and pulls the hair band from her wrist. Keeping her eyes on the game, Netta pulls her twists into a low ponytail and folds her hand in her lap. “I’m watching everyone.”
“Sure you are,” Jimin giggles and links his arm with Netta’s. “So, when is loverboy taking you out on a date?” 
“I never said anything-”
“I overheard Jungkook asking Namjoon.”
Netta rolls her eyes and sighs, “We’re supposed to go out later tonight.”
“Where’s he taking you?” 
“Why do you want to know?” Yoongi cuts in, and Jimin glares at him from the other side of Netta. “Their love life has nothing to do with any of us. Leave ‘em alone.”
Netta laughs as Jimin pouts, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Yoongi. But honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I don’t know where we are going. Jungkook said he wanted to keep it a surprise.”
“How romantic!” Jimin gushes, and Netta turns her attention to Jungkook, who is now standing at the plate to kick.
“I guess it is…”
The students beat the teachers nine to five, and as their reward, Seokjin was going to host an ice cream party for everyone next Friday during the last class.
“Bye, Mr. Jeon!” A few students shout from their parent’s cars as they drive past, and Jungkook beeps his horn as he starts his engine. Right away, he puts the air on and sighs the moment the cool air hits his hot skin. He’s still sweating from running outside, and his heartbeat is slowly returning to normal. Jungkook pulls the sun visor down and looks at himself in the mirror; his hair is a mess, his face is sweaty, and his eyes are alive and bright. He wipes at his face and pushes his hair back quickly before he flips the sun visor back up and leans back in his seat. 
He is waiting for Netta to come out so that he can drop her off at her place. They have their first official date tonight, and Jungkook is determined to have a great time for Netta. Everything is planned out, and now all Jungkook has to do is get himself ready. A few minutes pass before Netta comes out of the school with her friend Jimin by her side. The two are talking about something that Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine, and he unlocks the doors for her. 
Jimin is ever the gentleman and opens the passenger door for Netta and shields her head as she lowers herself into the seat. Leaning against the door frame, Jimin looks at Jungkook and narrows his eyes.
“You better treat my bestie right, Jeon. I will kick your tall, muscular ass if you fuck this up!”
Jungkook huffs a laugh and nods his head, “Goodbye, Jimin.”
Jimin kisses Netta’s cheek and slams the door shut before heading to his car. Jungkook waits for Netta to buckle herself in and pulls out of his parking space. 
“You did really well today. I thought your team was going to win.”
“What kind of teachers would we be if we swept the floor with a bunch of little kids?” 
Netta laughs and nods her head in agreement. She is sure that the children would have been heartbroken if they had lost, especially with the promise of an ice cream party as the prize. 
“Well, I still think you kicked ass out there.”
“Yeah? We still lost the game…my ego is bruised.”
“Your poor ego.”
“Kiss it and make it better?” 
Netta glances over at Jungkook, and he smiles innocently.
“You’re a dork.” 
“I’m your dork,” Jungkook says with a wink before he turns his attention back to the road.
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Date night is beyond anything that Netta was able to imagine. She was under the impression that Jungkook was going to take her out to eat, and that was it, classy and simple. How wrong she was. Jungkook took Netta to an aquarium. The aquarium was something that Netta recalled telling him about over a late night phone call when Jungkook asked what was something she missed from her hometown. They explored the whole place, swam with the dolphins, pet the stingrays, and cuddled some otters and Jungkook won a large penguin plushie from a raffle that he entered. For dinner, Jungkook had placed an order for pickup at one of his favorite small family restaurants, and they ate their meal under the stars on a large blanket in the park.
It was a perfect date, and Jungkook suggested that they end the night with ice cream, to which Netta agreed. Ice cream sounded wonderful, and that’s how she ended up back at Jungkook’s home, once again sitting in his living room. They sit on the same couch and share a tub of ice cream between them, along with a few other treats, while One Piece plays on the tv.
“Nami is always hitting them,” Jungkook pouts, and Netta laughs.
“If they would act right, they wouldn’t get hit.”
“They are pirates! There is no acting right,” Jungkook argues, and Netta licks the spoon in her hand.
“Pirates or not pirates, they shouldn’t scream at each other all the time.”
“It’s entertaini-” 
“Shit! C-Cold!”
Jungkook’s brain freezes, and he stops talking mid-sentence as he watches the melted ice cream from Netta’s spoon drip onto her bare leg, her thigh that is exposed since she chose to wear a dress tonight. Netta drops her spoon into the tub of ice cream and quickly wipes her thigh with her middle finger, collecting the melted ice cream. She brings her finger to her mouth and licks the melted treat from her finger.
“Sorry, you were saying?” 
She turns her eyes back to Jungkook, and he is staring at her hard. Netta tilts her head, unsure why he looks so pained, and she follows his gaze to the smeared ice cream on her thigh.
“Jungkook?” Netta calls his name gently, and he doesn’t budge, so she unbends her leg and kicks out her foot. The tips of her toes graze Jungkook’s outer thigh, and he jumps from the sudden pressure against his leg. His large eyes find Netta’s, and she smiles while biting her lower lip. “See something you like?”
Jungkook’s eyes drop back to her thighs, and he grabs her ankle now that her foot is resting on his lap. The spoon in Jungkook’s hand slaps against the side of Netta’s calf, and she jumps from the coldness. 
“Sorry…” Jungkook’s voice is breathy as he slowly lifts Netta’s leg upward towards his face, “Let me get that for you.” His tongue peaks out of his mouth, and her breath catches in her throat as the warm wetness of his tongue sends goosebumps up her body. Jungkook’s tongue slides up, up, up. The splat of ice cream long gone as he moves higher, stopping at the side of Netta’s knee before he places a wet kiss on the skin. He lets her leg fall to his shoulder, the other still tucked under her butt, giving Jungkook a great view of the black and green panties underneath the dress.
“Not sure what I enjoy more-” Jungkook places the ice cream on the table and drops his spoon into the tub. “the ice cream or you.”
Netta releases the breath in her lungs as Jungkook devours her with his eyes and untucks her other leg from underneath her butt. “I don’t think you tasted me properly, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook’s eyes darken, and he quickly grabs her legs and throws them around his waist, “You might just be right, Ms. Robbins.” Jungkook lifts them both from the couch and supports Netta’s body by holding her ass in his hands. “Should we test our hypothesis?”
Netta fights the smile on her face, “Did we come up with one?”
“I hypothesize that you taste better than anything I’ve eaten today.”
“Just today?”
Jungkook smirks and clicks his tongue, “Let’s find out.”
Making his way through the apartment, Jungkook heads to his bedroom and toes open the door of his bedroom, thankful that he never fully closes it when he leaves. He steps inside and plops Netta down on the bed so that her legs hang off and drops to the floor on his knees. Jungkook places his hands on her knees and trails them up over her thighs, the fabric of her nude colored dress catching against his hands and bunching as he travels farther up. Jungkook licks and sucks at the exposed flesh of Netta’s thighs; her skin is salty and smells like cookie dough. Jungkook groans against her inner thigh and sinks his teeth into the soft skin. Netta whines, and her back arches as her hands tangle in Jungkook’s fluffy locks.
“Shhh, relax for me…I just want a taste.” Jungkook’s voice is gone, airy and light, as his hands tuck into the waistband of Netta’s panties, and he tugs them down. Netta removes her hands from Jungkook’s hair before she lifts her legs slightly and bends her right leg to make it easier for Jungkook to remove them. He just lets the panties hang from around her left ankle. The dress that Netta is wearing is now bunched completely up her waist, her lower half exposed to the cool air in Jungkook’s room, and she shivers when his warm breath glides over the wetness that is slowly leaking from her core.
“One taste...please, Ms. Robbins?”
Netta nods her head, and Jungkook stares at her with wide eyes, his lips parted slightly as his tongue plays with his lip ring. “Y-Yes…go ahead, Jungkook.” Netta’s heart pounds in her chest as Jungkook lowers his head, not once breaking eye contact. The warmth of his breath makes her shiver, and in that moment, Jungkook trails his tongue from her perineum and licks upwards to her sensitive nub, dipping the tip into her dripping slit teasingly. 
“O-Oh!” 
Spurred on by the soft pants of ‘ah, ah!’ and ‘s-shit’, Jungkook slurps up everything Netta offers. Like a peach, her juices coat his mouth and chin as he wraps his lips around the puffy bud between her legs. Netta’s back arches, and Jungkook moans against her, grinning as her thighs squish his head like a vice. His dark eyes are sparkling in delight as Netta threads her fingers through his silky locks and pushes his head down. Not waiting to leave his baby wanting for more, Jungkook manages to get his right hand between Netta’s legs and slips his middle finger inside of her dripping cunt.
“Oh, f-fuck!”
The stretch is very slight, not much, but the pressure is enough to make Netta’s legs quiver. Jungkook presses a messy kiss to her pussy and nips at the tender flesh of her inner thigh, “That’s it, baby. So fucking wet…mmm-” Jungkook hums as he licks his lips. “Best pussy I’ve ever eaten.” Jungkook’s voice is liquid gold, thick and warm as he presses his index finger in with his middle, and Netta’s whole body is shaking. “Close, Ms. Robbins?”
The air in Netta’s lungs is hardly there, and the words on the tip of her tongue come out as harsh pants of breath as she struggles to control herself. Jungkook’s fingers are long and thick around his knuckles. They press into her quickly, hitting that soft bundle repeatedly as he laps at every place he can taste. He can feel how her walls pulse around him, a silent beat that his body easily follows.
“Squeezing my fingers so tight…” Jungkook tries to wiggle his fingers, and Netta moans loudly.  He removes his fingers and nips at Netta’s right thigh, the flesh tender and damp with his spit. “Look at the mess you made,” Jungkook holds his hand up to show Netta the sticky clear strands of her arousal between his spread fingers and grins wickedly as Netta stares down at him through hazy, hooded lids.
“J-Jungkook!” Netta whines at the loss of his fingers and sinful mouth. She was in the throes of pleasure, at the highest peak, ready to plummet before he pulled it all away. Jungkook raises an eyebrow and nibbles at his lip ring. Shaking her head with a huff, Netta kicks at Jungkook to move from off the floor, and he crawls onto the bed. “Can you do something with that? Please?” Netta motions to Jungkook’s soiled hand, and Jungkook easily pops his fingers in his mouth with a lewd moan as he sucks her arousal from the digits. “Jungkook!” Netta squeaks in embarrassment and slaps at his chest.
He pulls his fingers from his mouth with a loud, wet pop, and Netta wishes she could hide under the covers. “Why are you acting shy now, hmm?” Jungkook wipes at his mouth and chin with the back of his wrist and pulls Netta into his arms. He nuzzles their noses together and grins. “Best pussy-”
“Shut up, Jeon!” Netta slaps her hand over his mouth, and Jungkook kisses her palm. Jungkook nips at her finger, and Netta giggles as Jungkook wipes his head back and forth playfully like a dog trying to escape its muzzle. Netta pulls her hand from his face, and Jungkook pecks her lips.
“Do you want to stop here?”
“But what about-”
“Aht, aht!” Jungkook shakes his head and grips Netta's chin lightly between his thumb and index finger. He tilts her face upwards and stares into her honey brown eyes. “I’ve gone to sleep with boners before. It’s not that big a deal. Do you want to stop here or keep going, Ms. Robbins?”
The urge to pee presses into Netta’s pelvis, and she bites her lip, “C-can I use the bathroom first?”
Jungkook laughs and kisses the tip of her nose, “Go. I’ll get everything ready here.”
Netta wiggles out of Jungkook’s arms and hurries out of his room, her panties now somewhere on his bedroom floor as she walks the rest of the way out of them. Jungkook lays in bed, his heart racing in his chest before he takes a deep breath and sits up. He runs a hand through his hair and strips out of his shirt, pants, and boxers. Not wanting to make Netta feel awkward, he reaches into his nightstand drawer and grabs a condom from the pack. He rips the foil, rolls it on over his dick, and settles under the blankets, exposing his chest.
From the floor, Jungkook’s phone rings from his pants pocket, and he groans. Glancing at the door, Jungkook chews at his piercing. It wouldn’t hurt just to check to see who is calling. Slipping out of bed, Jungkook grabs his pants from the floor and digs his phone from his pocket. He looks at the screen, and Netta’s smiling face is looking up at him. He glances at the door again before hurries out of the room and knocks on the bathroom door.
“Hey, you okay in there?” 
The sound of crying is muffled behind the door, and his phone goes off again. Netta is calling him again, so Jungkook answers. 
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? D-Did I hurt you?” Jungkook’s voice raises with panic, and Netta sniffles a few times.
“I-I’m sorry, Jungkook. I-I wanted to do more b-but my period c-came and-” Netta bursts into tears on the other line, and Jungkook’s heart drops into his ass.
“No, no. It’s okay, Netta!” Jungkook reassures her. “D-Do you have anything with you? I’m sorry, I don’t have anything here.”
“I didn’t bring anything with me.”
“Just wait here, okay? I can ask my neighbor if she has anything for you to use so you aren’t stuck in the bathroom. I-Is that okay?”
“I’m sorry Jungkook-”
“Stop apologizing! It’s fine, Netta.” Jungkook walks away from the bathroom and heads to his room to throw his clothes back on. “Give me a few moments. Do you mind if she comes over? I can run to the store and grab whatever you need in that time.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Netta, stop. I’m dating you, and you’re dating me. That means we take care of each other, right?” Jungkook hurries to the front door and slips on a pair of shoes. “Right?” he asks again, and Netta makes sounds of agreement. “Right! So, act right, and let me take care of you.”
Netta’s laugh is watery and full of snot but it makes Jungkook’s heart race. 
“Thank you, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook grins and knocks on his neighbor's door, “You’re welcome, Ms. Robbins.”
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134 notes · View notes
whxre-bxby · 10 months
Text
"Can You Take It?"
Recom Lyle Wainfleet x human f. Y/N
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Masterlist
Summary: Lyle and Y/N starting to date and trying to fit him for the first time.
WARNINGS: SMUT, NSFW, fluff, penetration, f. oral receiving, size difference, belly bulge,
I let my emotions and love for Lyle loose, enjoy me making us a total emotional wreck
Word Count: 6793
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If you would have told me 10 years ago that I would have a crush on a blue alien from another planet, I would have probably had a mental breakdown. But it’s true. 
I signed up for the military the same year they announced that the U.S. would be sending workers to Pandora. Everyone knew about Pandora. It was a huge planet that could almost always be seen in the sky from Earth. At the time I was young but they let me aboard the spaceship a few years later. 
I’ve been here for just over a year now as a part of the Air Force. Recently, the RDA had started and completed its mission of creating recombinants from the memories of passed-away soldiers. It’s meant to be the first big step in ‘taming’ Pandora. 
The day after they had been woken the recoms were already sent on a mission out into the world. The General had assistants organise their departure and arrival. 
I just happened to have a day off on that day until I was ordered to have my aircraft ready in 10 minutes. Of course, there is no discussion or complaining with the General so I listened. 
Two of the recoms, who I learned later were Colonel Quaritch and Lieutenant Wainfleet, followed her in her big mechanical suit towards the break room near the garage for all planes, jets, and helicopters.
She held the door open and called my name.
I was playing pool with a few of my friends when I heard her voice and everyone immediately stood straight. I did too, slowly leaning away from the table and resting the stick on the ground. 
“This is Y/N. Best we got to offer so far.” The General said and even though she was talking about me like some show car, I felt a sense of pride in my chest. 
I look at her and she gives me a quick smile before turning away from me. 
“Get your chopper ready, take off in 10!” she called over her shoulder and I nodded. I watched her leave which made me notice the recoms with her. I haven’t ever seen a real Na’vi in front of me, only on the screen. Well, they weren’t that real they were Avatars but it was close enough. I noticed how they wore our uniforms and then my eyes met the Lieutenants. 
He eyed me while I examined him and it wasn’t unfriendly or friendly. But when he walked away I smiled to myself. 
I was prepared in 9 minutes and put my helmet on, leaning against my helicopter. It was assigned to me and I loved it. 
The recom team emerged from the facility while my plane already waited outside. The Colonel nodded at me and I nodded back before stepping in. My co-pilot was already inside and moments later we took off. 
That’s how I met Lyle. I would fly them to where they needed to go. 
We never talked. The only communication we held was the occasional glances. 
Soon, the looking turned into nodding our heads at each other as a greeting and later that turned into friendly smiling. 
The first time we spoke, he initiated it. I was getting the plane ready for their upcoming mission and he came out half an hour early. 
I smiled at him and then he introduced himself. We had a nice conversation and he offered to help me prep the plane. 
Things went smoothly after that.
Lyle would often visit me during the days when he wasn't in the forest. It was a little odd for me in the beginning, given the fact that we were so different by looks. He was twice as tall, blue, had a tail and all these other animal-like features. I was surprised by how quickly I warmed up to him and he was happy he found someone other than one of his blue teammates he could spend time with.
Even though they were the RDA's Avatars, people would still avoid them. The fact that your face lit up when you saw Lyle had him feeling happy and warm. 
Soon, seeing you would become the highlight of his day and the other way around for you too. A reason why you two clicked so well was that your personalities fit together well. He used to be a soldier too so there wasn't much of a difference except for the looks.
We started having long talks where we would just unload all our stress. There wasn't anywhere private we could really go so we started sitting in my helicopter together. It helped build the trust between us and it definitely strengthened the friendship.
Lyle would tell me about his mission and after a few more times of us meeting, he let me know that he couldn't be sure he would return from every mission. In a way, no human on Pandora could either but they were being put in more dangerous situations than we were. I knew there used to be 12 of them and each time they returned, a few were never seen again. I was always relieved to see Lyle but I knew that the missions took a toll on him. There was less of his usual happiness and joking each time he came back.
Once Lyle realised that he was romantically interested in you, he was very clear and upfront about it. He had been thinking things over late at night as usual and decided to tell you right away the next time he saw you.
I was surprised when Lyle confessed but also grateful. I was the kind of person who would have trouble expressing these things so having him do it first was a relief. 
Lyle boldly told me how he felt, going into detail about the things he liked about me and why I was special to him which had me blushing. Then he started explaining that I didn't have to go with any of this and that I could just say no now because 1. He was permanently an Avatar and 2. He couldn't promise me he would come back every time. 
I confessed too, telling him how much I liked having him around and how much he grew on me. Lyle was surprised by this and he questioned me to make sure I was certain. The last thing he wanted was to make me feel uncomfortable. 
Once we cleared the air things went well. We continued to meet up in my helicopter and sometimes we would go there during the late evenings to talk and hold each other. Lyle became my safe space. I could retreat to him and be comfortable in his presence. He felt the same way with me and neither of us has been happier. 
During our sessions, we would hold each other and we’ve kissed a few times already. We had one make-out session but Lyle ended it by saying that it was late.
Today was one of the days when we would meet at night. Sometimes we would have trouble sleeping or we just wanted to see each other. Except this time, Lyle offered that we could stay in his room. It was spacey because he required more room so I happily agreed. 
I walked through the dimly lit and empty hallways which usually are buzzing with people during the day until I reached the recom’s quarters. Lyle waited outside the main entrance to their rooms so I wouldn’t get lost and once I saw him I felt relieved. 
“Hey, Buttercup.” he whispered as we walked to each other. I wrapped my arms around his waist as we hugged.
“Hi.” I mumble, burying my face into his shirt while he holds my head against him. The height difference made hugging almost impossible so this is how we usually did it. 
“You okay?” he asked, wondering why I wasn’t letting him go. I smile at him. 
Lyle chuckled softly, petting my head before we turned to walk to his room. He held my hand and led the way through the dark. His eyes were more trained for night vision so I trusted him. 
“You smell good.” 
It was a nice evening. We sat on his bed and talked as usual. I’ve never been in his room before and since everything was run by the RDA it wasn’t very personalised. But I felt like it was a step forward in our relationship. 
At some point, I felt touch deprived and I leaned against him, curling my arms around his huge and bulky one. 
Lyle loved it when I would initiate contact and show affection to him. It was a reminder that I felt the same way he did because he often doubted things. 
He sighed, finishing his rant about his worries about his new mission. I wanted to comfort him and embrace him more so I kneeled on the bed, straddling his waist but not sitting down. Lyle watched me with amusement as I fought to get around him and eventually, I just threw myself on him and we both fell back on the mattress with chuckles and giggles. He tightly wrapped his arms around me, holding me firmly against him while I lay stretched out on top of him. 
“I’m sorry you have to deal with all that.” I softly say, resting my chin on his chest and looking up at him. He gives me an appreciative smile. 
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby. It’s all good.” Lyle replies, stroking his hand through my hair and brushing down the strands that covered my face. 
“Can I do anything to help?” I ask, wondering whether he has any requests I can fulfil to make him feel better. Maybe cuddling or I could attempt a massage. He loved it when I would trace his tattoos or draw pictures on his back with my fingers. 
Lyle smiles again. “Kisses.” he mumbles and I laugh before heaving myself forward to reach his head and place a soft kiss on his lips. 
“Anything else?” I ask with a grin. We’ve exchanged teasing and dirty jokes before. Lyle raises an eyebrow before sitting up and leaning on his forearms. He was looking at me to see if I meant it. 
I was just joking and the context and possible outcome of the situation only hit me now. 
“You jokin’?” he asked me while I sat on his lower torso in deep thought. 
“Yes and no.” 
“What does that mean?” he breathily laughs. 
“Well… if you want to, I would be okay to try it.” I say, nervously fumbling with my fingers while Lyle just stares at me, replaying my words in his head. 
“You wanna try it?” he asks, seeming doubtful. His concern discourages me and I look down. 
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up so early.” I say, my voice fading a little more with every word. 
“No, no. Y/N I didn’t mean that. Baby, look at me.” Lyle panics, fully sitting up now and holding me to him. “You didn’t bring it up early, I’ve been dreamin’ of this. I just didn’t want to mention it to you first in case you still weren’t sure about us.” 
I frown. How could I not be sure about us? We’ve been dating for almost a month it would be cruel to lead him on like this and not be sure. 
“Lyle, of course, I’m sure.” I say, nudging his chest. “I love you and I want this.” I say and I watch his eyes widen. Once again I realise too late what I just said.
“-only if, uh, you want this too.” 
“Fuck yeah, I want this.” he chuckles, nuzzling his face into my neck. I smile, running my hand up his neck and to his head. 
“Just uh-” I say, stopping to think of how I should phrase it.
Lyle looks up at me, a glimpse of worry in his eyes. 
“Please go slow.” 
He smiles, holding me closer to him. “Will do. Just tell me if something doesn’t feel right and we can stop anytime.”
I nod and pull him in for a kiss. The atmosphere in the room slowly shifts and the kiss becomes a heated make-out session. I’m balling my fingers into fists around his tank top while he tests the waters and gropes my hips. He carefully moves his hands to my ass and lower thighs, kneading the flesh through my sleep shorts. The unexpected intimate action makes me moan into the kiss and his ears shoot forward. Lyle smiles against my lips, devouring my mouth with more passion. 
The hand resting on the back of his head traces around where his kuru cord starts, making him hum in approval. I knew it was sensitive so I didn’t want to push it but I was curious beyond thinking. 
My fingers caressed it, gently tracing down his braid and I felt Lyle shiver. I pulled away and examined his half-lidded eyes. He seemed to be feeling good. I knew that too by the way he would grind my hips down against his. I felt his hardening dick in his shorts and it made me that much more excited. 
“Lyle-” I whimpered as he rolled my hips down against his. He grunted, looking at me again to ensure I was okay. 
He felt hazy from the pleasure but he also made it his mission to make you feel good. Lyle wanted this to be about you. His needs could wait. He also took pleasure in giving. 
His large hands started skimming up and down my body and my clothes were gently being removed one after the other. Our eyes were locked to keep Lyle convinced I was okay. To remind him of that I tugged at his top, slipping my hands under it and running them up his lean torso. He grinned, pulling it over his head and once he saw how amazed I was with his built figure he felt more confident in touching me.
He took his time, knowing that it he would have to be patient and gentle if he wanted things to work in any way. I was naked before him and he was tracing my sides with his palms while whispering into my ear how much he loved me and how beautiful I was to him. 
His hands fell lower and he caressed the insides of my thighs before he let his fingertips come in contact with my bare pussy. I whined, holding onto his shoulders and resting my forehead against his chest. I’ve had sex before but never with an Avatar. 
His fingers started to gently rub me, gliding through my slick folds and massaging up and down my slit. The noises I made were an incredible turn-on for Lyle and motivated him to continue. 
He needed to get me as wet as possible if he wanted to get himself anywhere near me. 
One of his fingers started prodding at my entrance, gently applying pressure before he slowly slipped it in. I gasped when I felt how long and thick just one of his fingers is. It reached deeper than anyone including me ever has and my mouth was hanging open. 
Lyle’s other hand was soothing me, softly running up and down my bare back to keep me relaxed. He definitely knew what he was doing and I knew I was in good hands. 
Once he felt me get used to that he inserted a second finger into my slick pussy, gently thrusting them in and out. That alone caused me to feel a stretch but it was necessary. He would occasionally curl his fingers which made me throw my head back before he would part them and scissor me open to stretch my walls further. 
I started feeling a build-up of pleasure in my abdomen but it was cut short when Lyle pulled out both his fingers. He held me by my waist and lay me down on the bed before settling between my legs and pushing them open by my knees. I felt small compared to him which I was and I forced myself to keep my legs open. Not that I didn’t want to, it was just so intimate I got shy. 
“God, you’re so beautiful…” Lyle whispered, letting his dilated eyes fixate on your naked body. Why and how you could like him was still a mystery to him.
I blush, covering my face with my hands and Lyle grins sheepishly before resuming his previous actions at a different angle. 
He concentrated on finding spots that would make me feel better and it wasn’t difficult for his long fingers either.
Soon, Lyle added a third finger and I was gripping the sheets above my head to keep me from moving around. I was so full it blew my mind.
“How you doin’, baby?” he asked me and I gulped, struggling to find words.
“So good.” I whisper, gasping for air in between the sentence. Lyle smirked, kissing the inside of my thigh. He peppered more kisses on them and neared my heat before he placed one on the bud above my clit. 
I whimpered his name, feeling weak and lust-drunk from the feeling of his lips. My positive reaction pleased Lyle and he did it again. To help me find a release, he opened his mouth and licked up my slit with his strong tongue while fingering me and I cried out, having to bite my fist from screaming. 
Lyle hummed against you making you squirm and before long, he was lapping up the slick on your cunt. He was positioned at the edge of his bed, kneeling down to be at your level and with all the noise you made and the way you tasted he started subtly dry-humping the side of the bed to keep himself under control. 
I was mind-blown and couldn’t think straight. Feeling completely overwhelmed I didn’t even notice the pleasure start building up again and within seconds I came loose around Lyle’s fingers. He felt me clench down around his fingers and hummed in approval as he continued to finger and lick me through my orgasm. 
My eyes opened again and I was brought back to reality. I lean forwards and look at Lyle, noticing his cocky grin. 
“Feel good?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 
I scoff playfully. “Hell yeah.” 
He smiles while gently pulling his fingers from me and licking them clean. I watch him and my bottom lip catches in between my teeth. 
Lyle ensured that I’m ready and he felt confident enough to attempt penetration. His large arms caged me in as he climbed on top of me, kissing my forehead while I tried to push his shorts down with my feet. 
“Don’t worry Buttercup, it’ll happen. Just wanna take my time with you.” Lyle said, mumbling the last part as he kissed down my neck. 
He sucks on my sweet spot and I grow even weaker beneath him. After he felt like my body was appreciated enough, Lyle pushed himself up and tugged his shorts down, throwing them next to the bed. 
When he looks back down at me my eyes are fixed on his groin and my mouth is gaping open. It’s almost hypnotising. The way it stands erect in all its glory and the fact that it’s throbbing while the veins bulge out on the sides has my mouth watering. It was absolutely enormous and I was so drawn to it. 
“You’re drooling, baby.” Lyle chuckles, wiping a bead of saliva from the corner of my mouth. My eyes blink a few times and I tear my gaze from his crotch to his face. 
“Holy shit.” I say, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t say you were this big.” 
“My bad?” he asks, teasingly. My words sounded accusing and flattering at the same time. It would be a compliment if it weren’t deadly.
He lowered his body closer to mine, groaning while gliding it over my wet pussy. Lyle was so touch-deprived and sensitive that even just that would have been okay with him if you would decide you have second thoughts on sex. 
Our height difference was much more visible because for our groins to be in the same area, our heads had to be far apart. I was looking up at Lyle’s chest and his head was hanging low, staring at the bedsheet because I didn’t reach that far up. It didn’t matter because I could look back at him and he could curl his head in to see me. 
“You ready?” he asked and my stomach twisted in excitement not only at his words but also when I heard how low and gruff his voice had become. 
“Yes.” I whisper, smiling up at him and he nods, concentrating on his movements. He was grinding against me which felt good and I was breathing heavily again. 
Neither Lyle nor I could see in between us so he was blindly pressing up against me in search of my entrance. It didn’t take long at all and his tip pressed right against it. He applied pressure and when he felt the wet skin give way and when he heard my gasp, he knew he found it. 
Lyle started pushing himself in and it didn’t go far at all. We felt how he was slowly being engulfed by me but only his tip had made it in. 
I whimpered, raising my arms and holding on to his sides while Lyle was looking beneath him and watching my reactions to make sure he wouldn’t hurt me. 
Lyle realised he couldn’t go deeper with this thrust so he gently pulled back, letting himself slip out of me and it gave me a chance to breathe again. His queue was hanging down his side and without much thought, I gently wrapped my hand around it, wanting to be connected to him in some way at least. Lyle groaned, stopping his movements for a second because he was distracted. It felt weird when he touched it but feeling your small and delicate hands wrap around his most sensitive body part had a small wave of pleasure wash over him and when he opened his eyes again, his pupils were even more dilated. 
Lyle pushed his hips forward again, managing to drive himself slightly deeper this time. My grip on his cord tightened before I let go, not wanting to hurt him and I clawed at the sheets instead. 
“Fuck-” he cursed under his breath. “...so tight.” Lyle’s eyes were clenched closed and the muscles in his body were all stiff as he fought his body's urges and needs to just mindlessly start rutting into you. If he did that you would end up in the hospital. 
The stretch inside me was very much present but it was bearable and I refused to give up. I wanted to please him and I wanted to feel him inside me. Most of him at least. 
Lyle continued his actions, always carefully pulling out before pushing in a bit deeper every time. 
“Lyle-” I whimper, eventually feeling completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. 
“Just a little more…” he grunts, clenching his jaw as he tries to get thrust himself just a little deeper inside me. He would stop if I asked him to. 
He pulls back and snaps his hips forward with a little more strength than usual which startles me. I hear Lyle moan and almost instantly my worries flow away. I glance down and see that he is halfway inside me. We both knew that him bottoming out was never going to happen but this was big progress for the first time. 
He tries again, wanting to know how much further he can go before it hurts me. His hips thrust forwards with more force and I feel him hit what I think is my cervix. 
I whine, curling my toes to fight the burning stretch in me. Lyle didn’t move, realising this was the deepest he could go. He looked under him again, noticing my grimacing expression. 
“You okay?” he asked through heavy breaths, reaching down to caress my cheek. I nod while keeping my eyes closed. 
“So- full.” I say, struggling to speak. 
“You’re doing so good.” he whispered and his praise helped relax me. He felt the tension from my body slowly vanish and took a mental note of the effect praise had on me.
Lyle gave me a few minutes, letting me adjust and gather myself. He himself needed that time to breathe and collect himself. If he’d continue now he was worried he wouldn’t be able to stop and he couldn’t let that happen. 
We stayed still for a few minutes and with every passing second I felt myself relax a little more. Lyle was my safe space and I knew he wouldn’t ever hurt me. Even if he was struggling to contain himself he would force himself to stop if he was close to losing it.
“It’s okay- now.” I say with a hiccup in between. He glances down at me while keeping his plank position above me. Another thing I admired about him was his strength and he knew I liked it. Maybe he was purposefully doing it now to get me more turned on. It was definitely working. 
“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he said, not doing anything until I confirmed. 
I nod but he needs it to be clear for both of us.
“Words baby, I want you to be okay.” he said, gently caressing my face. I smiled, craning my neck and looking above me towards him. I found it quite funny that even though we were so close his head was so far from me. I would have to stretch my arms out above me to touch his face.
“Yes, I’ll tell you.” I reply and he nods while his tail swishes to the other side. 
Lyle slowly pulled out, keeping his fists balled up tightly to contain his pleasure. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes closed as he concentrated on keeping his movements steady for you. 
His retraction stopped once just his tip was still in me and he gave me a few seconds before he gently lolled forwards again, slowly filling me to the brim. It was only possible for me to take just slightly over half of him but Lyle was more than okay with that.
When you two started dating he was ready for you to completely say no to sex because of the size difference. When you agreed to it today he was speechless but he needed to make sure you would be okay. This was meant to be a special shared experience and his priority was your comfort and pleasure. 
Maybe with time and a lot of getting used to, you would be able to take more. 
My mouth fell open in a silent cry. I was undoubtedly in pain because the stretch was more than anything I had ever imagined. I knew it would be difficult but it was bearable. I was looking up at Lyle to keep myself distracted from the burning sensation deep inside me. His face was flushed with pure bliss and seeing him like that was the biggest most attractive turn-on for me. 
He continued his smooth actions, listening to every breath I let out to try and read how I felt. After a while, the pain became mild and I was able to focus on him. I was admiring all of him, letting my eyes roam over his entire body. The sight of everything before me helped me start to feel good and it seemed to only properly sink in now that Lyle was being this intimate with me. Other thoughts and worries clouded my mind before but now it felt like it was just us together. 
I suddenly felt heartsick for him and lonely. I wanted to be closer because my heart was exploding with love and affection as I watched how careful he was being with me. 
“Lyle-” I sigh, reaching up for him. My eyes became glossy and teary-eyed but not because of pain. I just loved him so much and I needed to let him know. My emotions overwhelmed me since I never felt such an adoration for another person but I loved him so much it made me want to cry. 
He froze in his motions and his head shot to me in worry of hurting me while he waited to see what happened. 
“Lyle, I love you.” I mumble with half-lidded watery eyes. My hand reached out for him and he shifted his weight onto one arm so that he could hold my hand. He was scanning over my face, seeming unsure about the tears which now flowed down the side of my face. 
“-so much...” I add with a whisper and he feels how his heart warms up. He can see how much I mean it and Lyle takes this to heart, being sure he will never forget this moment. We’ve never said ‘I love you’ to each other. We wanted to, especially Lyle since day one but he didn’t want to push his luck. 
“Never as much as I love you.” he says, smiling down at me while interlocking our hands together. “You alright?” A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he takes in my hazy state. 
I nod with a sniffle, raising a leg and wrapping it around his waist to encourage him to continue. “Please- don’t stop.” I sigh softly, and the words overjoyed him.
He was so happy you accepted him and that he succeeded in making you not only feel good but safe and comfortable. If you wouldn’t be intimately connected right now he would tackle you into the mattress and cuddle you until you fell asleep. 
Lyle drew his hips back and I felt my wetness mixed with his large amount of pre-cum drizzle out of me. His body was fascinating and I couldn’t get enough of him. Once he gently thrust into me his ears perked forward at the small sound of a squelch being elicited from between us. A sound so pornographic it made his dick twitch. 
With his next thrust, my eyes fluttered closed and I sighed in pleasure, letting my head fall back. Lyle kept his eyes fixed on me and my reaction gave him more confidence. He started to roll his hips forward with slightly more force, making sure to push in the same amount every time so that he wouldn’t bruise my insides by trying to fit more. 
My breathing became heavy and I coordinated it with his slow pants and grunts. I traced my hands up and down his torso, admiring every muscle and tattoo. 
He curled his waist to angle his hips differently with every thrust so that it wouldn’t just be a constant back-and-forth motion. This approach made my eyes shoot open and I moaned, tightly gripping his shoulder as I suddenly felt extremely satisfied and pleasured. 
Lyle’s own eyes widened at the noise he managed to draw from me and from then on he decided he needed to make me do that as much as possible.
I dug my fingers into the back of his hand, arching my back off the bed to be able to deal with the bliss I was in. He reached every spot inside me he needed to and I was close to reaching my orgasm. It surprised me because I had never felt good just through penetration. Maybe it was because of how sensitive I was from my last orgasm or perhaps I just needed to find the right person which was Lyle. 
I whimpered, glancing down between us to witness how most of his huge cock would disappear inside my body, creating a bulge in my abdomen every time he pushed in. 
“I’m so close…” I gasp, spreading my legs open more to make sure he wouldn’t stop. 
“Me too baby-” he said, groaning when he thrust in again. His pace had picked up slightly but he made sure to continue doing what felt good for me. “Hang on a little.” 
I nod, holding on to him while my toes curled against the sheets of the bed. My ears were filled with his soft grunts. Lyle’s jaw was clenched closed and his ears flattened back against the side of his head as he felt his release near him. 
It felt so good I couldn’t hold it much longer anymore. 
“Lyle-” I cry out, desperately looking up at him.
He hissed through his clenched teeth in bliss and his muscles started to tense. 
“Fuck- that’s it.” he moaned, burying our connected hands into the mattress as he fought himself to not start relentlessly pounding into me. 
“Let go baby.” he said through heavy breaths and with his next thrust we both got lost in bliss 
I moaned out his name as he rode out our orgasms. My legs tightened around his waist while his hips stuttered and desperately bucked against mine. My walls clenched around him, almost trapping him inside me for a second and Lyle’s mouth fell open as he released his cum deep into me. The way he was being squeezed drove him feral and all of him tensed as he filled me up, emptying everything he had into me. While he spilled inside me, Lyle lowered his abdomen against mine, resting more of his weight on my shaking body to ensure I stayed in place so that I would take it all. 
We both started to calm down and our heaving chests synched. My trembling and weak legs fell from his sides and onto the bed while Lyle dropped his head forward to regain his senses. 
He looked down at me and was relieved when he saw my fucked out expression. Lyle was worried he may have hurt me towards the end when his gentle pace faltered but I was very much okay. I look up and smile at him, feeling exhausted. 
He slowly moves back, retracting himself from inside me and slipping out completely. 
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, just needing to make sure.
I shake my head ‘no’ because I was unable to form words. He smiles softly, kissing my forehead and running his palm down my body before getting up and reaching for a towel that was thrown over a chair. He comes back to me, sitting down in front of my legs and gently lifting one up onto his shoulder to spread them. Cum was seeping out of me as his eyes raked over my vulnerable state. 
“You look beautiful like this.” he mumbled, seeming a little lost in thought and I chuckled softly, running a hand over my face before lifting myself on my forearms to look at him. He moved the towel to me and gently cleaned me from our bodily fluids, being extra careful when I flinched at the contact. My pussy was throbbing from how sensitive I was and it was a lot when the towel came in contact with my clit. After I was clean to his satisfaction Lyle did the same to himself before tossing the towel behind him and gently picking me up. Lyle lay back down but on his back this time and pulled me on top of him so that I was splayed out on his chest with my head resting under his. He reached for his blanket to cover the both of us before wrapping his arms around me and resting them on his back. 
When his eyes meet mine he notices how I’m staring up at him in complete adoration. He smiles and I lean forward to kiss him. He’s gentle again, pulling me closer into his chest while we passionately kiss. 
“What did I do to deserve you?” I ask with a huge smile. He seemed at a loss for words, just staring at me to try and understand. In his mind, Lyle would wonder that about you because he would still struggle to understand why you liked him because he wasn’t human. 
“You take such good care of me.” I say, noticing his confusion. It saddened me a little when he doubted himself like this. My mission in this relationship was to have him know he was the best for me. 
“No one has ever been so good to me. I feel safe with you.” 
“Really?” he asks with wide eyes, not knowing quite what to say. I knew he needed lots of reminders. 
My smile widens. “Lyle you’re the best thing in my life.” He was. There wasn’t much on Pandora that brought me joy. He was the reason I would get up out of bed in the mornings. I would always look forward to seeing him. 
His gaze softens and I notice he’s getting emotional. Lyle never got emotional. He would always hide behind jokes and managed to always seem fond of himself. I was glad he was opening up to me and showing me a part of him which needed healing. Especially since he was a marine, feelings would very often be neglected and pushed to the side which made them worse. 
“God, I’m so happy you’re mine.” he whispers, clutching me tighter and pressing his cheek against mine. I smile, nuzzling my face into him. 
“Say it, please.” he adds softly, looking at me with pleading eyes and needing to hear the words. 
“I’m yours Lyle. You’re all I want and no one out there even stands a chance.” 
He connects our lips again in a sensual kiss as happiness and joy fill him. 
“I’m so lucky to have you.” he says and I giggle. 
“This is getting cheesy.” I say and he chuckles. 
“I don’t care. I can make it worse.” he says and I raise an eyebrow. 
“You’re my everythin’ and my world and I would-” Lyle starts rambling and I laugh. 
“Okay, okay. I get it.” I cut him off and we break into giggles and laughter before I settle down against his chest again. 
“Comfortable?” he jokes and I smile. Then I notice the odd empty feeling between my legs. He must have stretched me out so much that I felt hollow now. 
He watches me as I think. 
“I feel empty.” I say, not sure how else to express it. My words surprise Lyle and the first idea that comes to mind is to fill me again. Cockwarming didn’t sound bad for either of us but for that to work I would be resting my head right under his chest because I would have to move down his body. The blanket would then be over my head and Lyle wouldn’t be able to wrap his hands around my waist anymore. We seem to be going down the same thought trail and then Lyle gets another idea. 
His right-hand drifts down my body and over the curve of my ass. I follow his movements and part my legs slightly more when he reaches my crotch again. He moves his hand under my thigh and slips two of his fingers into me. I bite my lip, closing my eyes for a few seconds before looking up at him. 
He looked so in love it made my heart flutter. 
“Better?” he asked after he pushed in knuckle deep and I nod.
“Is it comfortable for you?” I ask, wondering whether he can keep it in. 
“Fuck yeah. I didn’t know you’d want this but it’s better than cuddlin’.” he chuckled, feeling pride in his chest. Knowing you needed and wanted to feel him so close to you like that reassured Lyle that you loved him. 
He brushes his fingers through my hair with his free hand as he notices my eyes grow heavy. 
“Good night, baby.” he whispers, kissing my cheek and I smile. 
“Good night. Love you.” I mumble making him smile as I drift off to sleep. From then on even just falling asleep together became a regular thing. I felt protected by him and Lyle made sure I’d fall asleep before he would close his eyes, just to ensure my safety and comfort. Not that I was in danger but he liked doing it.
If he could, he would lay on top of you so that he could shield you from anything but that would most likely crush you so it never happened. You meant everything to Lyle and he was ready to protect you with his life.
Tag List: @numarusworld    @jatwow @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ikranwings @number1gal
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mousical · 1 year
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.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
wheel to wheel part two
pairing; f1 x female-driver! reader
warnings; speeding, cursing
summary; opportunity knocks for alpha tauri racing driver y/n y/l/n.
word count; 3.1k
a/n; sorry this one took so long, and thanks for all the love on part one <333
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
As a Formula 1 driver, flying commercial was a rare occasion. Private jets were often only a call away, especially when it came to getting to the next race location.
You had been sitting in the Austin airport lounge for hours before deciding that you couldn't take any more waiting.
"Yuki." You whispered, turning towards the boy in the chair next to you. Quiet snores escaped his lips, tired eyes shut in a peaceful nap.
"Yuki." You repeated, giving him a small nudge. Nothing.
"Wake up." You tried again, shaking him with a bit more purpose. He suddenly awoke, albeit not very happily.
"What?" He frowned, perhaps still half asleep.
"There's a Delta flight to Mexico City in 30 minutes. I'm getting on." You told him, checking your phone again to make sure you knew the time.
"Are you crazy?" He squinted at you. You stared at him, the chewing gum in your mouth stilling between your teeth.
"No, I'm bored." You muttered. "Jet was supposed to be here four hours ago." You complained, stuffing your things in your back pack. Yuki shrugged, leaning back into his comfy chair.
Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you grabbed the carry on next to you and headed out the door.
The airport was loud, the midday rush of passengers and staff alike all running through the wide terminal to make it to their gate.
You stopped in front of a large screen displaying the incoming and outgoing flights, quickly scanning for your last minute plane to Mexico.
"E17." You said out loud, finding it amongst the rest of the schedule. According to this, it was set to board in just a few minutes.
"Y/N Y/L/N?" A voice spoke up from behind you. You spun on your heels, meeting the gaze of a tall woman holding the hand of a young child, an impossibly large grin pulling at her red lips.
"Hello." You smiled back, waving with your free hand. The woman awkwardly took a step and a half towards you.
"Wow, this is so crazy." She laughed. "It's Y/N Y/L/N!" She turned to her little girl, who was too busy staring up at you with an adorable intensity.
You glanced at the clock, trying to gauge how much time you could spend saying hi to the two without missing your flight.
"You're her favorite driver." The mom chuckled.
"Aww," You looked down at her. "Thank you so much!" Crouching down, you put out a hand for a high five. The girl looked up at her mom, as if to silently ask if it was okay to accept the offer. The mother nodded and smiled, encouraging the little one.
Instead of meeting you in the middle for a quick hi five, the girl ran into you for a hug, momentarily causing you to lose balance.
"I'm so sorry!" The mom exclaimed from in front of you, but you hardly minded. The girl must've been only 5 or 6, her little arms barely long enough to reach around your sides.
You gave her a quick squeeze before letting go, standing up with a smile.
"Don't worry about it." You assured. "It's so nice to meet you! What's your name?" You asked her. She didn't respond, instead running back to hide behind her mom.
"Melanie." The mom answered for her. "I'm Jocelyn. It's really so great to meet you. I hope we're not keeping you!" You shook your head.
"Not at all." A bit of a lie, but you didn't care all that much.
"Could we get a picture?" She seemed embarrassed to ask.
"Of course!" You grinned, posing for a selfie with the three of them. After, you took the cap off of your head, pulling out a sharpie from your bag.
"Oh no-" Jocelyn began to protest, but you put up a hand.
"It's no big deal." You replied, signing the cap before putting it onto the small girls head. She beamed up at you.
"Thank you so much." Jocelyn expressed. "What do you say?"
"Thank you!" Her little voice was enough to melt your heart, your hand coming up to clutch at your chest.
"You're so welcome! Have a great day, guys." You waved one more good bye before running off. You could hear their shared excitements as you dashed towards your gate, bringing a warm smile to your face.
You had reached the gate just as boarding was finishing up, sprinting to the front desk with the pass in hand.
She scanned the digital pass, not hiding the way she rolled her eyes at your late arrival. You mumbled a quick thank you before shuffling past her, jogging down the passageway to reach the plane.
It was safe to say it had been a while since you had flown commercial. It didn't look all that bad to begin with, the first class seats very inviting in their fancy appearance. Unfortunately, those seats were reserved for people who bought their tickets a bit earlier than yourself.
23B was your seat, the only one available on such short notice. Making your way past first class, you squeezed through the line of passengers to get to your seat, groaning at the realization that you were stuck in between two strangers.
It was better than waiting another seven hours for a private jet, you tried to remind yourself. Your phone buzzed as you sat down.
Yuki TsuGOATa jet is here
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
"You flew economy?" Natalie gawked, meeting you outside the Mexico City airport. You glared at her. Her hands flew up in defense.
"Did you get me a driver?" You asked, stuffing your earbuds into your pockets.
"Yes, he should be here in a couple of-"
"Cancel it. I wanna drive." You decided, already walking towards the rental building.
Natalie held the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh before running to catch up with you.
"Your hair looks terrible." She commented. You shrugged.
"Gave my last hat to a kid." You smiled at the recent memory.
"Cute." She replied, typing out something on her phone while her heels clacked away on the side walk.
Just the thought of driving was enough to you plenty excited, your feet carrying you to the entrance in a quick pace.
The one desk that occupied the room was empty. You went ahead and rang the bell that sat on the counter. This seemed to do the trick, the sound of shuffling feet could be heard from beyond the door behind the desk. A short man emerged just as Natalie entered the little office behind you.
"How can I help you?" He smiled.
"Looking to rent a car." You explained. "Just for tonight." You added on. Someone could probably return it for you the next day.
"Understood." He answered back, booting up the old looking computer in front of him. "What are you looking for?" He asked, looking back up at you. You thought for a moment.
"Anything fast?" You shrugged, not feeling super picky. The man clicked his tongue, eyes scanning the screen.
After a couple of mouse clicks, he squatted down, rooting through a drawer before handing you a set of keys.
"Thank you!" You bit down on your bottom lip, itching to get into the front seat.
"Just need a couple of things." The man added, his thick accent causing you to miss a word or two. Natalie sighed, stepping in front of you.
"I got it. Go ahead, I'll go with the driver."
You cracked a grin, mouthing a thank you before practically running out the door.
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. Rooting through your pocket for the key, you clicked to unlock the car, surprising yourself when the car beeped in response.
"Is this even street legal..?" You mumbled to yourself as you climbed into the front seat of the blue Lotus Evora.
The sound of the engine purring on stirred a fuzzy feeling in your stomach.
You loved driving your single seater, but there was just something about being in control of a road car that had you obsessed.
The leather steering wheel felt like silk under the pads of your fingers. Pressing down on the gas, you melted at the smoothness of its drive, pulling out of the parking spot with acute precision.
You were anxious to get out on the road, hastily padding your hotel address into the GPS. It was a 20 minute drive, with little highway time and plenty of stop lights. Absolutely not.
Cancelling the route, you thoughtlessly drove out of the parking garage, turning onto a street you'd never been on before, with the express purpose of getting lost on the Mexico City streets.
It didn't take long to find a highway, the long strip of endless road inviting you to tease the acceleration just a bit more. The speedometer rose with every wheel rotation, the rolling scenes behind your window blurring by.
You hadn't had a proper moment to yourself since finding out about the prospective Red Bull seat. Now, as you found yourself out on the open road, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the topic.
You hadn't spoken to Horner since that night at the club. In fact, you hadn't spoken to Franz, or Yuki, or even Natalie about the surprise news. The only person who knew was Lando, a fact he did not let you forget.
He had been blowing up your phone for days, his contact filling up your notification center with rapid fire text messages. Somehow, he seemed more invested in the state of your 2023 seat than you were.
Your only goal was to not get your hopes up. Christian Horner was a sly guy, and you knew better than to ride your hopes and dreams on his word.
That didn't stop you from imagining how the suit would feel on your skin, however. You wouldn't mind a couple more trophies either.
Maybe the seat would fit a little better, the car would certainly plow through the field faster than your Alpha Tauri—
No. This was exactly what you didn't need happening. More than likely, the seat at Red Bull would never be brought up again, and you would drive a couple more years for their sister team before being replaced by someone younger and faster.
The car vibrated below you, reminding you that driving did require some sort of focus. You pulled your attention back onto the road ahead, hoping it would help clear your mind.
You were lucky not to crash into the cliff side when your phone suddenly rang, throwing you off your groove.
You brought a finger up to the console, accepting the call with a frustrated sigh.
"Hello?" Expecting Natalie to be on the other line, you did little to hide your less than thrilled mood.
"Y/N?"
Your eyes blew wide, hands flinching over the steering wheel.
"Christian! How are you?" Good save.
"Great, great." He trailed off, clearly not looking for small talk. "So hey, Checo's going to be out this weekend." Your grip tightened. "How would you feel about driving for us?"
Well, that wasn't expected.
"Y/N?" He spoke up again, awaiting your response.
Eyes on the road. Foot on the gas. Check mirrors. Turn signal, switch lanes. Mirrors. Foot on the gas. Gas. Gas.
"Y/N? You there?"
110. 125. 140. Flat out.
"Y/N, are you driving this weekend or not?"
"Of course." You choked out, lifting your foot off of the acceleration. You shook your head, breaking away from your dissociation.
"Great to hear it. Come down to the Red Bull office tomorrow and we'll get your seat fitted." Then he was gone, and suddenly you felt so wrong to be alone on the highway. Without thinking, you dialed Lando's number.
"Lando!" You shouted out, hints of a smile creeping onto your face the instant he picked up.
"Hey." He yawned.
"I'm a Red Bull driver this weekend." You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to tease the news. The line stayed quiet. You held your breath.
"No way."
"Yes way!" You squealed.
"Who's car?"
You could hardly remember the conversation, if you could even call it that; you practically blacked out.
"Perez." You remembered aloud.
"That’s insane! Did you land in Mexico yet?" The question took a minute to register, lost amidst the flood of thoughts racing through your mind. Turning onto the next exit, you blew out a hot breath.
"I'm on my way to the hotel now." You cleared your throat.
"Mental." He breathed out. "Well hey, lemme know when you get there. I gotta run."
"Will do." You nodded, stopping at a red light. The stillness of the car felt unnatural against the intense beating of your heart.
"And Y/N?"
"Yeah?" You smiled to yourself.
"Congratulations."
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
"Thank you so much for being on the show- How are you today?"
You swayed the swivel chair left and right at a slow pace, fingers toying with the string of your branded hoodie. The interviewer sat across from you, face partially obscured by the mic setups.
"Doing alright!" You tried your best to sound excited, the lack of camera forcing you to be extra emotive in your tone.
A few weeks back, you had been tagged in a video of a female led, Formula 1 podcast based in the Mexico City. You didn't usually do podcasts- you much preferred listening to them- but it had seemed like a fun opportunity and a good way to encourage female involvement in motorsports. When you reached out to the two girls, they didn't hesitate to accept your offer to come on the show. It was probably the thing you were most looking forward to that week; of course, that was before you found out you were to be racing for Red Bull.
Christian told you to be at the office at 2 pm. It was noon.
"Glad to hear it!" The younger girl, Camila, chirped.
"You really are such an inspiration for little girls all across the globe." Lea, the older one, remarked.
"Well, thank you." You grinned sheepishly. "I'm so lucky to be where I am today. And I'm even luckier to have such an impact on so many people, especially young women. Racing has always been such a man's world, and I'm glad that we're finally beginning to break that mold."
"Absolutely. Interest in the sport has certainly come a long way in recent years, and we've definitely been seeing a lot more participation in lower level competition from female racers. Unfortunately, there still doesn't seem to be many female drivers in more serious series. Could you give us some insight on why that is?"
"Yeah, for sure." You sighed out. "I really do think its the lack of support. Despite the growing number of women interested in racing, there is such a clear lack of support in helping those young women the same way that young men are helped. They aren't taken seriously because they don't fit the definition of what people think a racing driver should be." You explained, keeping an eye on the ticking clock.
"If there's no support on lower levels, like karting, then there's no opportunity for those girls to get the experience they need to move up." You finished, running a hand through your hair.
"Completely agree." Camila enthusiastically nodded. "Your racing career has been," She paused, thinking of a proper word.
"Extensive." Lea cut in, making you laugh. "Could you walk us and the listeners through it?" You blew out a hot breath.
"How much time do I have?" You joked. "Well, I always sort of knew that I wanted to race. My parents supported me to the tenth degree, to the point where they moved to Italy just to get me closer to the scene. My first real competition was the ACI karting championship, which I won in my first go." You reflected, the memories of karting bringing up a lot of mixed feelings.
"Let's see, I placed third in the WSK champion's cup, fifth in the Easykart International Grand Final, and then finally won the WSK Euro Series; all of which took place over a year or two. It certainly wasn't easy," You added on. "The discrimination I faced for daring to compete and win as a young girl was brutal. Definitely thought about quitting a couple times in my early years."
"When I was old enough, I signed on with Prema to race in Italian F4. I didn't win, but second place was enough for them to send me to the UK to compete in the British F4 championship. That one, I did win." You grinned proudly.
"From there I joined the Red Bull Driver Academy, uh, raced in the regional European F3 championship, which I placed," You stopped, getting the years mixed up in your head.
"Fourth." Camila finished for you, her eyes full of stars as you recounted your experiences.
"Right, thank you." You smiled. "Fourth. Then came F2 back in 2020, where I drove for Red Bull and missed out on first to Mick, and then..." You trailed off. "You know the rest."
"Formula 1." Lea concluded.
The rest of the podcast went on smoothly, although you certainly did do your best to hurry the conversation along for time's sake. You felt bad rushing through the interview, and there were surely a couple of moments where you almost slipped and spilled the news. You could almost hear Christian's nagging voice echoing in your head, snapping at you to keep it hush hush until Thursday.
"Well, thanks again, Y/N! Truly!" Lea began to wrap up, just in time too.
"Of course, thank you so so much for having me." You replied. After a hasty goodbye, you were out the door and on your way to the seat fitting.
After talking so much about your career; about all the trials and tribulations it took to get where you were, you became fueled with a sudden surge of confidence. You deserved this opportunity. Lando knew it, Christian Horner knew it, and you certainly knew it, too.
This was going to be your moment, your race to lose or win, and you weren't going to blow it.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
tag list; @laura-naruto-fan1998​ @honethatty12​ @caosfanblr​ @xgallysonegoodlung​ @atlanticowe​
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lightwing-s · 3 months
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ok. and alright. tim has earned his place to be in reader's vlog when he came visiting for the first time hence why the audience mistook him as her boyfriend (jason promised not to kill of tim but never stop bring sarcastic for a few days) (tim allows him to cos hes amused and mortified both) (apparently, reader's own camera has a great deal of making those in her vlogs look like different person) (aka jason being gentle giant, tim being lanky) (oh almost forgot this - alfred the only one who appears the same in it - if not more divine) (honestly we should have tags in the askbox too lol at this point) (tumblr, consider it)
After their first meeting went well, Y/n’s took to inviting Tim to hang around every so often and eventually he also made it into one of the vlogs. There were a few comments asking if he was he boyfriend and what happened to her boyfriend’s big guns, and Jason took it upon himself to bully Tim about it.
“The camera makes me 100 times skinnier, okay.” he’d complain, annoyed with how he looked in some of his appearances. “It makes you skinnier too.”
“No, it doesn't.”
“Yes, it does!”
“Oh, stop you two!” Y/n intervened, placing a plate of cookies in front of them two.
Pouring coffee into three different mugs, two of them matching and Tim’s as an extra, they sat down on Y/n’s kitchen table, in comfortable silence as the rain poured heavily outside. Tim had a book in his hand, reading it slowly, his mind flying often to other topics and having to restart the paragraph all over again. Jason and Y/n were curled up in each other, as Y/n tried to finish editing her upcoming video.
“How come we’re the only ones who appear different on camera?” Jason popped a question.
Raising an eyebrow at his brother, Jason pushed the computer until it was in Tim’s line of view. Watching the short clip attached to the editing app, he was attentive to Alfred’s unmistakable characteristics.
“He’s just the same.” Jason continued to complain. “And I get like an itch or two removed out of my biceps.”
“You’re so vain.” Y/n laughed at her boyfriend. “The two of you, you look just fine on camera.”
“Easy for you to say. You look great, I look like Slender Man." Now it was Tim who showed his complaints. “It’s like I haven’t been to the gym in ages.”
“I think you could use some more time at the gym though.” Jason chimed.
“Oh fuck off.”
“Fuck yo-”
“Jason!”
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sebastianstangirl01 · 2 years
Note
Could you do a Hangman x fem!reader where they are in a secret relationship and it's just fluffy and nice, I eat that stuff up lol
Our Little Secret
Title: Our Little Secret
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Floyd!Reader
Summary: You didn’t expect to fall for your brothers friend, it just happened.
Warnings: language, fluff, allusions to sex
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When you decided to move down to fighter town to live with your big brother you never thought you would find yourself in a scandalous relationship with one of his fellow aviators.
But here you were.
Sweet little Y/N Floyd who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
In a secret relationship with the cocky pilot Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.
You didn’t mean for it to happen but in the end you couldn’t resist that cocky smile and green eyes.
When you woke up this morning to strong arms around your small frame you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Last night you went out to the bar with Bob and your friends and ended the night tangled up in bed with Jake. Bob actually ended up going home with a pretty girl from the bar leaving your house empty.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Jake’s raspy southern drawl asked making you flush
“Nothing.” You mumbled before squealing as Jake dug his face into your neck and smothered it with kisses.
“Nothing huh?” Jake asked with a chuckle before pulling you flush against him, your warm naked bodies pressed together
“Can we go to the beach today?” You asked relaxing back into his hold
“Sure baby. I’ll never give up the chance to see you in a little bikini.” Jake smirked making you blush. “Aw is my girl shy?”
“Shut up.” You laughed shaking your head
“Why don’t we take a shower and then I’ll make us some breakfast then we can go to the beach.” Jake suggested
“We have to be quick. We don’t want Bob to come home while we’re here.” You said not being able to imagine the look on your brothers face if he knew what was going on between you and his co worker.
Bob is a sweetheart and everyone knows that, but when it comes to you his baby sister he’s a completely different person. His protective instincts as a brother out way his shy personality.
You and Jake hurried into the bathroom and after waking up a little more Jake went into the kitchen to make a picnic while you got dressed in a black bikini set that you knew will drive Jake crazy. It hugged the curve of your hips perfectly while accentuating your slim but muscular figure making your tan pop.
You put your hair up in a messy bun and grabbed your aviators and phone before sliding on your pair of Birkenstocks and making your way into the kitchen. Jake stood there in a pair of swimming trunks that belonged to Bob, without a shirt showcasing his muscular tan figure making you swoon. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his slim waist kissing his shoulder blade as you ran your fingers up and down his abs.
“If you want to leave this house darling, I’d suggest you stop that.” Jake spoke in his husky Texan accent making you blush and shove your head into his back.
“Stop that.” You giggled making Jake smile as he turned around and whistled looking you up and down
“Damn baby you look stunning. Give me a spin, come on.” Jake said grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around, he smacked your ass making you squeal as he groaned. “So stunning.”
“Jakey.” You whined burrowing into his chest making him chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead
“Ok baby. You ready to go?” Jake asked and you enthusiastically nodded making him laugh. “I made us some food, we can have a romantic breakfast picnic.”
“Who knew Jake Seresin could be such a romantic?” You wiggled your eyebrows making him roll his eyes before pecking you on the lips.
When you and Jake got to the beach it wasn’t very crowded, there was a couple close to your age with their kids and an elderly couple but that was about it. You and Jake laid back together on the beach towel and ate the breakfast Jake made, tossing strawberries and blueberries into each other’s mouths before stopping to take a quick make out break.
“Now I’m all sticky!” You exclaimed after getting into a massive food fight when you nailed Jake in the eye with a grape
“I know what will help with that.” Jake smirked making you furrow your brows before screaming as he pounced towards you and threw you over his shoulder and then running towards the water
“Jake!” You laughed and squealed as the cold water splashed up into your feet
Before you knew it you were underwater and then arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you out of the water and into a chest.
“That better?” Jake asked with a deep chuckle, his damp dirty blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his green eyes sparkled with a big grin on his face
“Now I’m cold.” You playfully pouted making Jake look at you with fake sympathy
“My poor baby. I guess that means I’ll have to warm you up.” Jake said before pulling your face to let your lips meet in a passionate kiss
Your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands settled on your ass before one traveled up your back and gripped the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck.
You were both so into the moment that you didn’t hear the commotion of Naval Aviators on the beach.
“Woah. Is that Hangman?” Coyote asked gaining the rest of the dagger teams attention
“I’ll be damned. He’s really going at it, I wonder who the girl is.” Rooster chuckled
“Alright guys come on, we’re all adults here.” Maverick said trying to play the ‘dad’ of the group
You and Hangman pulled apart making the others gasp and look towards Bob who was red faced, not with embarrassment but with a rare look of anger.
“Uh oh.” Phoenix mumbled, she knew how overprotective Bob is of you. Especially when it comes to boys.
“Hangman! Get off my sister!” Bob yelled making you both snap your heads over to their direction
“Oh shit.” You and Jake said as he lowered you back to the sand
You both started wading through the water and up to the sand towards the group, you clung to Jake’s arm with a red face looking anywhere but your friends.
“Hey guys. Uh- what a small world.” Jake nervously chuckled
“You have exactly 5 seconds to step away from my baby sister and haul ass before I kick it.” Bob said with a glare
Jake nervously chuckled before quickly kissing your forehead and taking off down the beach making the others chuckle.
“Don’t kill him Bobby. I really like him.” You sighed knowing how your brother felt about you having boyfriends
“No promises.” Bob said before taking off after Jake
“So you and Hangman huh?” Payback asked with a smirk as the others looked at you amused
“Oh shut up.” You blushed waving them off
Taglist:
@daughterofthereaper02
@luckyladycreator2
@calpurniatypes
@littlebadariell
@qnfluvr
@raefoxiegirl
@maverick-wingman
@avada-kedrava-bitch
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skzonthebrain · 10 months
Text
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P13: Radio Host Magnet
"You're crushing on the local JYP Campus Radio Host, Chan, but then again who isn't? You've always admired him from a far, thinking just like any other popular guy, he wouldn't give you the time of day. After a sudden encounter with Chan one day in the campus coffee shop 'Lifeline', everything changes."
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Pairing: Chan x fem!reader
Genre: Social Media AU | University AU | Established Friendship | Strangers to Friends to Lovers | Fluff |
Content Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY swearing/cursing, mentions of minor injury (scraped elbow, no details), reader runs into Yeonjun (literally), pet names: (love, darling, baby, cutie), some angst around Jia's situation, Seungmin is down about the situation, love square (Jia with Hyunjin, Seungmin and Minho)
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: I thought Chan needed some competition 👀 We are really getting into the thick of it now and Harin hasn't even played her final cards yet! Thank you again so much for always being patient with uploads, I apologise it took so long again to upload! Love you all!!
Link to first poll for Jia's love interest
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Sequence of Reading: 5 screenshots -> read -> last screenshots -> Yeonjun's profile.
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You raced down the corridor, your feet hitting the ground beneath your shoes harshly, while shoving your notebooks into your bag as you rushed out of your latest class for the day.
You picked up your pace as you made it through the doors of the art department, where your literature classes were held and took off into the direction of the main campus courtyard where LifeLine and other small cafes and food stores were.
You were late for your lunch with Chan and Seungmin. Any other time it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was the first time your friend and Chan would be greeting each other, beside the slight introduction in LifeLine the day you spoke to Chan for the first time.
You knew this was a bad look, that you had invited the boy you were getting to know and one of your best friends to meet up with you, and now they would be having to make small talk between each other while they waited for you.
You reached into your bag to retrieve your phone, planning to send Chan a message to let him know you wouldn’t be too far away, when you crashed into someone sending your phone flying, as well as your bag. You lost your footing all together, coming crashing down on whoever you had crashed into and with a thud you both landed on the ground.
The man you had quite literally swept off his feet groaned beneath you, and with a groan of your own you pulled back, rubbing your throbbing elbow that you had managed to scratch on the pavement below.
“God’s sake, darling. Do you not watch where you are…” The man beneath you begun to complain, but when he looked up from underneath you and your eyes locked you realised you had crashed right into Chan’s co-host on station JYP 88, Yeonjun.
“Going.” Yeonjun finished his sentence, realisation appearing on his features that he actually knew who you were too, his tongue slipping out of his lips to wet them as his eyes studied yours, waiting for you to speak.
You cleared your throat realising you had just been staring at him and you quickly began to apologise.
“I am so sorry Yeonjun! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m running late to meet up with Chan and Seungmin, and oh my god, are you hurt? It’s all my –“ You were rambling, as you stood up offering out a hand to help Yeonjun up, which he gladly accepted with a smirk on his face as he listened to your panicked voice, placing his hands on either side of your arms, pausing your ramblings in place.
“Chill Y/N. I am fine. I’m more concerned about you, are you alright love?” Yeonjun asked scanning over you, eyes landing on your scrapped up elbow. “Ouch, let me help you get that cleaned up.”
“No, it’s okay! Really! It’s just a scrape and I’m already running late.” You declined, pulling your arms away from his touch, your eyes searching for your stuff and blowing wide when you saw your phone lying face down on the footpath.
“Oh no my phone!” You rushed over and picked it up, saying a silent prayer as you flipped it over, but it was no use the screen was completely smashed, “Fuck! Could this day get any worse!”
“Don’t worry about your phone, I’ll pay for repairs. I wasn’t looking where I was going after all.” Yeonjun reassured, the rest of your belongings packed back into your bag for you in his outstretched arms.
“Thanks, Yeonjun, but it was really my fault I was the one not paying attention.” You explained taking your bag from him.
“Not that it would change my opinion on the matter, but Chan would kill me. Just send me how much and your details, and consider it fixed.” Yeonjun smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him, he was charming, and this was the first time you had seen him up close like this before.
Repeating Yeonjun’s words in your mind, you fixated on Chan’s name. He was still waiting for you with Seungmin at LifeLine.
“Can we discuss this another time? I’m really late, sorry again!” You apologised, throwing your bag back over your shoulder and giving Yeonjun a polite nod of your head as you scurried away back into the direction of LifeLine.
“See you around!” Yeonjun yelled after you, chuckling at your frazzled state.
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When you arrived at LifeLine, you were almost out of breath, and you were thankful you had at least been a little prepared this morning when you put some deodorant in your bag. You sprayed some over your clothes and used your smashed phone screen’s reflection to fix your distressed hair back into place, before you moved over to enter the building.
LifeLine was busy, most tables were filled with students on their lunch breaks. Your eyes filtered through the tables, flickering over to your usual booth by the far wall, where you saw Chan and Seungmin in deep conversation with each other.
You smiled at the visual of one of your best friends and the guy you were seeing getting along so well without you there to guide conversation.
Chan was just that type of person, making friends wherever he went like it was the easiest thing on earth, but you were surprised with Seungmin. Although he was outgoing and unapologetically himself, he was quite blunt and always wearing his emotions on his sleeve, so if he didn’t like Chan, he would definitely show it. To your prediction, they were getting along well.
Chan noticed you approaching the table out of the corner of his eye and a smile broke out on his face, his attention turning completely to you as he stood up form the table to bring you into a warm hug.
“Hey cutie.” Chan sighed contently as he gave you a light squeeze, before breaking away from your hold not wanting to display too much affection in front of your friend.
“Hey Y/N, what took you so long? You hate being late?” Seungmin asked in his usual fashion of half teasing, half seriousness.
You slid into the booth where Chan had been sitting, and Chan followed you taking the spot next to you.
“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Class ran overtime and then I ran into your co-host…physically.” You described your reasons for being late to the boys in your company.
Seungmin scoffed, remembering the first time you met Chan, “You really are incredibly clumsy.”
“Yeonjun?” Chan questioned you, taking your hand in his under the table and lacing your fingers together.
“Yeah, we both weren’t looking where we were going and well…” You pulled out your phone and placed it on the table, face up to demonstrate the damage of your collision with Yeonjun.
“Shit.” Seungmin laughed, unable to hold back his amusement at how unlucky you’d been.
“Don’t stress I can get it repaired for you.” Chan offered giving your hand a squeeze, but you shook your head.
“Yeonjun already offered, said you’d kill him if he didn’t.” You giggled recounting your first proper introduction to Chan’s co-host.
Chan’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, curious as to why Yeonjun would think that and why he felt the need to pay to fix your phone, but quickly recovered it with a smile. “I’ll hold that to him then.”
 “How are you doing Minnie?” You changed the subject to your friend across the table from you, who you could now see probably hadn’t slept much the night before, eyes tired and heavy.
Seungmin let out a long-drawn-out sigh.
“Fine? I don’t really know how to feel, if I’m honest. I don’t even know what I was expecting telling Jia how I felt.” Seungmin took off his beret and placed it on the seat next to him, running a hand through his fluffy brown hair anxiously.
You side-eyed Chan wearily, knowing you probably shouldn’t have told Chan what had happened last night, and he had obviously told Seungmin he knew.
“Don’t worry, I guessed you would have told him, and I filled him in on the stuff you didn’t anyway.” Seungmin’s words relaxed you and you felt yourself drop your shoulder’s back, feeling more confident to discuss what you really wanted to chat to Seungmin about.
“I’m going to go and grab you a drink anyway, iced coffee?” Chan announced detaching his hand from yours, wanting to allow the two of you some alone time to catch up.
He really didn’t need to go, and you already missed the warmth of his hand in yours, but you were grateful he offered non the less.
“Yes please.” You smiled, eyes lighting up as you tried to pass him your purse to which he pushed back in your direction with a wink, then headed off toward the counter.
“Have you heard from her?” You asked Seungmin, turning your attention back to him.
Seungmin took a sip of his coffee in front of him before answering, “No. I don’t expect to for a while. I know Jia, she likes casual, and relationships scare her. On top of all of that, I’m one of her close friends. I just don’t want to lose her.”
You nodded in understanding, “She cares about you a lot Minnie, you won’t lose her.”
Seungmin hummed taking another sip of his drink, “Have you spoken to her?”
“Yeah, I spoke with her this morning. She’s just really confused and overwhelmed. I think she’s scared to make a decision, because she knows that when she does, she is hurting two other people she really cares about.” You had given Jia’s situation a lot of thought, and even spoke it out with Chan last night at his dorm.
It was a unique situation that was for sure, and to anyone else they would probably argue that Jia should know how she feels and be able to choose instantly.
Her friendships with Minho and Seungmin had been built and founded long before you had met her which only complicated the situation further. How long had they been harbouring feelings for Jia? How was Jia supposed to choose even just between those two when she was scared of losing a long-term friend in the process.
Minho was the protective, compassionate, always keeping Jia on her toes, not afraid to call her out on her shit type of guy, which could be good for Jia in a relationship. Someone to look out for her, always be there for her and challenge her when needed.
Seungmin was the doting, understanding and playful type of guy, that always had a dry sarcastic comment that would send Jia into a fit of giggles. He was someone to put a smile on her face when she needed it most, someone she could run to when she needed sensibility and to remind her of who she is.
On top of that, there was Hyunjin. A wildcard, shown up in a blur, but already someone extremely close with Jia. Hyunjin was the charming, flirtatious and passionate type of guy, that matched Jia’s chaotic energy and not judging her for it but embracing it. Hyunjin was someone that could keep up with Jia, bring spontaneity and excitement into her life and he seemed to only have eyes for Jia, his attention always fixated on her figure when around her.
All three you knew deep down, would be perfect for Jia in different unique ways. You had explained all this to Chan and you both had agreed you needed to be more understanding of Jia’s situation and be patient with her.
Jia had every right to be on edge with everything going on, she had to be insanely stressed out.
A frown took over Seungmin’s lips, “I’m worried about her, I didn’t mean to add even more stress to her shoulders.”
You reached across the table to place your hand over Seungmin’s that was resting on the table, and you gently patted it, in a comforting motion.
“I know and so does she. Just give her some time. Don’t be a stranger either. She really needs her friends right now, her and Min aren’t on the best of terms at the moment.”
“Yeah, I heard from Jeongin last night that Minho stormed out after the dinner. What was that all about?” Seungmin further questioned you, but you decided it would be for the best if he didn’t know about the kiss between Minho and Jia, and instead shrugged your shoulders as a response, withdrawing your hand back to your side.
“Here cutie.” Chan beamed, iced coffee in his hands, sliding into the booth to sit back next to you as he placed your iced coffee in front of you.
Chan then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gauze band aid that he had probably asked the staff for and motioned to your scraped elbow.
You thanked him with a quick peck to his cheek and he helped you put it over your small injury.
Seungmin made a fake gagging noise at the scene, causing your cheeks to heat up feeling shy suddenly.
To distract yourself you took a sip of your coffee when you remembered the scene of Seungmin wearing a beret when you walked in.
“What’s with the beret, that’s not normally your style, right?”
Seungmin groaned throwing his head back in embarrassment, “I lost a bet with Innie.”
Chan joined you in laughing at his comment.
“What did you bet on?” Chan asked genuinely curious to know what Seungmin had bet on and lost.
Seungmin brought his head back down, but his eyes flickered down to stare at his almost empty coffee cup, and menu next to it.
“I bet that Jia would tell me she liked me back when I finally confessed.” He said, voice filled with sorrow.
You smiled sadly at your friend and couldn’t help but feel guilty.
You reached under the table for Chan’s hand again, seeking his support and he instantly took your hand in his and brought it to sit comfortably on his thigh.
“Don’t count yourself out just yet dude.” Chan spoke before you could, reassuring Seungmin he still had a chance.
You felt your heart spark and shoot warmth throughout your chest at Chan’s words. He had known Seungmin for not even an hour and he was already treating him, like he would one of his close friends.
Your emotions however were conflicting, between the love for Chan growing and overtaking your heart and feeling guilty and concerned for your friends.
Chan sensing your gaze on him, peeked a look over to you, taking in your zoned out concerned expression.
“Shall we order lunch baby? I think we could all do with some comfort food.”
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Name: Choi Yeonjun Major: Film Acting major Intel: Known for his charming nature and easy going personality. Co-Host to Chan for Radio Station JYP88. Can't keep his eyes off Y/N.
© skzonthebrain
y/n's group profiles | chan's group profiles
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