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auxiliarydetective · 9 hours

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Drunken Sailors - Miela/Red Hair Pirates

So... This may be the filthiest thing I've ever written. And it's also the way I introduce my newest One Piece OC to you! Fantastic, right?

Huge thanks to the members of the Discord server for enabling me <3 @skullfacedlady @indydonuts @armiliadawn @queenmimi2817 and the rest of the gang, this is for you <3

And now, I shall let the AO3 tags speak...

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Multi Relationships: Red-Hair Pirates/Original Female Character(s), Red-Haired Shanks/Original Female Character(s), Benn Beckman/Original Female Character(s), Yasopp/Original Female Character(s), Lucky Roux/Original Female Character(s), Limejuice/Original Female Character(s), Building Snake/Original Female Character(s), Hongo/Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags (aka warnings): Other relationships mentioned, Prostitution, Alcohol, Catcalling, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Original Devil Fruit, Inappropriate Use of Devil Fruit Powers, Aphrodisiacs, Drink Spiking (more spiking than drink, actually), Dom/sub, Daddy Kink, Tentacle Sex, Dirty Talk, Lactation (in like one sentence), Free Use, Pet play mentioned, Anal Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Dubious Morality, Consentacles

You can find the fic on AO3 here

With that being said... Let's get into it <3

(I am ready to be shamed)

Miela adjusted the bandana holding back her hair, giving herself a quick check in the mirror, retouching her lipstick. Then, she pulled the straps of her bodice back up, took a deep breath and headed back out.

As soon as she stepped back into the main room of the bar, she could tell that it had gotten louder. Really, a group of maybe half a dozen men, most likely a pirate crew, was settling down around a set of tables, already checking out the buffet of pretty waitresses in the room. Just like that, the bar had gone from halfway empty to busy.

But that was alright, because pirate crews always meant easy money – that was if they paid. And these guys looked like somewhere between morally upstanding and dirt-poor, a weird sort of mix between the members. Still, nothing that Miela couldn’t handle.

While her fellow waitresses might have been pretty, it was clear that Miela was the prettiest, the perkiest, the hottest, she told herself, even if business hadn’t been going great lately. Truth be told, she was famished. But if Madam Rosie would…

“Desirée. You’re fifteen minutes late. Take care of tables six and eight.”

Yes! Now things would get better. With these instructions transmitted over her earpiece, Miela picked up a few menus and headed towards her goal.

Meanwhile, across the room, Shanks ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat. It had been a few weeks since leaving Windmill Village, and he still hadn’t gotten over it. His crewmates must have realized too. The way he kept tugging at the coat obscuring his missing arm wasn’t exactly subtle and they hadn’t been partying as much as they had used to. It was almost embarrassing how they’d had to nearly drag him into this bar, his trusted officers, and how they’d had to convince him at that.

But now, all the eye candy in the room was making him feel at least a little better. Maybe even a good portion. There was something for everyone here and he could tell Beckman was already searching for his first catch of the night.

Almost all of the waitresses were young, lots tall and slender, some a little more well-endowed, but none of them truly eye-catching. They were beautiful, sure, but with the amount of women the Red Hair Pirates had seen…

That was until Shanks heard a low whistle, followed by chattering from the crew. He turned around in his seat and a smile spread across his face.

One of the waitresses was aiming right for their table, her hips swaying as she walked and the menus she kept clutched to her chest doing very little to hide her generous cleavage. Noticeably shorter than her colleagues, she made up for it in confidence, and her wavy, golden hair and pink eyes weren’t exactly downsides either. Looking at Yasopp and Lucky Roux, if Beckman didn’t take the girl home tonight, one of them would clearly try. That was if Shanks didn’t one-up them first.

“Good evening,” the woman greeted them, a wide smile on her lips. “Here are your menus.”

Instead of handing them to the men straight away, she bent over and put them in the middle of the tables instead, graciously showing off her tits. The entire group was grinning wildly, throwing little whistles and comments, and Shanks found himself pulled along as well, his thoughts wandering from what had happened a week ago. No time like the present after all.

“Or can I already get you something?”

“Yeah, you,” Yasopp said, gaining him a smack from Limejuice.

“We don’t do that here,” the waitress responded in a sweet tone.

But she looked at Yasopp as she spoke, giving him a cheeky wink. Then, she let her eyes fall for a moment, directing his gaze at the menu. Shanks smirked, exchanging a telling gaze with Snake.

What a liar.

Lightly, Shanks tapped the waitress on the thigh, gaining her attention.

“Two bottles of rum, please, and seven glasses.”

“Don’t be stingy, Captain,” Hongo chuckled.

“You gotta start off slow, right? You should know that, Doc.”

“Two bottles of rum, seven glasses,” the waitress echoed, scribbling their order on a little notepad. “Right away, Captain,” she purred, brushing past his arm as she left.

Immediately, the group broke out into laughter and bickered over who got the menus in the middle of the patchworked table.

“Chaser missed his shot,” Limejuice teased, reeling in one of the leather-bound booklets.

“Don’t get used to it,” Yasopp threw back, “‘cause it’ll never happen again.”

Ignoring their antics, Beckman leaned over to Shanks. “What do you think she’s got under that skirt?” he muttered.

“Clothes-wise?” Shanks chuckled, snatching up a menu. “I’d say very little. But I’ll be damned if she doesn’t have a nice ass.”

“Shame that Gab and Punch stayed behind with Monster,” Roux commented, too busy invading Yasopp’s personal space to read along. “They would’ve loved her.”

“Oh, they will,” Snake predicted. “Look at the Captain. We’re gonna come back again.”

Shanks shook his head in feigned offense. “Only if they have good liquor. Besides, Snake… Didn’t you say sex work was illegal on this island?”

“It is,” Snake confirmed, “but that doesn’t mean that it’s not happening.”

“Aha,” Yasopp grinned, “so these special services are really what I think they are, huh?”

Shank’s eyes wandered to the back of the menu, after all the drinks, where a list of special services was noted on a little card - one that he promptly snatched out of the brochure to keep.

“Well, if a nightcap costs over 10,000 Berry…” Hongo murmured.

Shanks studied the card, the writing so small that it was almost difficult to read.

Madam Rosie’s Specials: Dressrosa Roja - 2,500 Berry Round of Blackjack - 4,000 Berry Round of Pool - 6,000 Berry Nightcap, light - 10,000 Berry Nightcap, strong - 14,000 Berry City Guide - 20,000+ Berry* * to be negotiated with the Madam, prices vary

“Now if only we knew what all of this means,” Limejuice grumbled.

“We could just order whatever and see where it takes us,” Yasopp joked.

“Not us, these are solo deals,” Shanks said. “But if you behave, I might be willing to share.”

“So, the little lady caught your eye?” Beckman asked.

“If she plays nice.”

“I’m sure she does,” Yasopp declared, eyes pinned beyond the group.

“Does what?” the waitress’s voice came from behind Shanks as she slid past him, placing a tray with two bottles and seven glasses on the table. “I do a lot of things, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I think,” Shanks started, snaking his arm around her legs and squeezing her thigh, “that you’ve got an idea what all of these specials mean and that you’ll kindly explain – in detail.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be wrong,” she hummed, removing his hand from her thigh and turning to face him. Graciously, she bent over until her chest was at his eye level and he made no efforts at looking away. “But if you want me to stay,” she said, lifting his chin, “you’ll have to pay for a round of Blackjack. We’re very busy today and the Madam is very strict with her bookkeeping.”

Shanks glanced over at Beckman, only to see him already holding a stack of cash, a 5,000 Berry note up top.

And that’s why you’re my first mate.

“Then tell your Madam,” Shanks muttered, “that we want as many rounds as this money can buy.”

The waitress raised her hand to take the cash but before she could, Shanks slid it between her tits, never once breaking eye contact. He was rewarded by the delicious sight of her face turning a hot pink, blushing wildly.

“As you please,” she whispered, her voice seeming to fail her for a moment.

Then, she backed away, her steps a little faster as she beelined straight for the staff room behind the bar.

“So, does she play nice?” Lucky Roux asked, a wide grin on his face.

Shanks didn’t reply but his expression said it all, the way he smirked and followed the girl’s every move… He wasn’t the only one either. Every single person at their table couldn’t help but stare at her in the long run, whether that be subtly or very obviously. Mostly, it was the latter.

“Wanna bet on her devil fruit?” Hongo asked, nudging Limejuice with an elbow.

“Devil fruit?” Yasopp and Lucky Roux echoed.

“Thought you had good vision,” Limejuice teased. “Her mouth and tongue were golden just a minute ago.”

“And they turned pink when the Captain paid her,” Hongo added, placing a couple of Berry on the table. “I say it’s emotion-based.”

“Paint-Paint Fruit,” Yasopp declared, wagering a slightly larger sum.

“Paint in your mouth?” Lucky Roux scoffed. “Sounds disgusting. I say it’s the Rainbow Fruit or something.”

“And now for the winning pick,” Snake mumbled, eyeing Limejuice as he took it upon himself to pour the drinks.

“No, no,” Limejuice quickly stammered. “I’ve gotten fruits wrong before.”

“You’re usually right though.”

“Well, if you’re so sure, why don’t you join in?” Yasopp teased, gesturing to the pile of Berry in the middle.

“You’re not getting half my winnings,” Limejuice stated, just before Snake could start betting.

“C’mon, don’t be so stingy.”

“You won the last five bets,” Lucky Roux reminded him, who himself hadn’t been as lucky in these little gambling games.

“And then lost a simple drinking contest,” Hongo muttered with a smirk.

“You spiked my drink!” Limejuice complained.

While those five were still bickering, Shanks’s eyes were trained on the bar, or rather on the staff room door behind it. The pretty waitress was standing in the doorway, talking to someone inside – most likely Madam Rosie. She was backing away now and the door opened fully. Out stepped a large and muscular woman, her name nothing like her appearance. She commanded respect, the way she looked so graceful in her well-tailored, corseted dress, but also seemed perfectly capable of smashing an unruly customer’s skull within a second.

“Doesn’t she kinda remind you of Big Mom in her younger days?” Shanks muttered, glancing over at Beckman.

“If you put her in polka dots and a tricorn.”

“A pink wig?”

“Mhm.”

Madam Rosie was looking straight at Shanks and Beckman now, then inspected the rest of the officers. But that was less important than how the waitress looked at them, with her cheeks still visibly flushed even from a distance and an excited sparkle in her eyes.

The drinks were poured now but Shanks could hardly be bothered to pay attention to them. He made a quick toast with the crew, then turned back towards the bar, just in time to see Madam Rosie whispering something in the waitress’s ear. Her excitement seemed to have dimmed a little, but that wasn’t a problem. The Red Hair Pirates were always good company, they’d have her back in no time.

Finally, the waitress came back towards them, a purse and a rectangular pouch dangling from her waist - presumably for blackjack. But that wasn’t all there was to it and they all knew it.

She sauntered towards Shanks, ready to say something, but before she could, he had his arm wrapped around her and pulled her in. As if reading his mind, she stepped past him and let herself be pulled into his lap, giggling lightly as he squeezed her ass. She draped one of her arms over his shoulder, causing the bangles around her wrists to jingle. A light spark of surprise travelled through her eyes – one lighter than the other, both a pretty pink – as if she had noticed his lack of a left arm. But if she really had, she didn’t let it on, gently tracing her fingers across the sliver of skin revealed by his open collar.

“Now that I’ve got your attention,” Shanks mumbled in a suggestive tone, “might I have your name?”

“Business or private?” the waitress echoed, gaining her many whistles and comments.

“Does there have to be a difference?”

The waitress let out something between a sigh and a chuckle, directing her eyes around the room.

“Anyone who starts working here and takes to engaging in certain services is bound to get a new name,” she explained. “It’s how we recognize each other. Like a secret language or code. I’m sure there’s something similar in the world of pirates, right?”

Various “eh”’s and shrugs travelled around the table, the waitress clearly more interesting than thinking.

“If you count the Jolly Rogers,” Yasopp commented.

“We have our epithets,” Hongo recalled. “But we don’t pick them ourselves, the Marines pick them for us.”

“Well, I didn’t pick my professional name either,” the waitress hummed. She turned her attention fully towards Shanks again, carding her fingers through his salty hair. “I guess I don’t need to ask how you got yours… Red-Haired Shanks.”

“So your Madam told you about us,” Beckman guessed.

“Not a lot. But she does give us a heads up whenever certain special guests are involved.” The waitress shifted in her position, making sure to move across Shanks’s lap in just such a way that she knew he'd like. She turned towards the rest of the crew, tucking her head beneath Shanks’s chin. “Though I’m still a little shaky on the who’s who. I don’t get a lot of time to read the news.”

Thus started a little round of introductions, which soon turned into each of the crewmates trying to one-up each other, sharing the stories behind their epithets and their greatest feats…

----------

A lot of time went by though none of them noticed, its passage only measurable by the rum in the bottles getting fewer and fewer. All the while, Shanks was sitting pretty with the waitress in his arms, casually exploring the softness of her thighs or the curve of her waist. Being the captain, he had little to prove. That was until he heard a little static noise near his chest and the waitress stirred.

“Time’s up, gentlemen,” she quipped, running a hand along Shanks’s stubbled chin as she addressed the rest of the group. “It was lovely talking to all of you.”

But just as she tried to get up, Shanks’s grip around her tightened and she stumbled back down, surprised by how much strength he had in just one arm.

“We can buy more time, right?” he just commented.

Within the blink of an eye, a stack of Berry was gathered by contributions from everyone, and Beckman was dutifully counting the bills. The money passed from one hand to another, eventually offered to the waitress with a cool yet enticing look from Beckman. The gaze she threw back was suggestive yet content, maybe bordering on cocky. He would put her in her place later, he noted to himself. But for now, he let her brush her hand against his as she took the money and handed it to one of her colleagues passing by. It was a practiced gesture, fluid and discreet, if not for the fact that the waitress stuck her tongue out to the other girl, who made a face at her in return. Using this little distraction, Shanks grabbed the waitress by the chin and turned her back towards him.

“You still haven’t told us your name,” he reminded her.

“And we’re back where we started,” she replied, “safe for a few glasses of rum, give or take. More?”

“Always.”

The waitress gave a little wave to the bar, then turned back towards the table, only to notice…

“Hey, you haven’t been drinking at all. Have I been ruining your appetite?”

“Quite the opposite,” Shanks replied, “I’ve just been busy with more important things,” he declared, pulling her snugly against him for emphasis.

“Well, this is a bar,” she commented, picking up Shanks’s glass and lifting it to the height of his chest like a bit of bait. “What fun is it being here if you won’t drink? I’ll gladly be of assistance…”

“Only if you’ll finally tell me your name.”

“Private?”

“Private.”

The waitress hummed, a dark pink blush spreading across her cheeks. “It’s Miela,” she finally revealed, holding the glass to Shanks’s lips so he could drink. “But if you want a service, you’ll ask for Desirée.”

The night continued with stories and drinks, with snacks and laughter, and yet no one had mentioned the devil fruit bet again. It wasn’t important now anyways, with how Miela ended up dividing her attention amongst the crew, sliding right along with their tales and humor, gifting them the kindest smiles and the sweetest laughter. Time went on, until there was another buzz of static and Miela went rigid in Shanks’s arms.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said slowly, her tone having gone cold. “We’re about to get a visit from the Marines.”

“Marines?” Lucky Roux echoed. “What do they want here?”

“Believe it or not, this is an open bar, so they can come and go as they please. Even if they’re just as unwelcome as the police.”

Around them, tables started clearing as groups of presumably pirates hurried for the back door and girls in girded-up skirts and bandanas removed themselves from chairs across the room, some retreating up a spiral staircase behind the bar, others faux-naively washing glasses or cleaning the surfaces…

“You have a separate police force?” Limejuice questioned. “Isn’t that a bit overboard?”

“It’s not when you’re trying to ban anything fun,” Miela shrugged. “Now, if you’ll let me go—”

“Why do you care about what they’ll say?” Shanks asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Just a second ago, you were lying on the table, letting us pour liquor into your mouth, and you didn’t care one bit.”

“Because back then it didn’t mean I could lose my job,” she replied a little shakily. “Please, you can’t be that cruel.” Another sound of static interrupted her and she held her hand to her ear, gazing over to the bar – where Madam Rosie was standing and staring at her. “And I have a responsibility to the other girls,” Miela added. “As a captain, you have to understand, right?”

Shanks let out a defeated little sigh, but he finally took his hand off her, letting her climb off his lap. As she did, she had one of her hands on his shoulder, and he could hear a quiet click coming from one of the bangles around her wrists.

“But once the Marines are gone, you’ll come back, alright?”

“As long as you can pay,” she hummed, giving him a wink.

That was when the door opened and a Marine Captain came in, tall and built like a brick, with a squad of his men in pursuit.

The momentary distraction was all that Miela needed, as the Madam’s eyes were pulled from her. Quickly, she put one hand on Shanks’s shoulder, the other on his cheek, and pulled him into a kiss, pressing her plush lips onto his. It was brief, and though Shanks tried to keep her there, she slipped out of his reach before he could react, straightening out her skirt as she hurried for the entrance.

The Red Hair Pirates watched as she made her way through the room, her demeanor calm and collected. As she brushed past one of her fellow waitresses, an exchange took place, barely even visible to the naked eye. The waitress passed a shot glass to Miela – barely even a shot glass, maybe half the size of one. Neither of them stopped or even slowed down. It was a practiced maneuver, one they must’ve played through a dozen times. As she walked on, Miela held the little glass behind her back, when something odd happened. One of her fingers, the one hovering directly above the shot glass, turned a glossy hot pink, a slimy liquid dropping down from its tip into the glass.

That was as far as the men’s eyes could follow her, then she disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear a moment later in front of the Marine Captain.

Peeking through the group of waitresses and soldiers and past the commanding presence of Madam Rosie, Yasopp made a discovery that made him furrow his brows, then laugh. Something that no one else seemed to catch.

Only a blink of an eye later, the group at the entrance dispersed, and the lower-rank soldiers were ushered to a now-empty table, led very generously by the waitresses. But Miela was nowhere among them. Instead, the Red Hair Pirates only caught a glimpse of her golden hair as she snuck up the stairs, the Marine Captain in tow.

“And there she goes,” Roux murmured sadly, reaching for the bowl of chips to cheer him up.

“I have a feeling she’ll be back,” Yasopp assured him, grinning wildly.

“What did you see?” Snake immediately asked, knowing that expression far too well.

“Our little baby isn’t playing it fair,” Yasopp quipped, leaning back in his chair and downing the rest of his glass, only to pour himself another. “And I’m feeling pretty good about my bet.”

“Alright, spit it out,” Hongo grumbled.

“Relax, Doc, alright? Once she gets back, we’ll have to ask her to work you over, damn.”

“Can’t say I’d be mad about that.”

“Alright, Chaser, what is it?” Beckman asked.

“Well, that other waitress gave her the shot glass, right?” Yasopp recalled. “And while she carried it, her finger turned into a pink liquid that she dripped into the glass.”

“Could still be the rainbow fruit,” Roux muttered, gaining him an annoyed little stare from Yasopp.

“Rainbows aren’t liquid. Anyway, she gave that little shot glass to the Marine, with only the pink stuff in it - and he drank it. And only a second later, he was sending his men away, and she could pull him with her like a little puppy.”

“What does that have to do with your bet?” Limejuice scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like paint.”

“It sounds like poison,” Shanks commented. “Or… something else.”

“Drugs?” Snake guessed.

“Well, you’re not supposed to drink paint, are you now?” Yasopp defended himself. “So, it’s basically poison. And– and poisons small doses are basically drugs, right, Doc?”

Hongo let out an exasperated sigh. “I suppose you’re right, yeah,” he lied. Then he picked up his glass and downed it in one go.

“Good idea,” Shanks groaned, refilling his own and Hongo’s right afterwards. “While she’s gone, I say we play a drinking game. I’m far too sober for this time of night.”

----------

They played games for quite a while, taking turns at staring longingly at the stairs and getting distracted, causing them to lose their game.

Finally, Snake let out a triumphant little noise as he spotted Miela tip-toeing down into the main room again, picking and pulling at her bodice and skirt. Her hair looked slightly disheveled, though that only made her all the more attractive. She passed by Madam Rosie’s door on her way down, peeking her head in for only a moment. Then, she glanced over at the table where the rest of the Marines were gathered, by now blackout drunk, each with a waitress at their side. The Red Hair Pirates had been wondering when one of the soldiers would recognize them, but they were clearly too busy to notice them, let alone to care.

Finally, Miela returned to the Red Hair Pirates’ table, being greeted with the warmest welcome. As if it was her long-since designated seat, she let herself fall into Shanks’s lap, basking in his attention and his touch.

“What did you give to him?” Hongo asked, cutting straight to the chase.

He had a sly smirk on his face, and by the way Miela was looking at him, his gaze was piercing right through her chest, straight into her soul.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she squeaked in feigned innocence, pouting at Hongo as she snuggled further into Shanks’s chest.

“The Marine, kitten,” Beckman said lowly, turning Miela’s face towards him. “Yasopp saw that you gave him a shot glass filled with a pink liquid and now our doctor wants to know what it was that you gave him. You won’t let him down, right?”

The longer he had spoken, the pinker Miela’s face had become, until she was blushing furiously. “O-oh, that, I—”

“Talk to him, not me.”

Obediently, Miela turned back towards Hongo. “It was nothing, really, just an extra strong nightcap.”

“Extra strong?” Snake echoed. “That’s not even on the menu.”

“I— Well— That’s because—”

“How come he gets it for free?” Shanks pouted, letting his hand wander up and down her stomach teasingly. “Weren’t we considered something like ‘special guests’ earlier?”

“Well—”

“Do it again.”

“What?”

“The liquid came from your finger, right?” Yasopp remarked, leaning on the table. “Do that again.”

“I can’t show you, it’s confidential,” Miela blurted out, though she didn’t really look panicked. In fact, it almost looked like she was enjoying this.

“But we wanna see,” Roux insisted.

“I can’t.”

“I thought you liked us.”

“I do, I really do, but—”

“They’re seastone,” Snake concluded, prompting Beckman to pick up one of the bangles around Miela’s wrist, pulling her hand up alongside it. “You can’t show us unless your Madam unlocks those for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Miela huffed, looking around the table with puppy eyes. “I wish I could show you… And there’s so much more I could do…”

“But ten thousand Berry…” Shanks sighed exaggeratedly, acting like he hadn’t paid at least double to get to hold her like this. “Can you imagine how much a round of that would cost?”

“We don’t sell them in rounds,” Miela whispered, only to squeal quietly as she felt Shanks’s fingers dip beneath her neckline.

All the while, the Red Hair Pirates watched with grins and smirks on their faces, not caring one bit about the inappropriate direction that these negotiations were headed in. And looking at Miela, she didn’t mind either, unconsciously – or consciously? – arching her back and pushing her chest into Shanks’s hand.

“Are you sure?” he asked, placing a hint of a kiss on her cheek.

“I think… we could make an exception.”

“That’s my girl.”

Miela pressed her lips together as Shanks latched on to her neck, sucking harshly, marking his prize as she tried her hardest to keep from losing her mind.

“So, what devil fruit is it?” Yasopp asked with a dirty grin, knowing that she was in no state to answer.

“Slime Slime Fruit,” Limejuice declared smugly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Miela just nodded, managing only a small noise of confirmation.

“And the walking devil fruit encyclopedia strikes again,” Snake chuckled. “Payout time, Beck.”

Beckman, having been tasked with guarding the betting money, dutifully split up the winnings between Limejuice and Snake, leaving Hongo, Yasopp and not-so-Lucky Roux pouting.

“Slime, huh?” Hongo muttered. “Is it an aphrodisiac?”

“Aphrodisiac?” Shanks cooed, finally, moving away from Miela’s neck and running his finger across the dark love bite he had left. “What is it, a Paramecia?”

Limejuice nodded. “Mhm, but it works like a Logia, making the user capable of fully transforming into slime. But it also has some passive effects on the user, even when they’re kept down by sea stone.”

He reached his hand out for Miela’s face but couldn’t get to her, sitting just a little too far away. But one silent exchange of words with Shanks and one moving of glasses later, Miela was pressed down with her chest against the table, looking up at Limejuice with needy eyes. He pinched her cheeks and she dutifully opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue for him. It was a hot pink, coated in a thin layer of slime that was nearly dripping onto the table.

The Red Hair Pirates marvelled at her like a rare animal, allowing Shanks to take his time admiring her ass and legs and running his hand along her spine. Hongo, meanwhile, took two of his fingers and placed them in her mouth, watching with an expression somewhere between studious and horny as she sucked on them.

“Is it just her saliva?” he asked, not once taking his eyes off her.

“No, it’s any bodily fluid, really,” Limejuice shrugged. “It’s just that some are stronger than others. Her saliva is the second strongest, and I can only imagine that her cum would be the best, but the encyclopedia wasn’t exactly detailed on that.”

“Wow, you really memorized that page, huh?” Yasopp teased him.

“Let’s just say I’ve dreamed about it.”

Hongo pulled his fingers out of Miela’s mouth and she released them with a wet pop, licking her lips and looking up at him in search of praise.

“That doesn’t look very pink,” he commented, holding his fingers up to the light and licking them clean. “Is that all you can do?”

Immediately, Miela’s pleading gaze increased tenfold and she wildly shook her head. A quiet yelp escaped her as Shanks pulled her back into a sitting position, holding her in place just beneath her bust.

“It’s the sea stone, right?” he hummed. “You can do better, I know you can, baby.”

Miela nodded frantically, her breathing shallow, her heart thumping in her chest. Limejuice, meanwhile, was smirking suggestively to himself, just waiting to get out his trump card. Finally, Beckman prompted him to spit it out.

“The Slime Slime Fruit feeds off pleasure, mainly the pleasure its user pulls out of others, but also their own. The aphrodisiac gets stronger as pleasure builds up and the slime’s color changes to match.”

Lucky Roux grinned. “Well, the way that Marine ran after you, you’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” Miela breathed. “Couldn’t have done it without you. All of you, that is,” she added, letting her eyes wander once around the group.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” Shanks teased, letting his finger dance along the top of her bodice, grazing her skin. “Sounds like one man just wasn’t enough for you, huh? Don’t look so surprised; it’s very clear what you two did,” he muttered, lightly pressing down on a hickey just below the hem of her bodice. “Just say it: Was he enough?”

“... No,” Miela whispered. “I want more. Need more.”

“That’s a good girl. Then what do you say we get out of here, give you a tour of our ship?”

Immediately, Miela went stiff again, though just a little, her words barely a hint of resistance as she said: “I don’t do out-calls.”

“Who said that?” Roux scoffed.

“Don’t want to or don’t get to?” Yasopp asked.

“I’m very important to the business,” Miela explained, trying to keep her voice steady as Shanks kneaded her breast and Beckman was trailing his large hand up her thigh beneath the table. “Madam Rosie would hate to see me go, so— Ah— She doesn’t let me go with pirates or seafarers.”

“Do you want to?” Hongo asked, eyes pinned on the way her flesh gave in beneath his captain’s touch, molding right into his hand.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I want to. Please take me with you.”

“Then I’ll talk to your Madam and see what I can do,” Shanks declared with a smile, pressing a sneaky kiss to her collarbone. “Don’t worry, I can be very convincing. – Hey, Beck, be a good first mate and take over for me, will you?”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Beckman hummed, picking Miela up with ease and moving her over to his lap.

As Shanks left for the door behind the bar, Beckman pulled her snug against him with her back against his chest and her legs spread over his thighs.

One of his hands made its way under her skirt, holding her thigh just inches away from her core as Roux held her other knee in place, just for good measure. Beckman’s other hand continued where Shanks had left off, diving into her cleavage, tugging ever so slightly at the strings holding her bodice together.

“Alright, kitten, you’re gonna listen and be good for me, alright?” he muttered, letting his eyes wander across his crewmen as if he was instructing them on how these things were done. Truth be told, he was the most experienced at the table. “We came to this place because the Captain hasn’t been himself lately. He lost his arm, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. So we took him here to take his mind off things and it seems like it worked. Sounds to me like he’s really into you, so you’re gonna be good to him and work the stress out of him, alright?”

Miela nodded, unconsciously grinding against Beckman’s lap. But he held her in place only a second later, letting his finger graze over the fabric of her thong.

“No, no, not yet. The Captain comes first. He needs someone to help him relax, take the reins for him, just let him let go and forget about the world for a while. Can you do that?”

“Yes, yes,” Miela chanted, her voice nearly failing her. “Just get those shackles off of me and I’ll do all that and more, I promise.”

“As soon as we’re on the ship, don’t worry, baby. And if you’re good, you’re gonna get a reward. Will you be good?”

“Yes, I will, daddy.”

----------

Only a few minutes later, the Red Hair Pirates were on their way back to the ship, alcohol and excitement coursing through their veins. Miela was sitting happily in Roux’s arms, feeding him the rest of the snacks they had stolen from the table.

Her eyes went wide the moment she spotted the ship, taking in every single detail and listening to everything the men told her about the vessel, even if her mind was in a very different place.

Finally, she was taken under deck, into a small hallway lined with doors. Roux placed her down, letting his hand trace up from her ass to her shoulders as he did.

“Easy, Roux, go wait your turn,” Shanks teased, a bright grin on his face.

He offered his hand to Miela, more of a formality than anything since they both knew what was to come. Still, she took it, and let out a quiet yelp as he pulled her closer.

“Alright, baby, remember,” he whispered, “if you want out, you just have to say it. Got that?”

“Got it. But I don’t want out, I want in.”

Shanks huffed as the rest of the crew chuckled. Within only a second, Miela found herself pushed towards the end of the hallway, towards a door with a weathered, gilded sign.

She opened the door without even being asked to, knowing that Shanks was behind her and leading her on. Giving in fully to her new situation, she stepped into a cabin, simple yet somewhat elegant.

But she didn’t have a lot of time to admire it as she felt Shanks come up behind her, pulling her in by her breast. She hadn’t really noticed it while they were sitting down for the most part, but all of the pirates were so much bigger than she was. Her head rested against Shanks’s chest as she came undone under his touch and she could feel his arousal pressing against her back.

“Eager, are we?” she breathed, whining as he brushed a finger over her nipple, further straining the strings on her bodice. “And you haven’t even tasted me yet.”

“I think it’s time to change that,” Shanks growled.

He pulled his hand out from underneath her clothes, then spun her around and pushed her towards the bed. Eagerly, she followed his lead until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she fell backwards, letting out a yelp.

Before she could gather herself again, Shanks was hovering over her, propped up on one arm as he kissed his way up from her cleavage to her face, drawing the sweetest moans out of her.

That was when he paused, his eyes glancing over to where his left arm had to be, as if he had forgotten for a moment. Well, Miela was determined to make him forget. All of his worries, she would erase them.

Swiftly, she pulled her arms out from underneath his chest and threw them around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Within merely a second, her tongue slipped past his lips, softly meeting his. The kiss turned deeper, wilder, and Shanks groaned as he could feel a familiar heat build up throughout him. When Miela pulled away, he keened at getting her back.

Instead, she placed a hand over his lips, tracing his jawline with the other before tugging at her bangles.

“I promise, it’ll be worth it,” she whispered, but she really didn’t have to.

Quickly, Shanks let himself fall on the bed next to her, then crawled up further on the mattress, posing himself like a picture from an erotic magazine. He beckoned her over and she followed as if he had her on a leash, pulling her in by the collar. The thought alone had her whimpering, fantasizing to a point where she slipped out of reality. Though it was only for a blink of an eye, when she returned to the present, she was nearly sitting on top of Shanks and he had his finger hooked into one of her bangles.

“Is it this one?” he asked, his voice hoarse with arousal.

Miela nodded frantically, looking up at him frantically. Suddenly, a surge of red lightning cracked within Shanks’s hand and the bangle sprung apart, shattered into pieces. A shriek left Miela at the sight, distracting her just long enough for her to miss the way he did it on her other wrist. But what she clearly didn’t miss was the way the tension flooded out of her body, a moan spilling over her lips.

Immediately, Shanks pulled her into a ferocious kiss, his tongue picking up as much of the sweet aphrodisiac in her mouth as he could, clinging to her as if he were a starving predator and she his prey. He let out a little noise of desperation and his hand twitched along her spine, clearly conflicted on whether to keep holding her or to tear her clothes off. One hand just wasn’t enough.

That was when Miela remembered Beckman’s words. Why would she have him choose?

She pulled away from him, her torso turning fully into slime as she phased right through his arm. An expression of worry and betrayal made its way onto Shanks’s face but it wouldn’t last for long.

As he still struggled to get his words out, Miela’s body went back to normal and, with one precise pull, she opened the bow holding together her bodice, her breasts quickly spilling into the space she had given them. Swift, practiced movements took her bodice apart fully, revealing all of her chest to him.

Shanks practically surged forwards, no longer able to hold himself back. A characteristic blush started tinting all of his body and his aching cock tented his pants, the aphrodisiac clearly taking full effect. He pulled her in by the small of her back, placing sloppy kisses all over her breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

Miela whined, digging her fingers into his hair and holding him close, her cunt clutching around nothing beneath her skirt. But not yet, she thought, not yet. The Captain came first, she told herself.

So, she gathered all of her leftover focus, as hard as it was as droplets of slime were leaking from her nipples, brought on by her pleasure. But she forced herself to concentrate, tugging at Shanks’s hair to get his attention. He looked up at her, eyes almost black as his pupils were blown wide by desire.

“Lie down for me,” she breathed, and he listened without another word, his cock twitching in anticipation.

As he laid back, she crawled over him, her body always just an inch from his. Then, before he could react, four pink tendrils spawned from her back, latching on to his shoulders and legs and holding him down. He moaned at the sensation, feeling the slime soak through his clothes and wetting his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Relax, daddy,” Miela purred, undoing his shirt buttons ever so slowly. “Let your baby take care of you.”

Shanks writhed beneath her, though not enough to break free.

“You’ve already done so much for me,” she whispered. “Let me make it up to you.”

Her hands wandered up and down his stomach and he moaned, all sense of logic and worry escaping him.

“Please, baby, please,” he breathed, his words getting lost in little whimpers as she placed little kisses across his chest, travelling lower and lower, but turning right around before she got to where he needed her.

Finally, she moved back, looking unbearably pretty as she sat between his legs. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she pressed a hand against his clothed erection and he came, his entire body going rigid as he shuddered, pleasure washing over him.

Miela’s eyes were filled with adoration and desire as she watched him go limp, knowing that it would only last for a moment. Just a few seconds later, he was getting hard again, and she ran her fingers up and down his happy trail, finally hooking them into his waistband. She pulled his pants and his underwear down in one go, her mouth watering at the sight of his cock.

Looking up at him for permission, she licked a long stripe from the base up to the tip, then wrapped her lips around his dick, bathing in his deliciously sinful sounds. She gave him a few seconds to calm down, then she started bobbing up and down, taking more of him into her mouth each time. It didn’t take long for her to take him all the way to the base, his cock forming a bulge in her throat. How the hell she could do that Shanks didn’t know, but he frankly didn’t care either, the sight just far too hot to him as his hips kept bucking off the mattress – and the way it felt, all hot and slick… He could feel his orgasm building up quickly, his mind turning to mush as he felt himself slip in and out of reality.

“‘M close,” he gasped, his voice barely serving him anymore. “I’m close, baby, so close—”

The tendrils barely had to hold him down anymore; he didn’t even think about resisting. This was bliss, pure bliss, even if he couldn’t hold her. Miela hummed against his cock in approval, sending vibrations through his entire body. When she started gently massaging his balls, it was all over for him and he came again, white hot pleasure taking away his vision and almost knocking him out.

Miela was clearly very pleased with herself, making a show of swallowing and sticking out her tongue, even if he couldn’t see it. She pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, then crawled upwards to lay beside him, her slimy tentacles gently massaging his chest and limbs. Slowly, Shanks’s eyes fluttered open, being met with Miela looking at him in adoration.

“How do you feel?” she asked, softly tracing his jaw.

Shanks’s heart was pounding in his chest, his answer mindless as he said: “More. Please, just one more, I wanna see you come for me baby.”

Miela let out an excited giggle and she gave him a quick kiss before sitting up again and stripping out taking off the rest of her clothes.

“I knew you had it in you,” she cooed, moving over to straddle him.

Shanks used what little strength he had left to push himself up and put his hand on her hip, breathing shallowly as one of her tentacles eagerly pumped his dick, Miela fingering herself at the same rhythm. Droplets of slick dripped down her thighs and onto his hips, making him shiver with anticipation.

As soon as he was hard, Miela licked her fingers clean and lowered herself onto his dick, whining at just how full she felt. Shanks fell back onto the mattress, the way her walls clenched around him taking him to the brink of overstimulation. He was sure that he could’ve come from the feeling of being inside her alone if he hadn’t been so spent from his two orgasms before.

But he wanted her, he needed her, and so he bucked his hips up into her, making her gasp. He reached out for her and she understood, leaning over him and steadying herself on either side of his chest as she started moving her hips against his at an increasingly fast pace. Quickly, he pulled her bandana off her head and ran his fingers through her hair, delighted to find a small pair of mouse ears underneath. This woman was full of surprises, he thought at the back of his brain, but yet another surprise made his mind go fully void.

One of Miela’s tentacles had made its way down to his ass, stretching him out gradually with every movement of his and Miela’s hips. He groaned in pleasure, tangling his fingers into her golden locks as he held her close. It didn’t take long for the tentacle to slip inside fully, mirroring the way his cock was pushing into Miela’s cunt. He was sure that he could feel the contour of his own dick against his stomach as Miela moved against him, and just the thought of him being just as full sent him spiralling, pushing him over the edge as he came harder than he had ever come before.

The tsunami of pleasure inside of him just didn’t want to stop, but he could faintly tell that Miela had reached her climax too, impaling herself on his dick like a creature in heat and pushing her head into his hand. Her cum dripping down his shaft and over his hips was the last thing he felt, completely exhausted and in utter bliss.

Meanwhile, Miela panted as she came down from her high, placing her head on his chest to rest for a moment. His heartbeat was fast for quite a while, then became slower as his breathing calmed down, his body falling into a sound sleep. A tiny part of her was just a little disappointed that their time together was over, but most of all she was proud, proud that she had made a man like him feel this good.

Carefully, she climbed off of him, whimpering quietly at the loss of his dick inside of her. After all of that, she felt so empty. She tiptoed around the room and cleaned Shanks up to the best of her conscience and ability. Then, she did the same to herself and put her clothes back on – admittedly a little haphazardly, not really caring how she looked in the dead of night. Finally, she opened the door and slipped out as quietly as possible, careful not to wake him, her scarlet lover, forever her captain in her heart.

But as soon as the door was closed, she almost shrieked when she saw a figure in the hallway, leaning against the wall right next to the door and smoking a cigarillo. He brought his hand down over her mouth before she could scream, soothingly running his fingers through her hair. There was an air of intimidation about him, the way he blended into the darkness with his dark clothes and his raven-black hair with the few gray streaks. But most of all, he looked proud.

“Beckman,” Miela gasped, looking up at him with large eyes.

“By the sound of it, you really made him feel good,” he hummed, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. It was an expensive tobacco, not like the stuff that most patrons at the bar smoked. The kind where you could smell the pleasant addiction even without tasting it. “Is he asleep?”

Miela nodded, her muscles tensing up in the most delicious way.

“Good girl… But you didn’t forget about your reward through all that, did you?”

“No, of course not,” she whispered, that coil in her stomach already winding up again.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Anytime, daddy.”

“That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her into the next door over.

The rest of the night became a frantic blur, with Miela passing from one arm to another, exiting one room just to enter the next… It was wild, it was frantic, and the exhaustion was tugging at her limbs, but she had never felt better, never felt so alive. Those words from Limejuice travelled through her mind at some point, about how her devil fruit was keeping itself fed through pleasure. With the way she felt that night, up until now, she must have been starving.

By the time that the sun came up, Miela was lying on one of the beds in the infirmary, panting with pleasure as she passed out from the exhaustion, her clothes long since discarded in some corner of the ship that she couldn’t care to remember. Hongo was hovering over her, dutifully tying his hair back as he grabbed a syringe from the side table. His work for the night was far from over.

----------

When Miela woke up the next morning – or what was presumably the next morning to her – her body felt like mush. At the same time, she had never been as well-rested and relaxed. A slight sway of her world told her that she was still on the Red Hair Pirates’ ship and her cheeks went pink as she remembered the events from the night.

She pushed herself up from her bed, a thin blanket falling off her torso. Half of her had expected herself to be naked, but she wasn’t – in fact, she was wearing a shirt that was most definitely not hers. It was large and made of cotton, smelling heavily of sea salt.

“Morning, princess,” she heard a familiar voice say from across the room.

A smile spread across her face as she blinked her eyes open and found Hongo watching her from his desk in what could only be the infirmary. He was holding a large cup of coffee, observing as she let her eyes wander around the room.

“I was wondering when you’d be waking up. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. Kept me up all night.”

“Sorry,” Miela muttered, her mouse ears drooping down ever so slightly.

“Eh,” Hongo shrugged, “at least I got something out of it. Do you want breakfast?”

“No, no, I don’t wanna be a bother, I—”

“You’d be more of a bother by saying no since Lucky Roux said I’d only get me my breakfast once you get yours. Lazy Roux more like it, he just doesn’t wanna walk here twice.”

“That’s… Alright then. Maybe just a little bit.”

“A little bit – you need a proper meal, not just something to nibble. With the amount of exercise you got last night, you can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

“I— Well—”

“See? You’re getting a proper meal. Alright?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good.”

As Hongo swiftly walked over to the exit and stuck his head out into the hallway, Miela looked around the room some more, finally getting caught on a window.

Suddenly, she paused. She rubbed her eyes and crawled forwards to get a better angle, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. Her weird headache wasn’t really making it easier. But when reality finally settled in, she shrieked, hopping off the bed and sprinting across the room to cling on to Hongo’s arm.

“Hey, hey,” he called, “you’re not supposed to get all riled up after surgery!”

“Surgery?!” Miela echoed, but she was promptly ignored, picked up by the waist and put back down on her bed.

“What’s wrong? What are you so upset about?”

“What’s wrong?! Hongo, there’s no land! We’re on the open sea!”

“So? That’s where pirates are supposed to be.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“Kidnapped? No, we gave you a free vacation.”

Steps came trampling down the hallway and, one by one, the other men that had swept Miela off of her feet last night came piling into the room.

“Ah, so she noticed!” Shanks concluded with a grin. “How are you doing, princess?”

“I— Panicked?! I’m not supposed to be here!”

“Now who said that?” Snake questioned.

“My Madam!”

Beckman, meanwhile, pushed his way past the other officers and sat down next to Miela on the bed, pulling her into his lap and soothingly rubbing her back.

“Well, we could just put you back,” Yasopp lied, picking at his sash in feigned disinterest, which would have been comical if Miela hadn’t been so worried.

“But you’d be missing out on a lot,” Roux added. “Living off of tips and a lousy salary, is that really how you wanna live?”

“No, but—”

“Well, what more do you want?” Limejuice smirked. “Chances are we could give it to you.”

Miela’s eyes sparkled at those words and her heart was beating heavily in her chest, a change in pace from the light yet frantic rhythm of her worry. Still, there was a persistent seed of doubt in her mind, something that everyone else just had to know. By the way they were looking at her, they must have had this planned out for a while. Had they perhaps been watching her from afar for days? Had they decided they would keep her from the moment Shanks had had her in his grasp for the first time?

“Besides,” Hongo muttered, taking a casual sip from his coffee, “now that you don’t have that tracker in you anymore, you’re free to go wherever you want.”

A sound somewhere between a gasp and a shriek jumped out of Miela’s throat and she reached up for her ear, only to feel the bumpy profile of sutures right behind it.

“How did you even know?” she breathed.

“The Captain could hear it while you were in his lap,” Beckman explained, calmly rubbing her arms. “The little noise of static from the earpiece that was connected to it. Fancy bit of technology but once it’s out, it’s out.”

“It wasn’t even that deep below the skin,” Hongo muttered. “Sloppy work if you ask me.”

“Well yeah,” Miela breathed, “anything else would be expensive.” She was still trying to process everything, her heart and body working hard to overrule her mind. With every second, the last bits of logic became quieter and quieter. “So, what are you saying?” she stammered. “You kidnapped me and did surgery on me so I would join your crew?”

“Not join our crew, no,” Shanks chuckled. “As far as I know, you can’t fight, and you don’t look like you’re fit for any hard labor that has to be done on a ship.”

“Oh.”

“But then again…” He mumbled, a wide grin spreading on his face. “We could probably keep you as a pet.”

Immediately, Miela went beet-red, her heart damn near jumping out of her chest with a gasp of surprise. She stared at the Captain as his officers cheered and whistled, Beckman just silently holding her close. That was when her last bit of resistance snapped.

“Do I get a collar?” she breathed.

The men broke out into laughter, Beckman rewarding her with a kiss to the temple, just inches away from her surgery wound.

“The prettiest one we can find,” Shanks promised.

What followed now was a little discussion between the men of what color would most suit her, if they should go for sturdy leather or something more decorative, if they should add a leash… Miela basked in their attention, until her mind returned with full force and a lightning strike of fear made her body go rigid.

“W-wait!” she blurted out.

“What, you don’t like ruffles?” Roux teased.

“No, it’s— That’s not what I meant, I give you full freedom to pick on that but— There are some people out there who won’t be very happy that I’m with you now.”

“Like who?” Shanks chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you fucked a Celestial Dragon,” Yasopp scoffed.

“Ew, no!” Miela gasped. “Just… high-ranking Marines, for example.”

“Ah,” Snake smirked. “Madam Rosie’s special guests, huh?”

“Well, I was in for the money on those but… Well…”

“Just say it, baby,” Beckman encouraged her. “They’re just Marines, nothing we can’t handle.”

“Vice Admiral Borsalino will most likely be coming after me.”

That was when the men broke out into laughter, Shanks getting out a simple “Oh, just him.”

“He can be reasoned with, don’t worry, kitty,” he declared. “Get settled in, we’ll keep an eye out for him.”

With those words, he gave her a friendly wink, then pushed his way out of the room.

“You got anyone higher?” Limejuice giggled.

“Well, he’s in line to become Admiral I hear, so… Actually, there’s— Um—”

“Yeah?”

“Well… monkeydgarp.”

Beckman nearly choked on his own spit, losing his composure for a moment before he broke out laughing.

“WHO?!” the rest of the crew demanded to know almost in unison.

“The Hero of the Marines, Monkey D. Garp,” Beckman muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I can’t say I’m surprised. How many nightcaps did it take?”

“Fewer than for Borsalino,” Miela mumbled. “But it was only one time!” she then added more loudly. “I wanna be very clear that it was only one time. So, no, he will not be throwing cannonballs at you, and he will not be giving a damn about whether I left or not. Neither will I be giving a damn if he does get upset about me leaving – though he does have incredible stamina for a man of his age, it needs to be said— Ow!” she gasped as Beckman lightly smacked her over the head, making her chuckle.

Meanwhile, the other people in the room were going through various stages of grief, with Yasopp covering his face and moaning about he’d never be able to look at Garp the same way again and Limejuice regretting that he had ever asked.

One by one, they started slinking out of the room and Miela was left behind with Hongo and Beckman, the former sighing under his breath that he’d have to check her for mental illnesses.

“You can be glad you still have everyone wrapped around your finger from last night,” Beckman murmured. “But next time you pull something like that, I might have to think of a punishment for you,” he said, pulling her off his lap and setting her back down on the bed.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, daddy,” Miela replied in a sugary sweet tone, only for him to lightly smack her in the shoulder.

“Go to sleep for a few more hours. You’re clearly not in your right mind yet.”

He kissed her on the forehead, then left the infirmary to go back to work. This left Hongo as the only one still in the room with her. Hongo, who was currently pouring a generous amount of rum into his coffee.

“I’m starting to think that you’ll be stealing more than just my sleep. You’re also taking my sanity.”

“Well, as long as I can give you something in return,” Miela purred.

“Yeah, you better.”

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats

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#one piece #one piece oc #oc: desirée miela #fanfiction

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cat-arsenal · 1 year

Text

Hold Me Like a Grudge (Gavin x Lasko Royal AU) Ch. 10

Gavin lays in Lasko's bed, gently running his fingers through Lasko's hair and listening to his breathing, which had gradually deepened and evened out. He'd been crying. Not hard, or long, or sobbing, just a silent cascade of tears seemingly out of the blue. Gavin doesn't know the exact cause, but he knows it comes from the deep well of sorrow that Lasko had brought with him from Dahlia, that weighed more heavily on him some days than others.

Tonight, it seems to have overflowed.

Whatever it was had such a grip on him that he couldn't--or wouldn't--speak when Gavin first arrived.

Gavin is very fond of Lasko. More fond than he'd been of someone in a long time. They have fun together, talking openly about their lives and interests, occasionally discussing politics, eating together, wandering the kingdom, getting closer and closer each day.

He wants to help him now more than he did all those months ago, when Lasko was quiet and closed-off, before he would walk the castle with confidence and initiate affectionate contact with Gavin, before Gavin had any special feelings toward him.

Lasko's feelings are always mixed, his positive moods tinged with hesitation or sadness or shame. But the ratio had been gradually changing, the pain and embarrassment lessening in the wake of happiness and curiosity. Gavin is proud to be partially responsible for that, but it isn't entirely his doing. Much of it is Lasko's own work to come out of his shell, to learn and experience life, to get to know people. He often sees him talking with servants or visitors to the castle, posture easy, and Gavin is proud.

He thinks about what Lasko had told him of his history: his peaceful childhood, unsupportive parents, devotion to the military, the weirdness of the situation that brought him to Deciderium. "Diplomatic mission," supposedly.

Gavin smirks at the thought of how he usually does "diplomacy," frowns at the memory of Lasko's terror upon their first meeting. Who had made him think that he was in danger, and why? Was it just paranoia? Misinformation?

Or something more sinister that Lasko had kept from him?

He had convinced himself that he didn't need to know what had caused Lasko's fear, as long as he made sure it didn't come true. But he begins to think investigation may be necessary.

Lasko shifts in his arms before resettling, and Gavin is struck by how much he adores him. Lasko, strong and clever and withdrawn until he lets himself relax and open up. Lasko, with his long lashes and bright eyes and broad shoulders and lips Gavin just knows are soft.

Gavin sighs.

He knows Lasko likes him. Knows very well that Lasko wants him. Knows without a doubt that he could make Lasko feel incredible, let him forget everything but the two of them for just a little while.

"I could bring you rapture," he murmurs. But Lasko is still afraid, and Gavin won't push him, not that far. It isn't right if he has to be coerced, not for either of them. "You're safe with me," he promises again, "Whatever you need."

As sunlight starts to filter into the room, Lasko blinks a few times, lifting his head to peer up at his incubus-shaped pillow. "Gavin?" he asks blearily. Gavin smiles.

"Good morning, Lasko." Lasko drops his head back onto Gavin's chest for a moment before jolting upright.

"D-did I sleep on you all night?" he yell-whispers. Gavin laughs.

"Yes," he tells him, "but you're very nice to hold, so don't worry."

"Oh. Okay." Lasko rubs his reddening face. "Thank you. F-for staying with me."

"Of course," Gavin says softly. "I'll share your bed whenever you like." Lasko laughs and gives him a half-hearted shove.

"You just say things!"

"Only things I mean," Gavin says, quiet and serious. Lasko clears his throat and looks away.

"I need to wash my face. Then maybe we can get breakfast?"

"I'd love that," Gavin agrees, and leaves Lasko to his rituals.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted lasko moore #redacted lasko #redacted gavin #gavin x lasko #lasko x gavin #king gavin x soldier lasko #fanfic #writing

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thisaliennerd · 2 years

Text

butterflies in my stomach, turmoil in my mind

rating: g

pairing: louise belcher & millie frock, louise belcher/rudy stieblitz

chapter: 1/1

word count: 1.6k

Louise is struggling with being a teenager. A few months ago, Millie confessed she had a crush on Louise. Now, despite all efforts to move past it, Louise finds herself dragging back up some hard feelings.

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Louise loves hanging out with Millie. She's a little nuts, but she gets Louise in a way that no one else really does. Part of her regrets that she spent so much time pushing Millie's friendship away, but she likes how their relationship has developed over the past few years.

Millie was the first girl (aside from Tina) that she’d considered a friend, and while she still has to work on some of her issues around femininity and female friendships, she does respect how Millie has managed to open her eyes to the value of unabashedly loving being feminine.

Her head is in Millie's lap, and Millie is playing with her hair, and Louise is struck by the casual intimacy of it. It used to be scary, trusting people outside of her immediate family with her vulnerability like this, but now it feels so natural. Like she's adding people to her little family.

Millie's telling a story about her childhood dog that Louise is only half paying attention to when Louise's phone dings.

It's a text from Rudy, “Hey Lou! I loved your song in practice today! You should totally sing more. Your voice is so good!”

Louise's stomach flips and she immediately feels embarrassed at how much the compliment affects her.

"Who's that?" Millie asks.

It's a casual question, she's genuinely asking, but it makes the shame in Louise's chest flare.

"No one," Louise says, just a little too fast, dropping her phone.

Millie raises an eyebrow, "Uh huh…"

Louise's face blares even redder, and she sighs, "Sorry, it was just Rudy. I've been working on an original song, and I showed it to the band for the first time today. He was just texting to say he liked it."

"Oh."

Louise's heart sinks at Millie's muted response. She knows Millie hates it when she dances around Rudy in conversation. She sits up and looks at Millie.

"Sorry," Louise grimaces.

"It's whatever Louise," Millie shrugs, feigning casualty, but she's clearly hurt.

Louise hates this part of being a teenager. Honestly, she hates most of being a teenager, but this part stings the most. The fact that all their feelings are mixed up in this weird puberty soup and no matter what, someone ends up getting hurt.

"Millie…" Louise starts, but she doesn’t get very far.

"It's fine Louise," Millie cuts her off. "Let's just move on. Please."

Louise sighs, but assents, slipping into a story about her newest Burobu card.

Louise doesn't mean to act weird around Millie when it comes to Rudy, but it's so complicated now. A few months ago, Millie had confessed that she likes Louise, like like-likes her, and ever since then, Louise can't help overthinking how she talks to Millie about him.

Of course, that's the problem. Louise knows that the more she dances around it, the worse she makes it. Louise can't help but replay that conversation in her head as Millie takes over in the real world.

They'd been at Millie's house, studying for tomorrow's Spanish test, when Louise had caught Millie staring at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Do I have something on my face?" Louise had quipped.

To her surprise, Millie had gone bright red. "No, sorry I just…n-nothing" Millie stammered.

"What?"

At that moment, Louise had felt the tone in the room shift. Millie wasn't the type of person to get embarrassed. She was passionate to a fault, and never apologized for who she was, so to see her…scared? or ashamed? was unsettling.

Millie looked down at her hands, picking at her hangnails.

"Millie, what's going on?" She had been genuinely worried.

Millie sighed, "I…I like you."

"Uh…I like you too?" Louise had chuckled awkwardly. Part of her had known what was coming.

"No," Millie had looked up at Louise. Even in the memory Louise could feel them burning into her. "I like you. Like…I like-like you." Millie had cringed at the phrase as it came out of her mouth. "I mean, I have a crush. I guess. On you"

"Oh," Louise hadn’t known what else to say.

"Yeah," Millie was quiet.

"Um…" Louise had felt sick. Not because of what Millie said, she didn’t care about that. Because of how Millie was looking down at her hands like she was so scared of what Louise was going to say next.

Millie didn’t look up, "Look, I don't expect you to feel the same way about me. I know you like Rudy. I just…I just wanted you to know."

"I don't…" the protest against Millie's accusation had died on her lips. It wasn't the time for that. Plus if there was anyone who could tell when she was lying, it was Millie. "Mils…I don't like you like that," Millie still hadn’t looked up, so Louise had just powered forward. "But, you're one of my best friends. Maybe my best friend, and that doesn't change for me."

Millie had looked up at Louise, and she saw just a little bit of her fear melt away. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louise had smiled.

They'd talked for hours after that. All pretense of studying abandoned. They talked about liking girls and crushes and life, and it was like nothing had happened. But then, as it so often does nowadays (embarrassingly), Louise's mind had drifted to Rudy.

Should she hide how she feels about him in front of Millie now? More than she already was? Or should she just act like nothing is different? Clearly that's what Millie wants, but she doesn't want to hurt Millie's feelings. A montage of all the times Rudy had pined over Chloe in front of her had played though Louise's mind.

"Um, Mils?" Louise had started cautiously.

"What's up?” Millie’s voice had been casual, but Louise could tell she was nervous.

"You know how you said that thing…about…Rudy…?" Millie's face was inscrutable. Louise had plowed forward, her words tumbling out like an avalanche, impossible to stop once they’d started. "Well, hypothetically, if you were right about that, which I'm not saying that you are, but if you were, would you want me to avoid talking about that kind of thing around you?"

Instantly Louise had known it was the wrong thing to ask. Millie stiffened, and Louise had watched her practiced mask of indifference settle back over her face. Millie was complicated, but after four years of friendship, Louise could read her pretty well.

Millie’s default is passionate expression, but when someone rejects her (which turns out to be surprisingly easy, despite the seeming lack of social awareness she had displayed early on in their relationship) she shuts it off. Boards herself up, so she doesn’t have to confront how other people really feel about her.

Even though she hadn’t intended it that way, to Millie, Louise’s question meant that her view of Millie had changed. To her, that was a rejection, maybe even more than the actual rejection. Millie wasn’t surprised by Louise not liking her back. She’d expected as much, but her real fear was their friendship changing.

However important Millie was to Louise, Louise knew she was tenfold for Millie. Millie confessed to her once that Louise was her only real friend. She gets along with Louise’s friends, but she said Louise was the only person that really tried to understand her. To lose that, would be devastating.

“Millie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings.” Louise had paused, considering whether to voice her next thought aloud. “I know how hard it is to hear someone you like talking about their crush.”

That had cracked Millie’s mask a bit, but Louise had seen a flicker of hurt on her face too.

“I get it Louise, it’s fine,” Millie brushed her off.

“Millie,” Louise pushed.

“What?”

“It’s still me. It’s still us.”

“Yeah that’s what I’m afraid of,” Millie had laughed bitterly. Louise frowned. Millie sighed, “Louise, I don’t want this to change anything. Tell me, don’t tell me, just don’t treat me like I’m going to break.”

“Ok, yeah,” Louise had nodded solemnly, “I can deal with that.”

Except it turned out that that was easier said than done, and here she was, three months later, in the exact same position.

“I’m sorry Mills. Really, I am. I didn’t mean it like that. I would have hid that from anyone.” It was technically true, but definitely misleading.

“Uh huh,” Millie can see right through her.

“Ok, you’re right,” Louise concedes. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like hurting your feelings.”

Millie rolls her eyes, “I know that Louise, but we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Louise agrees sheepishly. Millie’s right. She just needs to treat Millie like a friend. “Here,” Louise tosses her phone over to Millie. “Guess I should probably respond, huh?”

Millie quickly scans the text and laughs. It’s a natural laugh, the rest of her mask crumbling. She looks up at Louise, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah, you should. He so likes you.”

“Please, his head is so far up Chloe Barbash’s ass…” Louise trails off.

“Yeah, sure,” Millie laughs. “Well come on then. Tell me about your song, Lou,” Millie teases, grinning impishly. She tosses Louise’s phone back to her.

“Shut up,” Louise rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flare as her eyes linger on his text.

And just like that, the tension evaporates as quickly as it came on. They’re laughing, joking, telling stories. Louise sings a bit of her song for Millie, her head in Millie’s lap. Puberty sucks, but if anything can be said for sure, Louise isn’t the type to let a stupid boy get in between her and her friends.

#bob's burgers #louise belcher #millie frock #rudy stieblitz #regular sized rudy #bobs burgers #bob's burgers fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #post canon #proper tags are on ao3 #but this is just friendship navigation #sweet and a tad angsty #but just bc they're teenagers and everything is a bit angsty with teenagers

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1kook · 4 years

Text

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

��Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Note

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

You do?

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

That's good. Be careful.

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #category: salt #episode: Hack San #other: ask and answer #((tbh depending on how much Marinette explains it to him))#((poor boi's gonna have one hell of a revelation in ''Wishmaker''))#((suddenly the Adrien crush influence she explained is gonna make sense))#((and he feels bad for ever supporting it even if he had no way of knowing.))

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riniackerman · 3 years

Text

I WANT TO FEEL YOU - # LEVI ACKERMAN

╰ it’s late night, you couldn’t get your boyfriend out of your head before going to sleep so you decided to visit your boyfriend’s room. as you were pleasuring him with staggering sensation, someone invaded his room without a sign. it’s 2 in the morning, who could it be?

a/n: this will be my first one-shot writing so it might be a lil clumsy

pairing: dom!levi ackerman x fem!reader

genre: nsfw

tws: 18+ mdni, oral (giving), face fucking, slut shaming, cum swallow, hair pulling, gagging, crying

wc: 2.2k

"i want to feel you..."

“captain?” you gently opened his office door, there you saw your boyfriend on his desk finishing up his papers.

His favorite scent candle lightened up, his grey eyes focused on the papers, he hadn’t noticed you yet.

“captain” you snap your fingers in front of him, making him twitch and look up at his girlfriend.

“[name]? what are you doing? you should be asleep” levi puts down the papers.

“thought i could visit by your room before going to sleep” you couldn’t stop thinking about him before going to sleep so you decide to come and see him. Although you were desperate to hug and kiss levi, you two haven’t even touched each other’s hand since you two dated.

Yes, it is weird for couples to not have any physical contact, but since you and levi are both busy, plus levi didn’t seem to get horny or have sexual intentions. but you didn’t mind, you only cared about his dedicated personality and how he treats you.

“just sit there, i’m almost done” levi gestures his fingers at the couch and got back to his works.

“captain, do you ever… like, touch…? girls?” you delicately ask him as you sit on the couch, levi clutches at your question, never in his life thought his cadet would ask such a question like this.

“what? no, i do, it’s just…” levi hushes his last words.

“hm? what?” you ask him once again, you really wanted him to express his feelings towards you, and not saying ‘i like you’ every time.

“i said i never touched girls before, just happened to overhear eld, oluo, and gunther talking about it...”

it…?

levi seemed quite embarrassed at his words. ever since he started dating you, he always wanted to hold your hands, grab by your waist, play with your hair, kiss you, and maybe take it a little further. It’s just he had no clue how to make his move.

“woah captain, really?” you were quite surprised, even though you knew levi had too many personal boundaries, you never thought of this coming.

“i want to feel you [name]...”

you completely blushed out when you heard what he said. you did imagine words like that to slip out from his lips but when he actually said did it, you felt butterflies in your stomach over and over again.

“come here... “ levi taps on his desk. you shily made your way next to his desk, standing there like a statue.

“i said come here” all of a sudden, he grabbed by your wrist and pulled you onto his laps. both of you gasped when your face was close to his, your nose almost touching his nose, both lips just inches away, and you are practically sitting on your boyfriend’s lap for the first time.

“i uh, um-” when he was stuttering his words, you crashed your lips on his, levi jolts and didn’t move for the first few seconds, but he eventually got along with it, his large hands cupping your cheek and his other grasping onto your waist.

what could possibly be better when captain levi’s tongue is swirling onto yours, salivas mixing up and moaning into each other’s mouth. you placed your hand onto his shoulders and other on his chest, you could hear his heart was pumping surprisingly fast.

you soon felt something hard against your thighs, you looked down and saw a huge outline of his dick against his pants. you were just shocked by the fact that your captain got hard because of you.

“what have you done to me [name]...” levi let out a few grunts and kissed you again, even deeper now. sloppy sounds and smooches filled up the room.

you traveled your hand onto his abs, abdomen, and soon to his crotch area. brushing his clothed cock with your palm. levi was aroused by a feeling that he had never felt before.

you slipped your body away from him and kneeled down on the floor, underneath his desk. you could see how red levi’s face was, the golden gloom from the candle made him even hotter. his breath, golden skin, grey eyes, and his black hair messed up by your touch.

you gently zipped his pants down and saw his hard cock wanting to pop out from the tight boxer. you pulled down his boxers and his big hard cock sprang out to your face.

now you know where captain levi’s height went.

he was big.

“wait- [name] it’s my… first time…” levi covered his lips with his hand, avoiding your eyes.

“i got this captain” you gave him a slight grin and licked the tip of his warm cock. moans started to slip off from levi’s pretty lips and his hands not knowing where to go.

you took him further down, his eyes widened seeing a sight of his favorite cadet sucking his cock in front of him as your head started to bob up and down.

“fu-fuck [name] you’re so good, i never- never felt this, ugh” he gulps at every word, trying his best to sound normal but sure he couldn’t.

you stroked your thumb over his tip as you kitty lick his length, giving him an enhancing sensation. groans left his lips at your every touch, and movement. your names kept slipping off from his mouth in breathless fragments.

“fucking... mhm suck me in, all” you knew this tone, it was the tone he always made when he was ordered to his little cadets cleaning instructions, but this time he was ordering his cadet to take his cock all down her tight throat.

you took him deeper, making him curse under his breath, he was having a hard time holding onto his moans. he didn’t want you to see him getting weak by your taction.

“don’t hold back” you coo, your voice vibrating around his cock inside your mouth and made his back arch up.

he grabbed on to your hair, rashly tying it to a ponytail, he always wanted to try this, he would always get turned on whenever he saw you with a ponytail, showing off your thin pretty neck and bits of hair falling.

he sits up and looked down at the side of your face, admiring how sexy and good you look sucking his cock, you could feel his hands were pushing your head whenever you took him further and further.

you finally got his full length inside your throat, you made such dirty noises and levi loved it. the gagging sounds filled up the room once again, groans and curses falling from his lips whenever you let out soft moans onto his cock, it would make him go wild. forcing you to take him deeper and deeper.

when he was about to reach his climax, two people burst into his office. It’s almost 2 in the morning, who has the audacity to come and just bang the captain’s door, and not even knocking.

levi gasped and you froze on the spot, he pulled out his cock from your mouth, the coldness of the air made his cock twitch a lot. now his cock is fully exposed in front of your face, it was still hard and long.

“leviiiiii! you won’t believe what me and Erwin just found out! you gotta hear this-” you heard hange talking over the room.

fuck fuck fuck, why is she here?

your mind was going blank when you heard hange’s footsteps getting near his desk. above you, you could see the panic in levi’s eyes, not knowing what to do.

“sorry levi for coming in like this, but hange wouldn’t dare to stop-”

my fucking god

you heard erwin’s voice above you, he was dangerously near, if he had taken a few steps forward, he would see levi’s cock picking out from his pants.

“wh-what? not now, i’m busy. can’t you see?” levi solidly suggests erwin and change to leave his room. he purposely leaned forward to his desk, his arms resting on it to hide his cock from erwin. he was trying his best to make any suspicious move.

when he leaned onto his desk, his cock was literally an inch away from your face and a crazy thought came across your mind.

“just come later- oh fuck-” as levi was talking to erwin and hange, he felt your warm tongue swirling onto his tip, making him unable to keep a straight face.

“levi? are you okay?” erwin asks levi in a worried tone. levi had dropped his face down, noticing you were sucking his dick slowly and gently.

“levi?” levi looked up at them, he was literally getting his cock sucked in front of his commander and his best friend.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this but looking at levi struggling to hide his expressions and moans made you go crazy and take him deeper.

“just… mhm, come… later” levi brushes his both hands onto his hair, purposely making it look like he was tired. trying his best to hint at erwin to get hange out of his office.

“hange let’s just go, levi isn’t going anywhere” thankfully erwin had noticed levi was acting unusual. he pulled hange away from the desk.

“but erwin-!” hange was eager to give levi a full speech of her research but erwin dragged her from the office and closing the door.

“you fucking tease” you heard levi let out a loud moan when erwin and hange’s footsteps faded away.

levi pulled your hair so hard that you squinted, he took his cock out of you, seeing you drool your saliva and his precome all over your lips.

he stood up from the chair and forcefully dragged and got you kneeling in front of his cock.

“open” without hesitation, levi shoved his cock into your lips when you opened them.

he didn’t give you time to adjust his huge length inside your throat, he grabbed onto your head and pushed your face onto his abdomen to take him deeper and deeper down your tight throat.

“you fucking slut, so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” levi moaned out his sentence while he fucked your face

he started to thrust his hips inside your mouth, he was basically destroying your throat with his cock and he didn’t know how to stop, he was actually taking it more and more, picking up speed every second.

he grabs your hair and twists it into a bunch around his fist, pulling you deeper until you started to gag non-stop, making him groan out in pleasure.

he went faster and faster, his hand gripping into your hair with greater force as his hips lurch and twitch up eagerly to meet your mouth, his hand in your hair suddenly pushes your head down hard choking you. your mind started to go blank, fuzzed-out, and your eyes rolling back.

tears dropped down to your cheeks but seemed like levi hasn’t noticed it yet. although it was painful, you didn’t want him to stop.

“you little slut, you’re gonna… ugh, take all of my cum… and swallow it-” you can feel levi is getting closer and closer inside you, he was choked out and your name escaping his lips.

his thrusts went faster and faster, he gave his last deep thrust and released his warm cum inside your mouth, his warm cum flooding down your throat and around your mouth.

“swallow it” he ordered and you obeyed, you slightly opened your mouth to show his cum inside your mouth and swallowed it.

“dirty girl” levi scoffs, catching for airs.

when you were trying to get up, lights gloomed at your face. levi’s eyes widened when he saw your cheeks covered in tears and your eyes were almost red.

“are you- did i do this to you [name]?” levi stuffed his cock back into his pants, and carefully grabbed onto your shoulder to help you to get up. he wiped your tears with his thumb. he had no idea you would cry. never in his life, he saw you crying.

“it’s okay, i liked it” you gave him a smile trying to avoid his eye contact.

“come here,” he pulled you into his chest, giving you a tight hug, he sweetly wrapped his large hand around your neck and another hand on your back.

“i love you [name]” levi patted your back as he nervously confesses his feelings to you for the first time.

“i love you too… captain” you smile and buried your head onto his large chest. gosh, you wanted this so bad.

↻ / ♡ are appreciated !

#aot #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot smut #snk smut #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #levi fanfiction #levi #levi x you #dom levi #mdni #not sfw

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diaco1968 · 3 years

Text

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

#altair x reader #altair x reader smut #altair x reader lemon #assassins creed #altair ibn la'ahad #assassins creed imagines

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gobblinggojo · 4 years

Note

i heard you take requests for the baddes bitch on the block, Yelena?

Can i have a headcannon/oneshot (whatever feels right for u) where the reader and yelena goes to the groceries and yelena gets hit on by a bunch of people? Which is a surprise because its always the reader getting hit on and not yelena

first of all— lemme just say; THANK YOU FOR BEING THE FIRST ONE TO SEND ME A REQUEST!✨

i can most certainly do this! ♥️

yelena x female! reader

warnings: mild language, jealous reader.

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going grocery shopping with yelena is always filled with excitement. something new happens each and every single time the two of you go out together. so, here you were, sitting in the shopping cart, piles of frozen foods, chips, ingredients, and salad mixes tossed on top of you while your lovely girlfriend, yelena pushed you around aimlessly through the aisles of the store. “do we need water, love?” she hummed out in her deep baritone voice. you were about to answer her when a soft whistle was heard near the two of you. both you and yelena turned your heads over to where the whistle came from, curiosity filling the both of your bodies. of course—, the whistle came from some random dude in the same aisle as the two of you, gazing right at the both of you. yelena was about to say something before he finally spoke; “damn blondy, you got a pretty nice ass!” of course, this caused you to stare wide eyed towards the dude, mouth agape in shock. usually it was YOU who got flirted with at the grocery store! never yelena. speaking of yelena, she was gazing right towards the dude, facial expression never changing from her bored, nutural look. “thank you. my girlfriend tells me that every night.” she hummed out as she reached over, gently rubbing the top of your head. before the guy could even say anything else, yelena pushed the shopping cart off again, humming as she did so. “that’s a first-.” you spoke out, leaning your head back to gaze up at your lovely girlfriend. yelena nodded almost instantly at that; “yes, yes it is a first.” she whispered, her cheeks were flushed a light red, signifying her embarrassment at the comment she had gotten. the next time something like this had happened, you and yelena were in the juice isle, yelena was reaching up grabbing a jug of orange juice when she heard a group of teenage boys standing behind her, laughing and nudging at one another. she let out a soft sigh and turned around, gazing at the group rather boredly as she gently placed the jug in the shopping cart right in her lap. “can i help you boys?” she asked softly, tilting her head as she crossed her arms. one of the boys cleared his throat and gazed up at yelena, smiling innocently as he did so. “my buddy’s and i were just talking about how hot you are! i mean, you got a smoking body!” one of the boys laughed loudly at his friends remark towards yelena. almost instantly, you shot up and huffed, glaring right at the teenage boys with a scowl on your face. “can you dumbasses leave MY girlfriend alone?!” you shrieked towards them, huffing loudly as you hugged a pack of marshmallows close to your chest. obviously the group of boys, and even yelena were surprised by your rage. one of the boys cleared his throat and looked down, muttering a quiet “sorry.” before the group of boys walked off in shame. yelena instantly began to giggle as she gazed towards you. “is my lovely y/n jealous~?” she hummed as she gazed down at your position in the shopping cart. you could only whine in response, looking down with a pout. yelena only giggled at that; “now you know how i feel when all of those weird fuckers flirt with you, my love~.” yelena teased as she leaned over and gently kissed your head, only to roughly ruffle your hair afterwards. “come on, let’s get checked out.” she spoke softly. you only huffed in response, still mad at the fact those boys were flirting with YOUR girlfriend.

#yelena x reader fluff #yelena attack on titan #yelena supremacy #aot yelena #yelena x reader #yelena reader #yelena aot #attack on titan yelena #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #oneshots #fluff #jealousy #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #weebnation #anime

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smutandfluffohmy · 4 years

Text

His Sweater

From: Smutandfluffohmy Pairings: George X Slytherin!reader A/N: This is written a bit weird? Uuu tell me what you think of the writing I’m trying something out. Summary: Slytherin! reader wonders around the castle and comes across George and Fred.

Read Part 2 here

I had a nightmare that night. I’m sure it was a horrible dream but I didn’t remember or perhaps I didn’t want to remember once I woke up. The morning was not there yet but I could feel it, it was not early enough for others to be awake nor was it late enough to go back to sleep. I rose my head looking around the room hoping my roommates would for some miracle be awake; but everyone was still fast asleep.

I got myself out of bed slipping my feet in the slippers. My pajamas bundled awkwardly around my thigh and knee, using my foot to tug it back in place. The dorms were warm but so quiet, I felt that this is what it must feel like to be the only person in the world.

Walking out of my dorm and making my way into the common room I expected to bump into someone at any second, but I didn’t. I was the only one awake me, the kraken and the fire.

Making my way out of the Slytherin common room I looked around the stretched out halls.I wondered who was awake at this time, why they were awake and what they were up to. Perhaps they were always early rises and they will be surprised to see me.

The usually loud halls were deadly quiet. I wonder if I’m dead, a curious thing it would be if I was because I don't remember dying.Looking around the halls, watching all the sleeping paintings that framed the tall halls. Despite walking down these halls hundreds of times they felt too big, too old and my bunny slippers felt too out of place.

My mind started to wander, not enough that I didn't know it was wondering but enough to not keep my wits about me.

Someone bumped into me , making me stumble backwards before a hand reached over and kept me on my feet. Looking up at who it could possibly be that bumped into me with the entire hall free. I looked up to see George Weasley’s eyes that were filled with worry and confusion as to who would be awake at this hour as if he himself wasn't awake at this hour as well.“Jesus Weasley you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“If you want I could finish off the job.” Fred sneered appearing from behind his brother.

Shooting him a glare I tried ignoring the burning spot growing where George was touching me “Haha very funny. What are you guys doing up.” I said straightening my already straight pajamas, cursing myself for wearing my green pajamas and white bunny slippers, I looked like a walking Slytherin banner.

George looked from me to his brother to my slippers before speaking “Could ask you the same thing.” he said.

“I asked first.” I retorted, scrunching my eyebrows together.

“Shame you’re outnumbered.” Fred shrugged hiding something behind his back. Technically they’re outnumbered if they would only count my bunny slippers.

Shrugging my shoulders I looked between them “Had a bad dream.”

“So you got out of bed to wonder the halls.” Fred said scrunching his nose at me.

“Your turn.” I said

“Counting the paintings wanted to make sure they hadn’t hopped off the walls.” George said with a face splitting smile that seemed too bright and too happy for an hour when the sun wasn't even out.

“Fine I’ll just follow you two around if you’re going to be like that.” I said, maybe I’ll get another smile from George even if I had to put up with Fred.

“No.” Fred said spinning around walking in front of me, his hands still behind his back hiding water it was.

“You can’t stop me.” I answered confidently, as confidently as someone with no wand and no socks could sound.

George snickered beside me “We can.” he said. But his threat was empty, a sweet empty like an empty sweets wrapper.

Fred seemed to catch on to the tone in his brothers voice because he rolled his eyes before saying “Whatever hurry up we have lots to do, places to be”

George shifted uncomfortable besides me, Fred rhythmically tapped the thing in his hand, the silence too loud for us to ignore.I shivered from the cold and the awkwardness.

Fred laughs “Did you think Hogwarts was warm at 3am? In the winter? A bit dense aren't we.” he says stretching his arms over his head, my embarrassment spread across my face.

George broke my silent embarrassment “Don’t mind him he’s upset were awake this early.Here you can borrow my jumper” he said tugging the jumper off, messing his hair in the process.

The color returned to my face, was it possible for someone to be attractive with bed head? Apparently it was. I just wish I realized this in a less compromising moment “Are you sure? Aren’t you going to be cold?” I said hesitant to take the offered jumper.

George smiled “I’m sure. I hardly get cold” he said putting my head through the jumper, the flappy arms hanging off my shoulders.

My thoughts left my head, I couldn't even remember what it felt like to have any. “Thank you I re-” I mustered out

Fred sighed making George and I jump, forgetting he was there at all “Barf. Can we hurry up.” He said. Putting my arms through the sweaters arms, smoothing out my hair trying to get rid of the static.

“What are you guys doing.You never said” I said speed walking trying to keep up with their long strides.

“Feeding the narwals the live around the castle I reckoned they were a bit peckish.” Fred said pointing at deep dark corners in the hallways.

“Narwhals live in the ocean.” I said, far too serious and far too matter a factly that made me wince inside.

“It doesn't matter they’re not real.” George said with a laugh tugging at his shirt collar.

“Mate...” Fred said with a mix of bemusement and a horrified look before laughing, shaking his head and continued making his way to wherever they were going.

“What?” George said looking from his brother to me, trying to figure out the punchline he felt we’ve hidden from him.

“George narwhals are real animals.” I said quietly to him.

“Oh.” George murmured his face getting as red as his hair, a task I didn't know was possible.

“Besides can’t tell you, you might go on and tell your boyfriend Malfoy.” Fred said waving me off. Now it was my turn to turn red.

“Yea can’t say we can trust a Slytherin with our plan.” George said with a hint of something in his voice and a different spring in his step.

“First of all Malfoy isn’t my boyfriend. Second I love a good laugh come on Weasleys spill.” I said, excitement running through me at the thought that I could be part of one of their pranks.

“I still don't think we can trust them.” Fred said looking over my head to talk to George.

“I don't think so either, feel like she’s a secret spy sent out.” George said pretending to whisper.

“Just tell me.” I said looking up at them, as they averted their eyes up to the ceiling.

George let out a laugh “Slytherin and Gryffindor quidditch game today so we’re hexing Slytherins area to turn into-” he said

“Gryffindor colors.” Fred said finishing the sentence his brother had started.

“Hmm brillant but-” I said cracking my fingers, wincing at the loud sound promptly dropping my hand.

“But?” Fred said cocking his eyebrow at me, wanting and not wanting to hear what I had to say.

George mimicked his brothers expression looking down at me “I don’t think it gets more brilliant than that.” he shrugged.

“BUT.” I said poking both of the on the arms. “What if you changed our horns to cheer for Gryffindor instead.” I said, unsure if it could work or not but I’m sure if it could be pulled off the people to come to was the Weasley twins.

“Well take it into consideration.” George said, side eyeing me perhaps sizing me up or perhaps a bit crossed he didn’t pitch the idea first. I could feel myself beam at the thought I might have possibly contributed to a great Weasley prank.

Steps echoed through the empty halls. Stiffing at the sound the three of us froze, too unsure or afraid of the volume of our own voices afraid they might come out too loud and give us all away.

“Fucking hell someones coming.” George said barely above an audible whisper but it felt like he was shouting at the top of his lungs in that moment.

“Told you they’re was a mole” Fred scoffed at his brother eyeing me with fake anger and trying to hold back a laugh. Or perhaps he was in fact a bit crossed with me.

“Shut up. Go on I’ll take care of it.” I said stepping in front of them, shooing them away to continue on. Offering myself as a sacrifice, I only wonder if I was going to be a eye rolling encounter or an after class eraser dusting sacrifice.

“I knew they weren't a mole.” George smiled from me to his brother.

“Perhaps.” Fred said dragging out his s, not believing me until I proved it.

Rolling my eyes I took a step backwards “Go on carrot tops.” I smiled up at them.

“Oi no need to come after the hair.” Fred said in moving his hands up in defense, a laugh threatening to leave his mouth and running his aloof demeanor.

“I’ll be cheering for you Wesley. Even if you don't hex the horns.” I said smiling at George, I wondered what smile wouldn't give my crush on George but it didn't matter because I couldn't see it.

“Thanks glad to see I’m finally being appreciated.” Fred said puffing his chest out pretending to throw a bludger, a faint smile spreading on your face.

“Oh guess I’ll cheer for you too carrot top. Now go hurry” I said shoving them as I started running towards the source of the sound, my bunny slippers ears bouncing in different direction with each step.

Harshly stopping, and turning around “Wait George your jumper.” I shouted, a shouted only above a whisper but still too loud.

“Give it to me later!” George whisper shouted towards me a lopsided smile on his face, a smile I don't think I’ve seen on others.

“Earth to George hurry up.” Fred said slapping his brothers arms to get his attention that I’m sure he had as soon as he said his name.George turned to his brother as they ran side by side. “I think you’re carrot top and I’m Wealsey.”

“Ha whatever makes you feel better.” George laughed shoving his brother before running towards the Quiditch field.

#george weasley #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred Weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader #slytherin reader

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Just Peachy - George Weasley

Title: Just Peachy Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Pegging, male receiving oral, male fingering, slight fem!dom/sub!george, teasing, degradation. Seriously George takes it up the ass if you don’t like it don’t read it k thanks Summary: with the world wide web at his fingertips it’s only natural that George finds something new to try in the bedroom A/N: for the anon who wanted George getting pegged. Like I said in the warnings, George takes it up the ass so if that makes you uncomfy or you don’t like it don’t read! I’m also not tagging anyone as I don’t want to make anyone uncomfy or upset! Feedback is always welcome!

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Giving George a laptop and access to the internet turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. A curse because he quickly became obsessed with browsing the internet, and he spent most of his time scrolling away on reddit or with his headphones on, watching some random YouTube video. He could chatter on for hours about a thread he found on reddit or a meme he discovered when browsing on Instagram and once he discovered how to order things off of amazon it got even worse. At least once a day a package containing some random gismo or trinket arrived at the doorstep of their shared flat, and George would excitedly rip open the box and use whatever was inside for a few minutes before jumping back on his computer to order more useless crap.

But his newfound love of the internet was also a blessing. George had figured out how to connect his laptop to the tv in his and Y/N’s bedroom, and every night before falling asleep they would cuddle together in bed, watching some tv program or film on Netflix. Along with George’s obsession with shopping for useless gadgets, he’d started to pick things up for Y/N as well. It was never anything big, a box of her favorite chocolates, a candle he thought she’d enjoy the smell off, a new pair of fuzzy socks for her to wear around the flat in the winter. Just anything he saw that made him think of her.

George’s new love of the internet also did wonders for their sex life, something Y/N welcomed happily.

Along with the random cute presents George started ordering for Y/N, he also started ordering some sexy ones as well. Her wardrobe is now dripping in different sets of lingerie and her underwear drawer is filled to the brim with lace clad panties. Their sex toy collection has nearly doubled in size, with toys for them to use together or on their own being added to the mix. And thanks to George’s Pornhub premium subscription, they’ve tested out some new positions and kinks in the bedroom as well. Some were only a one time thing, others have become a permanent part of their intimate moments, but everything has been pleasurable, nonetheless. It’s made their relationship stronger and helped George ask for things he never thought he’d want, even those that may be a tad unconventional.

George clears his throat as he tugs Y/N closer to his side, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He can tell she’s close to drifting off to sleep by the way her chest is moving with slow deep breaths and he knows he’ll never get the chance to ask the question that’s been burning on the tip of his tongue for weeks if he doesn’t do it now. “You ever heard of pegging?” he asks into the quiet of their bedroom.

“Like clothes pegs? The things you use to hang your washing up with?” Y/N mumbles sleepily into his chest.

George chuckles and he can feel some of his nerves easing away. “No, it’s like a sex thing.”

“Like putting clothes pegs on your nipples? Sounds kinda hot,” Y/N teases, turning so she can look up at George. “Though I imagine the splinters would be a nightmare to get out.”

“Not quite,” George responds, biting his lip. “It’s, um. This thing where. The girl wears this thing, a strapon, and um. Uses it to. Ya know, fuck the guy.” George’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he looks up at the ceiling to avoid Y/N’s gaze.

“Oh,” she responds quietly, reaching up to cup one of George’s cheeks. She rubs the flushed skin with her thumb soothingly, waiting for him to relax into her touch before she continues. “Is that something you’re interested in? Something you want me to do to you?”

“I. Um. Uh. Yes, I think so. Only if you want to,” George babbles nervously, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

Y/N grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers before bringing it down so she can press a few kisses to the back of his hand. “Georgie, look at me.” When George finally looks back down at her Y/N smiles softly and squeezes his hand. “You never have to be embarrassed about this kinda stuff with me George. If you wanna try it, we’ll try it. Simple as that.”

George leans down to kiss Y/N briefly. “Just didn’t want you to think I was weird or something.”

“Of course I think you’re weird,” Y/N teases, kissing him again. “But there’s loads of other reasons for that, and none of them have to do with your sexual preferences. There’s no shame here, love. I’ll do some research and then we’ll get down into it, yeah?”

“You’re the best, you know that?” George compliments, settling back into the pillows.

Y/N hums as her eyes flutter closed, letting the sound of George’s heartbeat lull her to sleep. “Damn right.”

Over the next few days Y/N spends every ounce of free time she has browsing different forums and websites, trying to find out all she can to make sure the experience is as pleasurable for the both of them as possible. She watches far more porn than she ever thought she would, spends hours searching on various sex toy websites to find the perfect strapon and she does more research on lube than any person should ever do in their lives.

Y/N keeps everything a secret from George until the day they’d decided would be best to try for the first time. They choose a Friday, that way George will have time to recover from any soreness before he’s expected to be back at work and if they both find it enjoyable, possibly do it again.

While George is at work Y/N decides to grab the strapon from where she’d been hiding it in the back of the closet, so she can clean it off one last time and figure out how to properly strap it to her body, so she doesn’t have to fumble with it later. The harness she’d chosen has a part that settles into her slit, with ridges and bumps that’ll drag across her clit with every thrust. A shiver runs down her spine as the cool leather wraps around her skin and she tightens the straps, adjusting them so they fit tight on her hips and thighs.

“This is kinda hot,” Y/N mumbles as she stares down at the dildo resting at attention in between her thighs. It’s flesh colored and slightly curved, and it’s about 7 inches long and moderately thick. She wraps her hand around it, slowly moving her wrist as if she’s jacking off. “Fucking hell,” she groans as the ridges on the strap brush her clit, her hips jerking forward. Y/N wraps her hand around the base and grabs her phone off of the bathroom counter, snapping a picture to send to George.

Can’t wait to have you begging for my cock xx

George takes his phone out when he feels it vibrate in his pocket, figuring its Y/N sending him a sweet message. Ever since she taught him how to text a few months ago she’s started sending him little things throughout the day while they’re apart. Usually it’s a text to let him know she’s thinking about him or sometimes it’s a meme or a video she found that she figures he’d enjoy too.

So, when he opens his phone and is met with a picture of her hand wrapped around the dildo Y/N plans on fucking him with later his cheeks immediately turn bright red as he nearly drops his phone on the ground. His cock twitches in his trousers and he has to grip the counter in front of him and take a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. That image is going to be imbedded in his brain for the rest of the day, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to make it through the next few hours knowing what’s waiting for him at home.

“You alright?” Fred asks as he comes out of the back, taking in George’s flushed appearance.

George hums and nods, locking his phone and shoving it back in his pocket. “Yep. Just peachy.”

Fred gives him a look but doesn’t say anything more, and George sighs in relief, deciding to go help some customers to keep his mind off of Y/N.

“God damn,” George pants as Y/N grinds down in his lap, his grip on her hips tightening and his head tilting back to give her more room to bite at his neck.

After dinner and some more talking about what the rest of their evening will look like, Y/N lead George to the bedroom to get started. They had stood in the middle of their bedroom for what felt like hours, just kissing softly as they gently undressed each other. Once they were both down to nothing, but their underwear George settled in the middle of their bed with his back against the headboard, while Y/N straddled his waist and started to grind down against him. Now a few minutes later, George is fully hard in his boxers while Y/N continues to grind on him, her lips attacking his neck and one of her hands tugging at his hair while the other pinches and rolls his nipples.

“Feel good?” Y/N teases, twisting the nipple in her hand. George lets out a loud moan and Y/N can feel George’s cock twitch against her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she continues, kissing her way back up to George’s mouth. Y/N tugs on his hair as they kiss, just letting their mouths move together for a few moments. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes, please,” George confirms with a nod. He can feel some nerves rumbling in his stomach still, but Y/N’s soothing voice and gentle hands have put him at ease. He hasn’t stopped thinking about this moment since he suggested pegging over a week ago, and the picture Y/N sent him has only made him more excited. “Want you to fuck me, Y/N.”

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine at George’s words, and she kisses him briefly. “Patience, love. We gotta get you ready first. I’m gonna go get dressed. Want you to take your boxers off and lay back on the middle of the bed, yeah?” Y/N kisses George once more as he nods, before getting off the bed and heading into the bathroom attached to their room.

The strapon and lube are already waiting on the bathroom counter, and Y/N takes a deep breath as she shimmies out of her panties and grabs the strapon. She decides to keep her lacy black bralette on, as it’s one of George’s favorites and Y/N knows seeing her in it drives him wild. Y/N secures the strapon like she did this afternoon, groaning as the nubs rub against her clit. She’s already fairly turned on just from the grinding and she can’t imagine it’ll take much for her to cum once she’s fucking into George. She looks at herself one last time in the mirror before grabbing the bottle of lube and heading back into their bedroom. George is completely naked now, laying back on the bed with his head propped up by their pillows so he can watch Y/N’s every move.

“God you’re gorgeous,” George groans as Y/N comes back into the room, his eyes raking over her body. The leather straps wrapped around her skin make her thighs look even more divine, and his mouth waters as he takes notice of the dildo jutting out from between her thighs. “This is way hotter than I thought it would be.”

Y/N giggles as she settles on the bed between George’s legs, tossing the lube onto the bed next to him. “Yeah? You like my cock?” she teases as she hovers over George, attaching her lips to the base of his throat. She thrusts her hips against George slowly, letting the dildo drag against his cock.

George gasps as the dildo drags across his warm skin, a shiver running down his spine. “Shit that’s cold.”

“Sorry, baby,” Y/N apologizes as her lips start to trail down his chest towards his nipples. She lets her hot breath just barely breeze across one before she flicks at it with her tongue. George lets out a low moan, prompting her to give his other nipple the same treatment.

“It’s okay. Felt good,” George stutters out as Y/N takes one of his nipples into her mouth. He can feel the precum collecting on the tip of his cock dripping onto his stomach, and he thrusts his hips up, desperate for some friction.

“Gotta be patient, baby,” Y/N coos as she starts to kiss further down George’s body. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” Y/N presses a kiss to the tip of George’s cock, pulling away when he groans and thrusts his hips up into her touch. “Don’t be naughty, George,” Y/N warns as she grabs the lube.

George licks his lips as he watches Y/N spread the lube on her fingers, his legs automatically opening a bit wider. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Better be,” Y/N responds as she tosses the lube aside again. She grabs the base of George’s cock with her clean hand, leaning down and sucking the tip between her lips as one of her fingers circles his entrance. She takes him down fully as she sinks the first finger into him, the noise he lets out going straight to her core.

“Oh,” George gasps as Y/N starts to bob her head on his cock, his brain focused on the way her finger feels as it moves inside of him. “Feels good,” George moans, grinding his hips down against her hand. “Feels different, but good.”

Y/N hums around George as she continues to suck his cock, the hand on the base of him twisting as she adds another finger alongside the first. She’d read many guides on the best way to prepare someone, and she moves slowly, wanting George to feel as good as possible.

Y/N works at opening up George for a few minutes, getting up to three fingers into him while her tongue teases the tip of his cock. His hips are rocking down against her hand feverishly, and little mewls are leaving his lips as his chest heaves with deep breathes.

“Fuck me please,” George begs as Y/N crooks her fingers inside of him, his hands fisting in the bed sheets. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s ready to move on to the next step.

Y/N pulls off of George’s cock and looks up at him, groaning at how beautiful he looks. His chest his flushed red and his hair is messy from his hands running through it. “Yeah, baby? You ready for me to ruin you with my cock?”

George chokes on a moan as Y/N pulls her fingers out of him, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly empty. “God yes, please. Need to feel you inside of me. Wanna be full of your cock, Y/N.”

“Such a desperate little cock slut and I haven’t even fucked you yet, baby,” Y/N teases as she lubes up the dildo. She lets out a quiet moan as she strokes it, the little nubs and ridges on the harness giving her some much needed relief on her aching pussy. “You remember the safe word, right baby?”

George nods, a whimper falling from his lips as Y/N presses the tip of the dildo against his entrance. “I remember, yes,” he confirms, taking in a few shaky breaths.

Y/N grabs one of George’s knees, pushing his leg to the side to give her more room. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to fuck you with my cock? Turn you into a little cock whore?”

“Please,” George begs. He’s rock hard against his stomach and he’s desperate for Y/N to finally sink into him. “Oh my fuck,” George moans as Y/N’s hips push forward slowly, not stopping until the dildo is in him completely and the leather straps are digging into the backs of his thighs.

Y/N rubs George’s hips soothingly, watching his face contort into some mixture of pleasure and pain. “You doing okay, Georgie? Talk to me baby.”

George slowly pushes his hips down against Y/N, a moan falling from his mouth at the sensation. It burns slightly, but in an amazing way, and George feels full in a way he never has before. “Feels so fucking good,” he whines, pushing his hips down against Y/N’s in a steady pace. “Need you to move, Y/N fuck. Please. So full of you, so full of your cock.”

“Fucks sake,” Y/N moans as she starts to move her hips, slowly pulling out of George before she fucks back into him. The noise George lets out as she starts to fuck him goes right to her core, and the feeling of the nubs rubbing against her clit prompts her to slam back into George harder. “You like the way I fuck you, Georgie? Like how my big cock stretches you out?”

“Merlin, yes,” George moans as Y/N starts to move faster one of his hands coming down to stroke his cock in time with her thrusts. “Love the way you fuck me, Y/N. Feels better than I ever thought it would.” George wraps one of his hands around his thigh, pulling his legs up to his chest. The new angle allows for Y/N to fuck into him deeper, and he lets out a long whine as the tip of the dildo finally brushes his sweet spot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there Y/N please,” he begs, as he tips his head back against the pillows.

“Such a fucking slut, baby,” Y/N teases as she starts to fuck into George harder. The bumps and ridges on the harness brush against her clit roughly, and she can feel her wetness dripping down onto her thighs. George looks absolutely ethereal, and it does nothing but push her closer to her own orgasm. His chest is red and covered in a sheen of sweat and the noises falling from his mouth are going right to her core.

George groans as the tip of the dildo brushes his sweet spot with every one of Y/N’s thrusts, and he releases his cock so he can grab his other thigh and bring his leg up to his chest, allowing Y/N to somehow fuck into him even deeper. “Only for you, Y/N. Love being your cock slut.”

“That’s right, baby. My little slut.” Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, and she wraps her hand around George’s cock, stroking him in time with her thrusts, her thumb rubbing over the tip and spreading his precum down the shaft to make her hand slide easier. “Fuck, George. ‘M gonna cum. Come on, baby. Be a good little cock slut and cum on my cock.”

Y/N’s hand on his cock pushes George over the edge, and he can feel his walls clench around the dildo as he cums, pleasure rolling through his body. Her name leaves his mouth in a loud shout as he shoots his seed all over Y/N’s hand and his own stomach.

“Fuck, George,” Y/N moans as her own orgasm washes over her, the rhythm of her hips stuttering as the pleasure rockets through her body. She releases George’s cock as soon as it stops twitching, letting her hips slow to a gentle roll before pulling out of George completely.

George releases his legs and lets them fall back against the bed, inhaling slowly as he tries to catch his breath. “Fucking Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

Y/N giggles as she crawls up George’s body, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Glad you liked it, because it was so fucking hot, George. Like so unbelievably hot.” She kisses George again, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “I’ll be right back, yeah? Gonna grab something to clean you up.”

Y/N comes back from the bathroom a few minutes later back in the panties she’d taken off earlier, with a washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She hands George the water with a smile as she settles between his thighs.

“Thanks, love,” George murmurs before taking a sip, nearly chocking as Y/N runs the warm washcloth along his bum. “Could have given a guy some warning,” he teases through his coughing fit.

“Sorry, love,” Y/N giggles as she wipes up his stomach. Once George is clean Y/N tosses the washcloth on the floor for them to deal with later, before crawling back up the bed. “So, feel good?”

George places the empty glass on his bedside table before pulling Y/N into a deep kiss. “My arse is a little sore but other than that yes, incredible.”

“I’ve got some salve you can use tomorrow if you want. Figured it might come in handy.” Y/N pulls back the covers so she and George can get into bed, letting him pull her onto his chest. “I love you, George.”

George chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “I love you too, Y/N. Thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“I told you,” Y/N muses with a laugh as George grabs his wand, giving it a flick so the lights in their room turn off. “I absolutely think you’re a weirdo, a weirdo who looks super fucking hot cumming on my cock.”

#George weasley #George Weasley smut #gw #golden

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psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

Bitter Taste Pt. 2: Iwaizumi x reader

Part 1 is here

tw: mentions of uncomfortable relationships, situations with drinking, and excessive sadness. but this piece is actually pretty fluffy and sweet overall xx Iwa turns the lock inside your door for you and you stumble inside. He reaches out and catches you for the nth time that night. “Hey, whoa, I’ll help you, okay?” You groan in protest but cling to his arm. “I- umm- wanna brush my teeth, because of…” “Yeah,” he nods. He doesn’t want to add to your embarrassment. He stares around in the dark of your house before finding the light switch.

The kitchen is painted a light green and the clock on the wall shows that it's a little after 2AM. The clock ticks and the sink drips. You release his arm and shuffle towards the stairs but turn back before you go. “I’m really okay, you don’t have to- babysit me,” you giggle, eyes tired. Iwaizumi makes no moves to leave and instead takes in your state; you’re always beautiful but there’s something new to you that he hasn’t seen before. “You can stay if you want of course… but I’m going to get cleaned up… oh, would you mind-umm...” You turn your back to him and peer over your shoulder. “Could you?” you ask again and gesture to the back of your dress. “Oh! sure,” Iwa moves closer to you and examines the dress. He’s surprised to find small silk buttons up the back instead of a zipper. “I can normally undo them myself, but my head feels funny,” you mumble. “I don’t mind helping…” He works his way down the back of the dress. It’s difficult for his large fingers to undo such delicate buttons but he manages. Staring at your spine he realises you’re missing the wings of your costume. They looked so natural at the party he was sure they were sprouting from your back. Your arms clutch the loosening garment to your chest. He undoes the last button and tries his best to not let his eyes linger on your bare back out of respect. “There you go,” he announces. He takes a step back and you thank him before scurrying up the stairs.

Iwa blinks. He walks through the open room past the kitchen and towards the section of your space that's your living room. There’s a small desk in between two large bookcases off to the left and the desk faces a window. A wide variety of books sit on the shelves in seemingly no real order, except the mangas. Psychology, philosophy, mythology, fiction, non-fiction, adventure novels, crime, Crime and Punishment, and a few poets' collected works. He turns his attention back to the desk. A plant grows in the window sill, and a mess of papers cover the surface of the desk, hiding an old laptop. His eye is caught on the curvy letters of your handwriting in an open book. He begins to read and then stops himself as soon as he realises what the writing is. It’s a poem and not for his eyes. He didn’t read much, not more than a couple lines… but he now sees a side of you and he hates himself for not seeing it before, though he supposes you hide it very well. You are not nearly as happy as you want others to perceive you... or perhaps it’s better to say you’re not nearly as happy as you desire to be.

“Hi again,” Iwa jumps feeling like he was caught. Your smirk is sleepy but still playing across your face. “Are you snooping?” you probe. Iwazumi starts to explain but you laugh and brush him away, “it’s fine Iwa, I have nothing to hide from you.” The smile on your face is full of lightheartedness and understanding… normally you’re quick witted and bantering back and forth with him or Oikawa but perhaps it was because you didn’t feel well? Or maybe because you’re at home? But you’re different here… softer. Those words you wrote flash through his mind. “Are you alright?” he asks before thinking better of it. You ‘mhm’ a small reply then pad into the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?” you gesture to the powder blue kettle. “I’m good, thanks,” you nod in response and flip the kettle on for the water to boil. “So Iwa-” you start but he stops you. “Please call me Hajime?” A soft smile paints your expression as you lean against the counter, “alright then, Hajime.” He swallows hard hearing you say his first name like that. The rasp in your voice, the lilt, oh how he wanted you to say his name again. But the water now boiling, your attention was on making your tea. ‘Hajime’ ringing in his ears, he pictured how many ways you could say it. And for once, he indulged in imagining his name spilling from your lips as he lay between your thighs.

“Hey,” you pull him from his thoughts as you sit down next to him. “Any of your girlfriends ever call you Haji-bae?” you ask, that impish grin now back as you giggle to yourself. “No,” he laughs softly, more amused with you than your joke, “no they have not.” You sigh and place the mug on the coffee table, “that’s a shame, opportunity missed if you ask me.” Hajime narrows his eyes, “are you going to start calling me that?” You stare at the ceiling carefully considering your answer, “nah, I like saying your name too much.” Hajime looks down at his hands. If the situation were any different he would ask you out right there, but after the night and how weird Ushijima had been, he knew now wasn’t the time. Iwaizumi wasn’t a patient man, but for this, for you he would be.

“Wanna watch cheesy reality tv?” Iwaizumi chuckles before answering, “sure.” You flip on the tv and settle down on the couch.

Tonight~ on Kitchen Nightmares, Gordon helps a failing Italian restaurant whose sanitation standards have gone down the drain, ‘what is that?!?!’

You both watch in silence for a moment before you look over at him. “I’m really okay, and I don’t want you feeling like you have to take care of me,” you lean your head on his shoulder. The weight of that night, mixed with the heaviness of your head made your eyes start to droop. “I’m just- I’d rather you be here because you want to be, not because I got too drunk and made a fool of myself.” You pull your knees in closer to your chest. Hajime looks down at you, “I want to be here… and that wasn't your fault. Ushijima shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” You sigh, “I mean I guess, but I should have been more clear, should have told him no.” Iwa moves his arm and pulls you in closer. “Hey, I was watching… it’s not your fault, at all, okay?” Your head on his chest feels warm and his heart jumps at the way you nuzzle against him. You nod softly, eyes closed. Looking down at you Iwa thinks back to those words on those pages. “Here,” he murmurs as he moves both your bodies. Now he’s laying on his back, and you’re on his chest, one arm draped over you. Your hand rests on his free arm, your thumb drawing circles on his skin. You still almost completely and Iwa assumes you’ve fallen asleep, which is what he wanted. But he perks hearing you whisper, “you’ve got goosebumps.” There is something about you that’s so pure. He’d noticed it slightly before but it was so evident in your exhausted state. It’s something that Hajime wants to protect and he feels relief in holding you this close. No one can hurt you when you’re here. And suddenly Hajime hopes that he will never be someone to cause you pain. But laying with you at 3:07am, he makes the promise that if he ever were to hurt you, he would then make amends. Because promising to never hurt someone is unrealistic, people are unintentional with their cruelty at times.

You’re so warm, and your breath pattern is synced to his. It’s a new feeling for him, one he can't begin to define as his eyes grow heavy. The light of the tv, the sound of the clock ticking, you, sleep.

“Hajime, hey,” he’s awoken to the grey light of dawn and your voice. You sit up slightly, squinting and rubbing an eye. It’s raining, the water droplets falling rhythmically against the glass. “We fell asleep,” you grumble, your voice raspy. Iwa can’t help but to wish you both were still sleeping. You climb off the couch and stand looking at him. He sits up slowly and yawns. The tv, still on, asks if you’re still watching. He takes a deep breath and then stands as well, stretching. He was still wearing his jeans from the night before.

You pad towards the stairs and start to climb. Iwa looks for where he left his keys. “Are you coming?” you ask, turning around. Hajime blinks, “you want me to?” he checks. You roll your eyes and extend your hand. He takes it and follows you up the stairs. “Hajime, we were already sleeping on each other, and its like, 5-something, would be silly for you to go now.”

You push open the door to your room, stripping off your hoodie, revealing a simple tank top. You fling the hoodie into a chair and flop into your bed. “I don't mind if you take your jeans off,” you mumble into the pillows. “You sure?” Iwa confirms. “Yes I’m sure,” you laugh, “I wouldn’t say it otherwise… I’d say something like ‘keep your jeans on’ if that's what I meant.” You roll your head over to look at him. He squints down at you, a playful smirk slowly creeping across his face. “Is this just a ploy to get me out of my pants?” You huff a laugh, and brush away the idea with your hand. “Nah, you’re a gentleman, so I trust you.” His smirk fades into a genuine smile, you’re so sincere saying you trust him like this. Perhaps it’s your exhaustion that makes you more literal.

He slowly takes his jeans off and climbs into your bed. He lays on his back next to you, his arm slightly extended as an invitation. He wanted to let you break the space between you. He would have understood if you’d kept your distance, but his heart fills as you lay your head on his chest. Your fingers draw lazy circles over his clothed shoulder. He relishes in the intimacy of the situation. The faint smell of perfume on your skin and the sheets, the way you sigh every so often, not yet asleep. You blink up at him and then smile, eyes closing once more and you cling to him tighter. “I didn’t want you to go,” you whisper. “Is that selfish?” “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter, I wanted to stay.”

Hajime watches as your breathing slows again. His thumb rubs up and down on the exposed skin of your back. The grey light, crisp sheets, rain on the roof, you, sleep for a second time.

This time Hajime awakens to the sound of your phone ringing somewhere in your room. You’d both moved, he was spooning you now, holding you close to him. The sound ceased, you remained still and he was hopeful it hadn’t woken you. Then the sound started again. You stirred, turning to bury your face into his chest. The sound stopped eventually, and he found his hand stroking your back in an effort to lull you back to sleep. It was starting to work when your phone went off again. “Oh my god, who is that?” you groan and climb out of bed. You follow the sound to your hoodie crumpled in the chair and remove your phone from your pocket.

Upon examination you see 3 missed calls and 8 texts from Ushijima. You utter a sound of disgust before unlocking your phone. A 4th call starts to come through but you hit the red button and quickly type out a message beneath what he had earlier sent.

Are you home?

Did you make it home?

Was Iwaizumi a gentleman?

Are you okay?

Hello

Y/n

Pick up

I'm sleeping off a hangover

“Is everything okay?” Hajime asks. You nod and stand up, facing the window. “Who was it?” You keep your back to him as you grumble, “Wakatoshi.” Iwa watches as you take a deep breath and turn back to him with your usual bright smile. “You wanna go get breakfast? It’s umm-” you check your phone for the time, 3 new messages, “it’s almost 11 now.” “Sure, I’d like that,” he smiles.

to be added to the taglist

#iwaizumi x reader #Iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #Iwa x reader #Iwa x yn #iwaizumi x yn #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hajime #more like hajibae

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arminbitchlover · 3 years

Text

reincarnated lovers (3)

armin arlert x f! reader

summary: reader and armin decide to give the start of their relationship a second chance.

word count: 3.7k

content warnings: content warning: mentions of drug use, vaginal and oral sex (F & M receiving), a slight insinuation of overstimulation, fingering, praise, & creampie

“Wow, you have a nice apartment.” Armin opens the door for you, and you gaze at his spacious apartment in awe.

“No need to flatter me.” He slightly chuckles, placing his keys on the small table against the wall.

“Trust me, I would never.” You tease as he grabs your hand and leads you to his kitchen.

You immediately take notice of how modern and simplistic his home is. The color palette throughout his apartment is cool tones, mostly consisting of white and gray. It somewhat makes you feel like you're in a museum rather than someone’s house. He doesn't have any pictures of family or friends on his wall, not even a frame of him and Eren.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” He crouches down to the bottom cabinet and pulls out a baby blue griddle.

“That actually sounds amazing right now.” You place your stomach in your hand, realizing how queasy you feel with only alcohol in your stomach.

“Could you get the pancake mix from the pantry, please?” He smiles at you while grabbing the oil from the upper shelf and placing it on the counter.

You open the door and instantly spot a never-ending pile of ramen neatly stacked on the floor. Adorable. Your eyes shift to the box of pancake mix on the middle shelf that's surrounded by other dessert mixes and grab it. You walk over to Armin, who already took out the ingredients with a bowl, measuring cups, and a spoon that's nicely arranged next to the griddle.

“I’m letting you know right now, I am not a gourmet chef so you cannot complain about the results,” He playfully warns you as he opens up the pancake mix.

“Armin, we’re making box pancakes. Not even from scratch.” You laugh, pulling out the plastic bag from the box, and cutting it open.

“You don’t have to make me feel bad about it.” He fakes a pout as he starts to pour the oil into the measuring cup.

You try to give him a serious look, but immediately break out into a smile when he makes eye contact with you. He hands you the ingredients while you incorporate everything into the bowl, enjoying the presence of one another.

As you pour the batter on the griddle, Armin starts asking you random questions from your dream job as a kid to your biggest fears in life. While it was somewhat arbitrary, you thought how cute he looked while he listened to absolutely every single word that came from your lips. Occasionally, while you're busy flipping pancakes and answering his questions, he gets a quick glimpse at your slightly parted lips, but you never seem to notice.

"You're a really interesting person, you know." He leans back against the counter, watching you place your dinner onto the plates.

"I doubt that very much." You argue while taking the plates to his dinner table.

"Well, I think otherwise, and you still haven't thanked me for making dinner for our date." He rolls his eyes but quickly breaks character, seeing the confused look on your face.

"Huh, so it wasn't you that was just sitting on your ass and questioning me as if I was at a job interview?" You joke with him, taking the seat that's across from him.

"I have no recollection of such." He smirks as he walks over to the refrigerator and grabs two water bottles.

"Thank you." You takes the water bottle out of his hand, taking notice of how pretty his hands looked around your beverage.

He smiles and sits down, eyeing what he thought to be the best-looking pancakes he's ever seen.

"Well, enough about me, I want to get to know you now." You make eye contact, holding it a bit longer than needed before looking down and cutting up your meal, not wanting to make yourself look weird.

"Ask away." He opens his water and takes a quick sip.

"How were you like as a kid?" You begin eating your pancakes, waiting for Armin to answer.

"I was and still am a quiet kid. I've always minded my own business, so I didn't have many friends growing up. I only had Eren and Mikasa and we only met because they defended me when they saw some older kids messing with me." You look up at him, only to be met with a neutral face.

"I'm sorry about that, Armin." You break eye contact, worried that you may have just ruined his night by making him reminiscent.

"Don't apologize, I stopped thinking about those assholes a long time ago." He gives you a reassuring smile as he continues to eat his food.

"I'm happy to hear that." You take a swig from your water bottle, thinking of the next question to ask him. "What's your favorite memory? Whether it be from last week or years ago." You lighten the mood, immediately noticing Armin break out into a huge grin.

"There was this one time during senior year in high school with Eren and Mikasa and we smoked weed but for Eren, it was his first time. So, I guess to like 'impress'," He starts giggling as he does air quotes, "me and Mikasa, he decided to take a long ass hit and it completely backfired on him. When he first breathed out, he started coughing but tried holding it back, but he just started hacking nonstop, and every time he tried drinking water, he would just spit it back up." He throws his head back, cracking up while finishing his story.

"So, you enjoy watching other people suffer?" You smile, not aware of how contagious his laugh is.

"Yeah, I guess." He keeps laughing as his eyes start to tear up.

"It just makes it so much funnier than I was already somewhat high, and everything just gets a billion times more amusing than what it really is." He chuckles before looking back into your eyes, taking in the beauty that'sin front of him.

"Damn, I wish I was there to see it." You snicker, thinking about how Eren embarrassed himself even though you feel a bit guilty thinking it was funny in the first place.

"Well, we frequently have sessions so you should definitely join us if you'd like." He finishes up his dinner and takes his plate to the sink.

"I'll think about it." You quickly eat the last of your pancakes and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

roomie <3

Today 12:12 AM

where tf are u

i've literally been gone for the

past hour

with armin right ;)

uhhh

omg i need to stop texting you and

sleepover while you're at it :)

we'll see (;

have fun and use protection

love you

oh god

love u too

Read 12:14 AM

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

"Is everything alright?" Armin looks at you concerned, noticing your eyes widening at your screen.

"Huh? Oh yes, uh it was just Sasha." You put your phone back in your pocket, not wanting to give Armin any ideas.

Your heartbeat quicken as you face Armin, Sasha's message ingrained in your head. You doubt anything would happen tonight, it's barely your second date, but it was something to think about. As soon as your mind starts wandering into more inappropriate thoughts, you're interrupted by Armin's voice.

"Do you need me to take you back to your dorm?" He starts making his way to the door, not letting you respond.

"No, I can stay." You clear your throat; he stops in his tracks, having a bit of excitement by your answer.

"Oh okay, well is there anything you want to do?"

He stares into your eyes, feeling the tiny spark that wants to ignite. You feel your face start to heat up, trying to muster up anything to continue your night with Armin.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"Of course." He feels his chest tighten, the electricity between you grow stronger as the silence stretches out.

What the hell do you want to ask him? You have little to no idea what you wanted to face him with. While you have to admit, everything about him at this very moment is so fucking perfect and you don't mind trying something, you wouldn't dare pressure him into anything. You continue bouncing with thoughts and kept convincing yourself that a little persuasion wouldn't hurt him and besides, it would be a shame if nothing fun went down.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You stay in your seat, worried that you may have broken a boundary that Armin had no intention of crossing. Your chest gets knotted up as you feel embarrassment rush over your body, regret started to quickly sink in.

His eyes widen and feels his heartbeat in his throat, indulging at the thought of doing so much more than just a kiss. He starts walking towards you, not aware that he didn't answer your question, rather just pulls you out of your seat and snakes his arms around your waist.

"Is uh- this okay?" His face turns into a bright pink, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Yes." You wrap your arms around his neck, not wasting a second longer.

You meet your lips with him, a soft whimper comes from his throat as you pull him closer. Your lips move in sync as if you had already done this a million times before. You bring one of your hands to his hair, slightly gripping it to try and get another noise out of him. You feel him pour all of his desire for you into that one kiss.

"Fuck." He mumbles under his breath, moving his hands to your ass, slightly squeezing it. Before you can take it any further, he pulls away from your kiss, grabs your hand, and takes you to his bedroom.

"Are you fine with this?" He has a concerned look on his face, making sure what he felt was a mutual feeling.

"Mhm." You nod your head, and he collides his lips with yours, drawing you in for a more heated kiss.

You part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip through, and you feel your body thrill with electricity. Everything just feels so natural between the two of you, there's no second-guessing or hesitation; it all felt right.

You both slowly started making your way to his bed, not breaking away your kiss as he lowered you onto it when the back of your knees is met with the edge. His hands traveled lower and made their way under your shirt and his cold fingertips are met with your warm soft stomach while pulling your shirt over your head. You slightly gasped when he came into contact with your skin, but this doesn't stop him from going any further. He took his lips to your neck, softly sucking and biting along your collarbone, letting his hot tongue glide over each spot he marked.

"Shit-" You choke and slightly arch your back, thinking to yourself how you've never felt this kind of delectation from someone before.

You grab his chin and pull him back to your lips and push his wrist down to your clothed core. He lightly presses against you, causing a jolt in your thighs while you moaned into his mouth. You feel a slight grin form on his face as he continues to tease you and felt you grind against his middle finger.

"You sound so pretty," He whispers into your ear.

You feel the arousal pooling low in your stomach, feeling him slowly dip under your panties and started massaging circles on your clit. You felt your legs start to slightly tremble and your back arched even more than before as the heat from his body filled you with a wave of delight.

"Armin." You grip your hands against his shoulder, becoming desperate for things to start escalating.

"Say my name again," He commands as he lifts his head and stares into your eyes, full of lust and desire.

"Armin, give me more, please," You whine, feeling your walls fluttered around nothing.

"Anything for you." He makes his way down your body, leaving a trail of peppered kisses from your neck to your pelvis.

He pulls off your panties, leaving you in only your bra, admiring what was inches away from his face. You could almost feel his gaze travel all over your body. You look down and make eye contact with him, watching him lower his face into you. You grasp the bedsheet and your eyes rolled back as his tongue lightly flicks against your clit. You buck your hips against him, growing incredibly impatient and he knows it.

"C'mon, please," You whimper, moving your hands to his head, and clutching his golden hair.

He grips the sides of your thighs and begins devouring you, his tongue becoming completely coated with your slick arousal. You feel his nose bump against your clit and causes your vision to swim while tugging on his locks from the bliss Armin created. You suddenly feel one of his fingers slip into you effortlessly, causing your mind to go blank while he curls it to hit the perfect spot.

"More," You cry out, grinding on his face as you felt your orgasm start to build up.

Without any hesitation, he slips another finger into you, widening your legs even more, making you start to see stars. It all starts to become too much for you, the stimulation starts to overload all over your drenched center. His tongue vigorously presses against your clit and fingers hitting your sweet spot, making everything feel so delirious.

"Sh-shit, Armin I'm close." You dig your nails into his scalp, throwing your head back, trying to hold off as long as possible to make it last a little longer.

"Let me hear you." He pull away for a second before enveloping himself back into you, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

That's all it takes to put you over the edge, and you reach your climax while moaning out his name. Your body becomes filled with a riptide of euphoria as you lose yourself in all the sensations. You can't believe the way he makes you feel; every little thing he does to you makes you feel so weak and submissive to him. Your legs are trembling, and he doesn't waste any time and begins to start kissing your inner thighs while gently rubbing your clit to help soothe you from your high.

"God, you're so beautiful," He breaths out while making his way back up your body and to your chest while unclipping your undergarment with a single hand.

"Y-You make me feel so fucking good." Your hands moves across his shoulder blades as he starts kissing your breasts, using his index finger and thumb to stimulate your nipples.

His other hand travels over your curves, feeling as if he needs to memorize every single feature of your body. You feel ecstasy relish over you, breathing heavily as Armin's lust for you takes over his mind. You can't ask for more than this right now, having someone do everything they could to make you feel nothing but absolute pleasure and you want to return the favor.

You slide up from under him, sitting up against the pillow, and flip him to the bottom.

"Wha-" You cut him off with a rough kiss, moving your hands to the bottom of his long sleeve, tugging at it.

You pull away and allow him to take off his shirt, admiring his pale, milky body. You can't believe the sight in front of you, he looks so fucking beautiful. You meet with his eyes and notice embarrassment rush over his face. You lean down and give him a gentle but passionate kiss.

"You're so handsome," You whisper his ear before you nibble on his earlobe, causing his thighs to slightly jolt.

You begin kissing down to his jawline, somewhat pressing your tongue against it while your hand softly traces his abs. You feel his stomach muscles contract under touch while his arms loosely wrap around your waist, delicately sliding his palms across your back. It doesn't take long for you to make your way down his body while you make sure to leave a hickey or two on his chest before meeting his bulge.

"You d-don't have to." He starts sitting up, but you place your hand on his chest to stop him.

"Let me make you feel good." You plead, pulling off his pants and boxers to reveal his hard cock that was seeping of pre-cum, just for you.

You run your hands on his thighs before bringing one up to the base of his dick. You look back at Armin, who seemingly has his head back while his face is flushed into a soft red. You glob spit on his dick before pumping your hand slowly, making sure that he feels every little sensation you're making. He lets out a shaky exhale, trying his hardest not to release with only a single touch.

You smirk to yourself feeling him pulse in your palm before moving it back down to the base and swiping your tongue on his tip.

"O-Oh." He moans out, moving one of his hands to your head.

You start humming very quietly, bobbing your head up and down with the slight pressure of Armin's palm. He groans, feeling his face heat up with everything you're doing to him.

As seconds passed, Armin's pressure on the back of your head only becomes more forceful, making you gag a bit and cause tears to form as he starts throat fucking you. It doesn't take long to begin to feel him twitch in the back of your throat, but before he could release himself, you pull away, looking up and seeing a shocked look on his face.

"I'm sorry, did I take too far?" He starts sliding up against his headboard, thinking he made you uncomfortable.

"No! Not at all... I just want to do something more." You hesitate with your words.

All you want at this very moment is to make sure Armin felt nothing but pleasure from you. Your heart starts thumping sporadically, loving the idea of riding him till he couldn't take it anymore.

"Y-Yeah, of course," He stutters as he quickly pulls out a condom from the drawer in his nightstand.

You think to yourself how cute he lookes getting flustered and excited with the thought of you topping him. You watch him slightly stumble while taking the condom out of its packaging before rolling it on himself. He looks back at you, a smirk on his face as he grasps your waist and pulls you onto his dick.

You align yourself with him before lowering yourself, watching his head fall back. His eyes become filled with desire as you bite your lip from his cock stretching you out.

"Shit.." He groans as you take all of him in, feeling your walls become adjusted to his cock.

You don't move for a second, savoring how it feels with him inside of you; feeling connected with one another. But once you begin to move, it's impossible to stop.

You start off slow and sensual, feeling him hit your cervix that caused a delightful pain in you. You bend down to his face leaving kisses all over across his jaw as you slowly move against him. You don't want this to end, everything feels so right.

"You feel amazing." He drags out his words, sliding his hands up and down the sides of your body.

You pick your head back up, speeding up from his praise.

"I hope I make you feel so fucking good," You cry out, feeling him start to hit all the right spots that you didn't even know were there.

Before your legs could start to burn, you feel his hands form a good grip on you before he starts thrusting forward, at this point making himself fuck you instead.

"A-Armin!' You yelp, feeling overloaded from the overwhelming pressure that begins to build up inside you.

He starts controlling the rhythm, taking all the power you thought you had over him. You grip his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped markings from his strokes becoming harder and deeper.

He admires the way your tits bounce every time he thrusts into you, wanting to see it happen over and over again. He loves seeing your head falls back as your eyes roll to the back of your head, starting to lose control of yourself from everything he's doing to you. He worships the idea that he's the one making you feel this good.

"I'm about to.." You close your eyes, letting yourself surrender and submerge into the wave of pleasure.

"Fuck, me too." His eyes darken, picking up the pace as your grip on him began to loosen.

You feel your stomach swoop from his words.

"C-Can I cum inside you? He groans, feeling himself twitch in you, worried that he might release himself too soon.

"Please." You unravel yourself onto him, your walls flutter against him and your arousal drips out of you.

"Armin!" You cry out his name one last time, the sensation becoming too much that it was almost painful.

The feeling of bliss and ecstasy take over as you feel his cum gush into you while moaning out your name. You ride him out a little longer, helping him come back down from his high before lying next to him.

You both exchange lazy kisses with one another, savoring each other's warmth for as long as possible.

"Thank you for an amazing second first date." You smile, resting your head against his chest while he softly caresses your jaw.

"You deserve nothing but the best." He kisses your forehead before pulling you closer to him.

At this moment, you fee nothing but happiness; you know from then on that Armin is the person that you're going to spend the rest of your life with. You just can't believe that it took you nineteen years to find your soulmate, but luckily, you'll be spending the rest of your lives together in pure bliss.

a/n: armin does ask reader permission to cum inside her even though he has a condom on because he wanted to make sure she was completely comfortable with it :)

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#tw: drug use #tw: overstimulation #tw:creampie #tw: praise kink #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin arlert #armin arlert smut #aot armin #snk armin #armin arlert imagine #armin arlert x reader

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