#I’m gonna try a glitter lip for the first time and I hope it works out well!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

babygirl (explicit)

genre: the most plotless porn to ever porn, aka SMUT

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: your boyfriend claims the outfit was just for a tiktok - until you realize you're both very into it.

word count: 5k

contains: explicit sexual content ~*~*~ established relationship, jungkook is a tiktoker 🤪, reader is bisexual, jk wears a crop top/miniskirt/knee socks and makeup (and butterfly clips 😭), EXCESSIVE use of petnames especially 'babygirl', feminization, jk is literally the "i'm soooo shyyyyy" tiktok sound, 🚨 kink discovery/exploration/mild kink negotiations during sex 🚨 virginity kink/role-play (they pretend jk is a virgin) 🚨 daddy kink (reader is daddy) 🚨 gender swap role-play including terms for genitals (they call his dick a pussy and her pussy a dick ok ??) 🚨 praise kink and extremely filthy dirty talk, no condom use but idk assume protection bc they're dating and in lurve, also features nipple play, a blowjob, dick riding, cunnilingus, and come eating for good measure 😘

A/N: oh hi! it's been a minute since i've written something TRULY self-indulgent (or outrageously bisexual) so it feels good to return to my brand. i am going to ask that you please please PLEASE take a long hard look at the content warnings up there ^ before you pop this bad boy open. like i really do not wanna get one single rude ask about this story because i will go fucking nuclear 😂 for those of y'all who are into it- i love you, and i hope you fucking enjoy because reading this back was so embarrassingly hot to me that i had to hide my face in my shirt. gahhhhhh okay BYEEEEE

oh also: THIS is the tiktok that inspired this whole thing lmfao. it gave jungkook energy and so he basically makes his own slightly different version in this fic. kbye ✨

read on AO3!

~*~

The apartment is dark when you slip back in the front door, the way Jungkook likes it.

Ceiling lights make him cranky and overwhelmed, so your path to the bedroom is painted only in warm glow- a purple LED strip, a switched-on end table lamp, the blue cast from a forgotten PlayStation controller and the swirl of the screensaver over the TV.

You drop your boots at the door, socked feet padding down the hallway.

“JK?” It’s quiet enough to make you imagine an echo in your voice.

You’d promised your boyfriend an evening alone tonight while you went out with friends, which meant a morning of frustrated, huffy sighs, his bottom lip taking up permanent residence jutted out from his mouth in a downturned pout. You decided to let this one run its course, because they always do with him, the dips and swells of his fickle moods— he knows how to right himself again if given enough time and space to complain about it first.

By the time you were hovering over the dresser to put earrings in, Jungkook had seemingly worked the issue all the way out, smiling softly with his cheek smushed against the largest of the plushies on the bed.

“Think I’m gonna have fun tonight. Film some TikToks, maybe get a new video game.”

You’ve hardly been out an hour, so you know you should leave him to it, retrieve your wallet from the purse you forgot to switch it out of— the reason for the intrusion— and let him be.

But you love him. The thrill of sharing space hasn’t waned, even after nearly six months, and you want to steal a little affection before you head back to girls’ night. You can be needy, too.

“Babe?”

At the end of the hall, the hinges of the bedroom door creak as it opens just wide enough for Jungkook to poke his head through.

“You’re back early.”

“Forgot my wallet.”

His eyes are wide and blinking, glittering black in the dim light.

“Is everything okay?” You try a few steps towards him.

“I was making a TikTok,” he mumbles, said sorely, as if it’s a justification for bad behavior. And then the door swings open all the way and you take in the rest of him.

A short, flippy miniskirt sunk low, biting into his hips. A crop top, meant to be small, but obscenely so when stretched across the broad expanse of his chest. Long black socks hiked up over his knees, white stripes at the hem starting to slip, pushed down flexing muscles in his thighs as he shifts, legs crossing, one foot pointed to toe at the floor unsurely. He’s pretty-all-over and nervous.

“Jungkook,” your laugh stutters on an exhale. “Are those my clothes?”

The small silver hoops in his ears— those aren’t new— sway with a hesitant nod.

You’re close enough now to see the way he sucks his lip ring into his mouth, an anxious habit. There’s a rosy pink wash to his cheeks, the same color kissed over his eyelids when he blinks. Lashes that were already envy-inducing made darker and longer with mascara. Gloss dabbed in the center of his full, pinched mouth. Butterfly clips twined through wavy, artfully messy hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask,” he says quickly, lashes fluttering when his gaze drops to the floor, staring at his socks. “I didn’t— I swear I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m not mad, baby.” Your hands find his, clenched in unsure fists at his sides, and coax them open. “You look so good. This is for a TikTok?”

Jungkook nods, punctuated with a squeeze of your hands. You squeeze back. “Wanna see?”

His phone is on the nightstand in your room, plugged in to charge (“I was editing it on 1%”, he admits with a giggle), so you end up crowding in on his side of the bed, sharing one pillow, legs tangling together without thought. You tuck into his side, grateful for the absurdly long charging cord as you prop the phone between your bodies and press play.

At the start of the video, he’s in much more typical Jungkook attire: a baggy black t-shirt, tattoos peeking out under one sleeve, hands stuffed in the pockets of equally oversized cargo pants. He’s barefaced, too, pushing a mock-hurt expression beneath the text caption: Babe, I’m going out with the girls tonight.

When the beat drops, you immediately start to giggle as this skirted, made-up Jungkook takes his place, throwing up a peace sign, blowing a kiss, and at the last second, flexing his biceps as if to send a warning signal.

You press your smile into the crook of your elbow as you let the video loop once, twice more.

Jungkook opts not to watch, instead staring up at the patterns his star projector casts across the ceiling, hands folded behind his head— but once you pause the video from looping again, you catch his eyes roaming over your face. You recognize the look from when he’s shown you certain movies, the way he’ll regularly steal glances down at you on the couch curled up next to him, as if he’s seeing his favorite parts for the first time again through your eyes.

“I love it,” you announce as you place his phone on the nightstand and then roll back against his side, pushing up onto your hands. You use the vantage point of your kitten stretch to take in all of him, the long hard lines of his body, the exposed honey skin that he usually keeps hidden under shapeless black.

“Wow, JK. You’re so pretty, baby.”

Heat blooms in his cheeks, deepening the makeup there, tinting the tips of his ears pink. His feet point and flex restlessly at the end of the bed.

“Do you really think so?” Jungkook asks the question so timidly— it’s rare to hear him this unassured about anything.

“I mean it.” You trace a finger delicately over the hem of his— well, your— shirt, where it rests under the firm structure of his chest. His eyes drop closed as you run the whole of your palm down, admiring his duality: boyish and beautiful, defined muscles with an itty-bitty waist. “I feel like I just won the bisexual lottery.” A dreamy laugh bubbles up in him, his abs fluttering under your hand. “And this skirt looks so much better on you than me,” you murmur as you reach the band of it and keep going, your touch smoothing over the pleated fabric to get a good look.

A noise gets stuck in the back of Jungkook’s throat. “Fuck.” He laughs like he’s gasping for breath.

You drag your gaze back up his body, and his eyes are shut tightly, crinkling at the corners for the effort. “Jungkook?”

The flush in his face is now an uncontrolled burn. He’s outright squirming, thighs flexing to cinch together, knees lifting off the bed so he can press the soles of his socks flat to fidget against the sheets. His fingertips tug at the hem of the skirt as his motions cause it to ride up, just barely. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been hard since I put it on. Was hoping it would go away by now.”

“Baby.” You say it softly, and you watch him untwist a little, long eyelashes flickering open again. “Why do you want it to go away?”

“I—I don’t know. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

You reach up to brush a loose strand of hair off his face, careful not to disturb the glittery clips. He chases after your hand to lean into your palm, and your thumb strokes over his cheek as he nuzzles in. A warmth has started to pool, low in your belly. “I don’t think it’s weird at all. I think it’s hot.” Jungkook hiccups another laugh, attempting to hide his face between your hand and the pillow.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

The question stills him. Big moon eyes blink up at you as he nods.

When you curl your fingertips under the band of his skirt, Jungkook gasps through parted glossy lips and nearly chokes on a hard swallow. You pause, considering. Your boyfriend is far from the silent type in bed, but you’ve never seen him like this— you’re usually the one coming apart at the seams at his filthy stream of words as he splits you open: that’s it baby, take this cock, so fucking tight for me, god fucking damn.

“Only if you want it,” you remind him, in case he needs to hear it.

“I do,” he breathes. “I really— I don’t know why, ah—“ His sentence dissolves on another breath in when you gently scratch your nails over the curve of his hips. “—w-why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s cute,” you admit with a giggle. You flatten your palms to slide back up the narrowing slope of his waist, smooth tanned skin shivering under your touch, until you find the hem of his crop top again. “I really like you like this, JK. All nervous and blushy. Babygirl is shy.”

The way Jungkook tips his head back on the pillow and whines at your words makes you think you might be onto something.

“Do you like it when I call you babygirl?”

He bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough to deepen the shade of it, and nods.

“Tell me,” you coax, teasing at the hem of his top, encouraging him with the promise of a reward. “I wanna hear you.”

“Y-yeah. I like it. Like being your cute babygirl.”

The words go straight to your core, and you throw a leg over his hip to properly straddle him, bracing your arms on either side of his head to swallow up his responding whimper in a heady, open-mouthed kiss. Jungkook answers just as fervently, tongue sliding along yours, his hands clutching at your shoulders as if to plead for more.

He’s panting when you pull away, shuddering gasps punctuated by a moan as you suck at the underside of his jaw, a purple bruise blossoming beneath your teeth. “My babygirl,” you echo against the hollow of his throat. “All mine.” Your hands move eagerly, pushing the thin strip of fabric across his chest up to reveal soft brown nipples framed by the swell of his pecs. “And you have such pretty little tits, baby.”

You cup one in your palm, dipping down to lick a lazy circle over the nipple of the other. Jungkook full-body shivers, feet kicking softly down on the mattress, and you suck the bud between pursed lips, working gently with tongue and teeth until it hardens in your mouth.

“F-fuck,” he whines, arching up into you, fingertips dragging down the bedsheets. “Feels so good.”

You drop the stiffened peak from between your teeth, shifting to kitten lick at the other and taking advantage of the opportunity to grind down against Jungkook’s hips, already restlessly horny for this new side of him. “So sensitive,” you purr between flicks of your tongue as Jungkook whimpers beneath you. “Are you a virgin, babygirl?”

He hiccups on a moan as you tease his other nipple to attention. “Oh my god, fuck. Is it bad that that’s hot?”

You pull away to climb back up his body and seek a kiss from his pretty pouty lips. “Not bad, baby. You’re perfect, okay?” He makes a soft noise of acknowledgement and you gather up his chest in both hands to lovingly squeeze at his barely-there tits. “My dream girl. Can’t believe nobody’s ever touched you like this before.”

The swirling colors of the star projector on the ceiling of your bedroom reflect back at you like galaxies in his eyes— it’s enough to make you dizzy. The question comes out paired with a dazed, love-drunk giggle: “Would you let me fuck you, babygirl?”

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly. “I—I don’t—I’m not ready. For anal,” he says quickly.

Coming out of the role-play a bit, you bring both hands to cradle his face between your palms, thumbs rubbing at the hinge of his jaw to encourage him to relax, to breathe. You can feel the hummingbird thrum of his heartbeat under your fingertips. “That’s fine, baby. Not asking you to. I just said it ‘cause it’s hot. We’ll fuck like normal, okay?”

A shy smile returns to his face as he blinks up at you, wide-eyed, lips parted. “Yeah, okay.”

“Do you want to keep going?” When he nods in your hands, you duck down to leave a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m so lucky, I get to fuck such a pretty girl.”

A hand slips between your bodies to tweak one of his nipples between your fingers, and Jungkook throws his head back and cries out at the feeling. His hips roll up as he squirms beneath you, and you tighten the grip of your thighs around him at the welcome friction. You can already feel that you’ve soaked through your panties.

“Just, hngh—“ Jungkook whimpers, wrecked and needy, jerking up towards you again when you give the same nipple another soft tug. “Go s-slow with me. Since it’s… my first time.”

You shift to one side and he willingly splays open for you, knees bent and legs spread wide. You can hardly hold back your own groan at the state of him: mouth full and pink, eyes heavy-lidded and black with lust. His palms are pressed innocently over the fabric of his skirt, but you can see the way he’s starting to desperately rut up into his hands.

You bite down on a devious grin. “Yeah, and you’re such a good girl. I bet you kept it nice and tight for me.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he whines loudly.

Teasing a hand under the hem of his skirt, you’re surprised to find nothing but smooth, bare skin all the way up. “Oh, no panties?” Your gaze trails along his body from where you’ve settled on the mattress between the heat of his thighs, until you find his eyes with yours. “Are you a little slut?”

There’s a flash of something in Jungkook’s eyes as he goes still, whimpers softening to uneven breaths. He tugs his lip ring into his mouth in that familiar way, then gives his head two quick shakes, firm enough to shift a few waves in his hair.

“No?” You try again. “You’re a good girl, huh? You want praise?” When he nods, you gently caress the muscles of his leg under your touch, giving a loving palmful squish to the soft skin at his inner thigh. “Talk to me, baby. Please?”

“I want praise,” he murmurs. “Wanna be good for you.”

“You’re so good, baby. Thank you for telling me.” As if in reward, your hand finds his cock, fully erect and pressed obscenely into the flimsy fabric of his skirt. He hisses when you run a finger delicately up his shaft, tracing the fat, sensitive vein there. “You just wanted to make it easy for me, is that it?”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, painted lashes nearly dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. I’m good. Your good babygirl virgin—“ He gasps when you wrap your hand around him for one slow pump, and it’s like your touch opens up something inside of him. “—with the tightest fucking pussy.” His cock throbs in your palm when he says it.

The filthy words spark a licking flame in your gut and a drip between your legs. “Fuck yes you are.”

You can’t spend a second longer teasing him— your free hand moves quickly to flip his skirt up over his hips and you drink him all in, hard and thick and pressed flat to his abdomen. “God, and your pussy’s just as pretty as the rest of you, baby.” The head of his cock is slick, glossed shiny with precum, and you run your thumb along his slit as more beads up, threatening to spill over and pour down his shaft. “You’re so wet for me. Can I eat you out, babygirl?”

“Please,” he moans.

You lean down to drag your tongue over the tip, to lick up the sticky-sheen there. With a little noise of appreciation, you take him into your mouth, suckling at the head of his cock and enjoying the warmth and weight of it on your tongue.

Jungkook is a whimpering mess, coming undone underneath you, and he throws an arm over his face to smother needy sounds into the crook of his elbow. As much as you’d love to see his wrecked expression, something about the way he tries to hide from the pleasure is working for you: it adds to this blushy-squirmy-shy virgin babygirl thing that has your thighs sticking together with how much it’s turning you on.

“Ah, that feels so fucking good,” he gasps, and you suck down more of his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you go. He’s emboldened now, either from not having to look you in the face or from the heat of your mouth enveloping him, the firm rub of your tongue over his frenulum. “Your mouth on my pussy, on my pretty little cunt, hngh.”

The way he’s talking has you practically humping the bedsheets beneath you, slow jerks of your hips that have the added benefit of pushing his cock into the back of your throat. You gag slightly around him but refuse to let up, humming around his shaft in a wordless request for more.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook groans as you take him deeper. “Fuck yes, so good, daddy.”

It takes a second for you to process the word, and then you pull off with a wet pop, swiping away strings of drool with the back of your hand. “Mmm—you want me to be daddy?”

At first he can only manage a soft whine, legs shifting restlessly over the bedsheets at the loss of contact. He nods his head, then finally whimpers his answer. “Y-yeah, I want that. Please, daddy.”

“God, you’re so hot.” You pause to press a kiss to the sharp jut of his hip bone, purring your question against the blush in his skin, glowing warm all-over. “Do you want to take daddy’s cock now, babygirl?”

You’re already starting to strip, discarding your shirt and then your bra off the edge of the bed as he bites down on his lip and nods. “Want it so bad, daddy. I’m ready.”

Horny enough to be nearly delirious, you both dissolve into giggles as you fight to get your jeans off— Jungkook helps you wrestle them over your ankles, your ruined panties following in quick succession while he peels his pushed-up crop top all the way off.

You crawl up the bed to capture his mouth in another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip as you straddle yourself over his hips and take his cock in your hand.

“Nice and slow, okay?” You murmur as you start to stroke him, and he nods again, head tipping back against the pillows. “We’ll stretch that pussy open. Hold my hand?” Your free hand reaches for him while the other keeps working his cock, and your fingers intertwine. “I want babygirl’s first time to be special.”

Jungkook looks at you like you hung the moon. “I fucking love you.”

With a small smile, you brush your lips lightly over his ink-dyed skin, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles, his thumb, the back of his hand. “Love you more.”

Then you push up to hover over him, use the hand wrapped around his cock to guide him to your entrance, and start to slowly sink down.

He’s thick enough that you’d have to take it slow at first even if he wasn’t playing virgin, but you’re so slick with arousal that the stretch is only delicious. “Fuck, baby,” you groan as you bottom out on him, your knees bracketing him to sink into the mattress. “How does it feel? Doesn’t hurt does it?”

“N-no,” he whimpers, hips lifting eagerly up towards you, clearly desperate for friction. “’Sgood.”

“Can I move, baby?”

“Please. Fuck me, daddy.”

“Yeah, baby, you’ve been so good to save it all for me. Gonna give you daddy’s cock like you deserve, my good girl.” You flatten one hand against his chest and start to move, your other hand still laced in his.

Jungkook’s eyes roll back in his head as you rock along his length, your pussy flooding stored-up wetness down his shaft and making an audible squelch with every stroke. You can’t recall ever being this turned on in your life.

When you find the angle where his head rubs firmly over your g-spot, you gasp, squeezing his hand tight.

“Shit, baby.” You start to ride him rougher, lifting your hips to bounce on his cock, right there, again and again. The pleasure makes your head spin and your mouth run wild. “Your tight little pussy takes daddy’s cock so well. It’s gonna be a custom fit by the time I’m done with you, made to take me whenever I want it, fuck.”

Jungkook’s whimpers have blossomed to full, airy moans, and he flattens his feet against the bed so he can buck up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. “Oh my fucking god.”

His cock twitches inside you on a particularly hard thrust, and you can tell by the way he’s fisting the bedsheets that he’s already close, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he desperately tries to hold off his orgasm. You’re so desperate to see him come all the way undone that you can’t even care to wait for yours.

“Yeah,” you groan, “I can feel your pussy squeezing me, babygirl. Gonna come? I want you to. Wanna feel you come all over daddy’s big cock.”

His words slur together in a fuck-drunk rush. “Oh my god, y-yeah, please fuck me, daddy, fuck me, fuck me—“ His thrusts grow sloppy as he reaches his peak, and you refuse to let up, untangling from his grip so you can press both hands into the mattress to fuck him relentlessly.

“Take it, baby,” you practically growl. “Be a good girl and take this cock and come for daddy. Come for me and then suck me off.”

“Daaaaaddy,” Jungkook wails loudly and throws his head back, hips jerking violently as he comes. You can feel his cock pulse through his orgasm and the thick, warm ropes of his cum that spill out inside you with every throb of release.

You don’t even get a moment to still yourself and catch your breath before he lunges: he hooks his hands under your knees and yanks you onto your side so fast that you hit the mattress with a yelp of a laugh.

“Jesus, Jungkook!” His only response is to spread you open and attack your pussy with his mouth like he’s hungry for it. The flimsy miniskirt is still pushed up over his hips, so you can see the pert curve of his bare ass in the air as his tongue dives into your entrance.

He’s clearly still too deep in post-orgasm haze to start off precise as he drinks his own cum out of you with long, sloppy licks, grunting and gasping into your pussy like breathing is an afterthought.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your hips jerking against his mouth as he runs his tongue along your sensitive walls.

Once he's cleaned you out and his nose, lips and chin are all shining with slickness, he drags his tongue up through your folds to circle your clit, and three of his fingers find purchase in your cunt, replacing the loss of his cock. He starts to rock them fast and hard against your g-spot, and the mess of his cum that was fucked up too far for his mouth to reach dribbles out of you, running down his wrist, all wet and noisy as he pushes it back in again.

The pleasure is immediate and overwhelming, and when he sucks hard on your clit, arousal blooms heavy in your gut, enough to have you babbling.

“My god, fuck, baby,” you groan, back arching off the bed and fingers twisting in the sheets. “You got s-so fucking good at sucking cock while you were— hngh— while you were saving your pussy for me, huh?”

Jungkook whines loudly, open-mouthed against your cunt, the pace of his tongue and fingers only getting more insistent.

Your orgasm starts to crest hard and fast, and you tighten a hand in his hair, knocking a few butterfly clips loose in your urgency, in how fucking close you are. When you glance down at him, just the sight of how eagerly he's working your pussy is enough to send you over the edge.

“My pretty perfect girl,” you rasp as he pounds into you over and over, lips and tongue relentless on your clit. “Perfect pussy. Perfect mouth. So fucking good for daddy. Gonna come in your mouth, pretty girl, so you can swallow my load—ohhhh fuck, fuck—“

You cry out as your climax hits you full-force, makes your thighs shake and your toes curl and your pussy pulse around Jungkook’s fingers. It feels like you’re coming forever, in endless shuddering waves, until you start to writhe with overstimulation, and he finally pulls back when you release your grip on his hair.

You can’t do anything but collapse against the mattress with your eyes closed, completely dazed, and attempt to remember how to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you manage to gasp.

There’s a soft shifting sound, and then you feel the weight of Jungkook laying down next to you. You’re both sideways, feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but you roll towards him anyway. The AC kicks on, and a shiver ghosts over the sweat that’s gathered behind your knees as you press your cheek into his chest.

“You really did like it?” Jungkook’s question surprises you, and you blink your eyes open and look up to take in the nervous expression on his face.

“I loved it, JK. That was so hot. I didn’t even know you could get like that. All… sensitive and responsive. But like, shy. Oh my god. I meant it when I said I liked this side of you.” You hitch a leg over him as he pulls you closer into his side, and you continue, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek with your palm. “I’m literally bi. That means I like you as my boyfriend, or girlfriend, or anyone in between.”

You can feel the heat under your hand when he blushes. “I think I maybe want to be both, sometimes. But, agh, I don’t know.” He squirms unsurely, and you brush your thumb over the line of his jaw.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know. We can figure it out.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and then he promptly turns away from you, rolling over in an attempt to bury his face in the mattress with a soft giggle.

“Hey, don’t hide! Come back here,” you laugh, rolling yourself on top of him, so your bodies press together all the way down. You grind your hips against him a little to tease, jolts of stimulation jumping through your still-sensitive center, and your eyes widen.

“Baby, are you—“ you glance down and confirm it, the thick outline of him pressed tight under his skirt and dripping a wet spot into the fabric. “Already?”

Jungkook pulls his lip ring into his mouth for a second before he admits it. “All that cocksucking stuff you were saying.” Even the tips of his ears are red now, in equal parts shame and arousal. “Just… crazy fucking hot. It made me get hard again so fast.” His feet kick softly down on the bed. “Ngh, it’s embarrassing, stop looking.”

You swallow his whimper with a gentle kiss, your tongue swiping lightly across his pouty lower lip. When you pull away, you dust a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. “Do you want to keep going?”

He nods, and you breathe a laugh.

“Well, give me a second and we can go for round two.” A hand snakes under his skirt, and you do your best to cup his ass beneath you, eventually having to settle for scratching your nails lightly over the outside of his thigh. “Just want daddy’s cock all the time now that you’re not a virgin anymore, huh?”

He outright moans into your mouth when you lean in to kiss him again, before turning his head away to mutter shyly as you lick a stripe up his neck. “Gonna make me come in my fucking pants.”

“You’re not wearing pants,” you giggle, and then you gracelessly roll off of him. “Let me just text my friends first so they know I didn’t die.”

At the mention of your friends, Jungkook whines and forces a small pout as you fumble for your phone on the nightstand. “I feel bad. You were supposed to be with them tonight.”

You scoot back to sit next to him on the bed and rest one hand on his thigh as you pull up your group chat on your phone. “Don’t, baby. I’m where I wanna be.” Your hand sneaks a little higher, cupping at the firm bulge between his legs over the fabric of his skirt, and you can’t help your nasty grin. “I’ll just say something came up.”

“Stoppppp,” he persists, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in, but you don’t miss the way his cock twitches under your palm.

With the text quickly composed and sent, you drop your phone back on the side table and proceed to crawl on top of him again. He pulls his shield away to stare up at you, blinking those wide, bottomless, good girl-fuck me eyes.

Your adoration of all that he is hits you like a fucking train. “There will be other girls’ nights,” you murmur, eyes roaming over his beautiful face. “There’s only one girl I need tonight.” It’s fucking corny, half role-play and half serious, but you mean every word, and it seems to melt away some last bit of reserve in Jungkook that you couldn’t quite reach before.

He blushes all over, wraps both arms around your neck, dots every inch of skin he can reach with soft, glossy-wet kisses. “Love you, love you, love you.”

“Love you more, babygirl.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n

818 notes · View notes

honey-milk-depresso · 1 year

Text

The Boy I Love (Ove Bell x Reader)

Ove Bell is my OC, this is for @call-me-aesthetic especially 💕 Hope you enjoy! ^^

TW: One cuss word. I think- (very mild cussing)

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love is a jokester.

“Ove…”

“What? I’m scared, s/o. Aren’t you gonna be my knight and shining armour and protect me?~” he playfully reacted as he placed his hand on his hand to look exasperated.

The two of you were in a haunted house as a Halloween date, and you knew jolly well that Ove wasn’t scared of it one bit. No, he just wanted to act scared to cling to your arm… actually no, just cling onto you.

“Are you done pretending?” You raised a brow, monotonously asking your boyfriend. He gasped, touching his chest offendedly. “When your love is in distress, fear, anguish and helpless without you? Oh, how cruel can you be, my snuggle bug?” Ove sighed as he sounded hurt, but that wide grin on his face says otherwise.

“Snuggle bug? Cringe.”

“S/oooooo,” he wrapped his arms firmer around your arm, chin resting on your head. “Protect meeeeeeee~”

“Oh my sevens…” you smiled at him, as he smiled at you back.

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love has bad taste in movies.

“What are we watching?” You asked your boyfriend while looking baffled at the television screen.

You would’ve expected horror, comedy or thriller from this man but…

“It’s an alien invasion movie.”

“Why is the alien invasion movie all stop motion and have un-sync lip sync?”

“It’s from the 1970s.”

You groaned. Oh my god. I mean sevens.

Your boyfriend decided to pick a movie so outdated and cheesy, the plot is almost so cliche with the main characters obviously using the power of friendship to save the day, characters that have the most nonsensical thinking and scripts.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty and I’m not gonna roast you for watching something so awful,” you laughed at the movie for how awful it is, that is somehow became a good film?

“I know. And I know you love the show, too.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love learns something new for me

“Ove?”

“Ah shit… this’s embarrassin’…” You faced Ove who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a poem out loud with a bunch of papers that had messily written verses scribbled with lead.

“I suck at words and I… I heard poetry was necessary for Valentine’s Day..? That and I had other things prepared but writing is a pain in the ass…”

You picked up one paper, reading it. “ ‘Your eyes are diamonds, your teeth are pearls, your hair is silk and your skin is glitter’? That is so cheesy~ I didn’t know you’re that type of guy, Ove,” you teased him, catching a rare sight of him blushing a glowing red on his cheeks.

“Well, sorry, I’m trying. It’s my first time writing something like this you know,” he huffed, pouting as he crossed his arms. “And I really do think so…”

You smiled, touched by his words and you kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I feel very loved, and it’s the feelings from you that matters to me.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love carefully thinks of meaning.

“What the heck…” You entered your room to see green glow-in-the-dark stars messily pasted across your room, with a bright moon and sun lamp illuminating the dark room with a golden glow.

Not that it was bad or anything, but why? You walked over to the drawer at the side of your bed to see a note. More specifically, a note from Ove.

“Did he do this while I was gone?” You asked yourself as you sat down and read the note with the help of your two new lamps.

You’re the stars, the moon and the sun of my world. I did. this so you’d remembered that.

-Ove Bell

PS: I’m getting better at poetry, am I right? Also all this costed me a fortune from Sam’s store so please say you like it I worked hard-

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head as your cheeks bloomed pink. Your boyfriend is such a cheesy little freak.

Sevens, do you love him so much.

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love tries his best to make me happy.

“Hey now…” Ove awkwardly wraps an arm around you as he soothingly hummed.

You know he’s not the best at comforting, and you could feel how stiff he was when he sat down beside you.

He bit his bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. His spider on his shoulder, Todd, tapped on his neck and he showed Todd to your face. “He’s not a scary spider… he wants to see you happy, too..!” Ove smiled, but you hung your head low and only nodded half-heartedly. He frowns, and Todd looked at the boy with a worried body expression of tapping his two front legs together. He placed Todd on his shoulder and scooted closer to you.

“Hey now, look. I know… I don’t know why you’re upset but I think you’re really cool. You’re brave to cry in front of others and… you’re not scared of Todd. Or at least you overcome your fear of Todd. Still I…”

He paused for a moment and pulled you closer to him if that was even possible. “I want you to be happy.” You looked at him, he smiled gently with an almost anxious expression, desperately trying to cover it.

He’s trying his best for you, you thought and you smiled meekly. “I’m sorry for burdening you.” He frowns once more. “Burdening me? I love you why would that burden me, ya sweet bug?” He smirks. “I’d be here for you any day.”

You giggled at his antics, smiling fully as he grins. “Thanks, Ove.”

“No need to thank me.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love loves to mess with my hair.

Ove took of his beanie and sat crossed-legged on the floor with a bunch of hairpins and clips, flowers he plucked from outside and from Heartslabyul a brush in hand as he smiled to himself.

You sat in front of him with your back facing him, sighing unamused.

“Don’t do anything funny like last time.”

“What? You know I love playing with your hair~” he coos, slowly brushing your hair.

It was soothing, honestly, and he began to clip some pins and put flowers onto your hair. You hummed to yourself, subconsciously humming to what your boyfriend hums to himself. From his fingers, he touched them and pulled delicate shimmering translucent strings like cobwebs and weaved them like a spider.

“And… done!” He took a hand mirror and gave it to you, letting you see the cobwebbed veil he made that complimented the clips and flowers on your hair.

“Wow…” “Wow indeed, s/o. You look pretty.”

You blushed. “I… tha-” “Pretty normal.”

“OVE-” “I’m joking, I’m joking!” He smiles genuinely. “You’re beautiful.”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

The boy I love loves me.

He sat beside you in the open field as the wind blew a gentle, cool breeze. Ove looked at you, eyes softening as he smiled a little wider. He looked back at the sky you were staring so mesmerisingly at, the sunset that shone over the horizon was a sight to behold indeed.

But not as much as you.

He looked down at his lap. ��Fuck.”

“Ove, don’t curse!” You chided him. He chuckles to himself. “Sorry but I can’t help myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I just realised how stupid I am.”

“I mean you’re a little dumb, but not stupid. Dumb in not having movie taste.”

He gasped offendedly in a playful manner. “My taste is superior!” “Dream on!”

You both laughed. “Nah, but… I’m stupid to realise I never had guts to do something important.”

“Like?” You asked him, raising a brow.

“This.” The next moment he leaned in to your face, your eyes widening. It all felt like slow motion as he leaned closer and closer, finally pressing his lips on yours. He pulled a way a few moments later, smirking at the way your cheeks burned red.

“I love you,” you blinked momentarily, the words he spoke flowed like a waterfall out of his mouth, no hesitation and with full confidence.

His simple words left you overwhelmed, as you felt the corner of your eyes stung with hot tears.

The boy freaked out when a single tear rolled down your cheek, frantically waving his hand.“H-hey, did I said something wro-”

“Not at all,” you told him. “I… I love you, too.”

He stares at you, his gaze on you unwavering as he smiled softly. “Man… you’re really something, s/o…”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

Reblogs help! ^^

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #ove bell #ove bell x reader #twst oc x reader #twisted wonderland oc x reader #twst ove #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst oneshot #twst fluff #self insert #oc #oc x reader #okay bye-

59 notes · View notes

awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 7 months

Text

Halloween Headcanons 2023 : Sharise Ruddell x Bobbie Brown getting ready for an halloween party

A/N: So this is slightly different because it's not headcanons but a little one shot. The Halloween theme is still present but this is just @glamourizedcocaine and me shamelessly loving thse two together <3. Speaking of them, I want to thank them for the support and inspiration in writing this <3

Bobbie wasn’t really surprised by the amount of pink in Sharise’s room, however she didn’t expect her mirror to be that color either. The red horn headband really complemented her red mini dress and proved that she really was meant to be the devil in the duo, as Sharise said.

She had no idea what the other girl was doing in the bathroom but the faint sound of cabinets being opened and objects clashing was getting too much for Bobbie who had to suppress a yawn

“What the hell are you doing, Sharise?” She yelled.

Shortly after the house owner appeared with her hands full of makeup pallets and a huge grin on her face. Bobbie’s heart almost skipped a beat when she noticed Sharise’s makeup : a gold glitter eyeshadow that made her eyes pop even more, followed by iridescent glitters on her face and a pink lipgloss. Bobbie’s cheeks were tainted red as she realized not only that Sharise was a perfect angel but that she was staring at her back.

“Sorry, I was trying to find the perfect shape for your makeup. I think I have a great selection to work with now.” Sharise pointed her bed and Bobbi raised her eyebrow.

“Do you want me to lay on the bed?”

“Yeah, it’s easier to apply that way!”

Bobbie knew something or two about makeup, however she wasn’t about to break one of the most important girl rules: you do what whoever puts your makeup tells you to do. So she laid down and soon the mattress gently was weighed down by Sharise.

“Okay so do you prefer kisses or pout ?"

“What?” Bobbie’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink as Sharise let out a giggle.

“The name of the shades, see?” She turned her wrist, showing two pigmented lines. “Kisses is the first and pout is the second.”

“Kisses” is fine.”

Sharise took the brush and gently started to apply the eyeshadow on the crease of her eye. Bobbie’s heart dropped down as she couldn’t help but feel so silly for always making herself a fool whenever Sharise was around, probably she was just very intimidated by such a beautiful and talented woman so her brain just shut down every time.

“Wait, I can’t reach this spot.” The other blonde said, moving closer to Bobbie and sitting on her lap, while her face got dangerously close to Bobbie’s.

She really hoped Sharise couldn’t hear how much her heart was beating, because Bobbie could feel the loud thump in her ear and shivers all over her arms. She was basically forced to stare Sharise’s face back and notice how her nose would wrinkle while focused.

“I’m gonna use pout for the eyelid, okay?” She asked and Bobbie nodded, even if probably one word out of the eight was registered by her brain.

Sharise’s elbow was resting on her shoulder for support but it felt like an open flame for Bobbie, a type of warmth she wished could last forever. And that’s when something hit her like a freight train: she wished Sharise would touch her like that all time, she wished she would notice her in a room full of other people and that she would apply her makeup for the rest of her life.

“Your lashes are so pretty. I always have to curve mine but yours are just perfect.” Sharise said out of nowhere while applying the mascara and since when they were already at the mascara part?

“Thanks… I do love yours too.” She choked back while Sharise nodded.

After applying the mascara, time seemed to stop as Sharise just stared at her probably to admire her own work. Bobbie stayed completely silent, eyes focused on the white wings resting on a chair in the background and already grieving a bit the eventual loss of contact.

“I love your lips too. So soft and plump, a red lipstick would fit so well here.” She added, gently tracing Bobbie’s lips with her fingers.

Whatever brain cell was still active in Bobbie’s brain officially stopped working once she felt Sharise’s fingertips on her. They were just as soft as she imagined and she had to fight everything in her to not do the same to Sharise, scared to just have misinterpreted the situation, however she couldn’t stop her cheeks turning red once again.

“ I want to try something but promise me to not freak out, okay?” Sharise’s tone was serious and Bobbie nodded, even if she was internally freaking out from long enough.

The laying girl could barely register the other girl getting even closer to her face, before feeling Sharise’s lips on her. The strawberry invaded her mouth and the movements were so tender and delicate that she wondered how it was possible for someone to kiss like that. She tried to follow Sharise’s gentle pace but it felt like her first kiss all over again.

The kiss couldn’t have lasted for than a minute yet it felt a beautiful eternity, Bobbie was left with a pounding heart and plump lips while Sharise’s lipgloss was definitely smudged in some areas but she didn’t seem to care even after Bobbie’s fingertips gently whipped the spots away.

“Do you want to see how it looks before putting on your lipstick?” Sharise hopped off her, making Bobbie almost pouting, but she refrained herself from that and went to the mirror instead.

The two types of red perfectly matched her outfit, her eyes seemed bigger and more powerful and she had no doubt that everyone watching the two of them would have fell to their feet.

“Wow, you did just a great job!” Bobbie exclaimed and Sharise smiled proudly of her ability, resting her head on Bobbie’s shoulder and looking in the mirror.

They didn’t say anything for a while but it wasn’t needed. Bobbi’s head seemed a never ending maze, analyzing every outcome and consequence to what had just happened but her heart was just happy like a child in a candy store.

““Maybe we should apply the lipstick, so we still have time to reapply it in case we mess it up.” She had to look away from the mirror, ashamed of saying something so corny and silly but Sharise didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re absolutely right! I have to reapply mine too, maybe you can help me with that?” Bobbie nodded and they stole one last look at the mirror.

For a moment Jani’s image popped up in Bobbie’s mind and she wondered when it was the last time she felt like that with him. However she quickly shook her head and followed Sharise to bed, a part of her knew it was pointless to compare the two of them because Sharise’s lips were much softer and she didn’t taste like gin.

But most importantly now her lips tasted of Bobbie just like Bobbie’s tasted of Sharise’s.

#sharise ruddell #Sharise neil #bobbi brown #ex wife of rock #80s rock #motley crue #warrant band #halloween #halloween challenge #moodboard #my moodboards #fem x fem #wlw fanfic #my fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

elliesangel222 · 10 months

Text

GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

word count: 1k

part one

Colorful lights and blasting music bounced and flashed around the busy sidewalks. The illuminated sign outside flashed pink, it read “girls!” flashing a neon pink to make everyone aware of what lay inside. You were walking up to your new workplace, it wasnt your usual style. It would do though, before this you had a day job waitressing, all the creepy men telling you that you had a body to die for, and that you would make a great stripper. You had finally taken it into consideration. Hours of classes, youtube tutorials, installing a fucking stripper pole in your living room, calloused hands and feet finally landed you a job at the Cathouse, a strip club rated three and a half stars settled in the most ghetto neighbourhood in California, you had crawled your way here and you were not about to let all that money and work and sore fucking joints go to waste, you didnt let the appearance of the club ruin your mood, you just hoped there was no rats inside.

You opened the door and walked inside, trying to seem comfortable. Your heels sparkled in the dark rosy glow of the club and you were first met with a bouncer. She was tall, maybe 6’1 and her auburn hair was pulled in a half up half down hairstyle. Her skin was covered in freckles and her green eyes pierced your gaze, her black uniform hugged her arms and form in all the right ways, and oh boy did you notice.“Hey, Are you the new dancer?” You nodded enthusiastically and shook her hand, she was pretty. “I'm supposed to bring you to the dressing rooms, do you have a stage name yet?” You stared in shock. “N-no.. I completely forgot oh my god”

“Hmm, is there a place or thing you love?”

You blurted out the first thing you thought of, meadows. They reminded you of that one twilight scene.

The bouncer smirked, “Okay Meadow, follow me” she smiled and spoke in a raspy voice. You followed her like a lost dog and finally you had made it to the dressing room, the bouncer opened the door for you while you walked in, then left. As soon as you walked in, everyones eyes met yours. Dozens of girls stopped curling their hair to stare at you. It made you nervous as hell.

“H-hi.. I’m Meadow” you waved nervously and let out a chuckle.

Were you sweating? You didnt know at this point.

They all immediately smiled and waved back, “I’m Bunny, This is Cat and that’s Cinnamon. Pandoras over there..” She continued to list off everyones names, only you lost focus. A girl was glaring at you, staring daggers into your eyes. Fuck, what was her name? Oh, Cat. You moved your gaze from her to Bunny who was still telling you their names “Oh and the last one is Princess!” You said your hello’s and asked where you should put your stuff, Bunny led you to an empty vanity. “Okay, I'm on first, then up goes Cat, then you’re on. Is that okay? Gives you plenty of time to get changed”

You nodded and started to get ready, glittered shadows brushed over your eyelids and you felt completely on display while you put on your little outfit. A red glittery latex two piece which hugged you perfectly. You glossed your lips and tied up the ribbons on your heels just before your name was called. Cat strutted backstage and gave you another glare. ‘Okay, so that's how it's gonna be’ You heard your name called and got up and walked on stage, winking at Cat as you strutted by. Your curled hair bouncing against your chest as you walked.

The song you chose played as you strutted around the pole seductively, caressing it as you walked around it.

‘You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you’

'You let me penetrate you'

'You let me complicate you'

You moved in perfect sync with the song, your hips swayed with the beat and the amount of eyes on you was a total adrenaline rush, You loved it. You swung around the pole skillfully as the bills flew and piled up on the stage floor. The sight excited you. You were aware of every eye on you in the audience, except for one. The bouncer stood by the door and watched your every move, looking you up and down as you moved so confidently on that stage. She so badly wanted to see what else you could do with that ass- No! That's dirty, she cut her thoughts off and kept her eyes on you as you swayed, mesmerized by you.

‘I broke apart my insides

(Help me) I've got no soul to sell

(Help me) the only thing that works for me

Help me get away from myself’

The beat dropped and so did you, you leaned and bent over, giving the audience a perfect view of your fleshy ass.

You swayed your hips and continued your dance. By the time it was over your heart was pounding and your arms throbbed. The guys in the club clapped as you bent over grabbing handfuls of cash from the floor, you didnt notice the bouncer with a hefty bag standing on stage with you, analyzing your every movement. She passed it over and you thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.Your stickly lip gloss made a visible mark on her cheek, she didnt wipe it off. You had noticed that as you piled the cash in the bag. “Mind if I get your number sweetheart?” The bouncer asked. That made you giggle “I dont even know your nam-” She cut you off. “Ellie, now may I get your number?”

“Nope” you responded quickly, you liked Ellie. You just wanted to see how far she would go for you..

Ellie grinded her teeth in response, she walked off stage and you winked at her.

This was going to be fun.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter

#ellie williams x reader #tlou 2 #ellie williams au #ellie williams #tlou #x reader #fem reader #ellie smut #Spotify #ellie the last of us

26 notes · View notes

golden-songbird · 1 year

Text

though i’ve handled the wood (i still worship the flame) part 1

Roman laughed as he returned from the shining, glittering lake, his bangs sticking to his forehead as water dripped from the ends, trickling onto his body and on the ground. His clothes clung to his skin, and the dampness felt good as Roman walked down the path, the sun already starting to dry the droplets of water that slid down his shoulders and legs.

His friends were following him, all of them laughing and running along the path to keep up with Roman’s fleeting footsteps. It had been a long couple weeks of work, and everybody had collectively decided that it was time for a break, and what better way to do that than go swimming? Even after hours of races, Marco Polo, and water tag, everybody was happy and excited to be there, just glad to be spending time with each other. Happy to be spending time with Roman.

“Next time, we should have a cannonball competition,” Roman suggested. “Remus would probably win, but it’s at least worth a try!”

“That’s an awesome idea, Ro!” Patton encouraged, ruffling Roman’s wet hair. “And I wouldn’t say that Remus would beat you easily! You two basically tied in all the races.”

“I was going easy on him,” Remus teased lightheartedly, “You’ll see. Tomorrow, we’ll compete for real.”

Roman’s heart soared to the top of the clouds.

“Wait- you guys want to do this again tomorrow?” he asked, his voice a hopeful whisper, afraid to be extinguished like a small ember.

“Yeah, the fun’s only just started,” Virgil said with a wry smirk, “We still haven’t played Chicken Fight, and I’m looking forward to knocking Janus into the water.”

“Whatever,” Janus chuckled, “Not to destroy your dreams, but I’d probably be a base in the Chicken Fight anyway.”

“I wonder why it’s called a Chicken Fight to begin with,” Logan said, “There are no chickens. I’ll have to research this later, I suppose.”

“I love hanging out with you, kiddo,” Patton reassured, “We all do.”

Patton then enveloped Roman in a long, gentle hug. It wasn’t restricting or forceful, and Roman could pull away whenever he wanted to. And it was real. Patton wasn’t doing it because there were cameras, or because Thomas was watching. It wasn’t because Roman had done something great.

He was just existing. And for Patton, that was enough.

And as Patton hugged Roman’s front, Remus hugged Roman from behind. Then, Virgil joined in. And then, Janus. And lastly, Logan.

“Love you, Broman,” Remus murmured.

Tears formed in Roman’s eyes as he heard the familiar nickname escape Remus’ lips. Roman had come up with it years ago when Remus went through a phase of calling Roman suggestive names such as “kitten” and “babygirl”. Remus, having hated the nickname at first, called Roman the name ironically, but as time went on, “Broman” had stuck, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

But it had been forever now since Roman had heard the nickname. He closed his eyes and let himself relax into the hug, leaning all of his weight against Patton and Remus, who held him upright easily.

“I don’t want to go back,” he whispered, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much.”

“I know, my dear,” Janus mumbled, smoothing Roman’s hair carefully, “But we’ll be here tomorrow, okay? We want you to get some sleep and take care of yourself.”

“You can’t hide here forever,” Logan said regretfully, “As much as all of us might like you to. But we’ll wait as long as it takes for you to return. Whether it’s one day, or thirty. We aren’t complete without you, Roman.”

Tears slid down Roman’s face, mixing with the lake water on the rest of his body. His body shook as he sobbed, but the support around him started to slacken. Patton smiled down at Roman as he faded away, and Logan pressed a gentle kiss to Roman’s forehead before fading as well. Roman closed his eyes, unable to watch anymore. He sank to his knees when Remus faded, and he couldn’t bring himself to get up until he cried all the tears he could, and the sun went down in the Imagination, making way for a cruel, dangerous night.

Roman was alone again, just as he always had been.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #sanders sides au #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders angst #sanders sides fandom #writing #tss

12 notes · View notes

graftisms · 1 year

Text

CALLIE & ANGEL — DAY THIRTY-FOUR

location : night / hallway & terrace

featuring : @dobits

CALLIE

her blood hasn't stopped pumping with adrenaline since the challenge had started earlier in the evening. the few shots she had taken beforehand probably is a factor of it, more than she's drank in at least a week, but the liquid courage had been more than needed before dancing like a stripper. well, a stripper that doesn't take off their clothes. but despite her nerves and the new bombshells and her embarrassing results, tonight will probably go down as one of her favorite challenges of being here—so much so that she doesn't really want the night to end. by now she's begrudgingly changed into pajamas, donning a sexier piece that she's been saving for a rainy day. but it's not like anyone can tell anyone, when she has her and angel's comforter bunched in her hands, one pillow stuffed between her arm with another tucked beneath her chin. her eyes light up when she sees him turn the corner, waiting for him to come closer before she releases the pillow beneath her chin, hoping he'll catch it. "there you are," she says. "you like camping, right? grab an extra blanket and a few pillows, i thought we could sleep on the terrace." after that challenge, callie has a feeling everyone's gonna be going at it like rabbits, and she doesn't want to be there for it.

ANGEL

glitter's still being shook out of his hair, so he's got it tied in a sloppy bun half way up his head. the night's winding down, but angel's not sure he can sleep between the excitement of the night, the shock of new bombshells, and... well, the thing he really, really wants to talk to callie about. it dims the light of the evening a bit, though turning the corner to find her piled with bedding and looking like a bombshell herself, all contention fades easily away. "you wanna sleep on the terrace?" he scoffs a laugh, nimbly grabbing the pillow with one hand while the other tries to push the comforter out of the way of her little pajamas, offhandedly working to sneak a peek. "you think it's gonna be that bad in there, huh?" it's long since become normality now, sleeping next to half a dozen couples screwing, but angel's happy to use it as an excuse for some privacy. "yeah, you know i'm down. not like we take up more than a bench-sized space in our bed anyway," he teases her cuddling again, leaning in fast to press a messy kiss to the side of her mouth in case she tries to bat him off. "feel like i'll barely be able to sleep right now."

CALLIE

"what, you don't want to?" her brows raise challenging up at him, though the smile on her features makes it hard to take it seriously. for once, she's not thinking about how the last time she had slept on the terrace was with frankie—nor is she thinking about her and frankie's challenges being each other, though she's sure that was producer tampered for the drama. right now, angel has her full attention, eyes catching some sparkles stuck to his forehead. with a laugh, she leans forward to try to rub it off with her thumb. "oh, yeah. the new girls ought to be lucky they won't be in there." lips curve to the side of her mouth at his dig, though she leans into the kiss until he pulls back, then shoves him playfully away. "we're not sleeping on the bench, that thing is tiny. no, i'm telling ya, grab an extra blanket and pillows in there," she nods to a nearby closet that now exists, "and we're gonna make the ground cozy. it won't be bad, i promise," she assures him, since it's not her first rodeo. "good." there's a glint in her eye as she grins up at him, before brushing past him to head towards the terrace, assuming he'll follow behind. "because i'm not tired."

ANGEL

so when she says camping, she really means camping. angel's pretty sure there's not one other girl in this entire villa who'd not only willingly comply with sleeping on the ground under the stars, but actually insist on it. the question callie had jokingly asked the day before rings in his head: so i'm totally your type, huh? god, yes, completely. if the fun of the concept alone doesn't get him moving, her parting sentiment certainly does. angel's heart is floating in the zero gravity of his chest when he trails her out to the terrace, arms filled with a couple extra bed pillows and another comforter. "you sure you know how to do this?" he doubts playfully, watching at she starts arranging their makeshift bed, ready to hand her the additional supplies as needed. "there's no way you're an expert lap dancer and a li'l camping girl. like, i'm just not that lucky." big grin stretches over his face, bites into his lower lip. "you know you were the finest girl down there tonight? and this is...," chin lifts in acknowledgement, eyes dropping down her pajamas, decidedly more callie-ish, "maybe even better."

CALLIE

"we're not pitching a tent," she laughs, dropping everything to the ground immediately, then throwing down what he brought out as well. if they had more time, and maybe more production help, they could probably turn the terrace into a blanket fort one night. but that's way too much work right now—callie hardly even wants to focus on building them a nest, because the way he's looking at her is almost as much of a distraction as the dancing had been earlier, heat rising through her body despite the cool summer air. "i'm definitely no expert lap dancer," she flashes him a grin, shaking her head. "pretty sure that title goes to naomi tonight." unsurprisingly. the truth is about tonight challenge is that it had been a lot more fun watching people dance than actually dancing herself. callie had expected to have some crazy coyote ugly moment and feel like she was dancing in slow motion, but in all honesty, she barely remembers any of it, just little snippets of reactions from people she had danced on. she's sure she'll remember this look on angel's face far longer than anything else. her body feels like a magnet as she moves closer to him, arms wrapping around his neck. she wants to bask in the feelings that he stirs in her, her adrenaline pumping more than the shots had done earlier. "i miss the costumes already," she admits, with a sly smile. her finger taps on the top of his head lightly. "i miss the horns." a pause. "can we both agree that those results were rigged? because you were definitely the best dancer tonight. unless you really liked that new girl?" callie smirks playfully.

ANGEL

"you can't just throw it all on the ground," he belly laughs, more sparked with amusement than is strictly necessary. liquor plus the thrill of the event have culminated into a very particular rose-colored atmosphere. "we're gonna have to layer that shit right or else your back's gonna kill you tomorrow." it's amazing what a modicum of privacy can do, finds it way too easy to wrap himself around her, their bodies flush. "you miss the costumes? i'm like, we're buying that drag racer get up as soon as we're out of here," angel insists, punctuating it with a grab at her ass. he's not really sure if she's doing it purposely, but he definitely finds himself straying from the point he's been wanting to make since the event ended. it's hard to keep his thoughts straight when she's so close it's like she's the only thing that exists. "what new girl?" he jokes, tongue pressed to his front teeth. arms settle heavy around the slim of her waist, taking in a long breath. "the results are, like, whatever. it was just a fun little challenge, like it's no big thing. but... cal, you really had to give frankie a lap dance?" he exhales a soft laugh like it's all so fine and so not that serious. "don't you think it'll give her the wrong idea?"

CALLIE

"i'm not done with it!" she argues back, stubbornly. "but if you want to make the bed, by all means," she looks down at the ground pointedly, but there's no mistaking the way her hands tighten on his shoulders, not wanting him to move away just yet. she'd be lying if the compliment wasn't exactly what she wanted, eyes lighting up with a wide smile. "did you like it?" she laughs, knowing how transparent she was dressing up as that. "i wanted to give your incoming drag racer bombshell a run for her money. plus it was an easy song choice." reaching out, she undoes his messy bun, letting his hair fall out. "what new girl?" she mimics, in her attempt at the californian accent. "the one that's going asking you on a date, i reckon, since this thing," she pokes at the left side of his chest, "practically gave her the okay to." but callie finds it hard to be really upset, because it's so unserious. or maybe she's still on the high of what he told her earlier today, knowing now's the time to test how serious he was about it. she's expecting a jab back about frankie getting her heart racing the most, so what he says instead has her smile dimming, genuinely surprised. "uh, no? everyone was doing it. do you think naomi gave dylan the wrong idea?" it felt like dancing on frankie was inevitable in that challenge—and frankie clearly felt the same, since she did it first. still, she didn't really think about angel's feelings in that. "i'm sorry, it really didn't mean anything." her hand trails up his arm, leaning in for a lingering kiss.

ANGEL

“i’m definitely gonna do it,” he affirms with the implication that she’ll only do it wrong, still not moving a muscle. “like is one way of putting it. like, the super mild, pg way.” head shakes, still stunned she’d chose an outfit that might as well have had for angel stamped on the collar. a grin squints his eyes, admittedly loving the way the tables have turned. “mmm, i’m not even gonna lie, it feels so good not to be the unreasonably jealous one for once.” he stills her prodding hand and trains it flat against his chest. “nah, no shot, she’d be goofy to choose me. the results were rigged anyway, remember?” and it’s all fun and games, the bombshells just a silly little time, but the topic of frankie is like cold water. it’s real and dubious, like standing on the edge of a dark cliff. “i mean, dylan didn’t try and stick it on naomi the day before,” angel counters, the bleak humor fading fast from his tone. he manages to finish off his deflating sigh just as she leans in for a kiss and it feels good, inspires some semblance of sympathy. “i’m just saying,” angel murmurs, his forehead pressed to hers, “i know it’s nothing coming from you to her, but i just don’t want her to have, like, reasons to hang on to you, y’know? next time she tries something i’m pushing her in the pool, for real.”

CALLIE

her eyes narrow up at him playfully, slowly hyping herself up before pushing him away and finishing it herself. she's slept out here enough to know what makes it comfortable, but with the conversation about frankie so fraught right now, it doesn't really seem wise to bring up how this isn't her first rodeo. "i am not jealous," she scoffs, wrinkling her nose. even if she was (which she's not!), he makes it impossible to be anyway, shooting down any hesitancy she may have. "she wouldn't be goofy," callie makes a face, leaning into him. "you were pretty hot out there. she'd be an idiot not to be interested, either of them." the fact that she knows eden is something she only just remembers, and she wants to tell him, the information on the tip of her tongue... but as usual, frankie sucks out all the oxygen in the room, even outside on the balcony. he has to be more unnerved than she thought, if kissing him quiet like this doesn't do the trick. callie sighs, eyes closing as she focuses on the warmth of their bodies together. "i told frankie i'm not interested," she reminds him, voice lowered in an attempt to keep the frustration out of her voice. "if she wants to hang onto hope that my mind might suddenly change, let her, i don't bloody care. she's not my problem anymore." callie doubt that will happen anyway, that frankie will abandon the comfortable new boy toy she's found herself in casa. when she opens her eyes, she looks right into angel's. "you trust me, don't you?" she asks plainly, wanting to be sure they're on the same page. stepping out of his embrace, she reaches down for one of the blankets, kicking the rest to the side as she lays that one down first. busying herself so she doesn't ruin her good mood once again.

ANGEL

"oh my god, you're so jealous," he doubles down with a growing, hammed up excitement, pulling back just enough to get a look of her jealous little face. it's unserious, a concept built on shaky foundation just for laughs, and he'll squeeze every last moment out of it that he can, thanks. "yeah, well, they can do whatever they want... and, y'know, so can you. if you wanted to, like, do a part two of your dance," angel half jokes, a thumb jerking back at the bench. it puts his heart on a dub step beat hearing she was into it though, even despite not charting on her own results. a soft scoff hangs his head back a bit 'cause her attempt at concealing that frustration really isn't that good. "callie..." when she looks at him, all big, whiskey brown eyes and chock full of sincerity, it requires even less thought than it otherwise would've to answer. "i trust you more than anyone else in here. i don't trust her." after hearing first hand from frankie what happened, the off handed way she described it like she'd experience a slight, brief case of catatonia, he's effectively lost faith in the blonde. he's just wary about fueling whatever fire's still inside her, but it feels like for sure not the night to press it, feels like his concerns were sufficiently aired anyway. one arm curls around her waist, pulling her swiftly away from her task and back into him so he can press a full, smiling kiss to her lips.

CALLIE

"get out of here." the hand sprawled out on his chest gives him a light shove, trying and failing to stop herself from smiling at his reaction. as much as she doesn't like the idea of another person potentially getting in the middle of their relationship, callie does want angel to be tempted, if for no other reason than to prove that his word is good. what little information she has about his past relationship is still in the back of her mind, especially now. but, as usual, he somehow knows exactly what to say, finding it hard to even be annoyed about frankie when he's making it clear just how much he trusts her. if he really trusts her more than jude, then it must be serious. "well it's a good thing for us both that you're not dating frankie, then." because not trusting frankie's intentions is one thing, but they can only go so far when it takes two to tango. he grabs onto her right before she leans forward to work on the bed, a noise of surprise escaping her that's muffled in his kiss, immediately reaching out to hold onto his face to keep his close. "mmm, stop distracting me," she says, when she finally pushes him away, so she can crouch down and make the ground cozy, with the pillows and blankets. from her spot on the ground, her brown eyes look up at angel with a sly smile, motioning for him to come down to her level. "in the spirit of being honest, can i ask you something?" she asks, already aware she's about to kill the mood. in her defense, he had done that already by bringing up frankie.

ANGEL

it’s a fair response, after all there’s admittedly not much callie can do to control whatever frankie chooses to act on in the moment. in any case, angel feels increasingly less intimidated by the girls’ relationship as a whole. finally it seems like he’s surpassed the colossal legend of whatever they’d had and earned his own spot as a fixture in her life, at least in the villa. there’s no more silent competition. so the goofy smile sits unconsciously on his face as he moves to straighten out a corner of their makeshift bed, glancing across only at the portentousness of her question. “suddenly i’m so tired,” angel jokes. he’s still buzzing with boundless energy, crawls to the center of their nest and pretends to focus his attention more on testing it’s softness. “yeah, of course you can.”

CALLIE

there's really no method to the madness of sleeping comfortably on the bed; looking back on it, her and frankie may have had an extra blanket beneath them so the group didn't feel so hard. she'd go to grab one if she didn't want to deal with anyone else, feeling pretty pleased they were able to escape away without anyone noticing and making some kind of comment (jude, mostly). putting another blanket down beneath her, callie uses two pillows to prop herself up, glancing over at him with a thin smile. she already knows he's not gonna love this. "tell me about your last relationship." his supposedly messy past feels like the last piece of the puzzle before she decides to let her feelings get more serious than they already are, and considering they're finally alone without interruption, it seems like a good time as ever to dive into red flags.

ANGEL

a heaved sigh lilts with a bit of a laugh ‘cause he knew they were gonna find themselves back in the thick of this particular topic, but he didn’t see it happening tonight. still, he’s game, nodding as he stretches out on his back over the blankets, his arm sprawling over her legs. “it sucks that it ended so shitty ‘cause it started pretty good, y’know? like i would always tell my homies we never fight, never argue, it was always good vibes, but i guess it’s… like, always like that in the beginning.” he shrugs, pushes some stray hair off his face. “and, like, it’s not their fault or anything, people just grow apart, but i don’t think i, like, handled it the way i shoulda? obviously.” it’s hard to wrangle his flyaway thoughts on the matter, feels like there’s so much he wants to say, but it’ll all just sound like one big excuse for his ultimate mistake and the only real thing she knows about it: he cheated. “i dunno what you wanna know. like, the end stuff?”

CALLIE

callie shifts until she's nestled into his side, gathering around for a probably depressing story-time. letting her cheek rest on his chest, dark eyes flicker up to him while she listens, nodding quietly in understanding. really, she's not sure what she wants to hear about it; in her last relationship, she had felt pretty strongly that exes are made to stay in the past. why bog yourself down knowing someone else once made them happy? but it sounds a little too similar to her last relationship to be ignored, so at his question she nods slightly. "you said they cheated on you?" she prompts quietly, knowing she doesn't have to acknowledge that he had also done the same. "you don't have to say anything you don't want to, y'know. i guess i'm just... curious how it all went down. do you still talk?"

ANGEL

“yeah,” he answers, holding his breath in the back of his throat like a natty lite upchuck after a night out. “nah, we don’t talk. i mean, i’d like to one day, just to get a little closure ‘cause it really fuckin’ crawls under my skin, the idea that someone out there hates my guts.” hyperbolic, for sure, but it’s pretty much how it feels. “but i don’t blame them for wanting to leave that shit behind. ‘cause… like, yeah, they cheated, but it wasn’t —,” another moment of bated breath as he tries to consider the way he wants to say it. “they didn’t hook up with somebody else, but i guess it got close. they told me about it and we talked and they apologized and, like, i figured we’d be okay, right? like, we’d move past it. but, i dunno, it just stuck in my head in a bad way.”

CALLIE

"oh, you're one of those," she smirks up at him, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. she already knows that he's the type to want to be friends with everyone, even frankie, but the idea of everyone liking everyone just feels so farfetched. but it feels impossible to hate angel, even with whatever history the two may have. but she doesn't say it��in fact, she's starting to regret bringing it up at all, not thrilled with having to specifically ask about something to get him to mention it. it makes her feel stupid for even wanting to know, even if rationally she knows that it's the right thing to do when there's an obvious red flag. taking a deep breath, she shifts her head on his chest so she's looking up at the sky, blindly reaching for his hand.

"i've only been in one serious relationship before," she starts, figuring she can meet him halfway, "and i dated her for about a year and a half? most of the time i was in san diego. but we were only really together for about a year, i think. around that time she broke up with me, and then after a few weeks we got back in touch, and we started... seeing each other again. i thought we were back to where we had been, because nothing else had really changed, but i learned about a month or two later that she'd been telling everyone we were still broken up, and hooking up with other people." lips press together, and callie hopes to god whatever gets filmed right now isn't aired. "but she was my first love, y'know? and i've never been very good at letting go, and... anyway, we were in a weird limbo like that for a few months afterwards. she'd fuck around, i'd get pissed, we'd fight and then she'd convince me to forgive her. it was a lot of stupid drama. it only stopped because i had to move home, but i'm glad it worked out like that. enough time has passed where i can look at it with a clear head, and i just feel... stupid, for putting up with so much." she hadn't meant to spill so much, but once she started, she couldn't stop. "so yeah," she huffs out, realizing she rambled. "that was my last relationship."

ANGEL

there’s a measure of surprise to her response. the guilt that still lives at the heart of angel’s tale has him bracing himself for even the slightest persecution, for callie to lay out in her typically charming no-nonsense way that he’d cheated in his last relationship. to fully shake up the bush he’s beating around, a final red stamp bricked down on the memory like a condemning verdict. not only does she let him get away with avoiding the word, she offers a hand in the form of her own messy anecdote. as expected, her only crime seems to be believing the best in somebody, in affording them more of her effort and attention than they deserve, but it comforts angel to have the knowledge anyway, more pieces to her puzzle. “people do crazy things when they’re in love,” he murmurs, thumb sweeping over her knuckles. “‘til they learn differently. and, like, become different.” that’s his thing. he feels worlds away from who he was, even from less than a year ago. “there’s no way i could play games like that now. just not worth it.”

there’s a beat of comfortable silence as he watches the stars glitter in the sky. finally he lifts himself, propped up on a bent elbow and leaned partly over her. an amused, indulged smile quirks the corners of his mouth, part out of an imbedded sense of macho pride that even angel isn’t totally immune from, and partly put on and hammed up, teasing. “so you, like, never date men? almost never?”

CALLIE

her entire body feels warm after telling that story, heart pumping with nearly as much adrenaline as she had during the challenge. callie was hoping she wouldn't really have to go into her past relationship on the show, partly for her exes' privacy, but mostly because of the embarrassment she feels thinking back to that time of her life. "yeah," she lets out a single laugh, lacking humor. "and i'll never let someone walk all over me like that again. i think it was easy to write it off back then because i thought, y'know, relationships aren't always easy. but they should be, to a certain degree, even when everything else isn't. drama just isn't worth it." though the producers of the show would probably disagree, but it's also why the frankie stuff has been so annoying. there's a certain level of nerves in her system when angel shifts to look down at her, aware that this isn't exactly a light conversation. to her, talking about this stuff means more to her than telling him that her head isn't going to turn. but the smile on his face is characteristically contagious, eyes closing briefly to genuinely laugh. "not usually, no," she admits, making a face up at him. "i've gone on dates with them before, but i don't think it's ever gotten past, like, date three? i don't know," she shrugs, sheepish. "i'm not exactly a serial dater, anyway. don't let it go to your head," she warns, pulling his face closer for a kiss.

#callie & angel ;#callie & angel 011 #callie ;#we need less discord threads thanks

1 note · View note

hongism · 3 years

Text

05 - j.wooyoung + lingerie (18+)

» j.wooyoung x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor, nsfw/pwp » language, feminization, lap dancing, strip tease, bratty wooyoung, manual stimulation, grinding, cum eating, dirty talk, finger sucking » wc 3.3k » link to masterlist

you’ve almost come to the conclusion that tonight was a complete and utter waste of time when your eyes pause in their subtle search across the room. it’s fast, and you almost miss him because of how quickly you’re surveying the club, but you have to backtrack at the sight of the pink head of hair. it’s not too out of the ordinary — not for a club like this one at least, and frankly, the face connected to the stark hair entrances you more than the hair does. the friend at your side seems to notice where your gaze keeps lingering, elbow careening into your ribs seconds later.

“like what you see over there?” she giggles, most likely amused by how you jolt and startle with the contact.

“he’s pretty,” you mutter back as you strain your neck a little to catch sight of the rest of him. he’s not up on a stage with the other dancers, not wrapped around a pole or anything like that, so you can’t get a full and clear view of what he’s wearing.

“he doesn’t perform with the others, i hear. solo performer, and only does private shows.”

sure, there’s a stack of money set aside for this particular reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cave and spend it all on this one man.

you aren’t.

it’s not going to stop you from getting up and going over there to get a better look at him.

“i’ll be back,” you mutter, picking up your wallet and drink with the same hand. you’re hoping it won’t look obvious to your friend, but the laugh that follows your movements is telling enough.

“have fun!”

you step through the crowd of couches that are mostly full of older men and women, apologizing each time you cross in front of them and accidentally block their view of the dancers. your target hasn’t moved, still lingering near the bar with a drink set in front of him as he also indulges in the sight of the dancers on stage. you’re almost fooled into believing that he’s simply a client here and not actually a worker, but there’s a certain sway to his hips and head against the music thumping through the club that says otherwise. he moves his body too well even with subtle and small movements. elbows propped up on the bar counter behind him, a lollipop dangling from his fingertips and periodically going up to catch on his tongue, and that pretty pink hair bouncing with each movement he makes. you’re enticed in an instant.

the obscenity of his outfit doesn’t help one bit either. and perhaps obscenity is a bit too strong a word to describe it, but your brain goes to static and white noise the more you see of him, and it’s easy to see why that is. a sheer lavender crop top that does nothing to hide the lace bralette underneath, along with a pretty plaid skirt that tapers his waist almost too well, belts and buckles hanging from both sides and jingling when he sways his hips in time with the music. the further down your eyes go, the more overwhelmed you get because he’s got fishnets (of course) that lead to chunky black combat boots. he looks simultaneously quite out of place here while also seeming like there’s no other logical place for him to be. your steps towards him falter a little; it’s no wonder that he doesn’t have anyone at his side right now. he’d outshine them without even trying, and the air around him feels a bit untouchable as well like he’s too good for anyone’s presence except his own and the bartender behind him. the thought to turn around and return to your friend like a dog with its tail between its legs crosses your mind. that’s all it does though because as you shift to act on that thought, sharp eyes snap over to meet yours across the bar counter.

opposite ends of the spectrum, separated by at least ten barstools if not more, plenty of other people in front of him to look at, yet the dancer cranes his head in your direction and makes eye contact.

your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, an act more out of nerves than meant to be seductive in the slightest.

there’s no direct invitation to go further towards him. really all he does is incline his head slightly, and you take it as a cue to step around the barstools and walk over to where he’s tapping his chunky boot against the floor.

“hi.”

you startle upon hearing his clear tone, although you aren’t wholly sure why that’s the case.

“hello,” you greet in return. you keep your glass caught firmly between your fingers as you sit in the barstool beside him. he looks even prettier in this light — with blinking up at him from where you sit and the neon lights cascading over his face and hair. there’s a stunning beauty mark under his eye, and another on his lower lip under the sheen of pink lip gloss. something sparkles under his eyes and in the inner corners, what you can only assume to be eyeshadow and glitter.

“i caught your eye, huh?”

there’s a twinge of embarrassment that shoots through your body, and you duck your chin to your chest, clearing your throat as quietly as you can like it’ll dispel the nerves accompanied by the feeling.

“cute,” the man continues. his sweet tone is almost like honey, or some syrup that tastes like it could be too much after a certain point. “wanna buy my time then?”

the offer comes so quickly that you’re a bit shocked. all these people in the club and yet not one has approached him? or accepted his offer? it seems far too unbelievable.

“you’re not gonna ask me anything first? my name, my age, anything like that?”

he laughs for the first time tonight, and you think you’ll grow to love that sound by the end of it. the lollipop pushes back between his lips only for him to make a show of how he swirls his tongue around the ball of candy. when he pulls it back out, it springs free with a lewd pop in its wake.

“you’re the first one tonight who’s stopped me to ask that. most just jump straight to it. i’m wooyoung. and you?”

“y/n.”

“hmm, it’ll sound prettier coming from my lips later.”

your brain buffers and hits a wall. you lose whatever thought was lingering in your mind, and wooyoung has the audacity to flash a grin and send a wink your way.

“you’re in luck tonight, y/n. i only start taking clients at ten o’clock, and it’s two minutes past ten right now.” a strobe of neon red flashes over his face, illuminating his eyes in a way that makes your heart jump in your chest. “assuming you want me, that is,” he adds through a stretched grin, and you wouldn’t dream of denying him the pleasure of hearing your affirmation.

“yes, i’d like that quite a bit.”

wooyoung leads you off to the side of the club, where the hallway of private rooms begins, and he wastes no time in bringing you into the nearest unlocked one. you’ve got your wallet still clasped between nervous hands, but your drink was long forgotten on the bar counter you found wooyoung at. it’s fairly standard for this type of room, nothing to gawk at or make note of aside from the metal pole that stretches up to the ceiling. you’re certain your attention will be firmly planted on wooyoung throughout the entirety of your stay here, so you aren’t worried much about making yourself at home.

the dancer seems keen on the same as well, or at least he’s excited to get started. knowing how much money you’ve got in your wallet, you can’t blame him for the excitement. he turns to face you after shutting and locking the door, skirt billowing around his thighs a little. you think you see a flash of lace underneath, tucked under the fishnets, but that could very well be merely a wistful thought and nothing else.

“lay down,” he demands, motioning to the short round table right in front of the couches.

“um…” you blink from the white surface to wooyoung’s serious expression.

“what? never had a lap dance before?” he quirks a brow and flashes another dastardly grin, and you hate the way your stomach flips over at the sight of it.

“not one where i’ve had to lay down, no.”

wooyoung huffs out a laugh and pops his lollipop back into his mouth. he steps around your awkward, still form to put one of his feet up on the pristine white surface. the boot releases a hollow noise when it hits the table.

“oh, you’ll love it, i promise. now come on, on your back, legs relaxed. i’ll make it worth your while. and your money too, we hope.”

wooyoung’s little tilt to his chin and the soft bats of his lashes are what convince you to do as told. you slip your shoes off next to the couch and tuck your wallet away in one of them lest wooyoung has the bright idea to make off with all your belongings. then you scramble over the slick surface to lay flat atop it, eyeing wooyoung as he hums and steps up fully on the table over you. his feet straddle your body, right in the gap between your hands and hips, and he pushes that stupid lollipop back between his lips.

“here are my rules, y/n. no touching, no kissing on the lips, no marking, and no demands. you’re here for a show, so i’ll give you one. and maybe i’ll use you to get off a little too? what do you say?”

you suck your lower lip between your teeth, contemplating his words and rolling them over in your mind a bit.

“and if i say no?”

“then i’ll give you a simple lap dance, and that’ll be that. and don’t worry. if i cum… i’ll clean up after myself. you don’t have to do any work really, if you don’t want to.”

“if i don’t want to?” you echo your question.

“how do you feel about sucking my fingers?”

your dumb and stuttered blinking are answer enough for him, and wooyoung leans over to the couch, balancing on one foot as he stretches to reach for something on the cushions. the position give you a far too direct view straight up his skirt. you get confirmation that you did indeed spot lace — a matching set with his pink bralette it seems on top of that.

the music that begins to thump through the speaks is foreign to you, not a song you’ve ever heard before, but the beat is sultry enough for you to understand why wooyoung would play this.

and truly, when he starts to move above you, you fully understand the appeal of this angle. getting to watch the way his skirt sways and teases what’s underneath as his cropped top flutters with his winding movements — it’s a heady feeling being under him and seeing this unfold over you.

wooyoung does his job, and he does it well in only a few swaying moves that promise more to come. if you had to make a comparison, you’d say it’s like watching art in motion, an exhibit where the artist shows you each stroke and twist of his brush. that’s wooyoung now, with the showcase of how he stretches his arms to the ceiling and brings them down the front of his body. the dim lighting in the room does nothing to make the mood less than what it is — pure seduction at its finest, and wooyoung is quickly bringing you down that pit of lust with him. you only know that’s where he’s headed as well because of how his skirt begins to tent a little as time goes on, evidence to how turned on he is by merely dancing to the music. he hasn’t gotten down far enough to even have physical contact with you, but with the way he’s moving now, you aren’t sure he’ll even get that far either.

he does go lower as the song shifts, beat still unfamiliar against your ears, but you’re barely hearing the music beyond how the bass thumps through your veins. as his knees settle on either side of you, close to your waist now and closing in just enough to squeeze you with a hair of pressure, his hands move up under the fabric of his top. they press higher and higher, catching on the hem and tugging as he reaches his neck. your eyes burn like you haven’t blinked in ages, and to be frank, you most likely haven’t because the grip wooyoung has on your focus currently occupies every fiber of your being.

wooyoung works the shirt off, tossing the sheer material over to the side. the look of his tanned skin with blush pink lace overtop clinging to him like a vice under the low lights: it’s sin in its purest form. and that sin only amplifies as he draws his hands down to the waistband of his skirt. he teases and pulls at the material, still lost somewhere between his mind and the music. one of his hands works back up his chest and throat, and when he reaches his mouth, he pulls the lollipop stick out to reveal a now empty stick that is also promptly tossed in the same direction his shirt went.

“aren’t i pretty, y/n?” he asks all of a sudden. he’s not looking at you, not with the way his eyelids are barely shut, but it captures all your attention nonetheless. “pretty and feminine, hm? some people think i don’t dance as well as the girls out on the stages. but i’m just as pretty as them, aren’t i?”

“more,” you exhale without thinking.

“more,” he echoes back to you with an airy giggle to accompany it. his hands go to the side of his skirt, grabbing onto something on the left, and two seconds later he’s pulling away the entire strip of fabric in one swift movement. you inhale so sharply it stings your nostrils and aches in your chest, and wooyoung takes that as the opportune moment to roll his hips down against your abdomen. it’s not meant for your please, not in the slightest, but you still feel the coil of arousal in your gut snap and pull at itself as he repeats the motion and rubs his barely concealed erection against your stomach. “i’m always prettier than them, y/n.”

wooyoung’s eyes snap open at last, and he drops his skirt to the side before sitting up on his knees over you. the position is nothing if not lewd with how close to your face he is like this. you don’t have much time to think about it because he’s tugging the band of his fishnets down as well, shoes still caught on his feet so there’s no way they’ll go all the way off, but that doesn’t seem to be his intention anyway.

no, wooyoung just tugs them low enough to go under his knees, then he’s back to sitting on his heels and splaying his thighs to the side. the whole thing is a show: each piece of clothing, each drag of his hands, and every word from his lips.

it continues with him pressing his hand against your chin, then teasing your lower lip with his middle and pointer fingers.

“you know… people always call me a brat. a bratty little bitch, to be specific. they aren’t wrong, of course. but they mean it as an insult whereas i take it as a compliment.” you suck wooyoung’s fingers between your lips and let him explore your mouth with the pads of them. he makes a show of stretching the insides of your cheeks, stabbing against them and watching your skin bulge under the pressure, then he’s pinching your tongue and scraping his nails over the top of it. it tickles in a pleasurable way, the kind that makes your stomach knot up and tense with lust. “i think i’m prettiest when i cum though. and that’s not something i let a lot of people see. they always get handsy even after i tell them not to. think that because i’m all subby and docile, they can break my rules.”

you watch in something of a daze as wooyoung reaches his other hand down to the lace lingerie clinging to his cock. he grips hard enough for you to see the harsh outline of his member, strained and stretching the fabric like it’s about to break. his slow rolls and sways of his hips continue even as he fucks into the palm of his own hand. you don’t think you could move or touch him even if you wanted to right now. each limb feels like it weighs ten tons.

“call me pretty again, y/n. a pretty little brat, yeah?”

you can’t very well do that with his hand halfway down your throat like it is now, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. all that comes out are muffled moans caught on wooyoung’s fingers. he laughs, throwing his head back as the sound permeates the air, and you were right. you love the sound even more now when he’s a bit breathless and hoarse from arousal, hips canting against your abdomen still as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

“gonna cum, y/n, and make a pretty mess of myself. pay good attention to me please. i want you to see every second of it.” his eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he rubs over his panties a few more times. teeth sink into his lower lip, his nose scrunches up, eyes fighting to stay open and stay on yours without blinking. then he hits his high. it’s beautiful the way he falls apart over you, how his hips stutter and give a few jerky thrusts until his whole body goes still on top of yours. you think you have to agree with him too; this is the prettiest he’s looked all night in your eyes.

it lasts either ten seconds or ten minutes — you have no concept of time right now, too enamored with the man above you and every movement he makes.

when he does come down, there are stars in his eyes and a sheen on his brow that trickles down the side of his face to his chin. he pulls his hand out of your mouth, but you can’t even bring yourself to close it as you watch him tuck the same hand into his underwear and scoop the stain of translucent white cum out.

“taste for me?”

you manage a shaky nod, letting wooyoung return his hand to your lips, and when he cups your mouth gently, you poke your tongue out to lap the cum off his palm.

“hm, now wasn’t that good? better than promised, in fact?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale, finally finding your voice after god knows how long of shocked and aroused silence. wooyoung grins. he leans over you, all but bare chest pressing to your clothed one, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin with ease. his face hovers over yours. you can see his eyes clearer than ever.

“how about we go again then?”

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung drabbles #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung imagines #kinktober2021

476 notes · View notes

missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

#lexisholiday2021 #bluemusickid700challenge #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #boss!steve

764 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking.

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense. But this doesn’t make sense…

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five.

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again.

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair.

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him.

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday.

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure.

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him.

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue.

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand. “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say.

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator.

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb.

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another.

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit.

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly.

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom.

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room.

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly.

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine.

This is gonna be a long night.

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’.

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago.

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune.

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling.

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh.

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit.

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless.

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place.

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you.

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor.

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin.

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms.

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close.

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features.

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace.

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face.

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face.

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out.

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod.

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer.

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away.

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling.

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come.

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed.

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together.

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot.

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly.

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs.

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf.

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone.

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons.

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure.

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt.

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you.

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently.

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple.

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip.

He laughs softly.

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink.

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat.

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release.

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally.

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster.

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry.

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out.

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back.

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes.

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding.

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts.

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly.

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes.

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate.

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head.

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you.

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding.

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself.

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you.

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now.

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm.

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently.

After a short while, he looks up at you.

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself.

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly.

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail.

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door.

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer.

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open.

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him.

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci fluff #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #maurizio gucci x reader fluff #tw: infidelity #house of gucci

392 notes · View notes

the-darklings · 3 years

Note

“ i’m gonna marry you one day. ” Santi + V please? Thank you so much in advance 🥺

prompt: “ i’m gonna marry you one day. ”

pairing: santino d’antonio x v (coa)

wc: 966

notes: takes place post ch1 but after s/v first meeting; this could honestly be canon for how in character that prompt is lmao. also had no good place to end it so it overran like crazy & ends kinda weird but we're just gonna ignore that.

Champagne bubbles tickle your nose, tickling your tongue as you survey the lively crowd silently. The live band transitions to yet another classic piece, the dancefloor full of swaying and cheery guests. Your eyes scan the smear of people and colour, blending in easily enough amongst the numbers, and never moving too far away from your mark.

Your dress shimmers around your body when you adjust your position—strangely fitting, and even more strangely comfortable, even if it’s a novelty for the poor little girl—and you let the glass of your drink touch your mouth again. Painted blood red for the occasion. You look appealing in an unassuming, elegant way. Especially when compared to other women in attendance.

A part of you wonders what John would think of you right now if he saw you. If he would prefer you like this—pretty and dressed up, with a glittering gown and smokey makeup. His absence feels like a limb that’s been removed too swiftly. Gushing blood and weakening you. Every time you expect to glance into the shadows and find his silent, too still frame looming there. Protective, dangerous, and ever watchful.

No such thing happens despite your mute hope for it.

Tarasov is clearly eager for you to be detangled from one another after your screw-up.

“What a lovely sight on this rather dull night.”

Your mouth purses into a line, eyes remaining on the flow of the crowd.

There’s a glimmer of familiarity about the accented purr of a voice at your side. Back straight and arms crossed over your chest, you don’t move when a man comes to a stand beside you. Faint heat emits from his body, and you pull the cool glass away from your lips—not like you were drinking anyway.

“Mr. D’Antonio.”

Your greeting is cool, if barely polite. No reaction to his previous compliment leaves your mouth.

“Ah, and so we meet again,” he notes pleasantly, a low rumble of pleasure at this fact stark in his melodic voice. “I did not expect the Russian to send you. Should I, ah, call for a clean-up in advance?”

Your eyes slide his way at long last. Clad in a fitting dark suit, combed curly hair, and a wicked glint in his eyes, Santino D’Antonio strikes a similar image to the one he did back at the church.

Too arrogant. Too condescending with little to no effort. And far, far too charismatic for his own damn good.

“Are you planning to die tonight?” you question coolly, rising a single brow.

His mouth twists, forming a crooked grin that takes the place of his previous indifference, and you choose to ignore the suggestive sweep of his eyes down your figure. He’s so blatant about it you wonder if he clearly wants you to see or if he simply doesn’t care if you find it distasteful.

Men in power, you seethe silently to yourself, they’re all the same. Stupid and entitled.

“A sharp tongue for a beautiful woman,” he muses curiously; a bait to play with him rather obvious. He doesn’t move closer, however, content to stand beside you and that’s the only reason you don’t pull a blade on him again. “Many would consider me to be a lucky man.”

“Or a stupid one,” you cut in idly, peering into the crowd to avoid looking at him. “To be bothering someone clearly not interested in warming your bed. And working. I don’t think you need me to remind you what exactly my profession is.”

“Do you talk to everyone in such a manner or am I a rare exception, hm?”

“A rare exception. I like most people just fine.”

“But not me?” he hums in thought. You feel the heat of his eyes on you, and his next words come as lower, drawling, “Why not? There are a great many things a man like myself can offer a woman such as yourself.”

Your eyes slide back to him. Vivid green steals your breath for a moment and you remind yourself he likely purposely baited you enough to force your attention back his way. Does he think his looks will sway you? It’s almost comical how ignorant this man is.

“I don’t need anything from a son of Camorra,” you tell him, frowning faintly. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr D’Antonio. I don’t keep company with backstabbers.”

“Just murderers and cheats?”

You try to bite back your slight grin but fail. “Yes.”

A pause, then, “I'm going to marry you one day.”

You nearly drop the glass in your hand, your head jerking in his direction. But this time, he’s the one who's peering out towards the party. Nonchalant and at ease.

“Excuse me?”

His slight grin stretches and he gives you a sly look. “Hm, hard on hearing?”

When you don’t respond—still wide-eyed and speechless—he lets those intent, raging eyes journey over your face, searching for something. He looks a little startled himself, as if he hadn’t expected those words to escape him. Like he needs to confirm to himself the validity of them.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” he repeats, a little more sure this time. His grin stretches at the swiftly fleeing bewilderment being replaced with prickling anger at his sheer nerve. “Three children. Two sons and a daughter. With their mama’s smarts and their papa’s beauty.”

“How lovely,” you hiss. “But I’m not looking for a husband.”

As if you would ever marry him of all people. As if you weren’t chained to Tarasov.

Santino offers a one-shouldered shrug. His only explanation. Still effortlessly haughty despite your burning glare. “I’ll see you around, cara mia.”

One last, heated stare in your direction, and then his lean figure disappears in the crowd.

#santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio imagine #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick drabble #s: i can wait

261 notes · View notes

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈, 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈, 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 (𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄)

denki kaminari | escort!denki, f!reader, choking (m!recieving), tongue piercing, face-sitting, switchy themes, but he's on top in the end. minors dni!

— 2.4k words

"Look at you, drooling all over the pillow. I make you feel that good, Sweetheart?"

"Ever had an escort, Cutie?"

The electric blond pulls the belt to his silk robe and it runs off his shoulders like water. The diamond choker with CHARGEBOLT embezzled in gold glistens under the red lights of the private room, and you couldn't feel more out of place.

"I’m going to put this nicely," you run your lips together—as if it isn't painfully obvious, written in the way you shift from foot to foot and fiddle with your thumbs in the doorway. "I don’t want to be here."

Frankly, your friends set you up for this stupid thing. Something about you needing to get out more. If you’re going to be completely honest, you wish the owner of CLUB 777 would get off her high horse and shut this whole loud place down for good—it's disturbing your peace more than you could ever hope for it to.

Chargebolt—you assume—watches you fumble nevertheless, because fucking sue you, he’s wearing nothing but a very tight pair of tighty whities that are colored a simple black instead of white (not shorts—there’s no way in hell those are shorts). His freckled shoulders glisten gold with glittery body lotion, and part of you wonders if he tastes as good as he looks. Fuck. This.

"C'mere, Cutie," Chargebolt beckons you with a curled finger, and you finally figure fuck it. You’re already here and paid for. Once you're close enough, he pulls you down using your chin and cocks his head to the side, canary eyes flickering to your lips. He hums. "You look much better up close."

You try to repress a shiver. It doesn't really work.

"Well?" He says with a smile, "Don't you wanna kiss me?"

You gnaw on your bottom lip, eyes shooting to his. You kind of want to.

"Need me to make the first move, Gorgeous?" Chargebolt purrs, and your teeth dig deeper into your lip as you nod with a frustrated blush. He's nearly smiling against your lips anyways.

Chargebolt kisses hot and fast—lips lighting your body on fire as it sends frissons of electricity up your spine. You find the confidence to push back with something a little stronger, headier—and it has him wantonly moaning into your mouth.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips as you pull away. You're both out of breath and you're positive you've kissed his lips deep pink, but you suppose that could be the makeup. "You're a better kisser than you look, Cutie."

You narrow your eyes. "Is that an insult?"

Chargebolt chuckles, turning to properly face you on the bed. "It's a compliment."

With that, lips hips are on you again, and so are his hands—grabbing yours to guide them over his glittering chest and to his waist, where he leaves them and flings his arms around your shoulders.

He curses when you trail wet kisses down his neck, teeth nipping in the spots that make his thighs jump. You're sure you're not allowed to leave hickeys so you don't, and it's hard not to get tipsy off the way he trembles underneath you, especially when your thumb pops under the waistband on his boxers.

"Is this—um," you swallow hard. "Is this okay?"

Chargebolt snorts, raising an eyebrow at your sudden shyness and gesturing to exactly where you both are right now and...touché.

With that, you run your hand over his slowly hardening cock through the cotton material. The electric blond nearly recoils, hissing at the sudden move.

"O-Oh," Chargebolt shudders, bucking against your hand. You muffle a grin in favor of grinding your hand a little harder, giggling at his lidded eyes and haggard breath. He pouts as you grip his hipbone to keep it from moving—you want him to take what you give him, and nothing else. "Can't you—can't you at least press a little harder?"

When you shake your head, the electric blond chucks his head back in a groan. The choker around his neck gleams under the neon red lights, which prompts you to place your hand to the back of his neck and tug. His canary eyes round and roll to the back of his head.

"I nee—Can I have you on me?"

Though you're doing all the work, his chest rises and falls with a pant. You climb into his lap with resignation and Chargebolt groans when your clothed cunt drags over him.

"Fuck, just like that Sweetheart," his head lolls to rest on his right shoulder, elbows propped in the pillows before his upper body drops in favor of putting guiding hands around your waist. You hold onto his shoulders for balance as he tugs your hips forwards, though it's not like it helps much. This time, instead of pulling on his choker, you wrap your hand around his neck and though it doesn't wrap all the way around, Chargebolt's breath still hitches under your palm.

"Harder," he wheezes past your grasp. You tighten for Chargebolt to release a broken moan under the pressure and his hips buck so hard they nearly send you flying off his chest.

"Watch it," you say, though it's breathier than you'd like. The sight of him getting worked up pumps your blood faster than you feel like it should, and you find yourself squinting through the light to see if that really is a blush you see dusting his cheeks.

"Right—right sorry," the electric blond rasps once you finally let go of his throat. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to where you're connected before he's pleading, "Can I fuck you? Please?"

"Yeah," you say without hesitation, and Chargebolt guides you over his face, eyes blow wide with lust and desperation. He groans softly at the sight of you splayed over him, hiking up your dress and pulling your panties aside to run a finger through your slit.

"You're soaked, Gorgeous," Chargebolt says, borderline giddy, and you shiver as he flicks your clit, biting his lip. "I might have to make a quick detour."

"I don't like the way you phrased that," you grouse towards the ceiling, and Chargebolt chuckles before adjusting between your legs until his breath ghosts your cunt. It's not until he licks a fat stripe up your slit that you understand how completely and utterly fucked you are, grabbing onto the bedframe in consternation as the cool metal ball sliding between your folds to make you squeal.

He has a tongue piercing.

Chargebolt plunges two fingers into your pussy and you suppress the embarrassment creeping up your neck at how easy the slide is. If your friends told you where you'd be this evening, you wouldn't have wasted all that time masturbating in the shower this morning.

"Ah, ah," Chargebolt tsks when he feels your thighs tense around his head. "You gotta relax for me, remember? Or else I can't make you feel good."

"I'm—" you try, but there's no point in trying to deny it though, is there? "Fuck, fine. I'm trying."

"No, you're not," Chargebolt quips with a giggle and you nearly slap him across the face. You would've done something if he didn't grab you by the hips, wrap his sinfully plush lips around your clit and suck, pulling an eep from the very base of your throat.

"Relax," he moans into your cunt, and when you try to look away he snakes a hand up your chest to seize you by the jaw. You huff but keep eye-contact—mostly because his hand doesn't leave your chin—and he bites into your inner thigh with a groan, making your thighs tense for another reason that isn't stress.

"There you go," he coos, sliding a third finger in with the two others he works into your sopping cunt. You finally start to "relax" or whatever, chest shuddering as hot arousal floods your veins. "Atta girl."

You whimper at that, grabbing a hold of his hair and grinding against his face. Chargebolt takes every motion in stride, grinning against your wetness with the acknowledgment that he's the one making you feel this good. "Just lie back and let me make this pretty pussy feel good, yeah?"

His lips return to nurse your clit as his three fingers fill you up the best they can. And they do it well, scissoring and sliding between your pliable walls to make you keen. Chargebolt plays your body like a fiddle, making you sing sounds you didn't even know you could make.

"I—can you fuck me now?" You say once your body starts to quiver, head spinning with the steady build-up in your core. "I wan—wanna cum on your cock."

Chargebolt groans at that and doesn't hesitate in pulling away with glossy lips, fingers soaked in a white gooey mess. He rubs it into the sheet and you flush at the mess you made.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck you?" He challenges with a raised eyebrow and the cockiest fucking grin. The only reason why you don't bite is in favor of cock.

"Yes, asshole."

Okay. Maybe you'll bite a little.

But you seem to have little to no repercussions as he rolls you into the sheets and hikes your knees up to your chest (er—as far as they'll go) and you grapple for the sheets as he slowly pushes inside, teeth digging into your bottom lip at the painful pleasure.

"Oh, you're gonna kill me, Cutie," he nearly wheezes as he bottoms out, and you squat due to being so full after...however long it's been.

"F-Fuck," you quiver, and Chargebolt's thumb press bruises into your hipbones.

"Can I—can I move? He pants, eyes full of so much hope it'd be comical if you weren't so down bad.

"Y-Yeah," you nod, shivering when he already starts to move. "Yeah, please—"

Chargebolt wastes no time in picking up the pace. His thrusts are sharp and face, hips hammering into your warmth, and you find yourself bouncing each time your hips connect.

"Fucking moan for me, Gorgeous," he grunts as if you aren't loud enough already, and your fingers scramble for his choker so you can watch his eyes roll to the back of his head like they did earlier. It earns you the loveliest broken moan and your lazy lips slide into a fucked out grin.

Pressing his thumb on your bottom lip, Chargebolt pries it open in favor of seizing your tongue and pressing it flat to your chin. His throat produces the most disgusting sound before his lips purse and he's spitting down your gullet with a feral grin, chuckling when you swallow without him needing to do so.

"Good girl," Chargebolt thrusts cease for a moment if only to return tenfold. "Good fucking girl—"

You watch his eyebrows furrow in concentration, sweat making the gold on his shoulders shine and the access glitter on your own chest. As he plows you into the bed, he drops a thumb to rub your clit; you move your legs around his back and tug on his choker again.

"Oh fuck," Chargebolt's eyebrows furrow as the new position only buries him deeper. "Look at you, drooling all over the pillow. I make you feel that good, Sweetheart?"

Your moan gets cut short when he delivers a sharp slap to your ass, cursing when you tighten around him in surprise. You don't have the energy to wipe the drool away nor to be embarrassed about it, and Chargebolt decides he likes you like this much better.

"Who knew you were such a submissive little thing, huh? Coming in here and barking orders—if I hadn't known any better, I'd think you were a top."

The way he says it is mokcing enough to make your blood boil, and you grit your teeth to growl, "I am a top."

"Really?" Chargebolt pants, face twisted in faux confusion. "Cause you look like you enjoy being under me a little too much."

You curse because not only is he right, but you're close—and painfully so. You figure he can tell just by looking at your reaction, and his spit-glossed lips slide into a cocky grin."

"Admit it, Gorgeous—you fucking love taking this cock, don't you?" He growls visage morphing into something more feral as his hips gain inhumane speed.

"I—" you start with a gasp, but Chargebolt's hips slow down in a threat and you dig red lines into his back as you say, "Yeah—yes, Chargebolt pleas—"

"Denki," he edits, and clarifies as your face twists in confusion, "Call me—call me Denki."

"I'm gonna cum, Denki," you let out a broken moan, thighs burning from the position in the best way. Denki groans, keeling over you with furrowed eyebrows as his thumb returns to your clit to push you off the edge.

"Fuck, say it again Pretty," he pants, pink tongue darting to wet his lips, "Say my name again."

Your chest shudders with an impending orgasm. Denki falls first, with a breathy groan and stuttering hips, arms wobbling in threat of collapsing. The sight of him riding on cloud nine prompts your own ecstasy, forcing your body upright as your orgasm steals your breath and wracks through your bones like an earthquake.

Denki rides both of your orgasms out, his cock twitching inside your spend little walls until his hips connect with yours for a final time.

"Holy shit," Denki wheezes a laugh after a silence spent catching your breaths. "You—Has anyone ever told you you're a good fuck?"

“I—“ you take a step back from his statement with a blink, body spent and sweaty on the bed. “I don’t fuck...often?”

Denki’s eyes bulge before he’s shaking his head with a click of his tongue, “Issa shame.”

“If this is your way of recruiting me as an escort, the answer’s no,” you deadpan towards the ceiling. It takes the electric blond a moment to react, but when he does, he’s dropping his head with a snort.

“I—no, I wasn’t recruiting you or whatever you wanna call it,” he chuckles, assuming the space to your right. Even though your skin is on fucking fire, for some reason you don’t mind.

“But I do...” Denki starts, and you have to nudge his shoulder for him to finish. He shakes you off with a chuckle and scrunch of his nose, before finally saying:

“But I do...wanna keep you around.”

#— 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 #CLUB 777 #denki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kaminari smut

531 notes · View notes

userjoel · 3 years

Text

[ ♡ morning kisses ♡ ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ]

‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today.’‘ followed by the character placing a playful kiss on their lover’s mouth as they get out of bed (via)

[ pairing ] : tom holland x reader

[ warnings ] : a lot of kissing, they kinda sorta get a little handsy? it’s just very fluffy and i’m still trying to figure out what exactly warrants warnings so some kind feedback would be very appreciated...!

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ note ] : this is my first ever fic, and it’s been a minute since i wrote...anything really? so i have no idea how this is going to read for others, but!! i had fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

You wished every morning could be just like this: eyes coaxed open by the warm rays pouring through the windows, your frame safely tucked against Tom’s body with his arm draped over your waist.

Once you manage to blink away the sleep, you roll over to face him, being careful not to wake him in the process.

And he looks perfect. You lie there and run your eyes over him—it feels a little surreal to take him in this way. Just several hours ago he was on a plane coming back home to you after an excruciating month of being apart. But now, here he was — physically, actually here — lost somewhere deep in his dreams. By a rare stroke of luck you’ve woken up before him. So naturally, you're gonna use those valuable seconds by trying to memorize every little detail of his face.

Nothing has felt more relaxing. A little too relaxing, in fact, but you fight the sleep that threatens to creep back, fixating instead on the way the sunlight licks at the tips of his unruly brown curls, slowly inching down his features. And if the sun were allowed to touch him, weren’t you, too?

You hold your breath as your index finger reaches out and delicately traces along his brow bone.

When it seems clear the action hasn’t stirred him from his sleep, you continue to ghost across the surface of his skin, taking your time as your finger trails down his cheek bone, to the bridge of his nose, and to his lips. Then it lingers there for a second too long.

“I think I quite like this sort of wake up call.”

Your whip your hand away like it had just touched something hot, eyes blown wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” The sentence comes out more as an observation than a question, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I... may or may not have been up since I felt you turn over earlier.” His eyes, still sanded with sleep and exhaustion, finally open to meet yours. But his ever-present, boyish amusement doesn’t fail to glitter from behind the chocolate orbs.

And it had always been these minor things that made your heart glow with warmth for the boy in front of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” you mumble, a pout forming at the end of the sentence as you caress his cheek.

Tom hums in reply, leaning into your touch as he shakes his head, as though to tell you not to worry. His arms reach around you to pull you closer to him. “No, I’m glad you did. I reckon I should probably get ready anyway. What time is it?”

“No. Nuh-uh. C’mon, I just got you back!” Your hand comes up to cover his eyes, shielding his vision from the clock by your bed. “Unless by ‘get ready,’ you mean ‘get ready to spend all day with your loving girlfriend and not go to work’?”

“Y/N/N,” he groans playfully, shaking his head side to side to try and remove your hand, but you persist, a grin decorating your features. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can wrap up and come back home to you love, hm?” He turns his head slightly, just enough to give the inside of your wrist a quick peck. “Give me my eyes baaaaack.”

Reluctantly you concede, but by parting your fingers just enough so he could peek between the gap. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he finally sees you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance to give you the first kiss of the day.

It’s deliciously soft and lazy, purposeful and loving. The feeling sends a kind of shock through your veins, reaching down to the tip of your toes. His lips move against yours with ease in the same way they’ve done a thousand times before, effectively bringing all your guards down — your hand comes down too, slipping behind his neck to toy with the hair on his nape. Your leg innocently tangles with his, bringing your bodies even closer together, and you feel his hand delicately moving from the your lower back to your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

You hum against his lips for more; but that’s the exact moment he decides to pull away. And as much as you hated it, you knew as well as he did that one second longer and that would probably mean neither of you'd likely have a very productive morning. Not that that would be so bad for you, necessarily.

Tom rolls you over on your back, peppering your cheeks, neck, and collarbone with feathery kisses that you knew translated into an apology. He nestles his head on your chest with a quiet sigh, consumed by the silence and the rhythmical thump of your heartbeat.

“Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody work.” He mumbles against your skin, cuddling even closer against you as your fingers gently comb through his hair. "Wish I didn't have to leave you again."

But you both knew it went without saying that Tom loved what he did; how he couldn’t imagine being anything else but an actor. The physical and mental demand of his work, the exhausting, erratic hours, the different types of people he had to deal with on a daily basis — he could handle all of that, and then some. But when it came down to being away from you not just in the early hours of the morning but for weeks, and sometimes even months at a time… That was the hard part. Those were the moments when he dared to invite the addictive ‘what-if’s and tempting fantasies of an alternative reality where neither of you had any obligations to tend to, no urgent work messages to check on the phone.

“Duty calls, right?” You can still feel your lips tingle from his kiss. “At least you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow. Means I’ll get to have you all to myself.”

At that, you suddenly feel the weight of your boyfriend removed from your body. Tom props himself up a bit to lean over you, hands on the bed by either side of your head. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, suggesting something both sinister and delightful.

“For once you’re wrong, darling.” He grins. “I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow and a fairly good feeling that you're going to love what I’ve got planned out for you.”

You raise your brow. “'That right? Thirty-something days apart and suddenly you’re so cocky.” With a teasing smile, you drape your arms around his neck, gaze lingering on his inviting lips for a moment before lifting back up on his eyes.

“But fine," you begin, your voice just slightly hushed. "What if...you show me a little, tiny sneak peek, baby...and I can tell you...what I think of your little schedule so far?” With each passing syllable you pull him down closer to you –– bit by bit, and sneakily enough, you tell yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating what’s to come, but the kiss never lands. You feel the teasing tickle of skin on skin instead.

“Y’think I don’t know all about your antics, don’t you?”

“‘Antics’?!” Your open your eyes again with a frown. “I think some would call that the art of flirting. Or teasing. Or both. But I guess you wouldn’t know that even if it were right under your nose.” Your finger pokes the tip of Tom’s nose for emphasis.

He tuts and shrugs in acknowledgement. “Well tough luck, babe. I’m still not gonna kiss you.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one hand leaving your side to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why not?” You huff.

“Because if I do, I don’t think either of us are ever going to make it out of this bed.”

“But—” Before you can fully protest, you’re caught off-guard with the very kiss you were denied just moments ago. And maybe that was why, but somehow, it feels even better than the last. Your chin cranes up to hold his lips for as long as you possibly can, melting under his touch and savoring what you could.

He reluctantly tears away, much sooner than you’d like. He leaves you with a final peck against the tip of your nose.

“I love you. So much.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “And I’m sorry we can’t spend my first day back together, darling. But I’ll make it up to you, hm? I promise.”

“Pinky swear?” You hold up your finger between your two frames, and he doesn't think twice before looking down to loop his finger with yours. The pads of your thumbs press together to seal the deal, and he brings your interlocked hands up to gently press it against his lips.

It was a gesture frequently shared between you two — a secret handshake, if you will — but only for private moments like this.

“Pinky pinky swear.” He reassures, giving your hand a small squeeze before finally removing himself from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower now. Be good.” The mattress echos your groan as your boyfriend disappears from your reach and into the bathroom.

Your eyes glance over at the clock, frowning at the time and blaming it for the outcome of what had been, at one point, your perfect morning. It already felt like a distant memory.

#can you tell i didn't know how to end this #skdfsafj #writing really is like bearing your soul to the world #and like that's fine it's cool it's whatever #if it's bad...pls don't yell @ me #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #hope writes

329 notes · View notes

stevesbestgirl · 3 years

Text

A Moment of Your Time - Part 22

Mob!Bucky x f!Reader (3138 words)

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 🔥 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 🔥 Part 19 Part 20 🔥 Part 21 🔥

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve bitten off a little more than I can chew in terms of things going on, but I’m still working!

“Bucky?”

“Hm?” He glanced up from the paper, sipping his coffee. You twisted your fingers together, searching for the best way to ask. “What’s the matter, doll?”

“Will you teach me to use a gun?” you blurted out, words blending together in one breath.

He didn’t hesitate, “No.”

“But-”

“Why would you wanna learn that? Thought you trusted me to keep you safe.”

“I do! I just-” you toyed with your fork, “Thought it might make me feel useful. Not so helpless.”

He folded up the paper, chuckling softly, “You are useful, sweetheart.” He reached over, brushing your lips with his thumb, “For other things.”

Cheeks burning at the memory of last night, you pushed his hand away, “So that’s all I’m good for?” Glaring at him, you chair scraped as you stood, taking your plate to the sink, leaving his on the table.

“Doll, you know that’s not what I meant,” he sighed, following you to the sink.

“I don’t know that,” you retorted shortly. “I do trust you to keep me safe, but I thought maybe part of that could be helping me trust myself too.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning into your shoulder, “You don’t need to be scared.” He hummed, pressing his lips beneath your ear, “I’ve got you.”

“Is that what this is, Bucky? You want to feel like I need you?” You sighed, “Bucky, even if hadn’t needed your help last night, I still would have wanted you there.” Your voice softened, “I do need you, but I don’t wanna be scared every time you’re not around.”

“I’ll think about it, alright?” His exasperated tone wasn’t encouraging, so you just nodded. He rubbed your shoulders, “Don’t be mad.”

“‘M not.” You were. And you were gonna pout about it.

“C’mon baby, I-” There was a knock at the door and he sighed, “That’s Vis. We do the books on Sunday mornings.” He kissed your cheek since you still wouldn’t look at him, “We’ll talk more later.”

“I need a ride. I promised Betty I’d visit.”

“I’ll send Pete up, but only to Betty’s and back. No extra stops, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” you muttered sarcastically.

His footsteps halted as he seemed to consider turning around, but eventually he huffed and continued to the door. You fetched your bracelet from your room before waiting by the door. As soon as Peter knocked, you opened the door and stepped out.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you lied. “Why do you ask?”

“Usually, you say goodbye to Mr. Barnes before we leave.”

“Oh, I did already,” you laughed, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you hastened away from the door.

Peter accepted this without argument, though he did give you a curious look when you climbed in the front seat instead of the back. “That’s a nice bracelet,” he nodded at your wrist from the driver’s seat. “A present from Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded, tracing a finger over the glittering stones, “Yes.” You knew Bucky was doing what he thought was best, but the bracelet felt heavy on your wrist right now.

“It’s nice.” He cleared his throat, “I wanna get something like that for my girl. You think you could help me pick something like that out for her?”

That drew a smile from you, “You’ve got a girl?”

“Well, sort of. ‘M trying.”

“We can stop and look on the way home if you want,” you offered.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, “Uh, maybe another time. I’ve gotta save up some money first.”

He glanced at him shrewdly, “Bucky told you only to Betty’s and back, didn’t he?”

“He might’ve mentioned it.”

You heaved a sigh; he didn’t even trust you. The fact that you’d planned on disobeying was beside the point. Still, Peter didn’t deserve to be trapped in the car with you when you were all grumpy, so you forced a smile, “Well anyway, go on. Tell me about her.”

He chuckled, “Her name’s MJ. Short for Mary Jane.”

“That’s cute. What’s she like?”

He let out a dreamy sigh, making her laugh, “She’s really smart and pretty and funny.”

You grinned, “So, you clearly like her. Does she like you?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” you teased.

“How can you tell?”

You hummed, “Does she meet your eyes when you talk to her? Does she touch your arm ever? Does she laugh at your jokes?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she’s just being nice.”

“You can tell the difference,” you assured him. “What does your gut tell you?”

He nodded, “I think she does.”

“I think so too. What’s not to like? She’d be lucky to have a guy who talks about her like you do.”

He parked the car at Betty’s and you grinned as you got out, “I wanna hear more about her on the way home.”

He followed you up to Betty’s apartment; you knew better than to complain at this point. It helped that Peter wasn’t as intimidating as Clint.

When Betty opened the door, her face lit up, “Y/N! It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen you!”

You laughed, “I was just here last week.”

“For five minutes. That doesn’t count,” she tutted. “Come in! Who’s your friend?” She seemed to only notice Peter when he followed you inside.

“This is Peter. He works for Bucky.” You didn’t really want to tell her that he was your bodyguard, but Betty was far from subtle.

“Oh, so he’s like your guardian?” she trilled as she shook his hand.

Peter only smiled, “Sort of.”

Betty laughed, “Well, nice to meet you, Peter.” She grabbed your arm, “Come on, I’ve got someone for you to meet too!”

You raised an eyebrow, but allowed yourself to be dragged into the living room, where a stunning redhead rose from the soft, extending an arm in greeting.

“This is Natasha,” Betty chirped. “That new friend I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha said smoothly, clasping your hand in hers. “And please, call me Nat.” Her handshake was firm and confident.

“Nice to meet you too,” you echoed. You were caught off guard by how pretty she was. Betty had said as much, but you’d dismissed it, since Betty tended to exaggerate. But Nat had stunning red locks in perfect curls and a figure only accentuated by the sleek dress she wore.

“Betty’s told me all about you,” she smiled kindly as she sat back down.

You laughed, trying not to stare,” I can only imagine what you’ve heard.”

“All good things,” she assured you.

“Of course it was all good things,” Betty insisted. She rolled her eyes playfully, but she was visibly excited to be introducing the two of you.

You brushed your hair back from your face, self-conscious about your appearance in Nat’s presence, and Betty squealed, “Oh, is that the bracelet he bought for you?”

You nodded, a little more bashful about showing it off with an audience. But Betty didn’t seem to notice, “It’s gorgeous! Oh, can I try it on? I promise I’ll give it right back!”

“Sure,” you agreed, fumbling with the clasp.

“Here, let me,” Nat offered, leaning forward.

“Thanks,” you murmured as she deftly undid the delicate latch. You felt guilty about it, but Nat made you a little nervous. She was so pretty and elegant, it was intimidating.

But she nicely helped Betty put it on her wrist and turned back to you while Betty was transfixed on the sparkle, “That’s some present. From your guy?”

“Yeah, he’s sweet.”

“They had an argument,” Betty piped up.

You resisted the urge to give her a dirty look-not that she would have noticed anyway, with her eyes glued to her hand, “Just a little one.”

Nat chuckled, “Well, enjoy the presents while they last. In my experience, it doesn’t last very long.” Your mouth went a little dry; if someone like Nat couldn’t keep a man’s attention, how were you supposed to?

“Bucky’s my soulmate,” you said aloud, though it was also a reminder to yourself.

She smiled wryly, holding up a bare wrist, “Men don’t change.”

“Bucky isn’t like that.” You were sure Nat had more experience than you, but you couldn’t honestly believe that Bucky would behave that way.

She laughed easily, “You must have gotten one of the good ones then.” She raised an eyebrow, “What was your fight about?”

You didn’t really want to tell her now; you had a feeling that anything you said would fuel her skepticism. But it was a little late to be withholding now. You glanced at Peter before answering, hoping this conversation wouldn’t end up in Bucky’s ear, “He can be a little over-protective.” You forced a laugh, “It’s actually very sweet of him.”

“Natasha is very modern,” Betty chimed in again. “She works for a big company and she lives on her own- like you used to.” You knew better was trying to forge a connection, but in the moment, it felt like a slight.

“What do you do for work, Nat?” you asked politely, eager to change the subject.

Nat laughed, “Betty makes it sound more exciting than it is. I’m just a personal assistant.”

“To a CEO!” Betty countered. Betty shook her head, “She’s being modest.”

“You do tend to exaggerate, Bets,” you smiled.

“I do not!”

Teasing Betty was more familiar territory for you, “What about that time you told me there was a disaster downtown?”

“That was a disaster!”

“Darcy dumping her boyfriend does not qualify as a disaster to a normal person,” you laughed. Nat grinned and Betty pouted and you felt better.

Aside from her cynicism about romance, Betty had been right; Nat was pretty nice. She was polite and funny, only furthering your confusion about how any man could grow disinterested in her.

Around eleven, Nat bid you all farewell and Betty turned to you, “So, what did you think of Nat?”

“She seems decent,” you answered honestly.

“Decent? She’s basically perfect,” Betty scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. She’s so perfect, she almost makes me nervous.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure you’re not just annoyed that she implied your man wasn’t perfect?” She was teasing, but it still got on your nerves a little.

“That’s bold, coming from the girl who’s still wearing the bracelet he bought me,” you said coolly.

Betty sighed, “She doesn’t even know Bucky, you don’t have to get so mad.”

“I’m not mad- even if she is wrong about him,” you insisted. “I just don’t need any advice about men right now. I’m figuring this out for myself.”

“I just really wanted you to like her. I think we could all be good friends. She seemed so interested in you,” Betty said earnestly.

“I do- I like her. I just need some warming up, I guess.”

“Good, that means were can all see each other again soon!”

You glanced at Peter, who was leaning against the back of his chair, head tipped back and eyes closed, “I’m sorry, Peter. This must all be awfully boring for you.”

He cracked a smile, eyes still closed, “Not so bad. Comfier than door duty.”

“How about we make it worth your while with some lunch?” Betty suggested.

Peter chuckled and you and Betty moved out to the kitchen to get to work. Mid-way through cooking, Mrs. Graham returned home, a bag from the produce market tucked under her arm.

“Did I miss Natasha?” she asked, glancing around the kitchen like she might be hiding somewhere.

“Yeah Ma, she left a few minutes ago.”

“Too bad, I was looking forward to meeting her,” she clicked her tongue. “Although, seeing you two fooling around in my kitchen again takes me back.” She smiled at you while she unloaded her purchases, which you quickly moved to help with.

“We’re not fooling around,” Betty insisted indignantly.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Mrs. Graham declared, leaving you with the groceries to taste-test the soup bubbling on the stovetop. She nodded, “Not bad. A little too much salt.” She held a hand out, “Hand me that water pitcher. And Y/N, dear, give me one of those celery stalks.”

Betty rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back, but fifteen minutes later, you were humming as you tried not to slurp from your bowl. Mrs. Graham was the best cook you knew- even better than your own mom. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Peter finished his quickly, “Thank you for lunch, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, sweetheart. Did you get enough? You want some more?”

Peter blushed at her fussing, “I couldn’t eat another bite, thank you though.”

Finishing your own bowl, you swallowed, “We should probably get going before Bucky starts to worry. Thanks for lunch, both of you.” You made sure to include Betty, knowing she was sore about her mother taking over.

Mrs. Graham beamed, “You come over anytime and I’ll cook for you.”

Betty walked you to the door, “Thanks for coming over. I missed you.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me so long. I’ll be back sooner next time, now that things are settling down,” you promised.

“I hope so. Sorry Nat was rude about your man.”

“I was a little sensitive,” you admitted. “Maybe we can all go shopping soon.”

Betty beamed and bid you goodbye. Back in the car, Peter pulled away from the curb and you piped up, “Sorry that took so long.”

He shrugged, “I’m on the clock. And it was worth it for that soup.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stop at the jewelry store?” you nudged.

He laughed, “Not a chance.”

Huffing dramatically, you leaned back in your seat, “Fine. But I wanna hear more about MJ.”

On that, Peter was happy to oblige, chattering happily the rest of the way home. By the time he parked the car, he was grinning like a fool.

You strode into the elevator together and you pressed the button for his floor. He glanced at you, “I can take you to your door.”

“I wanna stop at say hi to Laura before I go home.” He looked unsure, so you added, “I figured you’d heard enough girl talk for the day.”

“I guess.” He didn’t sound entirely convince.

“Peter, I’m not on house arrest.” You tried to keep your tone even, but you were growing frustrated.

“Okay,” he agreed finally.

“Thanks for the ride, Peter. Say hi to May and MJ for me, okay?” you said as he stepped out of the car.

He chuckled, “Will do.” The doors closed and true to your word, you sent the elevator up two more floors to Clint and Laura, taking a deep breath. The prospect of what you were about to do was nerve-wracking.

Knocking hesitantly on the door, you plastered on a smile as Laura answered, “Hey Laura. Is Clint here?”

“Yes, he’s here. Come in, I’ll get him,” she offered.

“Actually, could you send him out for me?” You made a face, knowing it was an odd request.

Her brow furrowed, “Does Mr. Barnes need him for something?”

You shook your head adamantly, “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask him something.”

“Is everything alright?” she asked softly. “You can tell me. Even if it’s about Mr. Barnes.”

You smiled genuinely at her kindness, “Don’t worry, everything is fine. I’ve just got a favor to ask.”

“Okay.” She offered a wry smile before disappearing inside to find Clint.

A minute later, Clint stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind him, “Hey. Everything alright?”

You smiled, “Everything is fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you on your day off.”

He waved the apology away, “You’re fine. What’s going on?”

“Do you remember what you said to me after you guys rescued me from Rogers?”

“Remind me.”

“You said your job was to protect Bucky’s interests- even if he says you don’t have to.” He nodded. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “I want you to teach me how to shoot.”

He raised an eyebrow, “A gun?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to think it over, “I assume Mr. Barnes isn’t on board.”

“He wants to be solely responsible for my safety, it seems like. But he can’t always be around.” You relayed an abridged version of the incident at the drive-in and he listened intently. “I don’t want to put you in a difficult position or get anyone in trouble. I just don’t want to be scared to be by my-”

“I’ll do it.”

You blinked, “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll take you to the range once a week.”

“Thank you, Clint,” you burst out, pulling him into an impulsive hug. “Thank you so much!”

He chuckled, patting your awkwardly on the back, “No problem.” When you released him, he fixed you with a serious stare, “Did you have a plan on how to pull this off?”

You nodded, “Bucky is busiest on Thursday mornings. He tries to get his work done early so we can listen to ‘The Amazing Mr. Malone.’ I can tell him I want to visit Betty those days, since he’s busy anyway. As long as you’re on shift, he prefers having you on guard duty anyway.”

He nodded, “I see you put some thought into this.” He cracked a smile, “Maybe you should take Strange’s job.”

You laughed, “Maybe if we can pull this off, I’ll consider it.” You bit you lip, “I should go though, before Bucky starts to worry.”

“Good idea.”

You smiled, “Thanks again, Clint. I really appreciate this.”

He returned half a smile, “See you Thursday.”

You nodded and stepped into the elevator as he disappeared back inside his apartment. Excitement battled with guilt in the pit of your stomach; you felt awful about sneaking around behind Bucky’s back. But if it saved your life someday, he would be glad you’d done it.

Inside Bucky’s apartment, the living room and kitchen were deserted. Wondering if he was still working with Vision, you knocked softly on his office door, hearing him talk to someone inside.

“Come in.” No ‘doll’ or ‘sweetheart.’ Maybe he was still annoyed about earlier. You pushed the door open, but Vision was gone. The phone was clutched in his fingers, held limply to his ear in obvious annoyance, “Got it. That’s alright, thanks Clint.”

Your throat went dry, heart stuttering in your chest. Had Clint gone inside and called Bucky immediately? Scanning Bucky’s face, his brow was furrowed, but you couldn’t tell if it was normal work frustration or something more.

He waved you further inside without looking up, shuffling around in his papers, but you hovered in the doorway until he hung up the phone.

“Why don’t you come in, doll? We need to talk.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky #mine

222 notes · View notes