#today has been unusually good! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hamsterclaw · 20 days

Text

You end up being responsible for Jeon Jungkook, who's impulsive, annoying and in the habit of breaking the law. Unfortunately for you, he's also funny and sexy as fuck. There's no way this can end well, can it?

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: Crack, smut, rookie lawyer reader and criminal JK

Rating: 18+

Word count: 11k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, criminal activity, smoking

Present day

‘Who,’ breathes Gracie, your new client, ‘the fuck is that?’

You look in the direction she’s facing, and die inside, as the black custom Skyline glides to a smooth stop on the road, in front of you.

‘Uh, so I’ll call when I hear back about the patents,’ you say hurriedly, before….

Too late.

The passenger door opens, and you hear Gracie gasp audibly as she sees the man in the driver’s seat.

His wavy dark hair almost covers his eyes. He rakes his tattooed hand through his hair casually, his silver piercings gleaming in the light from the streetlamps above you.

You get in before he can say anything, shutting the door firmly behind you.

‘Just drive,’ you say, through gritted teeth.

‘Seatbelt,’ he reminds you, but he’s already pulling away from the curb.

You buckle up and stare out the window so you don’t have to look at his ridiculously pretty face.

‘Nice skirt,’ he says.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ you snap.

‘Fine,’ he says, just to annoy you.

He flicks the music on, and the interior of the car fills with the pulsing synth of the early 90s house that he’s been into lately.

He’s a good driver, you’ll give him that.

By the time he pulls into the underground car park of your building, your head is pounding from the loud music he’s played the entire journey home.

You know from experience that if you complain he’ll just turn it up louder.

‘Did you get into anything when I was with my client?’ you ask, because you have to.

The lying asshole has the audacity to give you an innocent look. It’s surprisingly effective, he was born with the wide eyes and pouty lips required to pull it off.

You remind yourself again that Jeon Jungkook is not to be trusted.

You raise an eyebrow, and wait.

Finally, he says, ‘Nothing.’

You harden your stare.

‘Nothing,’ he insists.

He kills the engine and you both exit the car and head for the lifts.

He lives in the apartment next to yours, and the only reason a rich asshole like him is in your building is because his rich parents have paid for him to stay next to you, as his appointed guardian.

It’s an unconventional arrangement which he’d only agreed to because the alternative was jail time.

You’d only agreed to it because his mother is your boss at the law firm you work at, and it’s not just that you need the job, but you’re also one step away from becoming an associate.

Jungkook holds the lift door open with a booted foot.

‘After you,’ he says.

‘The doors are automatic, you don’t have to hold them open,’ you point out.

You know he knows this.

Anyone who’s ever been in a lift knows it.

Jungkook admires himself in the lift mirrors. You look away, but not before he catches you looking at him.

‘Like what you see?’ he asks, voice velvety.

‘No,’ you say flatly, turning away.

He snickers softly but says nothing else.

You reach your floor and sigh with relief.

Finally.

It’s been a long day, and you can’t wait to go home and recharge in the solitude of your apartment.

You can already feel yourself sinking into the plushness of your new sofa after a hot shower. It’s Thursday, too, so there’s a new episode of your favourite drama being released today, and there’s leftovers in the fridge….

Jeon Jungkook’s annoying voice interrupts your daydream.

‘I have to go out again tonight,’ he tells you.

One stipulation his parents made to your unusual arrangement is that you have to accompany him whenever he leaves the apartment after dark.

‘Why?’ you ask, letting your irritation show in your tone.

‘I said I’d meet some guys,’ he says. He holds his hands up as you glare at him. ‘It’s for business.’

You’ve reached your door. You think longingly of your sofa and your drama, and stifle a sigh.

‘I just need a shower and to eat before we go,’ you say, resigned.

‘Fine. I’ll knock in an hour, ok?’ he says.

You don’t bother to respond.

By the time he knocks at your door, you’re out of your work clothes and in sweats and a hoodie.

At his surprised look you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Am I underdressed for your business meeting?’ you ask, like you care.

He rolls his eyes. ‘I just thought you only wore business pantsuits,’ he replies, smiling sweetly at you.

Your stomach growls. You’d spent too long in the shower and hadn’t had a chance to eat. It’d been worth it.

You ignore it and lock your apartment door.

‘I’m ready.’

Jungkook whistles the tune from a newish pop song as you head for the lifts.

He’s annoyingly melodic, and now the infectious tune’s in your head.

You focus on not humming along as you follow him to his car and get in the passenger seat.

‘Seatbelt,’ he says, and you roll your eyes.

‘Yes, mum.’

‘You look and act like you’re 14,’ Jungkook retorts, navigating out the car park.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, looking out the window, ignoring his comment.

‘Verve,’ he replies, casual.

You sit up. ‘What?’

Verve is the newest, hottest restaurant in town. It opened a month ago, and it’s still impossible to get a table.

‘I can’t go there dressed like this!’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘No one asked you to get into your PJs.’

You’re livid. ‘You should have told me.’

Jungkook shrugs again. ‘You didn’t ask specifically.’

You have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from punching his smug, pretty face. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror and whip the towelling headband you use when you wash your face off your head.

You seethe silently in the passenger seat until Jungkook turns to you.

‘Stop breathing so angrily.’

‘I’m sorry my essential functions are expressing unacceptable emotions to you,’ you gripe.

‘That’s not normal breathing,’ Jungkook argues.

There’s a few beats of silence, then Jungkook prods your side.

‘Don’t hold your breath either.’

You suck in an irritated breath and try to moderate your tone. ‘In the future I’d appreciate some notice if we’re going anywhere with a dress code,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘Fine,’ Jungkook agrees. ‘I like short skirts, if I may express a preference.’

‘You. May. Not.’ You say, clipped.

He just laughs to himself as he reverses effortlessly into a slot on the street outside the restaurant.

‘These guys,’ he starts, then breaks off. ‘Are you wearing a bra?’

You cross your arms across your chest defensively. ‘Shut up.’

‘Your tits look great,’ Jungkook says.

‘Shut up!’

Jungkook opens the door to Verve, and you wait nervously next to him.

You can feel eyes on you, as soft and snuggly as your hoodie and sweats are, they make you stand out in all the wrong ways in this place full of people in discreet labels.

You shuffle self-consciously as the host arrives and gives you a none-too-subtle once-over.

He opens his mouth, and Jungkook says, ‘We have a reservation at eight, Frederic said he’d block out the terrace for us.’

The whole demeanour of the host changes at Jungkook’s words.

‘Of course. You must be Mr Jeon.’

You find yourself being ushered through the restaurant and up a back staircase to a huge terrace with heat lamps, a glass ceiling and Koi pond in the centre of the terrace.

‘What the fuck,’ you mutter.

Jungkook gives you his greasiest smile, and you glower at him in response.

The two men he’s here to meet are dressed like mafia consiglieres, and they, like the host, look at you doubtfully as you approach with Jungkook.

‘My lawyer,’ Jungkook says, not bothering to introduce you by name or with any accuracy.

You’re a lawyer, but not his lawyer, and you’re glad for it because you have no obligation to keep any of his assholery confidential.

The mafia guys eye you with renewed respect, and you keep quiet.

‘Before we start, can we order? My lawyer here skipped dinner,’ Jungkook says.

You’re so surprised at his thoughtful gesture you stare at him.

He ignores you, already looking through the tablet one of the men has handed him.

***

The buzzing of your phone is insistent and pervasive, pulling you further and further out of the warm cocoon of the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

You’re floating on clouds, weightless and boneless and warm and in the distance you can see an angel, smiling at you. He’s got dark hair, a physique sculpted by Italian masters, and a tattoo sleeve…

What the fuck!

You bolt upright and your phone falls off your pillow, clattering onto the floor.

You pick it up and accidentally answer, only to be greeted by the grinning ass face of one Jeon Jungkook.

It’s a video call, which means….

He can see you!

With a horrified yelp you toss the phone onto your bed.

‘I’ve already seen everything,’ he assures you, muffled on account of your phone being face down in your sheets. ‘Now you’re awake, can I come over?’

‘What do you want, Jeon Jungkook?’ you snap, pulling your covers up to your neck.

‘I want your opinion on something,’ he says.

‘What’s the magic word?’ you ask.

‘I’ll tell my mum you’re associate material….’

‘Please, don’t act like I don’t deserve that position off my own back,’ you reply, bored.

‘I’ll let you watch me work out shirtless at the gym,’ he offers.

‘Like you’re going to be able to resist posting a gym selfie later,’ you scoff.

‘Please,’ he says.

You sigh. ‘Fine. Give me five minutes to brush my teeth.’

‘Don’t feel you need to put anything on, over that silky pink thing you’re wearing,’ Jungkook tells you.

You hang up without taking the bait.

When he knocks at your door, you give him an assessing look.

‘Does helping you involve anything illegal?’ you ask.

‘I have a date. You’re a woman,’ Jungkook says, adding ‘almost’ under his breath.

You scowl at him. ‘Go on, keep insulting me, that’ll make me want to help you more.’

He holds out a mug. ‘I made you coffee.’

You look suspiciously at it. ‘Did you roofie this?’

Jungkook scoffs. ‘Please why wouldn’t I want you to remember the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.’

‘Get out of my apartment.’

‘No, please,’ he pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I need your advice on which set to wear.’

You realise he’s also holding a garment bag.

‘Fine,’ you say, waving a hand.

You sip your coffee. It’s surprisingly good, but you nearly choke on it when Jungkook slips his shirt over his head and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

‘Wait!’ you shriek. ‘What are you doing?’

He looks down at his beautiful naked torso, feigning confusion. You know he’s faking because of the smug smirk on his face.

‘I need to try them on so you know what they look like on me,’ he says, innocent.

‘There are two bedrooms in this apartment,’ you say, stern. ‘Use one of them to change. Do not come out until you are fully dressed.’

Jungkook pouts but still flexes a little as he struts past you. You pretend not to notice how his back muscles taper into his slender waist.

As he gets changed, you consider what you might want for breakfast. It’s Saturday, so the brunch place down the corner opens earlier.

Shit! Saturday?

Jungkook mistakes the expression on your face as a reaction to his outfit rather than your own internal screaming.

‘Shit. I knew it. Too much?’ he asks, turning around so you can see how the rips running up the backs of his legs in the jeans he’s wearing go all the way up to the edges of his boxer briefs.

‘No, you look like a sexy whore,’ you say absently, scrolling your calendar.

You look up to see him frowning at you.

‘And yet, you’re not looking,’ he complains.

‘I have a date tonight too,’ you tell him.

He looks so surprised you toss a throw cushion at him.

‘Are you lying because you don’t want me to think you’re a sad workaholic who’s been chronically single since university?’ he asks, with such accuracy you throw another throw cushion at him.

You wonder if that’s why they’re called throw cushions.

‘It’s a blind date,’ you say. ‘My friend Hyunjin set it up. Also I don’t give a shit what you think, at least he’s not an ex-con.’

Jungkook looks hurt. ‘I’m not an ex-con either,’ he points out.

Which reminds you of your arrangement.

‘We can’t both go on dates tonight,’ you say. ‘I’ll cancel.’

‘What, so you can blame me for being single forever? No way. I’ll take care of it. Where’s your date?’

Jungkook pulls his phone out of the pocket of his almost jeans.

You tell him the name of the restaurant.

‘I’ll have my date there too,’ Jungkook decides. He flashes you a smarmy grin that makes you throw your last cushion at him.

He’s already heading out the door. ‘Pick you up later and we can go together,’ he says.

Your door closes behind him, then opens again almost immediately.

‘By the way,’ he says, holding up a pair of your silk panties. ‘I’m borrowing these.’

You fumble for something else to throw at him but he’s already closed the door again.

His infuriating laughter echoes in your ears long after he’s gone.

***

Jungkook’s taunts sound in your head as you get ready for your date.

You gaze in the mirror at your reflection critically.

Is your dress too short? Are your shoulders weird looking? And what the hell is happening with your hair?

You remind yourself that you can’t go another year of being single at your family’s annual get-together. You can already hear your Auntie Rina’s probing questions, your cousin Binna’s smug comments, your brother Jin’s increasingly acidic barbs to anyone who tries to criticise you.

Besides, it’d be nice to meet someone who’d care if you were sick or who’d come over to chase away a spider if it took up residence in your bathtub.

You purse your lips for a coat of lip tint and put the wand back just in time before the familiar, side-of-fist banging on your door starts.

At least he’s consistent, you think ruefully to yourself as you yell, ‘Coming, keep all your clothes on!’

You pull on your coat and belt it snugly as you slip your shoes on.

You nearly get Jeon Jungkook’s fist in your face as you yank open the door.

You duck at the same time he startles and says ‘Shit, sorry!’

‘It’s fine,’ you say, hoisting your bag on your shoulder.

You turn to go and realise he’s still standing by your door, staring at you.

You’re conscious of your heels and bare legs and that you’re wearing more makeup than usual.

‘Spare me whatever is about to come out of your mouth,’ you say, spiky.

You’re honestly one rude comment away from going back into your apartment and your cosy couch. You still haven’t caught up on your drama.

You head for the lifts without looking to see if he’s following.

***

Jungkook holds the door open for you at the restaurant your blind date picked.

‘Do you have a reservation?’ asks the hostess.

You give her your date’s name and she beams at you. ‘Right over here, follow me.’

She leads you to a table where a man is already sitting waiting.

He stands as you approach, and holds his hand out. ‘Jang Junwoo,’ he says.

You introduce yourself and notice he’s looking awkwardly over your shoulder.

You realise Jungkook’s still standing behind you.

‘Can I get you something, Jungkook?’ you ask, teeth gritted.

‘Nope,’ he says, cheerfully. ‘I’m just waiting for you to move so I can take my seat.’

You realise with horror that he’s indicating the table right next to yours in this cosy restaurant.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ you say.

Jungkook winks at you. ‘I hear the steak’s good.’

***

Jang Junwoo is kind of pretentious, you think, but then again a lot of these finance bros are. He spent a minute more than necessary pontificating over the wine’s bouquet, but he’s been polite enough to the waitress, and he has asked you a few questions about yourself.

Looks wise, he’s kind of your type, you think. He’s clean cut, tall and with a lean physique set off by his well-fitted shirt. He’s not got any visible tattoos or piercings, which is fine with you.

You’re not into that at all.

Beside you, Jungkook’s date, a petite bottle blonde in a low-cut dress with the best natural-looking cleavage you’ve seen laughs at one of his jokes.

She’s been laughing a lot, which is funny, because Jungkook’s really not that funny at all.

You realise Junwoo’s asked you a question.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I missed what you said.’

‘He asked if you like to work out,’ Jungkook supplies helpfully from beside you, barely two feet away.

He leans forward, and in a stage whisper, tells Junwoo, ‘I’ve never seen her in our gym.’

‘Stop eavesdropping on my date,’ you hiss.

Jungkook continues, ‘But she looks good in athleisure.’

He smiles like he’s just helped you, and you turn pointedly away.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise again to Junwoo. ‘I’m his court appointed guardian. It was this arrangement or prison, wasn’t it, Jungkook?’

Instead of looking put off, Jungkook’s date looks even more intrigued.

Junwoo, bemused, says, ‘Don’t worry about it. Should we get dessert?’

You split up with Jungkook after dinner when Junwoo suggests a nightcap at a bar nearby.

Jungkook assures you he’ll go straight home.

Looking at the way he and his date are draped over each other, you don’t doubt it. Thankfully, your apartment building was built pre-war and the walls are decent quality.

Junwoo ushers you into the bar, and, alone together with him for the first time all night, you feel your self-consciousness return.

You catch him looking at your thigh where your skirt’s ridden up and when he sees you’ve noticed, he smiles smoothly like it’s no big deal.

He orders another bottle of wine and you let him drink most of it because your tolerance is low.

His tendency towards pretentiousness is more pronounced when he’s tipsy, and it’s when he’s telling you about how you should try to experience genuine Lyonnaise cuisine that you decide you’ve had enough for now.

‘I should go,’ you say, smiling at him. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘I’ll escort you home,’ he says. ‘It’s late.’

He pulls on his coat and offers his arm, and you take it because you’re three blocks away from home and you can walk it in under ten minutes.

When you reach your door, you turn and hold out your hand.

‘Thanks again, Junwoo, it was really kind of you to walk me home.’

He takes your hand and shakes, but doesn’t let go.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he asks.

‘Not tonight,’ you say firmly, trying to pull your hand away.

‘I paid for dinner, and drinks,’ he points out, like that’s going to convince you.

‘You insisted,’ you counter. ‘Anyway, good night.’

He’s about to say something else but you don’t hear it because the lift dings and the doors slide open, and Jungkook steps out.

His shirt is half undone, and there’s a big-ass hickey on his neck, but you’ve never been so glad to see him.

‘Ah Jungkook,’ you say. ‘Did you have a good night?’

Jungkook pauses in front of you and Junwoo, eyeing the way your hands are still entwined.

‘Yeah, I did. How about you?’ he asks.

‘We’re doing great, bro,’ Junwoo says.

‘Yeah?’ Jungkook asks, eyes on you.

You swallow your pride. ‘Not great, JK.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees. He makes eye contact with Junwoo. ‘You should get going, bro.’

Junwoo’s hand tightens around yours. ‘Yeah, bro?’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘You know why she’s my court appointed guardian? I’m not going back to Cheonan.’

At the mention of the notorious maximum security prison, Junwoo’s eyebrows rise.

He squeezes your hand again, hard, then lets you go.

Jungkook stares at him the whole way as he leaves.

As soon as the lift doors close behind Junwoo, you sigh and slump against your door.

‘Thanks, Jungkook.’

‘No worries,’ Jungkook says. He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Guess my date went better than yours, huh?’

‘I shouldn’t have let that asshole pay. I knew he’d take it as an invitation,’ you say, ruefully.

Jungkook looks at you. ‘Is that what he said? What an asshole. Jangmi told me not to expect anything.’

You look pointedly at the hickey on his neck, and he laughs but doesn’t say anything else.

You fish your keys out of your bag. ‘Anyway, thanks. Your timing was pretty good.’

‘Yeah I waited in the car outside for you and saw you guys arrive,’ Jungkook says.

You stare at him. ‘What?’

‘Wanted to make sure you got home ok,’ Jungkook says, yawning.

He’s already heading to his own apartment.

‘Hey,’ you call. ‘I didn’t know you were in Cheonan.’

Jungkook laughs. ‘Youth detention centre, not the prison. Spent four months there when I was 14.’

He’s reached his own door.

‘Good night, Y/N. You looked really pretty tonight.’

He smiles at you crookedly and goes inside.

***

Six months earlier

You have no idea why you’ve been summoned to Jeon Mido’s office, and waiting outside in her secretary’s workspace isn’t helping your nerves.

You’ve been working for Albion for two years, and in that time you’ve never met her.

Why would you?

She’s one of the founding partners of Albion, the biggest law firm in the city, and you’re a relative newbie hired straight out of law school two years ago.

You’ve never had cause to venture beyond the tenth floor of this Albion-owned building, and now you’re in the penthouse.

The doors open, and Jeon Mido steps out.

‘Ms L/N,’ she says. ‘Please, come in.’

You take a seat in front of her sleek modern desk and wait.

‘Park Sejun tells me you worked extremely hard on your last case,’ she says, gazing at you. There’s a shrewdness in her eyes that reminds you that she built this law firm from nothing, despite her soft demeanour.

‘Thank you,’ you say.

‘You did an excellent job.’

You thank her again, wondering where she’s going with this. Is she about to dismiss you? Surely Park Sejun could have done that for her.

You haven’t done anything to warrant a promotion.

‘I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,’ Jeon Mido says.

She sets her hands on her desk gracefully.

‘I heard what you said about the defendant on your last case. He has a record, he’s been in and out of trouble since he was a teenager. Our client was the plaintiff and you did enough to ensure the win but you didn’t go for the jugular like some of your colleagues would have.’

You get a sinking feeling. Is this why you’re being fired? Because you didn’t completely annihilate your opponent?

She seems to be waiting for a response, so you compose your thoughts.

‘I knew we had enough to win,’ you say carefully. ‘I didn’t want to waste my efforts completely destroying the defendant’s credibility when his only mistake was that he relied on his staff instead of verifying things for himself.’

‘That’s not what you said, though,’ she prompts.

You think frantically but can’t remember anything you said that would have stood out, particularly.

You sigh. If you’re going to get fired, you might as well come clean.

‘My brother Jin got in trouble when we were teenagers,’ you say. ‘He got mixed up with a gang and he was too naive to get out before the gang leader got busted.’

You’ll spare her the details. ‘Anyway, he’s got a criminal record now, and because of it he can’t get a ‘respectable’ job. He couldn’t be a lawyer like me and he’d be a hell of a lot better, if I’m being honest.’

You shrug. ‘He made a mistake but he’s still the best person I know. I guess the defendant reminded me of him.’

Jeon Mido’s looking closely at you, but hasn’t said anything.

‘Thank you for hiring me,’ you say. ‘If you want my resignation —-‘

‘You’re mistaken,’ Jeon Mido says, finally. ‘I don’t want to dismiss you. I wanted to ask for your help.’

Which was how you ended up in a coffee shop with Jeon Mido, waiting nervously to meet her son.

Jeon Jungkook.

She’d filled you in on the details. He was her younger son, and he’d been in and out of trouble with the law since his teenage years for various things. Fighting, stealing cars, and even, hilariously, once for posing as a valet at a high society event and parking all the cars at the foot of Mount Samo for the illegal drag racers to take their pick.

After his most recent infraction she and her husband had sat down with Jungkook and given him an ultimatum to clean up his act or be cut off from his family’s fortune.

You were to be an additional factor to tip the scales in his favour.

Her proposition that you be Jungkook’s unofficial guardian and try to keep him out of trouble had sounded ludicrous at first, you were barely responsible enough to look after yourself. You certainly weren’t responsible enough to become a glorified babysitter to a grown man with a history of getting his own way.

The only reason you hadn’t disagreed to this insane-sounding plan outright was that Jeon Mido had built the very building you worked in, from the ground up, off her own intelligence, strength and force of will, at a time when successful self-made women in South Korea were virtually unheard of.

Additionally, Jungkook had agreed to meet you so he must be somewhat willing to comply with his parents’ ultimatum.

You’d been expecting a degree of charm and good looks in her son, Jeon Mido was an attractive woman, but you still had to stop yourself from staring when Jeon Jungkook arrived.

Tall, broad-shouldered and built like an athlete, he’d smiled at you and offered his hand, and you’d shook it praying your own weren’t clammy with nervousness.

He was so good looking he made you want to throw up.

If this was what a life of crime made Jeon Jungkook look like, it certainly suited him.

He flicked his tongue out over his lip ring, dark eyes on you, and you wondered what that tongue would feel like on your skin.

Fuck.

You were fucked from the moment you saw him, and it was only much later that you realised how bad the damage was.

It’d started off innocently enough. He’d moved into the apartment next to yours.

You’d hung out together a bit to get to know each other, and that first week had been fine.

Then he’d said, casually, one evening, that he was popping out for a cigarette, and he’d be back in fifteen minutes.

It was three frantic days before you found him, in some seedy pool hall, drunk and blazed with a new tattoo and the keys to a Maserati he didn’t own in his front jeans pocket.

He’d made you fish the keys out yourself, and he’d giggled like a schoolgirl the entire time.

After that, you’d been more insistent about sticking to the stipulations his parents had laid out, and had accompanied him everytime he left the apartment after dark.

You’d realised what a mistake that was when he offered to buy you brunch and paid all in unmarked bills out of a duffel bag filled with stacks of cash.

Jeon Jungkook didn’t confine his criminal activity to night times.

Fuck that shit.

Then there was that time he’d offered to pick you up from work in a new car you’d assumed was his parents’. The penny had only dropped when the police sirens had sounded behind you and you’d asked, nervously, if he should pull over.

Jungkook had taken one look in the rearview mirror, and said, dismissively, ‘It’s only one patrol car. I can lose them, easily.’

He’d proceeded to do just that in a high-speed car chase in a stolen car that spanned the busiest road in the city.

It’s the first and only time you’ve been on the seven o’clock news.

On the plus, you’d found out that he really was as good a driver as he’d claimed.

You’d gone to see Jeon Mido in her office as soon as your legs stopped feeling like jelly, ready to apologise and say you weren’t able to do the job you’d agreed to do.

To your surprise, she’d just encouraged you to carry on.

For his part, Jungkook’s always treated you with an irreverent kind of tolerance. He’s annoying as hell and you’ve learned not to trust most of what he says, but for all his sexual innuendo around you, he’s never once crossed the line you’d drawn in the sand at the beginning.

He’s danced along it a few times, though.

By the time you’re six months into your year-long arrangement, you’ve reached an uneasy stalemate with Jungkook.

Sometimes, you almost like the guy.

Annoyingly, he’s also stayed as hot as the day you met him.

***

Present day

You haven’t seen Jungkook in a few days, so you text him to check on him.

You’re already trying to remember how to get to the strip club you found him in the last time he went missing when he texts back.

Jungkook: I’m dying

He’s fucked with you enough times that you’re not all that concerned yet.

Y/N: Yeah? How?

Jungkook: The plague

You consider this as you plate your lunch. You lift a forkful of greens to your lips, then hesitate, and sigh.

Five minutes later you’re knocking at his door.

He answers so quickly you wonder if he was waiting on the other side of it.

He does look like hell, to be fair.

His nose and eyes are red, and he looks pale under his golden tan. He’s wrapped up in a duvet from chin to feet.

‘I’m dying,’ he tells you, melodramatic as fuck.

‘Do you have a cold.’

‘It’s way worse than a cold,’ he insists.

You shake your head, but he does look worse than you’ve ever seen him.

You sigh. ‘When did you last eat?’

Jungkook’s already looking at you so hopefully you haven’t the heart to say anything as you turn back around and let him into your apartment.

‘Try not to infect me,’ you tell him, as you lay a place setting in front of him at your kitchen island.

Jungkook replies, ‘I got my regular tests done last week, all negative.’

You look at him in disgust. ‘With your cold, asshole.’

He leers at you, but it lacks his usual panache.

You serve out the food and sit down opposite him to eat.

‘I always use condoms, anyway,’ he says, after a moment. He winks at you, but it’s still half-hearted.

You pass him a glass of water.

‘Drop the sex pest act for a few minutes,’ you advise him, helpfully. ‘No one’s fucking anyone in the state you’re in, anyway.’

He looks at you, and you can almost see him clicking through the repertoire of innuendoes he has in his head.

Finally, he says, ‘Thanks for this. It’s delicious.’

You tilt your head, pretending to be confused.

‘Did you just say something without sexual connotations, Jeon Jungkook?’

His smile is crooked.

‘Don’t worry, I’m still thinking sexual things about you in my head,’ he assures you.

You laugh. ‘Shut up and eat.’

***

Jungkook starts to look a bit less like death warmed over after he’s eaten, but the clingy asshole’s parked himself on your sofa and shows no sign of moving.

You shrug and put on the TV. At least if he’s with you, there’s less chance of him being in that strip club where there’s no parking outside. What a ballache that had been.

You put on the latest episode of your drama and he perks up.

‘I haven’t seen this episode yet,’ he tells you.

His duvet’s slipped lower, and you’ve yet to see anything but his skin.

‘Please tell me you’re dressed under there,’ you say, warningly.

‘Yeah but I can take it all off,’ Jungkook offers.

You don’t dignify that with a response, just pass him some flu meds and a bottle of kombucha and settle in to watch the show.

After the episode ends he still shows no sign of moving, so you put on a movie and pass him some snacks.

By the time the movie ends it’s dark, and when he asks you what you want for dinner you let him order takeout for both of you.

You eat sitting alongside each other on the couch as the next movie plays.

After a while you realise he’s fallen asleep, and that this is the most male company you’ve had in a while, and that you don’t hate it.

You don’t hate him.

In fact, in the dim light from the TV and with his mouth closed and his hair rumpled over his relaxed sleeping face, he looks…..

Tempting.

Like the boyfriend you could have if you could ever get over yourself enough to date someone seriously.

For some reason that makes you feel a little sad.

That you’re so starved for male company you’re longing after your neighbour who’s only hanging out with you because you’ve made an arrangement with his parents.

If you’re being honest with yourself, he’d probably have never shown an interest in you otherwise.

You pull the duvet over his shoulder, switch off the TV and top up his water and meds before heading to bed.

***

The banging on your door startles you and your elbow jostles the glass on the edge of your kitchen counter. It drops to the floor and shatters, and you think dryly that it’s a metaphor for how close you are to the edge of killing Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You yank open the door with a scowl.

‘Yes, Jeon Jungkook?’

He looks a little edgy himself. ‘I want to show you something.’

‘Is it your dick?’ you ask, tiredly, letting him in.

‘Always, but it’s something different today.’

You glance at the clock. It’s six in the evening.

‘Watch out,’ you say, as he passes the kitchen. ‘I dropped a glass.’

He doesn’t even blink.

There’s a nervous energy about him today, he looks like he’s buzzing out of his skin.

You follow him warily to the window that overlooks the street behind your building.

‘Are we looking out for the police?’ you ask, in a dramatic whisper.

He gives you a half-smile. ‘There were two plainclothes cops staking out the place all of last week. I think they’re dealing out of apartment 4B.’

You stare at him. ‘Are you serious?’

He scoffs. ‘How do you not notice these things?’

‘I never really have to worry about the police coming for me,’ you say, straightfaced.

‘Sucks to be you,’ he says, without his usual conviction.

He reaches down towards his jeans and your scowl returns. ‘Jungkook, I really don’t want to see your dick.’

‘Stop lying,’ he says, but what he takes out is a small black rectangular plastic object.

It’s about the size of half of his outstretched palm.

You wonder where he’s going with this.

He says, ‘Look.’

You both watch as a man in a business suit pulls up to a parking spot on the street, gets out and locks his car. The headlights flash, twice.

He heads into the apartment building opposite yours.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Jungkook hands you the tiny black rectangle.

‘Press the button.’

You press the small grey button, and to your surprise, the car headlights flash again.

The car’s unlocked.

‘What the—-‘

‘It’s a car key cloning device,’ Jungkook says.

He takes it back from you.

‘All I have to do is press it at the same time as the person locking the car presses their own key, and it clones the signal.’

He says, with more than a hint of wistfulness, ‘I could steal any car on this street.’

You’re shaking your head. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I made it,’ he tells you. ‘I didn’t invent the tech, my friend did, but I made this.’

His eyes meet yours.

‘Can you keep it?’

His words hang in the air between you.

He mistakes your silence for hesitance.

‘I just — ‘

He clears his throat and starts again. There’s pleading in his voice, a wild kind of spark in his eyes.

‘Can you keep it? I don’t want it to be this easy to steal a car tonight.’

You swallow past the lump in your throat. He’s never asked for your help like this before.

He usually goes ahead with whatever impulse he has and you’re stuck playing catch up.

Today, he’s given you a head start.

You take the device from him and stick it in your bra.

‘Don’t try to seduce me to get it back,’ you warn.

He’s already eyeing up your tits.

He clears his throat again.

‘Actually, I’m surprised you managed to fit it in there. Are you on your period? Your tits look huge.’

As usual, you don’t deign to respond.

‘I was going to make dinner,’ you say. ‘Do you want some?’

‘You can cook me dinner,’ he agrees, like he’s doing you a favour.

‘But wait. Let me clean up that glass first,’ he says.

‘It’s fine,’ you say.

He stops you. ‘Nah. Look at your hands.’

You hold a hand out, palm up, and he traces a callused finger along your life line.

Warmth unfurls along your skin, following the path of his finger.

You look up to see him looking at you, heat in his eyes.

Your heart pounds, slow, and his tongue flicks along his lower lip.

When he speaks, his voice has dropped, low.

‘You’ve probably never even changed the oil in your car,’ he says, but he sounds affectionate, almost.

‘I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.’

He smiles, and lets go of your hand.

Your skin feels like it’s crackling with electricity from his touch, and god help you, you want more.

You don’t trust yourself to speak.

Jungkook says, very quietly, ‘You’re doing something for me, let me do this for you.’

Your eyes meet again, and you find your voice.

‘The oven needs a clean, too, if you’re offering.’

He laughs, and just like that, whatever that moment was, ends.

‘I’ll clean your oven,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Put a bun in it too.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ you complain, trying to punch him, but he’s already too far away.

***

You’re balancing on the back of the couch on your tip toes, trying to reach the lamp shade so you can change the blown lightbulb in your hanging lights, when the now familiar banging starts on your door.

You turn too quickly, lose your balance and fall headlong onto the floor.

The resulting crash against the parquet flooring is all the louder because Jungkook’s stopped banging on your door.

You roll onto your back, groaning a little as the wrist you held out to protect your face flares with pain.

Jungkook’s started banging again, and your phone, out of reach on the coffee table, starts ringing.

You can just about make out his name on the screen, and the ridiculous selfie he took of himself shirtless that he put in as his profile on your phone.

All the racket is enough to make you sit up and hobble to the door.

‘Shit, are you ok? I heard a crash,’ says Jungkook, wide-eyed.

‘I’m not good with blood,’ he warns, but he’s checking you over gently anyway.

‘What was so urgent you needed to bang on my door?’ you ask, grumpy.

He presses your sore wrist, gently, and you wince.

‘I got pizza and wanted to know if you wanted some,’ he says. He ushers you to your couch.

‘I’m getting ice,’ he calls over his shoulder.

‘You could have texted to ask if I wanted pizza,’ you call after him.

He emerges with a bag of frozen peas you didn’t know you had.

‘But then I wouldn’t get to see your face,’ he protests. ‘Also, you never answer my video calls, not since I saw you in your underwear that time.’

You don’t bother correcting him.

He wraps the peas in a towel and passes the bundle to you.

‘Your wrist looks bad, you should get it checked out,’ he advises.

You grimace. ‘I have a case coming up,’ you tell him.

‘Just tell them it was a sex injury,’ Jungkook suggests, helpfully. He offers you a hand to get up. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.’

‘Fine,’ you say. ‘Grab the pizza.’

***

You’re waiting to see the doctor with Jungkook and trying to ignore the fact that he’s pulled a burner phone out of his back pocket.

He glances around furtively and you’re craning your neck to look at the screen when your name is called.

The doctor who’s said your name looks at Jungkook.

‘Mr Jeon,’ she says. ‘What is it this time? Another broken metacarpal from fighting?’

Jungkook’s face creases into a smile and you can almost hear the adoring sighing of men and women around the room.

‘Dr Lim,’ he says. ‘You know I don’t break my hand anymore since I started winning all the time.’

You gag at his corniness, but Dr Lim just smiles back.

‘Well, you’re always welcome to get checked out for any injuries,’ she says. ‘You have my number.’

‘Did you save it on your burner?’ you ask loudly, but they both ignore you.

By the time you’ve had an X-ray and been told your wrist is just sprained, not broken, you’ve heard enough of Jungkook’s smarmy flirting that your ears are burning.

‘Yeah, I’m still going to the gym every day,’ you mimic, flexing your bicep as you get into Jungkook’s car. ‘Want to feel?’

Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t talk like that.’

You give him your sleaziest grin. ‘Wow you have your name embroidered on your white coat? Amazing!’

Jungkook starts the car. ‘Still don’t talk like that,’ he mutters.

‘Yeah, let me take you for a spin in my Skyline sometime,’ you say, puffing out your chest and deepening your voice.

‘Seatbelt,’ Jungkook says.

When you reach for the seatbelt and wince because you forgot about your wrist, he sighs.

You press back into the seat, startled, as he leans over you to fasten your seatbelt for you.

He pauses with his face directly in front of yours.

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek.

He leans forward and kisses you.

It’s a peck, and over before you know it, but it’s enough to shut you up.

‘Stop being cute,’ he says. ‘Or I’ll kiss you again.’

He throws the car into gear.

‘Besides,’ he adds. ‘The only woman I’ve tried to impress with this car is you.’

You’re staring at him, still trying to process, when he adds, thoughtfully, ‘then again, I haven’t had this car very long….’

***

You’re trying to get your suitcase down from on top of your wardrobe when there’s a blur of movement in the periphery of your vision.

You scream and hightail it off the ladder you’re on.

The spider you saw stops right above the corner of the ceiling where your suitcase is.

You’ve already dialled Jungkook without even thinking about it.

He answers with a lazy, drawled, ‘yo’, but his tone sharpens quickly when he hears your voice and panicked breathing.

‘Jungkook. There’s a spider holding my suitcase hostage,’ you whisper, dread in your voice.

‘Why are you whispering?’ Jungkook asks. You can hear the amusement in his voice, and for once you don’t care that he’s laughing at you.

You fight to regulate your volume. ‘It might hear me and attack,’ you say.

It seems completely reasonable to you.

Jungkook laughs so loudly you have to hold the phone away from your ear.

‘What does he want with your suitcase?’ Jungkook asks, when he’s re-composed himself enough to speak.

He’s definitely laughing at you rather than with you, but you’ll take any amount of taunting if he deals with the spider for you.

‘Please,’ you plead, ‘can you get rid of it.’

Jungkook yawns. ‘Ok. But don’t expect me to put on a shirt.’

A moment later he’s in your apartment, looking up at the ceiling at the spider.

‘Just grab the suitcase please,’ you say. ‘The spider can have this room from now on.’

Jungkook snorts.

He grabs the suitcase and places it next to you, then, before you can work out what he’s going to do, he taps on the wall next to the spider and it runs down to the floor.

You scream and jump into his arms.

He really did come over bare-chested, the asshole, and the sweatpants he’s barely wearing are low on his hips, so it’s a little more indecent than you’d like, but there’s no fucking way you’re sharing the floor with a spider that can run faster than you.

Automatically, like he’s done this a lot, Jungkook’s big hand reaches down to support your ass.

He’s still laughing. ‘Is this like, do you want to see my cat, but it’s a spider instead?’

You ignore his taunts and bury your face in his shoulder.

His laughter fades.

‘Shit. Are you crying? Listen, don’t worry. I’ll get rid of it, ok?’

You’re too scared to look at the floor.

‘You don’t even know where it is now,’ you sob.

‘I know exactly where that fucker is,’ Jungkook assures you.

He’s probably lying but you don’t want to check for yourself.

He deposits you onto the bed and tries to peel your legs off his waist.

‘As much as I want to fuck you, let me deal with this spider first, ok?’

At his words, you loosen your legs from around him and he pats your thigh.

‘Stop crying. Stay here and I’ll get rid of it,’ he promises.

It’s several long minutes and muttered curses later before he returns, a little sweaty but with a glass of water for you.

He hands it to you and brushes your hair back from your face as you drink.

‘I didn’t know you were that scared of spiders,’ he says. His tone is gentler than you’ve ever heard it.

‘They bite,’ you say.

‘They bite—-‘ Jungkook trails off, shaking his head.

Jungkook sits next to you on the bed. ‘I’m sorry I laughed at you.’

‘It’s ok,’ you say. You swipe at your tearstained face. ‘Did you get it?’

‘Promise I did,’ Jungkook says. ‘Cross my heart. That fucker isn’t bothering you again.’

‘Where did you put him?’ you ask. ‘In the bin?’

‘Nah. Chucked him out the window,’ Jungkook says. ‘Fuck Spiderman.’

‘Fuck Spiderman,’ you echo.

‘Listen, if you have a spider problem again just call me, ok? Or you can text if you’re worried the spider’s going to hear you. I’ll take care of it.’

Jungkook grins. ‘I won’t put a shirt on either.’

He leans back onto his forearms, and the way his abs stand out make you feel pretty tingly, you’re not going to lie.

‘I don’t mind you staring,’ he tells you. ‘I know I look good.’

You roll your eyes, but he’s been so decent about helping you that you’ll let him have that.

‘What’s the suitcase for, anyway?’ he asks.

You sigh. ‘It’s my annual family get together this Saturday,’ you tell him. ‘My entire extended family go to this beach house and we have dinner together and hang out. It’s been a thing since I was a kid.’

‘Sounds nice,’ he says, but his tone is incredulous.

‘It is nice,’ you say. You smile a little. ‘My grandma cooks and my brother Jin goes fishing and I have so many little cousins now.’

You get up. ‘Of course, there’s the usual round of relatives asking ‘why aren’t you settled down and having babies?’ And my cousin Binna’s a pain, but it’s only once a year.’

‘It’s too bad Junwoo was such an ass,’ you say. ‘I was hoping if I came with a date this year that it’d take some of the pressure off.’

‘I can help,’ Jungkook says.

‘For the last time, Jungkook,’ you say, ‘we are not having a baby together.’

‘Firstly,’ Jungkook says, ‘our baby would be so good looking. But that’s not what I meant.’

He looks tentative for the first time since you met him.

‘I can go with you, if you want.’

***

Your suitcase is by the door, ready to go.

You’re waiting for Jungkook to come by so you can leave together for your family retreat.

You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest. It had felt like a good idea having Jungkook come with you at the time. After all, with the amount of time you’ve spent together over the last few months, he knows recent you as well as anyone.

He’d promised on pain of death and dismemberment that he would refrain from excessive sexual innuendo in front of your elders, but that was all you’d managed to get out of him.

You’re almost afraid to look at him when he knocks on your door.

You start from his feet, in the boots he’s favoured lately, to jeans with no visible rips that you can see in the front, to his fly which is done completely up, to his belt and then a white wife-beater over which he’s layered a black shirt.

When you get to his face he’s smirking at you.

‘Spent a long time checking out my dick,’ he comments.

‘Just checking your fly was done up,’ you say, semi-truthfully.

He lifts your suitcase for you.

At your expression he says, ‘Don’t worry, you can pay me back by giving me a blow job whilst I’m driving us to the coast.’

‘Sounds dangerous,’ you reply.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, smarmy, ‘Danger is my middle name.’

‘Don’t ever call me that again,’ you threaten.

‘Princess?’ he wonders.

‘Shut up and drive, Jeon Jungkook.’

***

Jungkook’s driving is so steady that you fall asleep and wake only when he stops for petrol.

You look around, disoriented, and see him looking at you through the glass of the rear passenger window.

He opens the door. ‘Want anything from the shop?’

You yawn. ‘No thanks.’

When he gets back in the car, you say, ‘Hey, let me know what I owe you for gas.’

He snorts as he drives out of the petrol station. ‘You know my family owns the biggest manufacturing company in Busan, right?’

You shrug. ‘Money ain’t everything.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, money ain’t everything, if you’re just normal rich. I’m fuck you and all your ancestors rich.’

You say, lightly, ‘I’m never paying my share of takeout again.’

He laughs. ‘That’s what I like about you. You don’t give a shit.’

‘That’s not true,’ you protest. ‘How many people would have chased you across town to track you down when you stole that French ambassador’s diplomatic car?’

He’s quiet.

The road stretches out in front of you.

‘I’m seeing someone, you know,’ he says.

‘What?’ you scoff. ‘Who’s dating you?’

‘Not like that,’ he tells you. He glances at you in the rearview.

‘I don’t want you to have to be a crutch for me forever.’

Now it’s your turn to be quiet.

Since that time when Jungkook came over to hand over his key fob cloning device, he’s dropped various things over at your apartment for various periods of time.

A pen drive.

The keys to his Skyline.

His burner phone.

Once, a black jewelled thong, but you think he was just fucking with you that time.

You cleared a drawer in your hall table for him, and things appear and disappear.

He doesn’t always talk about it, not like that first time.

‘I’m glad you’re working on it,’ you say, sincerely.

You lean back in your seat. ‘You know you can always drop stuff off in the drawer if you need to.’

‘Oh in the drawer?’ he says, feigning surprise. ‘What about your spare room wardrobe? I left weed and maybe a couple of stacks in there.’

‘Fucking hell,’ you grumble, ‘No wonder all my linens smell like a college dorm.’

You’re both smiling.

‘Thanks for helping me out with this,’ you say. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘How come you couldn’t get one of those Yonsei dipshits to take you?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Firstly, you asshole, I went to SNU.’

Jungkook snickers.

‘Secondly, sad as it is, you’re the only man I’ve spent any time with lately.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ he says. ‘You’re hot, you put up with a lot of shit and you have an ass that won’t quit. How come you’re not dating anyone?’

You look out the window. ‘You’re right, I’m such a catch, why am I single?’

Jungkook asks, ‘Are you really bad in bed?’

You’d laugh if the turn of conversation wasn’t so depressing.

‘Yeah. I’m really bad.’

‘I wouldn’t mind if you were a pillow princess with me,’ Jungkook says. You think he means it as a compliment.

You say, just to move the conversation on, ‘Did you bring any snacks?’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook says. He reaches into the center console and tosses you a pack of corn chips. ‘Please feed me too.’

You spend the rest of the drive placing corn chips into Jeon Jungkook’s filthy but admittedly beautiful mouth.

***

You and Jungkook are one of the first to arrive at the beach house. Your parents and Jin are already there.

You’re worried Jungkook might be nervous about meeting your parents, but he surprises you again.

Once introduced, he chats easily with your dad about cars, and you can tell from your dad’s reactions that he likes Jungkook.

Jin nudges you as you follow your parents and Jungkook into the house.

‘Binna’s going to be all over him,’ he says.

Your cousin is beautiful, sexy and could flirt with a rock.

You shrug. ‘Don’t worry, Jinnie. You’re still the prettiest around.’

Jin says, crossly, ‘I wasn’t worried about that.’

You’re both distracted by the arrival of your cousin and her children.

The minivan pulls up almost to the entrance of the beach house, and your cousin Daeun jumps out.

‘Dasom superglued her hand to Jinah’s face,’ she announces grimly.

She hands you baby Taehyun. ‘Can you watch the baby? I’m taking them to the drugstore to see if they can give us anything to get this shit off.’

‘Mama said a bad word,’ chants Dasom.

‘I’ll drive you,’ volunteers Jin.

He ushers Daeun and the girls into his car.

You look for someone to help.

‘Need a hand?’ Jungkook asks, popping up from behind you.

You huff. ‘Can you sort this car out?’

Jungkook appraises the minivan in silence for a moment.

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook replies, serious. ‘It probably won’t sell for much as it is. I’ll have to take it apart to sell it for parts.’

You glare at him. ‘I meant park it, Jungkook, not sell it on the stolen cars black market.’

Jungkook laughs incredulously. ‘Stolen cars black market? What even is that? Have you learnt nothing from the last year?’

Taehyun, in your arms, giggles along with Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re being ridiculed simultaneously by both a baby and the grown-ass man you’re babysitting.

Jungkook’s still chuckling to himself as he maneuvres the minivan expertly into the space beside his car.

You can see him through the window, the asshole.

***

Jin hadn’t been wrong about Binna being interested in Jungkook. To be fair, even happily married Daeun had given him a second look.

Even your conservative grandmother had looked past all his visible tattoos and piercings and declared him a good boy.

You’re pretending not to notice as Binna, sitting on the other side of Jungkook at the dinner table, leans into Jungkook’s arm as she reaches for the green beans.

Your Auntie Rina fixes you with a look.

‘I’m so glad you finally found a man,’ she says. ‘We were so worried you’d be single forever.’

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens.

‘I wasn’t worried,’ says your mother from opposite Jungkook. ‘Better no man than the wrong man.’

‘It’s true,’ sniffs Auntie Rina. ‘Who was that awful boyfriend of yours who kept asking if you really wanted more helpings? As though there’s anything wrong with your weight…’

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She isn’t saying anything she hasn’t said before, to be fair.

Jungkook, beside you, nudges his full glass of soju towards you.

‘Is your car the 2019 model outside?’ he asks your aunt. ‘I know a man who can fix it for you.’

‘Fix it?’ Auntie Rina asks.

‘Yeah. Looks like it has a flat tire,’ Jungkook says, wide-eyed, all innocence.

Your eyes meet his, and you choke back a laugh.

As soon as the conversation moves on you turn to Jungkook. ‘Does it really have a flat tire?’ you ask, under your breath.

Jungkook leans so close his lips brush your ear, making your skin prickle.

‘I’ll make sure it does,’ he promises.

After dinner, you excuse yourself to get some air and find Jungkook sitting on the steps leading down to the sand, behind the house smoking a cigarette.

You sit next to him.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. ‘I hope this isn’t too awful.’

He just smiles, exhales.

‘I’m enjoying it,’ he says simply.

There’s a breeze blowing in from the sea, ruffling his hair.

He’s so pretty like this you’d take a picture if you weren’t worried he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Jungkook reaches out, curls a finger in a lock of your hair.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t get a chance to.

You lean forward, close your eyes and kiss him.

It’s short and it’s lovely.

You start to pull away, but he cups the side of your face and kisses you back.

His lips are soft, and he kisses you slow, like he wants to learn the shape of your lips with his own.

He hums, deep in his chest, as his lips meet yours.

For all the crass sexual comments he’s made to you over the last year, Jeon Jungkook’s kisses are undemanding, sweet.

When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

His cigarette glows on the step next to him, forgotten.

‘I knew I’d like kissing you,’ he tells you.

You look down at his hand, somehow entwined with yours.

‘Are you holding my hand?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. You’re a little sweaty but I don’t mind,’ he tells you.

He laughs when you try to pull away.

‘Do you want to come to my room?’ you ask.

He hesitates.

‘I’d like to, but you know, I’m really good at fucking, are you going to be able to keep your voice down?’

‘Shut up, I’ve changed my mind,’ you say, getting up.

He tugs you back down. ‘Hey.’

He waits until you’re looking at him.

‘If you really want me there, I’d love to go to your room,’ he tells you.

For once, he sounds completely serious.

‘Yeah. Come.’

***

You’d been a bit worried it might be awkward, but true to form, Jungkook jumps into your bed and pats the covers like he’s the one inviting you into your own bed.

‘It’s my bed,’ you grumble, but he just laughs.

He kisses you again, his mouth warm over yours. He tastes like the soju he’d been drinking, and he hums when you part your lips to taste more of him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, and when you run your hands over his shoulders he slips his shirt over his head.

He stops you when your hands go to the hem of your top to do the same.

‘Can I?’ he asks.

You nod, and raise your arms to help.

‘Fuck,’ he murmurs. He’s staring at your breasts. ‘I’m going to need to cum on your tits as my last dying wish.’

‘Jeon Jungkook, shut the fuck up.’

‘Screaming my name already,’ he teases, but he starts kissing down the curve of your neck and the whine that falls from your lips is involuntary.

He hums approvingly as your arms tighten around his shoulders.

He dips his head between your breasts and then nips over the curve of your left breast.

He reaches around your back to unhook your bra, waits until you nod to undo it.

‘Pretty,’ he says, then he’s sucking a hickey into your skin, laving with his tongue when you whine in protest.

He’s hard. You can feel him even through the layers of clothing as he grinds his hips on yours.

You tuck the tips of your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug. He kisses you again, then pushes up onto his knees on your bed.

He unbuttons, slips his jeans down, and holy fuck, it’s not like you haven’t seen him in his boxer briefs before, but it’s a whole different ball game when he’s looking down at you, heat in his eyes and his dick so hard your mouth waters at the sight of it.

No pun intended.

Jungkook pushes your hands away when they go to your own waistband.

‘Let me do it,’ he says.

He tugs your jeans down over your ass and thighs.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes. ‘These silky panties look even better on you.’

You press a hand over his open mouth.

‘Shut up and fuck me,’ you say.

You trail your hand over the length of him in his briefs, and then he’s moving fast, fumbling with his jeans.

He pulls out a strip of condoms and catches your eye.

You giggle at how ridiculous he looks, and a moment later, he’s laughing too.

‘How many times —‘

You’re cut off by his mouth on yours.

‘Many. I’ll fuck you as many times as you want,’ he tells you, breath hot on your cheek.

He nudges your thigh with his. ‘Spread.’

He fits himself between your legs and kisses you again.

The blunt head of him nudges you, and you don’t realise you’re holding your breath until he’s in you all the way and you’re dizzy with pleasure.

He buries his head in your neck.

‘Fuck. You feel so fucking good,’ he groans.

He moves, a slow stroke that makes you arch into him.

You moan his name, and he moves again, rocking his hips against yours, deep, hard.

You close your eyes but realise what a mistake that was when you open them again and see how beautiful Jeon Jungkook looks when he’s fucking you.

He hooks a forearm around your thighs and drags you to the edge of the bed so he can stand and fuck you.

Fuck, how have you never realised how strong he is?

He smirks at you, and you’d want to slap it off his face except he’s doing something with his hips now that’s making the pleasure spiral and you’re two short steps from —-

He lowers his mouth to yours again and then you’re coming, legs wrapped around his hips, his chest flattening yours, his sweat all over you.

He murmurs what sounds like approval as he fucks you through it.

You gasp his name and he groans, fucking you harder, speeding up and then slowing until he comes, buried deep inside you.

He pulls out, yanks off the condom with a whine and ties it off, dropping it on the floor carelessly. He collapses down next to you, panting.

For a moment you’re both quiet.

Then he says, ‘Shit. That was way better than jerking off with those panties I stole.’

You slap him on the chest. ‘Shut up, asshole.’

‘Stop flirting with me. I need a minute before we can go again.’

Jungkook grins at you but he’s still got an arm around your hips and his thigh slotted between yours so you can’t be too mad.

***

You wake up to bright sunshine right in your face even though you drew the drapes last night before you went to bed because Jeon Jungkook is halfway in your open window.

You sit up, confused as hell.

‘What the fuck—‘

You can’t work out if he’s coming or going.

You get your answer then he drops into your room with a thud.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Forgot to slash those tires last night.’

‘You didn’t?!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ he advises. ‘We don’t want her to know it was me.’

You’re speechless.

‘Did you seriously just —‘

‘Don’t finish your question so I don’t have to answer it,’ Jungkook tells you.

He’s getting undressed again, kicking off his shoes, staring hard at your bare chest half covered by the duvet.

He jumps back into bed with you and you greet him with another kiss.

His hand trails over the curve of your breasts.

‘Let’s not talk about it again,’ you say.

‘Yeah,’ he agrees.

‘Do you want to come on my tits?’

Jungkook groans. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

You’re back at home in your apartment unpacking when the familiar banging on your door starts.

You yank the door open. ‘You literally just left, Jeon Jungkook,’ you complain, before you realise he’s not alone.

Jeon Mido, Jungkook’s mother and your boss, is standing outside your door and you’ve still got sand in your hair from fucking Jungkook on the beach before you left the beach house.

Jungkook adjusts the collar of his shirt in a vain attempt to hide the hickey you gave him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

Jeon Mido smiles graciously at you.

‘Jungkook tells me he met your parents over the weekend,’ she says.

‘They liked him a lot,’ you tell her, wondering where she’s going with this.

She nods. ‘Good. I thought maybe you’d like to come to dinner with us tomorrow night. My husband would love to meet you.’

You’re so surprised you can’t do anything but accept.

Jeon Mido smiles at you and takes her leave.

You turn to Jungkook. ‘What was that?’

Jungkook shrugs, shaking sand out of his jeans pockets.

‘She’s always said she wants to meet my girlfriends.’

He’s not looking at you directly, and the tips of his ears are red.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says, finally. ‘I’ve never had a girl I’m dating meet my parents before.’

‘We’re not dating!’

He’s looking at you now. ‘Aren’t we?’

The way he’s looking at you gives you pause.

‘We see each other every day. We hang out at each others’ places. You help me with my problems and I help you with yours. I’ve met your family.’

He smiles. ‘And you’re the most fucking amazing girl I’ve ever met.’

You stare at him.

‘Unless,’ he continues, ‘you just want to be fuck buddies. I’m down with that too.’

He looks like he’s about to turn away so you grab his arm and tug him towards you.

‘Ok, Jeon Jungkook, I’ll date you,’ you say.

He nods. ‘I thought so.’

He leans down so you can kiss the smug smirk off his face.

©hamsterclaw 2024

With thanks to bloviating-vy for introducing me to the phrase 'fuck you rich' and the works of Smashy for the immortal phrase 'Yonsei dipshits'.

#bts smut #bts fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic

1K notes · View notes

rowarn · 9 months

Text

hear me out....

afab!reader, no prns, simon is smitten <3, cunnilingus, wet&messy, creampie !!!

; in which simon cucks some poor guy for flirting with u <3

going out with simon to a bar one night. simon thought u looked so precious dressed up just for him. he's got that "wear what you want, i can fight" mentality as he should.

some random guy slides up to your table with a cheesy smile and a bravery that surprised even simon. he was sitting right there and the guy didn't bat an eye. that was unusual — simon was a big guy with an intimidating stare to go along with it.

and you - a little too polite and sweet to tell the guy flat out to fuck off, gives simon an apologetic little look.

and fuck, simon thinks, you're so precious. you really melt his heart.

the guy makes some corny joke about a threesome, condescension dripping from his voice as he really thinks you would choose him over simon. the bloke really believed you would go home with him.

simon finally interjects from where he has been nursing his whiskey and just watching — making very sure the guy didn't cross any lines beyond making a fool of himself in front of you.

"sure why not?" he says, concealing a grin when the guy turns to gawk at him, asking if he was serious.

and that's how you wind up in a hotel — simon would never allow some random asshole into your shared home.

the second you all stepped in, simon pulled up a chair and directed the guy to sit while simon "got you ready". the guy was thrilled, it tickled simon something fierce.

and you, still so sweet for him, cling onto and pepper kisses on simon's face the second he's within your reach. he adores it. adores you.

simon gives the poor idiot a show, pinning your knees to your chest and letting him marvel at how fucking pretty you are; pussy shiny with a sheen of your arousal. he bets the guy thinks it's all for him but no. you only get so wet and needy for simon.

simon eats you out like a champ — urged even more than usual by new eyes watching. simon has a point to prove.

you're whining and moaning, twitching in the cute way you do when simon rolls his tongue over the hardened bud of your clit and fuck, he's drooling. literally. it mixes with your juices and makes you even wetter and messier and he loves it.

he makes you cum on his tongue alone. hard. you gasp and sob, legs sweetly kicking out as he feels you throb on his tongue. usually he adds some fingers into the mix to prep you but not today. he wants you to feel the full stretch of him this time.

he thinks he hears the guy make some comment about how lovely you are and how he can't wait to have a turn with you.

'in your dreams maybe' simon thinks bitterly. he can't believe the guy thinks he can compare to him. simon knows for a fact the dude wouldn't even be able to make you cum — simons taken the time to learn your body, learn what you like and what you need before you even say it. simon has devoted himself to you and no one could ever compete with that.

simon turns you over and manhandles you into position on your knees, gently pressing down on your back so you lean down onto your chest. you're still trembling and twitching occasionally from the orgasm he can still taste on his tongue. he thinks it's adorable.

the guy pipes up, complaining and asking when he's gonna get a turn because his cocks so hard it hurts.

simon decided it's as good a time as any to break the news to him — you're not gettin' a turn mate. just enjoy the show, yeah?

the guy starts whining and complaining as simon slowly and carefully sinks into you. you're so wet and tight around him that he feels the breath punch out of his lungs.

his hand is careful as it wraps around the back of your neck, using the grip as leverage as he begins to rock into you. you're still getting used to being full of him — he hadn't prepped you properly so he knows it stings a bit.

you still sweetly coo and whimper as he moves slowly and carefully. before long you're grinding back against him, a silent request for more. and he's more than happy to provide.

soon enough he's fucking you like you deserve. you're crying out into the bed and creaming real nice around the base of him. you have the blankets wrapped tight in your firsts and you're so loud about how good he's making you feel.

simon chances a glance at the idiot in the room and see how intensely he's staring at you, mouth slightly agape and eyes lidded.

simon nearly puffs up in pride — you're his and he's fucking you so well for his audience.

he picks up the pace, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your tender clit is intoxicating. your body trembles and twitches at the onslaught of stimulation. you cry out his name, praise him for making you feel so good.

simons grip changes to the front of your neck, carefully urging you up onto your knees with your back to his chest. he feels you clench around him when you're reminded of how fucking big he is compared to you — broad shoulders and huge hands that dwarf your own. he's built and firm against you, sturdy and safe.

in this new position, he can freely grope your bouncing tits as he resumes fucking you. he make sure to angle his hips to hit that sweet little spot inside you that makes your back bow against him and your eyes roll back in your head.

"look at me, love," he orders when you close your eyes.

when you do as he tells you, your eyes are teary and dazed — a testament to how well he's fucking you. how well he always fucks you.

you desperately reach for one of his hands, dragging it down your body to the apex of your thighs. simon wastes no time in pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit. your thighs twitch the second he starts circling the little bud, his fingers getting wet with your juices.

he can't resist craning his neck down to press his lips against yours. simon isn't big on kissing — he finds it to be almost too intimate. it's different from sex. it makes him feel a little too vulnerable for comfort. but in that moment he craves it. he needs to kiss you.

you give no warning when you cum. your nails bite into his arm but he barely feels it over the right vice grip your cunt has around his cock. you tremble and whine into his mouth, unwilling to break the kiss he had bestowed upon you.

you drench his cock, creaming and soaking him in your cum. it drops down his balls and your thighs and drives him to his own end.

"where do you want it?" he asks, although he knows the answer.

he just want s your guest to hear you say it. he wants him to hear how you beg to be filled with cum, how you whine to be stuffed nice and full.

"i-inside!" you gasp so sweetly for him that it melts his cold heart, "please, simon. want it inside!"

simon's head drops to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck as he gives you a few more mind-numbing thrusts into your still twitching pussy before he groans through gritted teeth and spills into you just like you wanted.

he pulls out quicker than he usually does just to watch his load drip out and soil your thighs that were covered in your own cum.

simon catches you when you slump, carefully lowering you onto the bed while you catch your breath.

the guy is still sitting there. they meet gazes and simon jerks his head to the side, indicating towards the door.

the guy huffs and stalks away, blue balled and unsatisfied but clearly he enjoyed the show if the bulge in his jeans was any indication.

simon can only hope he got his message across. <3

#simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

6K notes · View notes

coco-loco-nut · 1 month

Text

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

—————————

Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo imagines #oscar piastri #max verstappen #christian horner

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 3 months

Note

more spencerxpregnant bombshell reader please 😩😩💗 i love it sm

“I can’t believe we’re back here again,” you say, your breath turning to white puffs of fog in the brisk air. “I hate Alaska.”

“I can’t believe we’re so heavily wounded,” Hotch murmurs.

You raise your brow, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He wears a quarter-zip sweater fastened to the neck, his pale skin grey with the cold. He’s frowning, which isn’t unusual, but you can tell now the difference between his resting expression and true perturbance.

“Right? When was the last time you had half a team?” you ask.

“A long time ago.” He thinks on it for a moment before shaking his head, and straightening up. “I’m lucky you could come at all.”

You hold your baby bump, the distension bigger than ever and your growth showing no signs of stopping. The baby moves often enough to have desensitised you, but anytime they stop you stop yourself and wait again with a racing heart. The baby’s wiggling now right above your ribs, it feels like.

“Is Spencer taking good care of you?” Hotch asks.

You nudge him mildly. “Worried?”

“Of course not. Watching you two has…” Hotch, so rarely lost for words, smiles and takes your shoulder into his hand. “I’ve never been happier for someone.”

“You know I can still make him blush?” you ask with a smug smile.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” His arm moves across your shoulders and then drops. “If this is getting too much, let me know. You know what’s most important now is your health and wellbeing.”

“I’m a taken woman, sir.”

“Enough,” he says, “I can send you home today, if you like.”

Spencer and Emily come around the corner with two white bags hanging from their elbows. Spencer must catch the tail end of Hotch’s teasing, his mouth pinched with worry that quickly clears upon further investigation of your face. “You okay?”

“Fine, just teasing.” Spencer steps into your space. “Hello?”

He takes his scarf from his neck and wraps it around you, one gentle loop at a time. “Your breath is turning to liquid,” —he touches your cheek— “because the air is at dew point. Which means it’s super cold out and you still didn’t bring a scarf or hat.”

“Imagine me in a bobble hat,” you laugh. “No, thanks.”

He tucks the ends of the scarf into your coat and the loop of the scarf up over your chin. “You know the baby can feel the cold?”

“What?” you ask, pulling the scarf up over your nose quickly.

“Seriously. Not as much as you do,” he adds, sensing your worry, “but she can feel it.”

You don’t know if the baby’s a she, just Spencer likes to think they are, and you don’t mind enough to correct him. You’ll both love whoever it is you have in the end, of course, and waiting’s half the fun. “You know what else they can feel?” you say. “Hunger.”

He shows you the straining bag on his arm. “I know, dove,” he says quietly, a rare seriousness, a protectiveness about him that emerges more and more these days about him as he finds your hand. “Let’s go eat, okay? You should’ve had something hours ago.”

“I felt sick.”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He kisses your cheek.

Spencer leads the charge back the way you came to the hotel. Hotch catches your eyes as you follow and sends you a look that’s equal parts fond, approving, and bemused.

“I’m sick of walking,” you say.

“I can’t carry you,” Spencer says.

“Is it me, or does he actually sound heartbroken?” Emily asks Hotch under her breath.

Spencer is actually heartbroken. You lean heavily on him so he can feel useful, and so you can finally have a breather. You make it look easy, but being pregnant is very, very hard.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

iiping · 11 months

Text

kaveh snapping at alhaitham for buying another ugly wood carving… except he forgot it was his birthday 👀

read my short fic on twitter here or see more below! 🫶

—

“This looks absolutely nothing like me!” Kaveh snaps at the rough-out Aranara carving that suddenly shows up one morning, looking so blonde and angry.

Alhaitham comes out of his room at this moment and walks over to their common shelf where the architect stands.

Kaveh has a meeting with a particularly frustrating client today and he’s feeling so anxious that he cannot help but snaps at Alhaitham too, “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring ugly wood carvings into our home!?”

Alhaitham looks at Kaveh, his lips tightens. Something unfathomable flashes across his eyes and disappears just as suddenly.

“Do whatever you want with it then,” Alhaitham says finally after an awkward silence. Then he grabs his key from the shelf and turns his back to walk towards the front door without saying another word.

Kaveh looks at him leaving the house in puzzlement. It is not a rare occasion to see the Scribe not bothering to argue with him but Alhaitham never walks away after saying only one sentence before. He looks as if he’s angry or even…pouting? Kaveh is not sure if that word can describe Alhaitham.

Maybe Kaveh did something wrong? He gasps at the thought.

Is it because the smell of the cream soup he made yesterday was too strong? Or maybe it was the fact that the house is now so messy because he’s in the middle of tidying up things? Or maybe he moved or touched some books he wasn’t supposed to?

Kaveh ends up thinking for the whole day. He even spaces out during the client’s meeting and almost drops the model when he tries to present his plan.

He thinks and thinks but nothing comes to his mind. They have been on unusually pretty good terms lately, so he cannot think of something recent that might have made Alhaitham upset.

Kaveh is so deep in thought he almost bumps into Collei on the way home.

“Ah! Sorry!” Kaveh exclaims then realizes who it is, “Collei! I didn’t know you were in town today!”

Somehow, the trainee Forest Ranger looks shocked to see him. She quickly picks up something that fell to the ground when they bumped into each other earlier. Kaveh catches a glimpse of a small green box with yellow ribbon before Collei swiftly hides it behind her back.

“It’s so good to see you! Wanna grab something to eat?” Kaveh asks, ignoring her suspicious behavior. He’s not ready to go home just yet, not when he still hasn’t figured out what he did wrong.

“Uh, sorry I have somewhere to be today,” Collei replies nervously, avoiding to meeting his eyes, “If you will excuse me, I really need to get going.”

Then she takes off before he can say another word.

Kaveh ruffles his hair in confusion. What is going on today?

After wandering around aimlessly for a while, he decides that he has no other place to go except the good old Lambad’s Tavern.

He sits down at a table and orders a drink even though it’s merely 5PM.

“Hey, Kaveh!” Lambad shouts his name from behind the counter, “That one’s on the house! Happy Birthday!”

Oh. Shit.

A realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

“How could I forget!” he cries, standing up abruptly, “It is my birthday!”

He tells Lambad that he’ll take a raincheck on that glass of wine before leaving the tavern. Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can and finds Alhaitham standing in front of the shelf with the Aranara carving on one hand and a bag on another.

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows when he sees Kaveh practically flying from the front door.

“No, wait—-“ Kaveh tries to catch his breath, “D-don’t throw that away!”

“Oh?” Alhaitham puts down the Aranara and turns to face the architect. “Seems like you finally remember something.”

“Sorry for what I said this morning,” Kaveh blurts out, “I know it sounds like an excuse but that client’s project kept me frustrated all night and I shouldn’t have taken it on you.”

Alhaitham looks at him silently.

“Alright, alright,” Kaveh puts two hands in the air, “I apologize for calling it ugly.”

The Scribe lets out a chuckle right this second. It is clear that he does not intend put up any fights with Kaveh on his birthday.

Alhaitham hands him the Aranara in question and asks, “Will you also stop calling my other wood carvings ugly?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kaveh replies with a beaming smile. His eyes light up as he takes the wooden figure in his hands.

Alhaitham gives him birthday presents every year but they are usually books or drafting tools. This is the first time Kaveh has received something custom-made. Well, from anyone, really.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning,” he mumbles, feeling the rough wood under his fingers. “Sure, it looks a bit cruder than that one in your bedroom which I kind of like, but the more you look at it, the mor—- Hey!”

“I changed my mind,” Alhaitham announces with a straight face, the Aranara is now back to his hand. “I’m taking it back.”

Kaveh blinks.

“What did you just say!?” he raises his voice.

“I don’t see any reasons why it should be in the possession of someone who doesn’t appreciate it,” he replies simply while putting the wooden figure in the bag, then starts to walk to the entrance hall.

“How do you know I don’t appreciate it!?” Kaveh follows him, trying so hard not to yell at his back, “This is ridiculous! You just gave it to me literally a second ago!”

That does not make Alhaitham slow down one bit. In the heat of the moment, Kaveh charges at him without thinking.

Next thing he knows, they are both on the floor with Alhaitham being beneath him. He quickly snatches the bag from the Scribe’s hand and sits up.

“Ha!” Kaveh exclaims, raising it in the air in victory. “You cannot walk away from me this time! Don’t you know that it’s rude to take back what you have given!?”

When there isn’t any response, Kaveh glances down, only to see that Alhaitham is covering his face laughing.

Kaveh looks at this scene in disbelief.

“Were you just teasing me!?” he asks with a high-pitched voice, “Oh my god, who are you? What have you done to my Alhaitham?”

“I couldn’t help,” he is still laughing, “You should’ve seen your face.”

It’s extremely rare for Kaveh to see a silly side of Alhaitham, let alone seeing him laughing like this. Kaveh stares dazedly at him, completely forgetting why he was mad in the first place.

“You can have the Aranara,” Alhaitham says with a smile, “Will you get off me now? Although I don’t really mind—-”

Kaveh interrupts this sentence with a cough, just realizing what a dangerous position they are in. He shifts to move out of the way, but at this moment, a small piece of paper falls of the bag and lands on Alhaitham’s chest.

The Scribe’s eyes widen as he moves to reach for it, but Kaveh is quicker.

Seeing what’s on there, he is speechless.

Alhaitham covers his face again, but his ears are turning visibly red. The worse thing is, Kaveh can also feel his face burning too.

“You carved this,” he asks softly, “for me?”

After a while, Alhaitham admits with a sigh, “Yes.”

Kaveh is dumbfounded. He assumed that it was merely a commission. Never has he ever thought Alhaitham would go that far to do something like this for him.

“That’s why you’ve been coming home late for the past week!” Kaveh just remembers how unusual it was when he said that he needed to work overtime.

“You knowing this wasn’t part of the plan, I was too careless.” he says flatly and decides to pull himself up, unintentionally getting closer to Kaveh. “Now it’s good time for you to forget you have seen that workshop receipt.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kaveh pokes his chest, “This Aranara is now worth a million mora to me.”

“You have just burdened yourself with a new enormous debt then” Alhaitham teases.

“Hey!”

“I think wood craving has grown on me.” Alhaitham smiles, “So I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with these ugly figurines for now.”

“Come on, they are not that ugly,” Kaveh chuckles, “But we do need to set up a proper corner for them so they don’t disrupt the current aesthetic.”

The Scribe can’t help but roll his eyes at this comment.

“Seriously though, thank you” Kaveh softly touches his shoulder and looks directly into his eyes, “It’s the first time someone did something so special for me. I will always treasure it.”

The Scribe stares back at him and without a warning, Alhaitham pulls him into his arms and whispers to his hair, “Happy Birthday, Kaveh.”

After that, Collei, along with Cyno and Tighnari, burst open their front door right when they are still hugging in the hallway. Kaveh’s face turns as red as a tomato as Alhaitham helps him up on his feet.

The night cannot be more perfect. The house is filled with the smell of good food, laughers and joy. His most favorite dishes are laid out on the table and the gifts are waiting for him to open. Wine never tastes better and even Cyno’s jokes are funnier than usual.

Kaveh watches as everyone starts to eat and cheerfully discuss about what games they are going to play tonight. His heart aches a bit thinking of how much he does not want to ever lose this; his friends, his happiness, his home.

And when his eyes accidentally meet with Alhaitham’s, he cannot help but wonder, would things turn out differently if he hadn’t met the Scribe at the tavern that night where he had taken Kaveh in?

He tries harder now to stay happy, to actually listen to some of Alhaitham’s advice, the sensible ones at least.

“Don’t burden yourself with something unnecessary from the past and from the future”, he would say.

So instead of dwelling on the past regrets and unknown future, Kaveh thinks he is ready now to find comfort in the present happiness.

(END)

#happy birthday kave uwuwuwuwuw #the love of my life #genshin impact #kaveh #myart #alhaitham #kavetham #haikaveh fic #kavetham fic #mywriting #haikaveh #haikavetham #just realized i spelled kaveh wrong in the first tag like wat

6K notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months

Text

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?”

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.”

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space.

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp.

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.”

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised.

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment.

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!”

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture.

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again.

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle.

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip.

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.”

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…”

“Osita…”

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.”

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed.

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened.

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi.

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker.

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner.

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see.

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways.

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front.

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them.

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box.

And holy fuck did he look hot.

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground.

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it.

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box.

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view.

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up.

“Hermosa, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind.

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade.

“What’s going on, baby?”

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you.

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.”

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you.

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-”

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.”

Oh, fuck me.

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?”

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it.

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body.

“Like, right now?”

“Like, right now.”

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest.

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat.

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room.

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal.

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming.

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…”

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function.

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further.

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?”

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth.

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal.

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic.

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin.

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came.

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly.

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor.

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace.

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible.

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-” You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him.

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure.

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.”

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear.

“You still okay, Osita?”

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again.

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response.

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again.

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt.

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser.

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.”

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core.

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him.

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came.

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high.

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath.

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point.

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.”

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.”

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-”

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics.

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.”

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.”

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

1K notes · View notes

ellemj · 5 months

Text

Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

“I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

“That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night. Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

“The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

“I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

“Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

“Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

“Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

“Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.” The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

TAG LIST: @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @wlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

1K notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 6 months

Text

Hahahaha good morning I had the wildest dream last night so I’m going to inflict it on all of you:

(I’m not done with keeper/kept. Just had to get this out)

Warnings for obsessive/possessive behavior, unhealthy and semi-one sided relationship, not-quite-dark John price.

John Price who decides it time he has a wife. Not retiring, god no! He’s not done yet. But his home is lonely when he’s on leave; he’s getting sentimental as he gets “older”. So, he wants a wife.

In theory, it sounds like just what he wants. A pretty warm thing snoozing in his bed when he gets home at ass o’clock in the morning. Someone to fret over new scars and fresh bandages. Someone to fuss at him for “taste testing” meals and wrinkle their nose at his cigars.

In practice, it’s not so easy. If it was, he reckons he would have been married by now. Good thing he’s already got the perfect candidate picked out.

You own a small business in his town. Not fabulously wealthy, but comfortable and independent. Something to keep you busy while he’s away but you make your own hours so your schedule it flexible to see him when he has infrequent leave.

And he adores you, knows that you’ve got more than a little crush on him. You smile and blush and reciprocate his interest, have only refrained from perusing anything because you didn’t think he was serious. But oh, he is.

One day you say something particularly charming and he says, “marry me.”

He’s been dropping these little jokes for a while now and you always start laughing because it’s just the kind of dramatic humor you love. Today you say something different than your usual overdramatic “oh but it could never work, captain.”

Today you say, “if only.”

How pathetic is it that you’re holding a candle for a man you’ve never even gotten a coffee with? Your family laments that your can’t spend your whole life married to your job. That they want grandchildren and nieces/nephews, someone to tell embarrassing stories about you to on holidays. You used to roll your eyes, but the prospect doesn’t feel so obligatory anymore.

Anytime you imagine it, it’s John Price there. You’ve stopped trying to imagine it for your heart’s sake.

Except a week later he’s sweeping into your shop and dropping a kiss on your cheek. An unusual greeting, but maybe he’s in a good mood. His hand lingers on the small of your back while you show him the new product that just came in.

You live above your shop and one day he shows up at the door with a bottle of wine, telling you he could use some good company. You’re shocked and confused but he looks like an amalgamation of every heartthrob in a hallmark or romcom you’ve ever “ironically” enjoyed. You invite him in.

By mid morning, he’s had you in every room of your apartment. Ate you out slow and greedy on the counters. Bent you over the dining table. Bounced you on his cock on your couch. Fingered his cum out of you in the bathtub. And absolutely ruined you twice over in your own bed.

He even changes the sheets before the two of you pass out that final time. And when you finally do wake up, he’s taken the initiative to brew coffee and make breakfast. It’s like a dream.

He fucks you against the door before he leaves.

When he’s deployed again, he calls you every night. You don’t expect it the first time, but it’s a sweet gesture to show things aren’t ruined. You’re not expecting the second time either and have to call him back when you climb out of the shower. The third time you wait for it, but still startle a bit when his name pops up on the screen.

He calls you every night he can while he’s away. You don’t know what to make of it.

Then one day you come back from errands to see movers in the yard. You think it’s some kind of mistake until John meets you at your car.

“Fire in the next building over,” he explains. “Their insurance will cover all the damages but it’s not safe to stay in your place. Mine’s just up the road. Figured you could stay until it’s sorted out.”

You want to be annoyed, and you almost are. But the overwhelm of nearly losing everything - only to have all the stress already handled and the important, nerve wracking decisions smoothed over? You just take the good luck.

To thank John for his generosity (and to fill the void of not running the shop) you bustle around his too-big house. Cook meals, keep things tidy. Keep John company when he manages to snag you from your gratitude-induced work.

He spends hours fucking you nice and slow, whispering things you barely remember in your ear. That you’re perfect for him, so sweet like a little wife, that he’d come home to you for the rest of his life. You kiss him quiet and rock back against him when it starts sounding too tempting.

Eventually, the repairs on your shop/apartment are done. It feels like a rude awakening to a pleasant dream. Instead of moving your things back, John moves more things in. When you tell him that you appreciate his kindness, but you should probably get back to your own space, he gets an odd look. Asks what you mean when this is your space.

And the trap springs closed.

“John,” you half-laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not actually married you know?”

“Not last I checked.”

The marriage certificate gets framed in the bedroom you’ve been sharing for a month. You storm out and stay in a hotel. He lets you for three days before coming to retrieve you. When you try to be stubborn, he gives you an exasperated look (as if you’re the one being unreasonable) and politely asks that you not make a scene by forcing him to carry you of there.

For your own reputation, you comply, glowering out his car window the whole ride to his house. Try to give him the silent treatment which lasts about 30 minutes before he’s got you moaning and whining on his cock.

He drives you to the shop in the morning and picks you up at night. Anytime you try to put your little foot down, he just scoops you off them. The neighbors start cooing that he’s such a good man. You try not to scream.

When he’s finally deployed again, you try to move all your things back to your home. Except the movers apologetically tell you that they can’t trespass on John’s property.

Fine, you’ll do it yourself. Somehow.

You pack two suitcases and some of your cookware. Load it all up in a rental - because John sent your damn car into the shop - and trying to get comfortable in your own flat again.

Except it’s all wrong. The scent of smoke still lingers, it’s cold because the heating hasn’t been turned on yet this year. Half your things are gone and there’s no food in the fridge or pantries. You tough it out. Buy a ready-made meal and new bed linens and pillow. Sleep in a bed too cold even with the heat finally on.

When John calls, you don’t answer. He sends a text that simply reads “I love you.” You toss your phone across the room.

The next night, when he calls again and you don’t answer, he sends a “stay safe, love.” You spend twenty minutes with fingers poised over the keys. Chug a glass of wine and send back a neutral “you too, John”.

When he calls on the third night, you pick up, bark a sharp “knock it off” and hang up. Another text that he was so happy to hear your voice.

Another call, you pick up and demand “what are you doing?” He chuckles on the other end. “Calling my darling wife. I miss you.” You believe him. That’s the worst part.

When he gets back, you ride the long, long river of denial right up until he’s at your door, eyebrows arched. “Really, love,” he hums, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here just because you missed me.”

You want to hit him. You storm off to your bedroom instead. He wanders the house. You hear him clattering in the kitchen and wandering around the living room. When you hear the door close, you think he’s finally left and given all this up.

Twenty minutes later, he’s casually removing the door (sans hinges) and gathering you up. When you get back to his house, he carries you inside and fucks the tantrum right out of you in the shower, growling that you don’t smell like home anymore.

When you wake up from your three-orgasm induced nap, he’s washing the clothes you took to your old flat. On your left hand is a pretty diamond with “JP” carved into the band.

At the store, people start calling you “Mrs. Price”. The neighbors (John’s neighbors) invite you over as “the Prices”. You glare at him when he starts looking too smug about it.

When he’s set to deploy again, he sits you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with arms.

“Don’t make me come get you this time,” he warns, pressing kisses along your jaw. “This is gonna be a rough one. I just want to see you when I get home.”

It’s a warning that you know to heed. You don’t try to leave this time. When he calls, you answer, rattling off stupid details about your day. You’re shocked to hear him remember names and dates and tasks with everything else hes got going on. Promises he’ll deal with the creep at the post office when he gets home.

“And… you are coming home… right?” you ask.

“Nothing could keep me away, love.”

He doesn’t call for three days straight. You tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just anxiety over how the hell to handle his assets if he’s dead.

At 3am, the bed dips, a warm body pressing up against your back. You recognize John’s arms wrapping tight around your waist. You stir.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Perfect now, love.”

“Mm welcome home.”

“Good to be home, gorgeous.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #john price x reader #john price #captain john price

3K notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 months

Note

hi, i hope you're doing okay!

so look i know your requests are closed but i just had an ✨insight✨while reorganizing my room today and i couldn't stop thinking about it, so i decided to write it down here cause either i'd forget it like tomorrow. you don't need to do it, obviously, but if you will, take your time.

so. fem!reader and bucky, established relationship (maybe married) and she's pregnant but she doesn't know cause it's like, super early, she didn't even have morning sickness yet. and mr. super-soldier-enhanced-hearing can hear the baby's heart as soon as it starts beating and he's like confused at first but when he realizes what it is he starts crying and hugging her waist and she's like "buck? you okay love?" and he says "you're pregnant honey, we're having a baby!" bucky's super emotional and thrilled and beyond happy he starts laughing through the tears. he gets super protective of her and her belly but like always pampering her making sure she's drinking enough water and eating and going out at three am to but something shes craving and he's like, super excited to shout to the world he got his girl pregnant with his baby. and he starts sleeping with his head on her belly just listening to the baby's heartbeat as a lullaby.

(he's gonna be the best dad i just know it <3)

hii angel!! love it!! I did change some things, hope that’s okay. thanks for requesting and hope you like it💌

>requests now open<

EXTRA GRILLED CHEESE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 1066

summary. bucky has suspicions that you might be pregnant

For the last week, Bucky had an expression you struggled to place - his face often pulled together with intrigue, brows quizically furrowed when around your company. At first, it seemed normal to you - his infamous resting bitch face, but the more he wore it around you, the more you started to worry.

You often felt as though you were bothering him with your talking, the features on his face unusually hard and rigid as he listened to you. It was a silly thought, really - he's your husband. He'd tell you if he needed a minute of quiet.

But the harder you looked, the more you began to realise his face wasn't that of judgment, but instead inspection - like he was analysing you.

Elbows resting on the kitchen island, you lean over the countertop, getting closer to Bucky sitting on the other side.

"Another one?" you ask, reaching for his empty plate.

He wryly smiles. "Only if you are."

"One is never enough," you chuckle sweetly, pulling the ingredients back out of the fridge - collecting everything you need for grilled cheese. "Might do a few more— been really hungry lately. That cool with you?"

Bucky hums softly, head tilted to the side as he watches you - completely smitten. That confusing expression long gone.

"I got it," he stands, moving around the island to you on the other side. "I got the rest. You sit, honey."

You smile cutely, stepping aside and sitting on the countertop - allowing your husband's help. "What do you want to do tonight? Movie and snacks?"

He places the sandwiches in the pan and moves to stand between your legs - slotting his lower half between. Giving you a chaste kiss, he smiles, eyes soft as he looks over you. "Sounds good. Will have to go to the store though— don't have enough in."

"We can go after this?" you offer.

He hums, kissing you sweetly. He pulls back, eyes darting over you. "We'll stop past the pharmacy first. Gotta pick something up."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Back within the comfort of home, you and Bucky begin to put away the items from the store - bags open on the worktop as you rummage through them, standing side by side.

Bucky stills and turns to face you, reaching into his pocket. "I uh..." he pauses and clears his throat. "I picked this up while you were looking at things in the pharmacy," he starts, pulling out a small rectangular box. "Feels stupid, I don't know," he shrugs, not confident with the direction of his proposal.

Your eyes flicker from the box in his hand and up to his face, looking over him inquisitively. "A pregnancy test?" you ask, taking it from his light hold.

"Feels like I'm insulting you," he chuckles bashfully, stepping closer to you. "It's just... I have this feeling," he says softly, extending his hands to rest on either side of your face. "You don't have to take it."

"No— no, I do— I think. I want to. It's just that..." you exhale faintly. "We haven't really spoken about this for a while. What if it's not the result we want? What if we don't like what we see on the test?" you ask anxiously, fiddling with the box.

Bucky pauses, a soft smile on his face as he tilts your face back up - making you look up at him again. "We have time," he says sweetly. "If we don't like what we see, there are changes— there's other options," he solidifies his reassurance with a kiss. "I'll be happy with either result."

"Should I do it now?" you ask, looking down at the box.

"You do it when you're ready, honey. Doesn't have to be now, doesn't have to be today."

Briefly reading over the writing, you feel a slight swell in your heart. It all felt so daunting. You knew this was something you'd both eventually want, but the idea of it beginning now was enough to make you feel queasy. Everything was going so well in your lives, and this was such a big step in your marriage - you were just scared of what the result would do to you both.

With a deep inhale, you shrug sweetly, feigning bravado. "Piece of cake."

"Piece of cake," he repeats, kissing your temple.

Stepping aside, you walk into the bathroom - box clutched in hand as you read through the directions. The heavy thumping in your ears distracting you from understanding it all.

After following the instructions, you place the stick aside on some toilet paper and call in your husband, moving to sit on the edge of the bath. Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into the small room, eyes focused on yours as he walks to sit beside you - slipping his hand into yours assuringly. His large hand enveloping yours.

You sit in uneasy quiet for what feels like an hour, each of your brains whirling with thoughts and ideas and questions - the noise far too loud in your minds.

Then, finally, after a while, your timer goes off, the obnoxious sound interrupting you both from your fazed-out states.

"You look."

"Are you sure?" he asks, holding your hand as you both stand.

You hum anxiously, nodding at him.

With one hand tightly in yours, the other reaches for the little stick - fingers loosely wrapping around it. Bucky stills, the features on his face slowly softening.

"What does it say?"

He nods faintly, his brows curving up in the middle. "Positive," he murmurs, the shock evident in the way his tone wavers. "It's positive."

"Positive?" you repeat, your expression widening.

He hums, enveloping you in a tight embrace - pressing kisses into your cheek.

"We're having a baby," you mutter, voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah," he nods, pulling back to look over your face - checking you were okay with it all as he is. "We're having a baby," he echos you, cupping your cheeks.

"You're okay with this?" you ask, focus blurring from a few stray tears.

He nods firmly. "Of course," he chuckles, his tearline slowly filling. "Are you?"

"Yeah," you laugh lightly, nodding - the gentle grip of his hands moving with the soft motion of your head.

"I'll give you everything you want. Everything you need— I'll get you it all."

You already had everything you wanted.

#request #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot

646 notes · View notes

lowkeyremi · 2 months

Text

WHAT ARE THEIR BEIGE FLAGS? (HCS)

pairing: eren, armin, jean, connie, reiner, bertholdt, levi, erwin, hange, mikasa, sasha, pieck, and annie x fem!reader (separate) summary: things they do that are unusual within your relationship ! content: fluff, little bit of swearing, established relationships (marriage implied for a few), nothing too crazy today just wholesome :3 not proofread! this is all just a silly little thing I thought up, it's not meant to be taken seriously wc: 1.3k

🡆 𝐄. 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

Eren's beige flag is that when he controls the music in the car he skips at least twenty songs on his playlist before he settles on a song, then one minute into the song he'll skip again.

"Do you want me to play something, 'ren?" You're trying not to laugh at him. He's got a cute little pout on his face.

"Yes please.. I don't wanna crash cuz I can't pick a song."

🡆 𝐀. 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓

His beige flag is that whenever he sees a cute stuffed animal he just HAS to buy it. The thing is- he doesn't have enough space for another one. Whenever someone comes over and opens the wrong door a mountain of stuffed animals fall out of the closet.

"Um. [name], are these yours?" Mikasa asks while glancing at the stuffed animals.

"No, those are Armin's." You don't even look up from your phone, which lets Mikasa know this has been going on for some time.

🡆 𝐉. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

Jean's beige flag is that he believes microwave food is "making dinner." He'll be like,

"babe I cooked us dinner!! :D"

and on your way to the table you see two microwave spaghetti boxes in the garbage. You don't have the heart to tell him that's not cooking.

"Wow baby, that looks delicious!"

🡆 𝐂. 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

His beige flag is that he removes the little "crust" part of a pop tart and only eats the part with the icing on it. It's just dry and bland so why eat it? (I do this 😝)

"Hey do any of you want the rest of my pop tart?" You anticipate how weirded out his friends will be when they see what part of the pop tart he's talking about.

"Yeah, let me get the rest." Jean says not paying too much attention. Connie hands him a napkin with the crumbling end pieces.

"Dude what the hell... I thought you meant like a half or something!"

🡆 𝐑. 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐍

Reiner is too cute. His beige flag is that whenever someone good looking appears on tv or social media he covers his eyes. He doesn't want you to think those women will change his opinion of you and how you look.

"Reiner, baby, you're allowed to look at attractive people and think they look hot. I think people are hot all the time."

"I know but- wait what?"

"You're my number one man obviously but I can't deny when someone is good looking. You don't have to either, because I trust you." He huffs quietly, all this time he had been covering his eyes while you admire other men?

"Wait so you call them hot, but you wouldn't leave me for them, right?" Now's he starting to feel a little insecure.

"Baby, I wouldn't leave you if someone paid me a million dollars."

🡆 𝐁. 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

His beige flag is that he physically makes a "gulp" sound whenever he's scared or nervous.

"You're gonna do great on that speech today, babe. I believe in you!" Usually your attempts to comfort Bertholdt work but you can tell it's getting to him when he goes,

"Gulp."

"You did it again."

"It's a force of habit, my love." He says scrubbing his face whilst you giggle at him.

🡆 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

His beige flag is that he's never embarrassed when someone walks in on him or he walks in on someone else. It's his body so why should he care? He thinks people make a big deal out of that for no reason.

When you're in the shower he'll open the door to come use the bathroom or do something else.

"Levi! You scared me." He watches you in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He has to stop himself from rolling them when you try to cover up your body with your arms.

"Why are you so on edge? I've seen you naked plenty of times, darling."

🡆 𝐄. 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

His beige flag is he says old outdated phrases on purpose. You're hanging out with him in the living room and he's on the phone with Levi.

You don't care too much about what your husband is saying until he says, "Yeah don't worry about it, Levi. I'll be down there in a jiffy."

"Really, Honey? Jiffy? 😭"

🡆 𝐙. 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

Their beige flag is that they can't remember your family members' names to save their life. They've just got a lot going on so when you go to your family gatherings they're like,

"Oh- you're- uh... I know it, give me a second!" Hange closes their eyes to think for a second.

"You're Caroline!" Hange is so confident they're right.

Your little cousin looks at you, then back at your partner, "My name is Lexi..."

"I was close!" Hange says with a bold smile.

🡆 𝐌. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

Ever since her old scarf started to tatter her beige flag has been knitting little abstract figures. She'll knit these goofy little monster guys and sew buttons on them for eyes. They're so cute so you don't mind. You have like five that she's made for you.

"Hey pretty girl, I got distracted and made another." Mikasa says with a little groan.

"It's okay, Mika. They're really cute!" She lets out a sigh of relief.

🡆 𝐒. 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒

Her beige flag is that she unironically eats with a bib. She argues it's one of those "adult bibs" thinking that it makes it sound better. She just doesn't want to get her clothes dirty and when Sasha eats she eats, which explains how she would even get that messy.

"Hey babe can you get my bib before you sit down."

...

She never fails to catch you off guard. When you hand it to her she gives you a kiss on the check, "You're the best girlfriend I could have ever asked for. Thank you for dinner."

"Of course, sweet girl."

🡆 𝐏. 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

I love my girl Pieck but I know for a fact her beige flag is that she puts on chapstick just to lick it off.

"Damn my lips are really dry, you got any chapstick on you, baby?" The two of you are going out for dinner so of course she wants to look her best.

"Are you gonna eat it, like always?"

She rolls her eyes, "I do not eat it."

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes, but since you love your girlfriend you give her your strawberry chapstick which she uses a generous amount of.

Not even two minutes later you spot her licking her lips.

"YOU DO EAT IT, LIAR!!!!"

🡆 𝐀. 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓

Annie's beige flag is that she'll repurpose absolutely anything. Nothing you want to throw away actually makes it to the trash can when she's around.

While you were folding up your clothes you found one of your old socks with a hole in it, so you believe it's that sock's time to go.

When you get up to throw it away you hear your girlfriend call out, "Don't throw that away. I can make it into a toy for Churro."

Churro is your crazy orange cat the two of you took in.

"Annie, Churro has like a million toys. I think he'll be okay without my sock."

"Come on, don't throw it away. I saw this video, and now I wanna try to make the cool cat toy!" You can't deny Annie when she's this cute so you give in. (she always says she's not cute but you beg to differ)

"Fine, here." You throw the sock to her and she makes a perfect catch.

634 notes · View notes

norris55s · 8 months

Text

she devil - charles leclerc

(black cat) ferrari driver reader x (golden retriever) charles leclerc social media au

a/n: the concept is stone cold driver meets sunshine driver, is infected by the happiness, and is cool with it because she fell in love. face claim is bella hadid :) ❤️

requests are open!

————————————————————————

scuderiaferrari

liked by 2,034,924

scuderiaferrari: We are extremely proud to announce our 2024 driver line up: Charles Leclerc, Il Predestinato, and Y/N L/N, La Diavolessa. We are certain this is a step closer to bring the championship back to Maranello, and to our Tifosi. ❤️

view all 5,724 comments

charles16s: why is she named La Diavolessa?

y/nsupremacy: she’s from Italy and the tifosi have loved her forever, so they nicknamed her She Devil because of how she drives

y/ncupid: i have been dreaming of this for YEARS

leclercfosi: i wonder how she’ll team up with charles, she has always been a handful lol

fallingfory/n: she is a great sportswoman. women don’t have to be complacent to be good people, fck outta here w/ that narrative

————————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by 1,925,024

y/nusername: Ferrari 2024.

view all 2,034 comments

charles_leclerc: Give them hell. Welcome to the team! ❤️‍🔥

sebastianvettel: I’m sure you will bring glory back to Maranello ❤️

————————————————————————

y/nusername:

liked by 1,234,245

y/nusername: New season, new cars. That was a great first race.

view all 2,395 comments

charles_leclerc: 👊❤️‍🔥

scuderiaferrari: We are so proud of you!

lewishamilton: Welcome, huge start 💪🏼

————————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by 1,562,924

y/nusername: Amazing team results so far, let’s keep up the good work after the summer break.

leclercstarlight: miss girl doesn’t smile much does she

wildflowery/n: imagine being in 2024 and still being a “you should smile more” ass bitch, she’ll smile when she wants to

charles_leclerc: Amazing season 🏆❤️‍🔥

eurougeleclerc: he’s so whipped lol i’m calling it not

ferrarisduo: me when im delusional

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc

liked by 1,134,385

charles_leclerc: We did everything to maximize our results today. Big congrats to y/nusername for her first win; so very happy for you! ❤️‍🔥 The pizza celebration was better than anything.

view all 2,875 comments

y/nusername: Thank you, Charles. You’ve been a great teammate.

alliny/n: what goes ON

shadowleclerc: she gives kimi and i love it

mastermindy/n: she’s like race win? cool

————————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by 1,035,475

y/nusername: Things didn’t go to plan in my race, but I’m genuinely happy for charles_leclerc. We will be back stronger.

view all 2,078 comments

y/nsupremacy: y’all don’t get it she’s SMILING after a dnf because of A MAN

y/nhaven: she also literally defended for him. strategy had already fucked her up but the fact that she wasn’t coming for his throat… she must really like him lmao

charles_leclerc: Thank you, Y/N. Couldn’t have done with without you ❤️‍🔥

midnightcharles: he keeps using the heart fire emoji i can’t lmfao

————————————————————————

formulanews

liked by 54,724

formulanews: Charles and Y/N have been interviewed together for GQ magazine, and they were asked about the nature of their relationship as teammates or friends. Charles said: “I think the world of her and I admire her mentality and race craft a lot. I also think she is a great friend to me and everyone around her, I don’t know why people think she isn’t. Y/N brings a lot of passion to the grid.” Meanwhile, Y/N told the publication: “Charles is a good guy, and a better driver. Being his teammate is fruitful; so is being his friend.”

view all 245 comments

starleclerc: y/n doesn’t speak much but when she does it’s meaningful

y/nheart: charles also spoke so highly of her like wow

leclercsplanet: honestly charles likes her a lot and y/n also seems comfortable with him which unusual

————————————————————————

f1waggossip

liked by 104,483

f1waggossip: We are as shocked as anyone else but Charles and Y/N have been seen acting very cozy on a yacht in Monaco. New relationship just dropped, out of literal nowhere!

view all 1,035 comments

lovebirdleclerc: THERES NO MF WAY

eurougeleclerc: i was called delusional I CALL IT MANIFESTING

y/nhaven: what, and i can’t stress this enough, the fuck just happened

————————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by 2,794,924

y/nusername: Love :)

view all 6,024 comments

charles_leclerc: my sweet girl ❤️‍🔥🤍

y/nhope: i am fainting rn like actually afraid for my life rn

dazzlingleclerc: pinch me fr

landonorris: she does smile everyone, i’ve seen it when they (disgustingly) kiss

danielricciardo: don’t be so jealous (it’s true, it’s disgustingly sweet)

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc

liked by 2,034,835

charles_leclerc: She is actually an angel 🤍❤️‍🔥

view all 4,035 comments

y/nusername: Still she devil, just in love.

charles_leclerc: Give them hell forever.

carlossainz55: Can I just say you’re welcome for leaving Ferrari and letting Y/N join?

#f1 #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc fanfic #Charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc social media au #Charles leclerc smau #Charles leclerc au

1K notes · View notes

selenezq · 3 days

Text

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

CW: dub con, loss of control, sex pollen trope

Pairing Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

Edited by the lovely @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

But That's A Freaky Sex Flower

It is a beautiful day in Hell, about as pretty as it gets, really. You take in all the sights and smells as you walk along the sidewalk. You are heading to the store, on an errand for the hotel, when the most lovely flower catches your eye. Coming to a standstill, you bend down to get a closer look.

Pink petals with a beautiful, intricate, black design surrounded a lovely red center. You bring your nose down to get a whiff, inhaling its saccharine scent. Gently plucking it, you tuck it into your hair to wear as a beautiful accessory.

You’ve never seen anything like it before. Excited by your new discovery, you find some extra pep in your step as you walk the short distance to and inside the store. You pass the aisles filled with various foods, houseware goods, and personal items, reading the signs above each one until you see the one you need. You turn left to walk down the aisle, looking around until you see what you had come for: some pens and paper.

Reaching your hands out you gingerly grab them. As you leave the area and make your way through the store to checkout, you suddenly begin to feel warm. Placing your items on the counter, you give a kind smile to the store clerk. "It's a scorcher out there today, isn't it?" You ask congenially.

"Nah, it's not that hot," the cashier responds curtly followed by rather rude eye roll as they ring your items up, then tell you with a monotone voice, "Your total will be $7.93.”

Quickly pulling the money out, you pay for the items. With a smile and a wave despite their rudeness, you head out of the store and are on your way back to the hotel. Walking back, you feel like it's getting hotter out by the second. In an attempt to cool off, you undo the top button of your blouse. As you continue walking home, a drop of sweat trickles its way down your neck.

After what seems to take an eternity, your journey back to the hotel comes to a close. You feel a sense of profound relief at finally being able to get inside out of the heat of the Hellish sun. Opening the door, you step into the hotel, dropping the shopping bag on the nearest surface before throwing yourself onto the couch in the lobby.

"Heya Toots, how’ya doin’?" Angel Dust asks you as you attempt to regulate your breathing. Has it always been this scorching in the hotel? You wonder to yourself.

"I'd be better if the weather cooled off a little." You mutter, a little irritated, the poor attitude unusual for you. You bring your hand up to wipe at the sweat now threatening to drip down your chest. "I did find this pretty flower though." You say, a smile returning to your face as you turn your head to show Angel the beautiful bloom that is adorning your hair.

"Oh toots, that's not a regular flower, it's a freaky sex flower. It's used as an ingredient in the love potion Val makes," Angel says somberly, leaning forward to get a better look. "How long ‘ave ya had it on ya?" He asks with genuine concern. "It can be pretty potent when undiluted." He finishes with a worried frown.

"Probably a little over an hour," you say, beginning to freak out. "How long does it take before it starts to affect someone?" You ask, your tone rising with your temperature.

"Well, love potions usually act pretty quick; I'd guess such a concentrated dose of the aphrodisiac, directly from the pollen’s faster ya know?" Angel theorizes aloud.

"Fuck,” you mumble as you pulled the flower from your hair quickly before tossing it into the trash, as if to pretend it never happened. "Is there an antidote I could possibly take?" You enquire, your tone laced with apprehension.

"Nope, ya gotta fuck someone to get it out of ya system," Angel replied, trying his best not to laugh. "Ya know, I've actually got someone I could ca-"

"NO." You blurt out instantly to shut his idea down. "I mean," you clear your throat uncomfortably, then finish hurriedly, "that's not necessary, but thank you for offering."

"Okay but, you're in for more than mild discomfort if ya don't find someone to help ya." Angel warns you, still trying to get you to see the situation clearly.

"I can handle myself; just please don't tell anyone." You ask the spider demon, deciding to keep this development a secret. You fail to notice the shadow in the corner that had been listening the entire time. You stand up, a wave of arousal shooting straight to your core making you feel almost dizzy.

Composing yourself as much as you can, you bid farewell to Angel Dust and head towards the staircase. As your footsteps lead you closer to the next floor, you grip the railing for support as a particularly painful bolt of arousal sweeps through you, causing an intense ache in between your thighs. When the pain level rises from mild discomfort to something more, you begin to move as quickly as you can down the hallway to your room.

Reaching your room at long last, you hastily grab the doorknob only for your sweaty, clammy hands to slide right off if it. Struggling with the knob for what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to get it open and gain access to your room. Slamming it shut behind you with a bang, you throw yourself onto your bed as another sharp ache wracks your body.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you open the drawer to your nightstand, reaching around until you feel the cool silicon material of your most trusted toy. With a sound of triumph, you pull the vibrator out and set it onto the bed. Turning it on with a click, you pull your panties to the side and bring the pulsating object to rest on your throbbing clit as a loud moan of relief rips itself from your mouth.

Your pussy already soaked from the effects of the pollen, the toy slides right into you with ease and you cry out in relief. You can't remember a time this ever felt so good. The toy vibrates right where you need it and the feeling of an orgasm creeps up quickly. Your back arches off the bed as you finish loudly. The toy continues buzzing as you lay there in the aftershock of it.

Pressing the button to turn the device off, a contented sigh leaves your lips as you remove the vibrator from your cunt with a wet noise. The relief your orgasm brought is short-lived, however. because the painful aching feeling quickly returns. Your walls clench and spasm needily around nothing but air. A feeling of desperation quickly rises inside you.

Just as the tears of frustration are about to fall from your wide, blown-out eyes, you hear a knock at the door. Hastily, you shove the sex toy away in its drawer and you pull your panties and skirt back into their proper place. Lurching towards the door as hastily as you can, you try your best to avoid falling amid the dizzy feeling that overtakes you.

Another knock sounds, followed by Alastor's voice calling out, "Everything alright, my dear?" Just the very sound of his voice has your cunt gushing, the aching sensation heightening to a new degree.

Trying to appear as composed as you can, you open the door and greet him, "Hey Alastor, I'm feeling just fine."

"Are you quite sure about that? You look rather flushed," He says, his gaze on your red, damp, complexion. Alastor places his hand on your face and your pulse quickens, you feel as if your blood is boiling you alive. You’d do anything to have his hands lower, where you ache the most.

Letting out an audible gasp, you cut it off before it fades into a moan, the sensation of his skin on yours sending a pleasurable tingling down to your very core.

"I just don't think that's true." Alastor states, pushing his way past you into your room. You stumble, and he reaches a hand out to steady you, gripping your arm firmly.

When Alastor touches you this time, an embarrassing, obscene, moan leaves your lips. The warmness of his skin makes the point of contact feel as if it is on fire. You wonder briefly, Would he touch me there, if I asked him to?

"Whatever is the matter, darling? Could it be that you need something? You'll have to use your words if there’s something you desire." He finishes, smirking down at you.

"I want you to touch me, please." You whine needily as you look up at him. Your eyes shine with desperation.

"Ah, I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, dear, as I am already touching you." He says, voice full of his usual snark. His signature smile widens, gaze falling to where his hand is still on your forearm, steadying you. You look away bashfully before his other clawed hand comes up to cradle your chin, tilting it up so your gaze meets his crimson one.

"Alastor, please, be kind to me just this once." You plead, voice soft.

"I'm being plenty kind, checking up on you, asking how you're faring, and what you might need." Alastor says, his tone warning. "Now tell me what you need, in better detail." His commanding tone leaves no room for disobedience.

Giving him one last pleading look, you let out a breathy sigh before letting the words fall from your lips, "I need you to touch my cunt, please, Alastor."

"There; that wasn't so hard now was it, my dear?" He says with a winning smile. Alastor pushes you back up against the door, caging you in with his much larger body. He lets his hand trail agonizingly slowly down the curve of your breasts, before playing with the hemline of your skirt. "I could do anything to you right now and you would thank me for it wouldn't you, darling?" Alastor remarks, his grin widening almost sinisterly.

"Yes, please, please help me relieve this burning and aching. I can't take much more." You almost sob out.

"Well, now, we shan’t keep a lady waiting then. I do have manners after all." He declares before hooking his hand in the waistband of your skirt. With a firm yank, he has the garment falling down to your feet. Alastor quickly rips your panties to shreds with a flick of his sharp claws. His fingers find your throbbing clit and begin tracing circles.

"Ah, ah, yes please." You moan in relief, his fingers already providing so much more comfort than your own did. It feels so divine. Bringing his other hand down, he slips one finger into your soaking cavern. Alastor starts pumping it in and out of you as you lean against the door for support. Adding a second digit, and then a third, your lips form an ‘o’ of pleasure. The nosies his fingers make as they push in and out of you are almost pornographic.

It feels pleasurable, but you find yourself craving more, the throbbing you feel in your cunt needing something much bigger. "Please sir, I need more. I want your cock." You beg prettily.

"I'm inclined to reward you for asking so politely." Alastor remarks. Pulling his hand out of you, he brings your juices to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. The movement almost distracts you from the empty feeling between your legs. Before the aching sensation has a chance to return he's spinning you around, face pressed against the wall, bent at the waist. The motion forces your cunt up so he has a better view of it.

Licking his lips hungrily, Alastor takes one hand off your lovely form to undo his trousers. You hear the sound of the zipper moving down before his massive cock springs free. Without warning, he is shoving all of those so many inches inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. He lets out a shuddering groan feeling your tight warmth around him.

You wail as you feel the tip of him press into your cervix. This is the feeling of fullness you’ve been dying for.

"That's it, isn't it, my doe. You just needed to be filled by my cock, didn't you?" He coos softly into your ear, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. His hips snap into yours, each upward movement sending the most delicious sparks through your body.

"Yes Alastor; I needed you," You moan out as his movements become faster and harder. The sound of slapping skin fills the room as his slams his hard member into your dripping cunt. His hand finds its way to your clit again, moving in time with his quickened thrusts. The feeling of your orgasm barreling towards you reaches its peak and you cum on his cock with a shout. Alastor feels your soft pussy walls clenching tighyly around him and he continues to fuck you through your climax, chasing his own release.

With a growl, he finishes inside of you, his cock throbbing as he paints your walls with his cum in powerful spurts. He tightens his claws around your waist, leaving marks on your skin where his sharp tips press into you. Bringing the hand from your oversensitive clit up and away, Alastor strokes your hair gently while you are lost in the haze of fucked-out bliss.

"Tell me; did you really think you could satisfy yourself, my dear? You should have come right to me. Hopefully you are feeling more like yourself now." He hums, pulling out of you gently. Taking you into his arms with ease, he carries you to your bed before tucking you in tenderly. "Rest now darling; your body needs it." He tells you, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. You slip easily into slumber, lulled by the effects of your post-orgasm elation.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #sex pollen #hazbin hotel alastor

408 notes · View notes