#3) if you hold up your fingers and put down the one you want to multiply 9 by you get the answer

[spitdrunken]

Your Mr. Scarletella dear lord that was delicious!! I’m kinda obsessed w the concept of not knowing what you’re doing is bringing someone pleasure or at least not until they’ve cum from it. I praise you and I hope for more fics of that kind in the future <3

You're not sure why Mr. Scarletella has seen a bit more fidgety than usually lately. None of his behaviours present in typical, human ways. So, whereas you might have fiddled with your fingers, paced back and forth or talked too much, he's been eerily quiet and constantly distoring the space around him. Colours warp and twist. Sometimes, you'll blink and he'll be beside you. Then, you blink again, and he'll be in front of you. Before you know it, he's behind you again.

You simply can't shake the feeling something's going on. You stop walking. (Where had you been going again...?)

"You hurt?" You ask. "Upset? Troubled? Many quick... Move." Mr. Scarletella, usually eager to respond in his own way, remains quiet. He does appear right besides of you. You reach out for him, the brush of your fingers hovering right above his non-existent body. "Me want help you. You understand?"

"Me understand," he says. His voice is accompanied by more static than usual. The whole air around him seems to hum. Beyond that, his face looks a little different too, but you can't quite put your finger on it. "Me like you. Me want touch. Me want give you [...]... Happy. Enjoyable." He lowers his head a little, averting his face from yours. "You understand?"

You don't know one of the words he used. You try to repeat it. "[...]... Me not understand."

Mr. Scarletella tilts his umbrella a little towards you. "My body. ...Container. You want?" He shifts his hand so he is holding the handle of the umbrella out towards you. He wants you to hold it, it seems. If that'll make him happy, you're happy to oblige, though you don't quite see the significance. You smile at him.

"Me want. Give me." When you take it from him, you catch a glimpse of his face. It becomes obvious now what had been unclear to you before. A reddish flush has settled on his face, wide eyes only staring at your face for a moment before darting away. That should've been your first warning sign.

Even though he'd told you the umbrella could be touched, it's still a surprise that your hand doesn't go straight through it. There's a weight to the object that you hadn't expected. The handle seems to hum and vibrate in your hand with some kind of unseen power.

You twirl the handle in your hand, gliding your hands over the material. It's squishier than you would've thought. It's like holding an approximation of an umbrella made by someone who had only ever seen the object, rather than touched it themselves. You search and fiddle for the button to shut the top, just to make it a bit easier to carry, but you can't seem to find it. Static teases the edge of your hearing. You only see Mr. Scarletella out of the corner of your eye.

You twirl the handle in your hand, gliding your hands over the material. It's squishier than you would've thought. It's like holding an approximation of an umbrella made by someone who had only ever seen the object, rather than touched it themselves. You search and fiddle for the button to shut the top, just to make it a bit easier to carry, but you can't seem to find it. Static teases the edge of your hearing. You only see Mr. Scarletella out of the corner of your eye.

You sigh a little, your hands fiddling with the material before groping up and down the main body. Maybe it's unable to be closed? That would suck. Brow furrowed in thought about your silly little task, you extend your arm and press down on the outer canopy, trying to get it to fold in with no luck. When you push it in, it just pops back out again. Your arm is starting to ache from the weight. You squeeze the handle a bit tighter.

Then, Mr. Scarletella whines. Or, at least, you think he does. The noise is fragmented with so much static and garbled noise that it's hard to entirely tell. You whip around to face him, finding him in an entirely different position than before. He's slumped against the wall, feet facing outward, with an even deeper flush on his face as his fingernails scratch at his cheeks. His eyes are wide and his shoulders shake.

He looks downright loopy. He's lost control of his form, back having sunk several inches into the concrete wall behind him. Behind his fingers, he's grinning, eyes half-lidded and gaze unfocused. The sight sends an immediate, unmistakable shot of arousal through your body.

You're immediately overwhelmed with the desire to ruin him even more. If you had been able to touch him, you would've practically pounced on him, pulling his hand away and pressing your lips against his. Since that isn't possible, you lift up the umbrella and kiss it instead, intent on finding out how many more noises you can pull out of him now that you know what you're doing.

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[aeralux]

"Brother's Best Friend" - Cregan Stark

Modern!Cregan Stark x Jace's Sister!Reader

Summary: You simply wanted a ride home from your brother, Jace, after his hockey practice. But as usual, he takes a long time to get ready. Luckily, his best friend, Cregan Stark, comes to your rescue.

Warnings: SMUT; rough sex; anal; degradation; name calling; fingering; dirty fantasies of each other; Cregan is (lowkey) a pervert; oral (f!receiving); aftercare <3

Words: 7.9k

Notes: As always, no descriptive language of the reader is used. English is not my first language.

-- aera xx

Another day passed uneventfully, the steady hum of the library providing a comforting backdrop as you immersed yourself in your homework. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air, mingling with the muted whispers of other students absorbed in their tasks. You waited for your brother, Jace, to finish his practice, your mind wandering as you glanced occasionally at the clock, its ticking echoing the passage of time. Jace, already armed with a car and a license, rendered the thought of walking home laughable; there was no way you’d put in that effort when a free ride was merely a call away. After all, he was your brother—taking care of you was part of the deal.

The thought of watching their practice crossed your mind briefly, yet you found little motivation. Sure, all of Jace's teammates were undeniably attractive, with toned physiques and charming smiles. But the reality was that you soon grew weary of the spectacle. The image of muscular young men gliding across the ice, shouting playful taunts at one another as they executed rapid-fire plays in their crisp white jerseys, didn’t hold your interest for long. And the fact that they weren’t even topless made it feel like a missed opportunity; you couldn't help but think, what was the point?

Today was supposed to be your practice too—though the coach’s unexpected illness had dashed those plans. Instead of lacing up your cheerleading sneakers and perfecting routines, you were surrounded by textbooks and loose sheets of paper. You were a cheerleader, after all, well-known among your peers for your spirited enthusiasm and infectious energy, much like Jace was celebrated on the ice.

Every so often, you forced your attention back to your studies, but your thoughts drifted again. You glanced at your phone, its screen illuminating the cramped table, as you saw it was nearly time for Jace and his crew to wrap up. With a resigned sigh, you gathered your things, shoving your books and scattered notes into your bag. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you as you headed toward the ice arena, the cool air from the rink already beckoning as you walked.

Cregan felt utterly spent after practice. Each muscle throbbed from the exertion, and droplets of water trickled down his skin, remnants of a quick shower that had done little to wash away his fatigue. As he stepped out of the cool, tiled locker room, the scent of soap mingled with the lingering smell of sweat—a familiar yet comforting aroma. His dark hair hung in damp strands, framing his face and accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw. 

When he spotted you waiting by the entrance, his eyes widened in surprise. It was unusual for you to show up during practice. You had always preferred to stay away, opting for the comfort of your own space. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a blend of confusion and curiosity. He took a few steps closer, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin glistening under the fluorescent lights. 

You hadn’t expected him to question your presence, but as you took in the scene before you, amusement bubbled up inside. Cregan looked different from the guy you usually saw—more vulnerable, more real. The way his hair clung to his forehead and the ruggedness in his features made your heart flutter unexpectedly. His musky, fresh scent wrapped around you like a warm blanket, causing a blush to creep across your cheeks.

“Did you need something from Jace? I think he's still in the shower,” he continued, slowly walking closer, his gaze drifting over you for a brief moment. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, and for a second, you thought you caught a hint of admiration in his eyes. 

Cregan couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked, even in your casual outfit. You tried your best to maintain a relaxed demeanour, but he could sense the slight tremor in your voice and the way your eyes flashed, betraying the undisturbed facade you were attempting to uphold. At that moment, he hoped you hadn’t noticed the way he was drinking in the sight of you, drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame.

Cregan felt a twinge of guilt as he realised he had been staring. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the heat rise to his face.

"Sorry, I'm just tired from practice." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Cregan couldn't help but notice the way your low-cut top hugged your curves in all the right places. His eyes lingered on the tantalising swell of your cleavage for a moment too long before he forced himself to look away.

"So, uh...need a ride home?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "I can give you one if you want. Jace might be a while yet."

He hoped you would say yes. The thought of having you all to himself in his car was both thrilling and terrifying. Cregan knew he shouldn't be thinking such things about his best friend's sister, but he couldn't help himself around you.

You were just so fucking gorgeous. Cregan had jerked off imagining all the dirty things he wanted to do to you more times than he could count.

But you were off limits. Untouchable. Jace would probably kill him if he ever found out.

Still, Cregan couldn't stop himself from wanting you. From craving you like a drug. He ached to bury his face between your thighs and taste your sweet nectar. To pound into your tight little cunt until you screamed his name.

You looked up at Cregan, noticing his unusual nervous demeanor which made you smirk. "A ride home?" You asked teasingly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You think it's gonna take Jace that long?"

You paused for a moment to think, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Jace does take awfully long in the showers, doing a full curl routine every single time.

"You know what, why not," you said with a huff as you picked up your bag and stood up to face him. Your short skirt clung to your thighs as you moved, drawing attention to your legs. "That man takes ages in the shower."

You met Cregan's gaze, a coy smile playing on your full, pouty lips. "Besides, I wouldn't mind spending a little more time alone with you," you purred, running a delicate hand down his firm arm.

Cregan's heart raced as you agreed to let him drive you home. He tried to play it cool, but inside he was freaking out. This was his chance to finally make a move on you.

Cregan couldn't help but let his eyes roam over your body as you stood up, taking in the way your shirt hugged your ample breasts and your short skirt accentuated your ass. He felt his cock twitch in his pants and had to adjust himself discreetly.

"He really does," Cregan agreed, trying to sound casual despite the lust coursing through him. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Walking to the car in silence. As he opened the passenger door for you, Cregan couldn't help but stare at your ass as you bent over to get in. Your tiny skirt rode up, giving him a perfect view of your lacy panties.

He had to adjust himself discreetly as his cock twitched in his sweats. "After you." He said gallantly, hoping you wouldn't notice the way his hands trembled as he fought the urge to grab your ass.

"Thanks," you said with a smile as you slid into the seat. Cregan nodded, trying to keep his cool as he closed the door and walked to the driver's side.

Once you were settled, Cregan slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The rumble of the motor filled the tense silence between you. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, how's cheerleading going?" He asked, desperate for anything to distract himself from the filthy thoughts running through his mind. He didn't trust himself to look at you, so he kept his eyes glued to the road.

As you drove, Cregan couldn't shake the image of you bent over in your tiny skirt, your perfect ass on display. He imagined flipping that skirt up and burying his face between your cheeks, tongue delving deep into your tight asshole as you moaned and begged for more.

Unaware of his dirty thoughts, you turned to him, a warm smile spreading across your face. "Really good, actually. Thanks for asking," you replied, your voice brightening the moment. You glanced out the window, seeing the grey clouds hanging low in the sky, but the outlook didn’t dampen your spirits. "Today was cancelled, which is a bummer," you continued, your brow slightly furrowing as you bit your lip in contemplation. "Our coach caught the flu, so…"

You trailed off, momentarily lost in thought about the practice you were looking forward to, but you quickly shifted the conversation. Your gaze locked onto his, your wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Jace mentioned you have a big game coming up, right? Against the Hightower team, if I remember correctly." You leaned in slightly, genuinely eager for his response.

Cregan's eyes flicked to you at the mention of the upcoming game. Pride swelled in his chest at your interest in his match.

"Yeah, next Friday. It's a big one," he confirmed, nodding. "Hightower's been our rivals for years. We're gonna kick their asses."

As he spoke, Cregan couldn't help but notice the way your plump lips glistened as you bit them. He imagined those lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, your warm mouth sucking him off as you looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

"We've been practising hard for it. Gotta put those rich fuckers in their place." Cregan said with a smirk. He loved talking shit about the rival team.

He shifted in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust his rapidly hardening erection. Fuck, he was getting too worked up. He needed to calm down before he embarrassed himself.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips as you look at him. You can hardly believe how hard they’ve been pushing themselves in preparation for the upcoming match, your brother among them. 

You couldn't help but look at Cregan. The fabric of his fitted t-shirt clings to his muscular physique, accentuating the definition of his biceps and the broadness of his shoulders. Every movement he makes showcases the hard work and dedication he's put into his training. You can practically see the strength in his posture.

You bit your lip as you let your gaze travel over Cregan's strong, muscular form when he shifted his attention back to the road. Your eyes widened when they landed on the very prominent bulge straining against his grey sweats.

Fuck, he's huge. You always suspected Cregan would be packing based on his fit physique, but seeing the evidence of his impressive size makes your cunt clench with need. Suddenly you crave nothing more than to kneel between his legs and worship his thick cock with your mouth until he coats your face with his hot seed.

Burning with shame and arousal, you quickly avert your eyes, not wanting Cregan to catch you ogling his crotch. But you can't stop fantasizing about choking yourself on his fat dick, gagging and drooling around his length as he fucks your face. You squirm in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache between th

Cregan shifted in his seat again, trying to hide his erection. He knew you had seen it, but he hoped you hadn't noticed how big he actually was. He didn't want you to think he was some pervert who got turned on by his best friend's little sister.

Even though he totally was.

"So, uh...how's school going?" Cregan asked, desperate for a distraction from the ache in his groin. He kept his eyes firmly on the road, not trusting himself to look at you right now.

Cregan couldn't stop thinking about the way your eyes widened when you saw his cock straining against his pants. He wondered if you were imagining what it would feel like inside you, stretching your tight little pussy open.

The thought nearly made him lose control of the car. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road and not the filthy fantasies running through his mind.

Your hands trembled slightly as you bit your lip, trying to maintain composure. The thought of Cregan's massive cock splitting you open sent a shiver down your spine.

"Good, mhm," you mumbled, nodding distractedly. The words came out as more of a whimper than intended.

Biting the sleeve of your jacket, I tried to subtly rub your thighs together. The action only served to heighten your arousal, wetness seeping through your panties and sticking to your sensitive folds. The discomfort was almost unbearable, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. All you could think about was Cregan's thick cock.

Cregan's cock throbbed painfully in his sweats as he struggled to concentrate on the road. Your whimper sent a jolt of lust straight to his groin and he had to resist the urge to adjust himself again.

He could tell you were aroused too, the way you squirmed in your seat and bit your lip. It took every ounce of willpower not to cum in his pants.

What he wouldn't give to pull this car over and shove your head down onto his lap, making you choke on his cock until you gagged. He bet that pretty mouth would look amazing wrapped around his shaft, stretched obscenely wide.

His balls ached with the need to cum, but he gritted his teeth and focused on driving. If he blew his load now he'd have to explain why there was a wet spot on his pants.

And Jace would definitely know if he fucked his sister senseless in the car. As much as Cregan wanted to, he knew he couldn't risk it. Not yet anyway.

"Almost to your place," he grunted, the strain clear in his voice. He hoped you couldn't hear how worked up he was.

With a shaky exhale, he pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Cregan's heart pounded as he watched you get ready to leave. Part of him wished you would stay, let him take you right here in the front seat. But the rational part of his brain knew that was a bad idea.

Reluctantly, he opened his door and stepped out, need still burning through his veins. Cregan walked around to open your door for you like a gentleman, even as his cock strained against his zipper.

You tried to compose yourself as you gathered your things, desperate for some relief from the ache between my thighs. But you couldn't let Cregan fuck you senseless in his car where anyone could see. Jace would definitely know if you came home with your brains fucked out by his best friend.

"Yeah, thanks..." you murmured softly as you stepped out of the vehicle. Opening the back door, you bent over to retrieve your bag from the backseat, putting your ass on full display for him. Your red lace thong did little to conceal how wet you were, the damp fabric clinging to your swollen folds.

You held the pose a moment longer than necessary, hoping the sight would push Cregan over the edge. Maybe he would finally make a move and finger you in his backseat as you sucked him off.

Cregan's breath caught in his throat as you bent over, giving him the perfect view of your dripping pussy. He could see your swollen lips peeking out from under your thong, glistening with arousal.

The urge to bury his face between your thighs was overwhelming. He wanted to rip your panties off and feast on your sweet cunt until you screamed his name.

He had to grip the door frame to keep himself upright, his knees threatening to buckle under the strain of his lust. Cregan's cock throbbed painfully, straining against the confines of his jeans.

"You, uh...you need help carrying anything inside?" He asked, his voice strained. He hoped you couldn't hear the desperation in it.

Cregan's hands twitched at his sides, aching to grab your hips and bury his face between your cheeks. He imagined the taste of your sweet pussy on his tongue, your juices coating his face as he ate you out.

But he couldn't. Not here, where anyone could see. He had to hold himself back, no matter how badly he wanted you.

"I can help," he offered again, hoping you would say no. Because if you said yes, he didn't know if he could control himself. He didn't trust himself not to pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless the second you were alone together.

You pouted in annoyance as Cregan maintained his composure, that annoying bulge in his sweats doing nothing to deter his gentlemanly demeanour. You had hoped the tantalizing glimpse of your barely-concealed pussy would make him lose control, but no such luck. Frustration bubbled up inside you.

Plastering on your most saccharine smile, you batted your lashes at him. "Oh, could you? They're so heavy," you simpered, even though you knew full well you could handle them yourself. But you needed Cregan to snap. To stop playing the part of the perfect gentleman and just take you already.

Your body throbbed with need, aching to be claimed by his strong hands. You shifted your hips, letting your short skirt ride up to reveal more of your soft thighs. Cregan's gaze flicked down briefly before darting away again, damn him.

"Please, Cregan," you purred, your voice dripping with false innocence. "I'd be so grateful."

Cregan's resolve crumbled as you batted your lashes at him, your voice dripping with false sweetness. He wanted to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off caveman style, but he settled for grabbing your bags instead.

"Lead the way then," he grunted, his voice rough with lust. As he followed you inside, Cregan couldn't take his eyes off your ass swaying in front of him. His cock throbbed with each step, pre-cum leaking and soaking through his boxers.

The second the front door shut behind you, Cregan dropped the bags and pulled you flush against him. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," he growled against your skin. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing your ass and tugging at your clothes. "I need to be inside you. Now."

In a blink, Cregan had you spun around and pressed against the wall, his hips grinding against your ass. He dry-humped you roughly, his hard cock sliding between your cheeks.

"You want this, don't you?" He panted in your ear, one hand groping your breast while the other disappeared beneath your skirt to rub your clit through your soaked thong. "Want me to fuck this needy little cunt raw?"

Cregan slipped a finger under the fabric to stroke your slick folds, groaning at how wet you were. "Dirty girl, getting this turned on in front of your house. What if someone saw us?"

He nibbled your earlobe, his hand working faster between your thighs. "Would you like that? Getting caught with your panties off and my cock buried in your slutty hole?"

You gasped as Cregan suddenly spun you around, pinning you against the wall with his strong body. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your ass against his hard hips. Your head felt like it was spinning from his intense touch. You were utterly lost in a haze of desperate need, craving him inside you more than you ever had before.

Loud, high-pitched whines escaped your lips as you ground your hips shamelessly against his large hand. You were completely putty in his skilled fingers, unable to resist the pleasure he was giving me. Your pussy throbbed and clenched, aching to be filled by his thick cock.

"Mmmh..." You let out a slutty moan, mewling like a kitten as you rubbed yourself all over his big palm, shameless in your need. You could feel your juices soaking through your thin thong, making a mess of your inner thighs.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Cregan growled, feeling your juices drip down his fingers. "This cunt is fucking drenched. You're such a needy little slut, aren't you? Getting off on nearly getting caught."

He rubbed your clit harder, making you cry out and grind against his hand desperately. The wet sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the air.

"I bet you'd love to have Jace walk in right now and see his best friend fingerfucking his sister," Cregan said with a dark chuckle. "See how wet I make this slutty hole before I split it open on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you wider as he thrust deep. Your tight walls clenched around him, trying to suck him in further. Cregan could feel his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans, leaking pre-cum and making a sticky mess.

"Please," you whined, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. You just needed more. More friction, more stretch, more everything.

Cregan obliged, curling his fingers to hit that special spot inside you. He rubbed it mercilessly, making your leg shake and toes curl. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making you convulse and gush all over his hand, dripping all over the floor and soaking his hand.

"That's it, cum for me," Cregan commanded, working you through it until you collapsed bonelessly against the wall. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to fuck this pussy so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Your body trembled with anticipation as you watched Cregan lower his pants, revealing his massive cock. It sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening. You licked your lips, your pussy clenching at the thought of that huge dick stretching you out.

"Please, Cregan," you begged, your voice high and needy. Your hands pressed flat against the cold wall as you arched your back, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. The rough texture of the wall scraped against your sensitive nipples, making them even harder.

You couldn't believe how desperate you were. How you were basically throwing yourself at your brother's best friend, begging to be used like a cheap slut. But you didn't care. All that mattered was feeling Cregan's cock splitting you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

"I'm yours," you moaned, looking back at him with hooded eyes. "Use me however you want."

Your hole wept with arousal, clear fluid dripping down your thighs. You ground your ass back against him, trying to take him inside you without his help. But he held you in place, denying what you needed most.

"P-please," you whimpered pathetically, your pride forgotten in the face of your overwhelming desire.

"You want this dick that bad?" Cregan growled, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds. "Want me to wreck this tight little cunt?"

He pressed forward, the tip catching on your entrance. Your pussy stretched lewdly around him, struggling to accommodate his girth. Cregan groaned at the feeling of your slick walls clinging to him.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, pushing in inch by excruciating inch. "Gonna ruin this hole, make it fit my cock perfectly."

Then with one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you. Your pussy clamped down on him like a vice, so tight he thought he might cum on the spot.

"Shit!" Cregan rasped, fighting the urge to blow his load right then and there. He pulled back slowly before slamming in again, setting a cruel pace that left you shaking and gasping.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin echoed through the entryway as he pounded into you, each thrust making your tits bounce. Cregan gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, using the leverage to fuck you even deeper.

"Take it," he commanded, punctuating with sharp snaps of his hips. "Fucking take it."

Cregan changed his angle slightly and you both cried out as he hit your G-spot dead on. Electric pleasure sparked up your spine, making your eyes roll back and tongue lolling out. "There it is," he panted, hammering that one perfect spot over and over.

Your nails scrape tracks into the wallpaper, each thrust jolting you forward like a rag doll. Whimpers spill from your lips, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. You've never felt so violently, deliciously used. His thick cock beats your tender flesh, each plunge sending shockwaves through your quivering body.

A desperate cry wrenches free as he suddenly withdraws. "No!" You sob at the emptiness. But his wicked grin tells you he has other plans.

"Not yet, princess," he rumbles darkly. "I'm going to claim every hole before I let you soak my cock."

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up as you try to process his threat. He wants to violate your other virgin hole? Oh gods, you don't know if you can take it. But the thought sends a forbidden thrill straight to your core.

You bite your lip, eyes pleading. "Please, Cregan," you pant. "I've never... I don't know if..."

Cregan's eyes darkened with hunger at your pleas. "That's right baby, you've never had a cock in this tight little ass before," he purred, trailing a finger teasingly over your puckered hole. "But don't worry, I'll open you up real good."

He spread your cheeks, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze. "Gonna make you scream for it," Cregan promised, circling your entrance with his thumb. He pressed inside just slightly, breaking you for the first time.

Using the abundance of wetness from your soaked cunt, he worked his thumb deeper, scissoring and stretching you open gradually. He knew he had to prepare you carefully for his thick cock.

"Relax for me," he soothed, crooking his thumb to rub your inner walls. "Gonna feel so good when I split you open on my dick."

Cregan pumped his thumb faster, feeling you start to loosen up. He couldn't wait to bury himself in your virgin ass, to claim every inch of you.

"Beg for it," he growled, pulling his thumb out abruptly, leaving you empty once more. "I want to hear you beg me to ruin your tight little fuckhole."

You whimper desperately as Cregan teases your untouched entrance, spreading your most intimate area with his skilful fingers. Your knees quiver, barely supporting you, but you don't care about anything except having him fill you completely.

"Please Cregan," you beg, your voice high and needy.

As you plead, you find yourself arching back, presenting yourself shamelessly to the man who holds your heart in his hands. The thought of being claimed so thoroughly sends a forbidden thrill through your core, making your neglected slit weep with desire.

"Make me yours. I'll beg if you want me to."

"That's a good girl," he purred, giving your ass a sharp smack. The sting made you gasp and clench, your untouched hole flexing needily. He pressed two fingers now against your slick entrance, teasing at your rim.

The pressure increased as he started to work his fingers inside, stretching you open. Your untouched walls resisted at first, unused to the intrusion, but slowly your body began to yield to his insistent touch.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Cregan groaned, pumping his fingers deeper. "Gonna feel so good squeezing my cock."

He twisted and spread his fingers, opening you up as much as he could. Your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled, as your other hole was claimed by his digits.

"Ready for me yet?" He asked darkly, fingers still buried knuckles deep in your ass. "Or do you need more time to open up this hole?"

Your body trembles as Cregan's fingers stretch you open, invading your most sacred depths. It's so wrong, so dirty to let him claim you like this in the open hallway. Jace could come home any minute and catch his best friend fingering his sister's virgin rear.

The thought makes your neglected pussy clench and weep, dripping down your thighs. You're more aroused than you've ever been in your life, ready to let him take you in the most depraved way imaginable.

"Please," you whimper, too far gone to care about propriety or consequences. "I need your cock in my ass. Want you to fill me up like a dirty slut."

Your hole spasms needily around his fingers, trying to suck him in deeper. You arch your back, presenting yourself shamelessly, silently begging him to claim you.

His fingers slipped out of your ass with a wet sound that made you whimper needily. You felt so empty and abandoned, your virgin hole clenching desperately around nothing.

"You want my cock in this tight little ass so bad?" Cregan growled, spreading your cheeks to expose your gaping rim. It fluttered helplessly under his intense gaze. "Want me to stretch you open and ruin your slutty fuckhole?"

"Yes!" You cried out, tossing your head back in wanton desperation. You didn't care how depraved you sounded, begging to be sodomised by your brother's best friend. "Please Cregan, I need it. I'll do anything, just please. I want to be your filthy anal whore."

Cregan pressed the fat head of his cock insistently against your tiny, puckered entrance. You were terrified at the prospect of taking something so huge in your untouched passage. But your desperate, leaking cunt clenched at the thought of being utterly dominated and claimed by him.

With a slow thrust, Cregan buried himself balls deep in your ass. "Oh shit," he breathed, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. "Fucking hell, you're tight."

He gave you a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion before starting to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. Wet squelching noises filled the air as he pounded your hole, the obscene sounds making your face burn with humiliation.

But it only turned you on more, knowing how depraved you were being. How you were letting your brother's best friend violate your most intimate place.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, your voice guttural and animalistic. Your legs shook violently, barely able to support your weight as Cregan filled you so completely. You threw your head back, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you submitted to the overwhelming pleasure. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, lost for words as his massive cock stretched your virgin hole to its limits. You had never felt so full, so deliciously stuffed. It was like he was splitting you open, claiming every inch of you in the most primal way possible.

You were utterly lost to the sensation, your mind blanking out as he pounded into your tight rear passage. All you could focus on was the delicious drag of his cock along your sensitive walls, the obscene wet sounds of his hips slapping against your ass.

Your untouched slit wept with arousal, wetness dripping down your thighs as your clit throbbed almost painfully. You were so close to coming just from having your ass violated, something you never would have thought possible.

"Take it all," Cregan grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he slammed into your ass. The wet, filthy sounds of skin smacking against skin reverberated through the room. "Fucking take every inch like a good slut."

He angled his hips, making sure to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you with every thrust. The electric jolts of pleasure made you see stars, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

"Gonna cum," you keened, eyes rolling back as your peak approached. "Gonna cum on your big cock wrecking my ass!"

"That's it, cum on my cock," he commanded roughly.

Cregan reached around to grab your bouncing tits, squeezing and twisting your nipples. The sharp sensation mixed with the overwhelming fullness in your ass, sending you hurtling towards orgasm.

"Do it," he ordered. "Cum for me like a dirty whore."

With a few more brutal thrusts, Cregan buried himself deep and exploded. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, pumping you full of his hot seed. The feeling of being marked so intimately pushed you over the edge.

"Fuck yes, that's it," he groaned as he felt you clench and spasm around him. Your hole spasmed desperately, milking his spurting cock for every last drop. "Good girl. Such a perfect little fucktoy."

Cregan held you steady as the aftershocks wracked your body, keeping you pinned on his softening cock. He reached down to rub your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you were a limp, mewling mess.

Only then did he pull out with a gush of cum, leaving you feeling empty and used. Cregan tapped your abused hole, admiring his work.

"Mine now," he stated possessively. "This ass belongs to me."

Your body shudders uncontrollably as you collapse to the floor, sobs tearing from your throat. Tears blur your vision, rolling down your flushed cheeks as you struggle to regain your breath. The lingering ache between your legs throbs painfully, a brutal reminder of the intense fucking you just took.

You can feel your combined releases leaking out of your ravaged holes, trickling down your inner thighs and pooling beneath your knees on the hardwood. The obscene wetness makes you flinch with shame even as your abused cunt clenches needily, craving more.

You must look like a complete wreck - hair mussed, makeup smeared, the very picture of impurity. Your thighs are slick with the evidence of your coupling, your swollen pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks. You know you should feel ashamed for letting Cregan use you so thoroughly, but all you can think about is the pleasure he gave you.

You look up at him with big eyes, eyebrows slightly raised as you wait for him to say something. Looking at him like a puppy would look at its master.

Cregan looked down at you sprawled out on the floor, your hair dishevelled and your legs splayed out obscenely, showing off the cum dripping out of you. His cock twitched at the sight, still semi-hard from the intense fucking.

He stepped closer, towering over your smaller frame. With a smirk, he reached down to wipe the tears from your cheek. Cregan brought his fingers to your mouth.

"Clean it up," he ordered gruffly, pushing his fingers past your lips. "My good little dove."

You obeyed immediately, sucking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the digits, lapping up your salty tears eagerly. Cregan groaned at the erotic sight, his cock stiffening further.

"That's it, be a good girl," he praised, pulling his fingers out to caress your cheek softly. His demeanour entirely different after fucking you.

"Look at you," Cregan chuckled darkly, stepping back to admire the perverse picture you made. "So filthy. And all for me."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, your body completely spent from the extreme fucking Cregan had just given you. Every muscle ached deliciously, a testament to how thoroughly he had used you.

All you wanted now was to stumble to the bathroom, wash away the sticky remnants of your coupling, and collapse into bed. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids.

You tried to push yourself up, but your trembling legs refused to cooperate. Cregan's seed continued to leak out of your abused holes, trickling down your thighs. The cool air felt good against your flushed skin, helping to ground you somewhat.

"C-can you help me to the shower?" You asked shyly, glancing up at Cregan through your lashes. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, your throat raw. You knew you looked utterly spent, hair matted with sweat, makeup smudged. But you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You just wanted to bask in the afterglow with the man who had claimed every inch of you so thoroughly.

"Think you can manage to stand on your own two feet?" he teased, offering you a hand.

You nodded, accepting his assistance. He pulled you up effortlessly, his large hands engulfing your smaller ones. Cregan kept an arm around your waist as he guided you down the hall, steadying you.

"I've got you, princess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Cregan led you into the bathroom, his arm still securely around your waist. The cool tiles felt good against your overheated skin as he helped you into the shower.

"Lean against the wall," he instructed, turning the water on. Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the temperature.

Obediently, you braced yourself against the wall, letting the warm spray cascade over your body. It felt heavenly, soothing your aching muscles. You could feel Cregan's gaze on you as he stepped in behind you, his hands joining you under the water.

"Let me," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. He grabbed a washcloth and soap, lathering it up. Gently, he began to wash you, running the sudsy cloth over your arms, your breasts, your flat stomach.

His touch remained tender as he cleaned you, a stark contrast to the rough, dominant way he had fucked you. You couldn't help but lean into him, relishing the feeling of his strong body against your back.

Cregan moved lower, washing your thighs and calves thoroughly. When he reached your most intimate areas, you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. But you didn't protest as he carefully cleaned away the evidence of your coupling, his fingers brushing against your sensitive flesh.

"All clean," he declared as he rinsed you off. Cregan pressed a kiss to your shoulder before shutting off the water. He grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping it around you and guiding you out of the shower.

"Bed," he said firmly, leading you out of the bathroom. "You need rest."

You smiled sleepily, leaning into Cregan's strong embrace as he walked you to your bedroom. As he waited on your bed while you changed, you couldn't help but voice your curiosity.

"Why were you so rough with me?" You asked softly, peering at him with shy eyes. "I mean, I liked it, but I was just wondering..."

Your voice trailed off and you bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous about bringing it up. You had known each other for a while now, and while you had always found him attractive, his sudden aggression caught you off guard. But it had been so intense, so passionate...

"Why now, after all this time?" You finished, your cheeks flushing pink. You couldn't deny the thrill his dominance sent through you, but you wanted to understand what changed.

Cregan's expression softened as he regarded you standing there in your pyjamas looking vulnerable and uncertain. He sighed softly before speaking.

"I've wanted you for a long time," he confessed, his deep voice husky with emotion. "Ever since I saw you at our practice waiting for your brother."

He stood up from the bed and came to stand in front of you, cupping your face gently. "But I never acted on it because of Jace. He's my best friend, and I respect his wishes."

Cregan's thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver. "But I couldn't hold back any longer. Seeing you today, I...."

His hand slid down to your neck, gripping lightly. "I wanted to mark you, claim you, show you that you belong to me now."

Cregan leaned in, his breath hot on your ear. "And the way you responded, the sounds you made... Fuck, it drove me wild. I lost control, couldn't be gentle with you even though I wanted to."

He pulled back slightly, gazing into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, love. That wasn't my intention. I just needed you so badly, wanted to make you mine in every way possible."

You hummed softly as Cregan's words washed over you, your heart racing in your chest. He wanted me?

The knowledge sent a thrill through your body, pooling heat low in your belly. You gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling small under his intense stare.

"You like me?" You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks flushed pink as you awaited his response, hardly daring to believe this was happening.

"Of course I like you," Cregan said softly, his gaze tender as he cupped your face gently. "I've liked you for a long time now. It's been torture keeping my feelings hidden."

His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, making you shiver. "You're beautiful, kind, clever... Everything I could ever want in a woman. And the way you took my cock earlier, the sounds you made... Gods, you drive me wild with desire."

Cregan leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning over your face. "I want to be with you properly. Take you on dates, make you mine in every way possible. Will you let me do that, princess? Will you be mine?"

You let out a small whine at his words, feeling desire washing over you again. "Yeah," you whimpered, pulling him into a soft kiss. You stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips met.

His strong arms encircled you, holding you close as the kiss deepened. You melted into him, your body moulding perfectly against his muscular frame. Cregan's scent surrounded you, masculine and intoxicating.

Cregan's large hands gripped your hips as he returned your kiss hungrily, his tongue delving into your mouth. He backed you up towards the bed until your legs hit the mattress, never breaking the passionate kiss.

When the back of your knees hit the bed, Cregan gently laid you on the bed. Your soft body shaped against his hard muscles as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair.

"Fuck, I can't get enough of you," he groaned against your lips. Cregan nipped at your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. He sucked hard on your pulse point, determined to mark you as his.

His hips rocked up, grinding his stiffening cock against your core through your thin pyjamas. You could feel the heat and hardness of him even with the layers between you.

He quickly stripped off his clothes. His impressive physique was on full display, muscles rippling as he joined you on the bed.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, baby," he promised darkly, kissing down your body. "Gonna worship this sexy little body all night long."

Cregan pushed your pyjama top up and latched onto your breast, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh. His large hand palmed the other, kneading the soft mound. He lavished attention on your breasts, making you arch into his touch with needy whimpers.

You moan breathily, sounding like a coquettish little girlfriend as Cregan lavishes attention on your sensitive breasts. Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as he suckles and nips at the tender flesh. Each pull of his lips sends sparks of pleasure straight to your aching core.

Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction. The heat between your legs grows unbearable as Cregan worships your breasts with his skilled mouth and hands. You're docile in his grasp, completely under his spell as he reduces you to a writhing, needy mess.

"Please," you whimper, your voice high and desperate. "I need more."

Cregan smirked against your breast as you squirmed beneath him, your needy whimpers music to his ears. "Patience, princess," he murmured, giving your nipple a final nip before moving lower.

"I'm going to take my time with you," he promised darkly, kissing down your quivering stomach. "Worship every inch of this sexy body."

Cregan hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama pants, tugging them down slowly. He exposed you to him inch by tantalizing inch until you were fully bared to his heated gaze.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned appreciatively, drinking in the sight of you splayed out beneath him. "So goddamn beautiful."

He settled between your thighs, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet folds. Cregan grinned as you shuddered and clenched at the teasing touch.

"Fuck, you smell so sweet," he groaned. "Can't wait to taste this pretty pussy."

Cregan spread your legs wider, exposing your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. He licked his lips before diving in, his hot tongue dragging up your slit. You cried out at the intense sensation, your hips bucking upwards.

He lapped at you eagerly, savouring your sweet flavour. Cregan focused on your clit, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly with the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his feasting mouth.

You bite your lip hard, trying to muffle your needy moans as Cregan's tongue works between your thighs. Your fingers grip the sheets, knuckles white as you fight the urge to rock your hips against his face.

His mouth feels too good, sending shockwaves of pleasure crashing through you with every teasing lick and suck. You're lost to the sensations, all thoughts fleeing as he devours your pussy like a man starved.

Tears of ecstasy prick at the corners of your eyes as he focuses on your aching clit, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly, your walls fluttering around nothing.

"Cregan, fuck!" You whimper desperately, your voice high and needy.

He just hums against your sex in response, the vibrations making you see stars. His hands grip your thighs harder, pushing them wider as he feasts on you like a man possessed.

"You taste so fucking good," Cregan growled against your drenched folds, his words vibrating through you. "Can't get enough of this sweet cunt."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs bruisingly tight, holding you open for his feasting mouth.

Cregan slid a thick finger into your empty channel, groaning at how easily it sank into your sopping wet heat. He pumped it slowly, curling it to rub against your G-spot.

"Gonna make you cum on my tongue," he promised darkly before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

Cregan added a second finger, stretching you open as he finger-fucked your fluttering walls. He scissored them inside you, spreading your tight heat wide.

"That's it, fuck my face," he encouraged, his deep voice muffled against your sex. "Ride my tongue, princess. Cum for me."

He could feel you getting close, your thighs starting to tremble around his head. Cregan doubled his efforts, pistoning his fingers faster as he lashed your clit with the flat of his tongue.

"Let go," he commanded, locking eyes with you. "Cum on my face, baby. Give it to me."

You were teetering right on the edge, your moans rising in pitch and volume as Cregan devoured you so skillfully. Your entire body was wound tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Just as you were about to let go and tumble into ecstasy, the sound of a slamming door made you jolt.

"Hey, I'm finally home-" Jace's voice boomed, cutting off abruptly. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?!"

[xetlynn]

alt au claggor x reader childhood friends to lovers maybe mylo convinces claggor to confess maybe spicy??? thank you ❤️❤️

>:3 made this feeling sick as heck but so proud of it🙏

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Confessions Lead To…

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUT [arcane] [main page] prompt: in which Mylo actually has good advice for Claggor, leading him to a wonderful night. (I made it modern college au, just little mentions of modern day things) containing: fem!receiving oral, missionary, riding, anvil position, unprotected sex, creampie, slight cockwarming.

“Just do it, she obviously has a thing for you too!” Mylo tells his brother, hanging from the top of his loft bed. Claggor was pacing back and forth. “I can’t! I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What if I make it weird?” He esperates, rubbing his hands through his hair dramatically. 

“Dude, would [Name] do that? Honestly, answer me that.” The shorter one of the two asks with an annoyed expression laid on his face. “I mean, no but it could feel awkward between us and then I’ll look stupid.” Claggor frowns deeply. 

He’s had a crush on you for months now, it’s only getting substantial. “Claggor, I can’t tell you what to do. But I am telling you if you don’t do it you’ll be a pussy.” Mylo points a finger down at the larger man who gives him a deadpanned look. “You were the same if not worse when it came to Gert!” 

“Hey, at least I’m with her now. I shot my shot.” He defends himself, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling. Claggor sighs, knowing that his annoying brother is actually right. 

“Ugh, I swear if I’m doing the wrong thing no one will see me for a while.” His shoulders drop in defeat, leaving his brother’s room to get ready to confess his long-time feelings. Mylo wasn’t paying attention, raising a brow when he noticed that Claggor left… ten minutes later. 

•••

You hummed in your kitchen, finishing up some chores you wrote down to do for the day. You had the house to yourself since your roommate decided to go on a trip with her girlfriend. 

You get a ring from your phone in your back pocket, wiping your sweat and you pull it out. Answering it without checking and putting it up to your ear. “Hello?” “Oh, hey [Name]! That was a quick answer.” Claggor chuckled on the other line. A smile erupts on your face. 

“Hii, Claggs.” You threw your rag on the counter, leaning next to it. “Can I come over? For a little bit. If not, I understand.” He seemed extremely timid which caused you to tense up. “Um, of course! I’m just doing those chores I told you about but I could use a little break.” You happily say despite the horrible gut feeling you got. 

“Awesome, see you in 5.” He hangs up the phone before you even get the chance to respond. You stare at the phone for a few moments, placing it beside the rag. You go to the bathroom to clean up a little bit, interrupted by the sound of your doorbell. 

Claggor’s apartment was two floors down from yours so you’re not surprised he got here as quickly as he did. You go to the door, swinging it open. You move out of the way allowing him to enter. “Something wrong?” You scrunch your nose. “No, not at all. Why?” He asks with sweat forming on his forehead. “You seem a little off is all.” You shrug your shoulders. He heads to your bedroom, you behind him. 

“What’s going on? You’re worrying me a little bit.” You mustered a meekly smile. “I’m sorry.” He sighs, drooping down on your bed. He comes over often so this is normal for the both of you. He was too embarrassed of Mylo so he deemed your place to be better to hang out if you guys weren’t going out. 

“Is there something I should be worried about?” You hold yourself now. “I don’t know. I’m just going to come out and say it so prepare yourself I guess?” He avoids eye contact, his eyes wandering everywhere except at you. “I think I like you. Well I know I do. A lot. I have for a few months now. I didn’t know how to stop them and when I tried it made it worse.” He explains leaving you in shock, this being the last thing you were expecting from Claggor. 

“I feel like a child, giddy whenever the smallest thing happens between us. It’s truly pathetic.” He laughs at himself, your lips twitching upwards. “It’s not pathetic.” You tell him. 

“I’m the same way when I like someone.” You sit next to him on the bed, grabbing his hand. “When I like you I should say.” You watch his face blush a bright pink. “You feel the same?”

“Yeah, I have for a little bit now.” You nod your head, keeping his hand folded with your own. “That’s crazy to me. How could someone like you give me such the honor of liking me.” He whispers it was mainly to himself but you heard. You rolled your eyes playfully, grabbing his face with your other hand. “You’re so dumb. You’re perfect for me.” You coo, slowly leaning forward. His eyes widen but he follows your lead. 

Your lips locking, the warm, soft feeling on one another. You deepen it by getting on your knees and unlocking only a few times to go back for more. 

Swapping saliva as your tongues tease each other. His hands travel to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Your plush thighs on either side, straddling him. “Hmph.” He breathes roughly after you nibble at his bottom lip. You go to apologize but he does it back. Making it fair. 

You grin into the make-out, grabbing onto him as you attempt to pull him even closer to your body. 

Your hips subconsciously roll back and forth across his crotch. His lap tenses at the motion but he doesn’t stop you. His arm is latched around your waist as the other is keeping himself along with you propped up. 

The further into the make out the more blood progresses to his boner. It’s now prominent enough for you to feel against your area. 

Arousing you both to a degree you’ve never felt before. The wetness of your juices soaking through your clothes. He swore he could feel your cunt spasm on him. He loved it. 

He wanted to feel more. With the arm that was around your waist he pushed you down gently enough you couldn’t even tell what he was doing. You moaned in his mouth at the pressure. 

Your head was beginning to feel dizzy at the lack of oxygen you were taking in from being too excited to breathe. You had to pull away from him to catch your breath. His chuckles at the sight of your flushed out face, lips plumped out even more, your hair slightly a mess. You were beautiful. 

“I need more.” You huffed out, lifting your hips up only to plop back down upon him. He gasps from the movement. “Yeah?” He asks with hooded eyelids, giving your body a once over as he leans back. “Mhm.” You nod your head and then all of a sudden your back was against the bed as Claggor was in between your legs. You squealed out, laughing. 

“I don’t have condoms on me.” He suddenly remembers, he goes to get up but you grab the hem of his shirt to stop him. “I’m on birth control.” You say, legs wrapping around his thighs since his waist wasn’t close to you anymore. He smiles eagerly, passionately kissing you. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He mutters in your mouth, pulling back. He takes his shirt off and you admire his body as he does so. He had muscle that showed but also such a soft adorned tone. You were obsessed. 

And if you weren’t wet before, you definitely were now. You followed suit though, throwing your shirt and bra over your head, throwing it to the ground. 

His eyes glued to your chest, a little too long in your opinion as you grew self-conscious. Covering yourself without realizing it. He takes your wrists, pulling them to your sides. “You’re too beautiful to be doing that.” He shakes his head. His hand touches your face, digits trailing down from your jaw to your neck… Lower now as he dances around your nipples before lightly pinching them. You whimper at the feeling causing him to smirk. “They’re sensitive?” He tilts his head and you quietly nod your head. 

He chuckles, now doing the same with the other one just to hear the little noises that exit your mouth. 

He innately rubs his crotch against yours, pushing up against you. You rut your hips up to meet him, wanting more. 

“Please, I want to feel you.” Your hands go to his shoulders, lightly prodding him away. “Alright, I guess I had my fun.” He sighs jokingly, he moves back a bit, repositioning lower on the bed. Once he gets comfortable laying on his stomach, face to face with your clothed pussy his fingers find the top of your shorts. He toys with you, heavily breathing at your core. You wanted to squish your legs together so he’d stop but you resisted. Finally after what felt like minutes to you he tugs your shorts and panties off of you. 

“I made you this drenched?” He satirizes, you frown, looking away from him. He snickers at your shy response. His pointer and middle finger pull your lips apart to get an even better view. It caught you off guard from the sudden coldness at your pussy. You gulped down your own saliva that built in your mouth. 

Claggor glances up at you as his own mouth watered. Impatient to taste you. His best friend that he had just confessed to. His best friend that likes him in return. He was so worried that you wouldn’t like him and now here you are letting him eat you out.

His tongue lays down flat in between your nub and entrance. His top lip above your clit. You felt his teeth rub against you and you wince in pleasure. And as his muzzle moves, so do you. You felt your body squirm as his movements were intense but so so so satisfactory. 

He somehow was paying attention to your clit and your achy hole at the same time. And to be honest he didn’t have a technique he just wanted to taste all your juices. 

His tongue slid into your hole for its last time before attaching your nub once again, this time it was for longer. His tongue swiped left and right to up and down. Writing his name at one point and then yours. He felt your thighs closing against his head and your body tensing up.

 “H-hah- holy shit, Clag… I’m gonna-” You breathed rapidly, grabbing hold of his short hair and practically yanking at it. He groans in slight pain but keeps his focus on you, only going faster. Your torso trembling upwards. “I’m- I’m cumminngh-guhhh!” You wail, accidentally pushing your hand down on his head, keeping him in place against your pussy. 

He doesn’t mind, he feels you twitch on his mouth. All your delicious sap flowing onto his tongue. Your hips rolling throughout your high. 

And as it was over all you could do was lay there, letting him go. It was one of your most intense orgasms you’ve had in a while. “Thank you.” He whispers as he gets up to kiss you. “I should be thanking you.” You pant out, his small hands wandering around his torso. 

“Mm agree to disagree.” He shrugs, pecking you once more. As his torso goes up your hands slide down back to the bed. He plays with his belt buckle, undoing it. Claggor gets off the bed, letting his pants fall. You eye his boxers that clung to his skin. The noticeable bulge that stuck out. You were ready yet again. 

Your own fingers go to your clit, it was now delicate to the touch but you still rubbed it slowly. When he sees you touching yourself he feels his cock jump in its barriers. “Restless so soon?” He beams. 

“I need you inside me.” You mewl, spreading your legs even further than before. And just at your movements his boxers were being kicked off his feet. You giggle as he climbs back on the bed. Your eyes stuck on his large member though. 

You figured he would be blessed but… blessed was definitely an understatement. You now worried if it would even fit inside you.

“Gosh, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He clamps his hand on your jaw, squishing your cheeks making your lips puckered out before he kisses you. As he leaned over his dick laid on your tummy. 

“You ready for me?” He quizzes your jaw still captured in his hold. “Yesh, scared ‘s too big thoughh.” You muttered through your squeezed cheeks. He snorts, not expecting that answer. “I promise it will fit. I’ll go slow.” He kisses you again before letting you go. 

Your eyes observe as he pumps his dick with his hand with his own spit. His mushroom tip slipping through your folds, hitting your clit a few times. “Are you sure you want this?” He looks you in your eyes. You smile at his question for consent, double checking even though you’ve already came once and pleaded for his cock. “I want this more than anything.” Your hand wraps around his wrist, helping him proceed into you. 

He hisses at the feeling of your gummy walls just being around his tip that leaked precum. Your chest heaved up and down with anticipation. “Keep going.” You encouraged with a nod of your head. He listens to your words, inching more and more inside. 

As he bottomed out you clamped around him, flinching at the string that you felt at first. Your face contorting slightly. “Are you okay?” His hand caresses your cheek. “Yes, one second though.” You stuck your pointer finger up, you swore you felt every crevice of his cock. He was huge. 

“Okay, okay…” You shiver out. “Start moving.” 

His hips move away before clicking right back. Your mouth opens at the feeling. Now keeping a steady pace. He grips at your waist, hearing your moans make him want to cum at the spot. Only being in your pussy for two minutes. 

“H-harder.” You claw him, trying to keep him as close as possible. Seeing this along with hearing your words his hands lift up your thighs around his shoulders and he presses down closer to you. Now in an anvil position. “Ohmygod!” You shriek, feeling him deeper than he was before. He fucks into you at a harder, faster pace. 

Your mouth letting babbles come out, words mashed together and not making any sort of sense. Claggor grunts in your ear each time his skin slaps against yours. Your toes curling above his head. 

“Fu-uck meee~” You cry, throwing your head back against the bed. The exhilaration, the adrenaline, the sex of it all filling Claggor’s mind to keep going. Hear your voice lighting a fire in his brain. No other thoughts. 

“Gonna cum soon, princess.” His thrusts grow sloppier. “Wa-wait! St… stop!” You cry out, his pelvis immediately hitting a halt against you at your singular word. “What? What happened? You okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, forgetting what he had just said. 

You pause for a moment, taking a quick breather. “I um…” You puff, “want to ride you.” You tell him, propping yourself up on your elbows. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding at your words. “Oh okay.” He grasps at his heart, calming down. “What?” You furrow your brows confused. 

“I mean, I’d love for you too but you scared me.” He slowly slides out of you, your pussy now clenching around nothing. 

“The way you said stop… I don’t know. I blanked.” He rubs the back of his sweaty neck. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t exactly get my words out.” You nervously laughed, reminding him of what he was just doing to you. His cheeks blush brighter, not because of embarrassment but because it made him a little proud of himself for pleasuring you so well. That’s all that mattered to him. 

You got up to your knees and you led him to sit down by the headboard. His back against the thousands of pillows you have on your bed. “Comfy?” You ask him with a closed eyed smile. He snickers, tugging at your waist to pull you closer to himself. “C’mere.” Was all he said.

You climb back onto his lap. His torso was leaned back so you had a good advantage when riding him. Your feet planted on either side of his hips. Your hands held onto his shoulders as you now stood over his dick. Your lick your lips, practically drooling at the sight. “Help me?” You glance up through your lashes. He smiles, using his left hand to keep his member up for you. 

You lower yourself down on him, excited to be filled back up. As your ass fully goes against his thighs you go back up then right back down all in slow movements. He watches as your pussy sucks him in each time again and again. 

Then you get bored of yourself, going faster, bouncing on him. Your tits are right in his vision. His hand grabs at both of them as his other is laid on his own stomach, keeping it to himself. 

“Too good, ‘s good.” You moan out, gripping his shoulders with each bounce. 

The stinging in your thighs were slightly bothering you but you had to keep going. One of your hands that held his shoulders went down to your clit. You rubbed it intensely. “Fuck!” You whisper out, he can tell you’re getting tired fast. He holds onto your hips, helping you go up and down. 

Still admiring the way you focus on getting to your release. And all he wants to do is help you get there. “Get on your knees.” He taps against your hips with his pointer finger. “Hu-huh?” You look at him confused. “Just do it.”

You let your feet slide backwards so you were now back on your knees. “There you go, more comfortable?” He asks sincerely. You only nod your head, not rolling your hips on him. He lifts his hips up and slides his body down so it would be more comfortable for him. 

You fuck yourself on him. “Ooh, I’m close.” Your voice rings out, Claggor hums in response, feeling his own orgasm coming. “Me too, where do you want me?” He asks, just so he knows before he cums. “Inside, don’t worry.” You pant.

“A-ah, cumming!’ Your nails accidentally dig into his biceps as you feel your release. The pain only brings him over the edge, his jaw slacking as his seed spurts inside you. 

You feel the warmness spread within you. Feeling his cock soften inside. You kiss at his chest before laying down on him. Keeping him in place with his dick still stuck within those fluttered walls. 

“Fucking hell, Claggor.” You spit out, his arms wrap around you. “You were amazing.” He mumbles. “No, you were.” You lift your head up at him. “That was insane!” You exclaim, accidentally jolting your hips causing him to hiss at the sensitive feeling. “Sorry.” You chuckle. 

“It’s okay.” He waves it off. He goes to help you get up but you stop him. “I want to stay like this for a little bit.” You tell him with a heated face. He raises a brow. 

“I was hoping for round 2… But I want to feel you grow inside me.” You quietly admit to him. Now it was his turn for his face to heat up.

Flushing as he now replays everything the two of you just did. And you get exactly what you wanted. 

[humanpurposes]

Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily��� you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him. 

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can. 

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond. 

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly. 

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement. 

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting. 

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates!

[papaya-twinks]

just put the books down - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+, praise, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), fingering

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - @spookbusters-jr, told you I’d write you one :3

uni/college au

“Baby, c’mon,” Lando sighed, his voice soft and calming as he watched you work away at your desk, your hand moving across the page, noting down all the things you needed to remember, all for your upcoming test, a few days before Christmas Day.

“You’ve been working for ages,” Lando said, when he realised you weren’t all too keen on replying to him. “Sweetheart, this isn’t healthy,” Lando said, his voice moving from a sight to more concerned as he stood up.

You didn’t look up, still writing down hurriedly, the first half of your writing all perfect and neat, slowly fading into a messy scrawl. Lando sighed, his long fingers coming to wrap your hair gently into his hand, watching you through the mirror in front of you.

“Lando, I need to focus,” you said, your voice nearing desperation as you tried to wave his hands away from your hair, but he wasn’t letting off, his fingers still intertwined in your locks. “Baby, just five or ten minutes away from all this studying,” he said firmly.

God, you really wanted to say ‘no’, you really did want to finish all your noted and cram as much studying as you could but this was hurting you - you’d skipped meals just for a few extra minutes of studying, putting your health after your studying.

You sighed, moving to lean back into your chair, your fingers still wrapped tightly round your pen, your hand shaking with emotion. Lando silently moved past your chair, kneeling down between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.

“You’re overworking yourself, baby,” he said softly, trailing kisses up your thighs, moving your shorts down your legs, his fingers threading under your panties. You whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth latched onto the material softly, dragging it down your thighs.

“Just like that?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours, your pen falling from your hand as you gripped the seat, your legs squeezing the tiniest bit round his head. “Hey,” he mumbled softly, pushing your legs apart, holding your thighs as he stared at your cunt.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, licking a soft line up your folds, extracting a soft moan from your lips. “My favourite treat,” he mumbled, the cold air from the window whipping round both of you as his tongue flicked over your clit.

His movements were precise and perfect, easing moans, whimpers and squeaks from you, his finger pushing into the entrance of your tight core, slowly inching inside of you, your eyes fluttering closed, lips parted in a moan.

His tongue worked at your bundle of nerves, almost worshipping tour pussy, pumping his finger in and out of you, his lips coated in your juices. “Lando, f-fuck,” you moaned, your hands bunching into his curls as he fucked his finger into your kitty.

His hands dug into the flesh of your thighs, lifting you into his arms and away from your desk, his fingers leaving your pussy. You whined, your core feeling empty already from the lack of contact as he dropped you onto the bed, your body bouncing.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he whispered, undoing his joggers, his cock springing into his hand as he pumped himself, leaning down to litter your face, neck and collarbones with kisses, his dick shining with his own pre-cum.

You moaned again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, slowly inching his cock inside of you, your pussy walls stretching with his length and thickness, the bulge you were all too familiar with forming in your belly as his cock pulsated.

“You’re gonna do amazing on those tests,” he leaned down, kissing your jaw softly, his lips brushing over yours as you sniffled, your eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry I haven’t been spending time with you,” you mumbled quietly.

“Baby,” Lando sighed, wiping your eyes softly, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, “it’s not your fault…that’s the price of being a little smartass,” he whispered, kissing your lips softly again, his cock twitching inside of you as he moved slowly.

He let you bury your face into the crook of your neck, his hips moving gently against yours, his cock plunging in and out of your heat, your warm pussy welcoming each thrust as you clung to his shoulders, almost for dear life.

His hand came to the bulge in your stomach, soothingly stroking patterns against your skin as you moaned, your lips in a small ‘O’ as his cock worked at your pussy, his thumb rubbing small circled on your throbbing clit.

“Love you so much,” he whispered, “my smart girl,”. You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed again as you mumbled back a ‘l-love you too’, your lips parted as your orgasm flushed through, calm yet so, so powerful.

“That’s it,” Lando cooed, almost encouraging you, “let go f’me,” he wiped your tears, “look so pretty like this, all pretty and cryin’,” he mumbled. “It’s shitty they just threw the test right into the middle of December,” he frowned, “it ain’t fair,”.

“At least it’s not on Christmas,” you said, laughing softly as you watched Lando’s seed trickle down your thighs. Your laugh - the soft, beautiful sound - bringing a little smile to Lando’s face as he kissed your cheek once more.

“You’re gonna get an amazing surprise on Christmas, then,” he whispered.

[a1ecmcdowell]

THE REAPERㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤEVENT OF THE FUCKIN' CENTURY.

THE REAPER disappeared off the face of the planet in the 20th century. SOLDIER BOY is the only one who holds the answers. A WAITING GAME ensues to see which, if either, makes it out of the depths of the unknown first.

includes, they're gay ㅤㅤㅤ u get to meet the side characters < 3 ㅤㅤㅤ idk i think that's it IT'S MILD. COMPARED TO WAHT COMES NEXT

word count : 3.6k

notes, my monthy fic update is done time to drop off the face of the planet again for 2384590438 years PERDFKLSLJ sry for edging aftercare for so long i'm just a girl whose interests change like the weather

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev part!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterpost!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnext part!

04.

COLE WAS NOT wearing his fucking glasses and that was final. The Vought stylist brought them in underneath a silver platter like he was supposed to be excited for the reveal of glasses that would help his failing eyesight. As if that was something he would ever be excited for. The rest of his life, watching it fail despite the rest of his body healing fine, all because his powers just did that? Going blind because his powers just did that? 

The only reason he did not tell Allie to get fucked was because she was the messenger. He didn’t shoot messengers. He just shot the sender twice.

“They’re really not so bad, Reaper,” she said in that soft voice of hers, tucking her hair behind one of her ears, fingers catching on the temples of the Vought Exclusive glasses she’d tried on. She was a sweetheart, really. Cole couldn’t believe he thought about shooting her.

Couldn’t believe a lot of the shit in his head, if he thought about it. So he didn’t.

“You try having your eyes failing on you, then tell me they’re ‘not so bad’,” he grumbles furiously, staring at his reflection in the large, golden framed mirror in one of Vought-American’s special dressing rooms on the upper floors. Cole meets Allie’s eyes in the reflection of the glass. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry.” 

She plucks his glasses off of her face, and unfolds hers from being tucked into the neckline of her peplum dress, sliding them into her face. “Should switch you and Obsidian’s suits for that. Inconvenience the both of you.”

“Hey, he’s innocent in all of this, alright?” Cole laughs, a sound he doesn’t often do. Too locked up in his head, where it’s all dark and fucky. A pause. “Obsidian’s coming?”

“Rumor has it,” Allie singsongs in response, coming up behind Cole to smooth out the skin tight leather of his outfit. He’s beginning to think she has a thing for him. He’s beginning to think he needs a new damn stylist — or whatever she was. “They want to show unity, between the Six, now that Soldier Boy—”

Oh, fucking kill him. 

“Yeah, yeah, no need to stroke his ego while he’s not here to get off on it,” he grumbled all over again, waving his hand in dismissive irritation. “God forbid he know they threw a fucking Gala for his safe return. As if he can die. As if I haven’t tried—”

Allie beams at him in the mirror, like he’s a spectacle. “Sorry,” she splutters when he catches her, head falling, “it’s just— I’m an intern, so I don’t get to see the likes of you all very often and— it’s real?”

Opportunities fall into his bored hands sometimes. Cole glances down at himself in his latex supersuit, then flicks his eyes back up to her. “Yeah. All real.”

Hates himself instantly. Has never, not once, felt so much like Ben in his life. 

“No!” she splutters all over again, her fist punching out to hit him in the arm. “The rivalries. The drama. I thought it was just publicity.”

Cole knew that, by the way. He’s just falling victim, like the rest of America currently, based on the newspaper headlines, to the influence of Soldier Boy. Get him out of here. 

Still, he puts on his media trained smile and nods once. “A lot of it’s just for show.” He talks himself out of trying to kill Soldier Boy twice an hour. “All in good fun.” He knows how he’d do it, too. “Gotta keep people watching, y’know?” Ben not included. Because Cole wanted to burn his eyes out and make his stupid head explode. 

Cole claps his hands together, turning his head to the door. Still closed, no sign of Legend yet, coming to collect him and the others. “Well, Allie. Go check for me that The Legend hasn’t croaked yet, yeah? He’s late again.”

Allie, seemingly having been waiting for an order, jumps into action like a robot. Cole felt a wash of relief the moment that she was out of the room. 

He didn’t hesitate to glance at the vanity counter that she’d left his glasses on, shooting the brightest beam of light at them to try and shatter them. No avail. Worth a shot, though. 

His door cracks open, and he first hears it in the sounds that come before the actual movement. Heavy stomping footsteps, an even heavier sigh. 

Cole expects Legend. Has an irritable teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. 

It’s Ben. 

“Just wanted to see if this was killin’ you yet, princess,” Ben hums, cigar hanging out of his mouth, hair styled flat and gelled against his scalp. “Having to celebrate me tonight.” 

“I’m not celebrating shit,” Cole says through a scoff, running his fingers through his hair. He really should start putting an effort into his appearance, shouldn’t he? Can’t just bank on being the one of the Six everyone’s afraid to cross. “There’s free wine. I’m goin’ for free wine.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Ben puffs an exhale of cigar smoke into the dressing room, making it smell like leather and tobacco at once. “You owe me a bit of fucking respect after the display yesterday.” 

Cole’s eye starts twitching, like it always does when Ben opens his mouth and tries to reprimand him for not kissing his ass. “Yeah. Alright.” 

He expects Ben to hound him a bit more, just to really solidify how much his feelings were hurt by specifically Cole’s unhappiness about his return. They’ve played this stupid game enough that Cole can predict every single one of Ben’s steps and still goes easy on him. 

Instead, there’s the telltale scrape of heavy, solid metal on hardwood, and he only has time to blink before the whistle of something flying through the room overtakes any other sound. Ben’s shield. 

Cole doesn’t have time to physically defend himself, or even react, before the edge of it slams into his abdomen and shoves him against the wall. Against the wall, into the wall — what was the difference? Drywall cracks behind his spine, and there’s a split second of blearing pain behind his eyes before his blood’s already sending its defenses to heal it. 

“What the fuck?” Cole shouts, his boot kicking at the titanium steel and trying to shove it off of his leg where it’d fallen. Expectedly, he can’t move it. 

Expectedly, he’s getting pissy. First they want him to make a grand debut next to Soldier Boy in fucking glasses — to prove that Soldier Boy is the strongest in his time of praise, he guessed, or maybe just so he could see. Either way made his blood turn to fire and ash. Then this—

“I have to go to a gala dedicated to me with a fucking hole in my chest,” Ben snarls, his booming voice echoing throughout the small dressing room. “Do you know how patronizing that is?” 

“I didn’t know you knew what that word meant,” Cole says, mostly to himself, “been reading the Daily Tribune? Doing the crosswords?” 

“I will fucking kill you one day, Reaper,” he responds through his gritted teeth, his own boots stomping on the ground as he goes to retrieve his shield, “and there won’t be a goddamn person to mourn you, and not a person to reap you either.” 

Anger flares through him like a lit match. It’d been a minute, and it’s rusty at best, but he gives in to the dark. The shadows cast behind the vanity, the darker ones beneath the soft, maroon couch in the middle of the room. 

He thinks it, and they finally, finally fall silent for a second, obeying the command in his head and curl into a wispy black hand around Ben’s throat. 

“Nice trick,” Ben rasps through his strained throat, his twitching lips betraying the calm facade he wears like a mask, “gonna dim the light now?” 

Finish it. He doesn’t. Finish him. He won’t. “Maybe the one in your eyes.” 

“You wish.” 

You wish, you wish, you wish. Fuck, he did wish. 

It’s always like this when he gives in to the shadows. Their voices quiet when he reaches out to them, and then they’re loud, pounding in his skull. 

He’s gotten used to pushing them away, though, Even when it makes his limbs feel too big for his skin, denying something so innate within him. 

Cole holds the grip on Ben’s throat a second longer before he wills the shadows into bleary black smoke again. Ben’s hand comes up to rub at the reddened mark on his skin, his eyes ablaze with fire. 

Ben’s hands shoot out before Cole can blink, strong fingers grabbing Cole by the nylon of his supersuit, They drag him in until they’re nose to nose, hot angry breath splaying on his face in puffs. 

A blink, and Cole thinks he might hit him. A blink, and he’s certain he will, already preparing to have to pop his nose into place again, crack his jaw on track again. 

He kisses him. 

It’s bruising. teeth clashing into teeth, hard enough to send them both back into the wall behind Cole. Cole is too shocked to do anything, at first, except for let him, even as it felt like ice water being poured directly over his head, turning everything to ice. 

Finally, he returns to his senses, and he shoves Ben back with his hands on his chest. Ben’s hands only curl tighter into the nylon fabric. “What the fuck, Ben?” 

Ben’s chest heaves, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips. He says nothing in his defense, not a single word, but his eyes falling to Cole’s mouth says a thousand of them. One second, they’re staring at each other. The next second, Cole isn’t sure who moves first; him, or Ben. Ben, whose hands drag him back in by his grip on his shirt. Cole, who lifted his hands to grasp at Ben’s face, holding him in place so he couldn’t break free again. 

It wasn’t romantic by any means. It was entirely lust and anger driving their mouths together. Ben pushes him back against the wall and the cracked drywall behind them, using his grip on Cole’s suit to lift him easily. 

The skin tight fabric of their supersuits leaves little to the imagination about how this was affecting them, which does nothing but make Cole groan into Ben’s open mouth. 

Ben shoves him harder into the wall, his voice a low, warning omen on his lips. “Shut the fuck up.” 

For once in his entire life, Cole listens to him. He’d deny it until he died, though. 

Ben’s knee knocks roughly against Cole’s, forcing him to spread them wider, and once Cole obliges, he presses himself deeper between them. Ben’s tongue swipes across Cole’s bottom lip until it opens, invading his mouth with force, just as he invades everything. 

That thought alone has Cole shoving him off of him until Ben’s spine collides with the vanity, stumbling after him to sink his fingers in the waistband of Ben’s pants, pulling his hips closer but still keeping him pinned to the vanity. 

Ben’s pupils are blown, eyes glazing as he stares into Cole’s. He leans in, teeth clamping around Cole’s bottom lip and drags it backwards until it pops back against his teeth. 

“Hey, Reap,” a voice — Obsidian’s, he realizes — calls from the other side of the door, and Ben jerks back so quickly that his teeth bite into Cole’s lip. Cole’s eyes flare at the blood that draws to the surface of the skin, his eyes already flaring— “They’re about to announce us downstairs in the Plaza.” 

The gold in Cole’s eyes dies down, but his heart still rests firmly in his throat; can feel it when he swallows. Ben’s teeth are clenched tightly, his jaw flexing in the process. 

“Alright,” Cole calls back through the door, his voice strained and thick.  “I’ll be down.”

“Right. Tell Soldier Boy, too, if y’see him.” Yeah. Cole saw him, alright. Ben’s eyes dare him to say something about it. “His own party and he’s M.I.A.” 

Cole’s lips twitch. Ben’s eyes darken. 

Obsidian’s footsteps echo down the hallway outside before Cole can say anything, though, and weighted seconds pass where neither Cole or Ben move. One crowded against a desk, the other crowding him. 

Ben shoves past him once Cole’s mouth opens, the altered reality they’d found themselves in shattering around them. His shoulder knocks hard into Cole’s on his way out.

The door slams behind him, rattling in the frame against the hinges, leaving Cole to bear the weight of it all on his shoulders. 

—

Downstairs, the rich and the influential sit at circular tables in the ballroom of the Plaza, dressed to the nines and muttering amongst themselves. Golden lights hang over each table, illuminating the tablecloth and their glittering wine and champagne glasses. The stage at the very back of the ballroom is the brightest; stage lights drown it in glowing white, a podium in the center and three chairs to right of it, an open space on the left. 

“Hope you plan on dimming that,” Obsidian says from somewhere in the shadows over Cole’s shoulders. Sebastian Orville looks surprisingly steady on his feet and comfortable in this crowded setting for someone who hasn’t left his house in three months, minimum. Cole supposed three months was enough time to get his gravity shit in control, if anything. 

His eyes are as stormy as ever, though, when Cole glances over his shoulder to look at him. Constantly shifting swirls of black and gray, so at odds with the rest of him. Messy curtains of sandy brown hair falling in his face, tan skin, strong jaw. He’s the most boyish of the Six’s men, in a way, and somehow one of the least human in what he does. 

“How are you here?” Cole asks incredulously, scanning his form for any indication of what is possibly keeping him from sending every glass, every table, every person, from slamming into the ceiling. 

His lips twitch, but before he can answer, Klara, Liberty, says in a false whisper, “they’ve got him shackled.” 

Sebastian’s smile is wide and genuine for someone who’s housebound, and more than likely one with furniture floating around it like bubbles. He raises his folded hands up, sleeves falling down his elbows and revealing solid black shackles. “I am being very polite today.”

“Go on, let ‘im see how you walk,” Steven, Stratostorm, nudges him forward by the elbow. “He was shufflin’ around all over the lobby. Y’Shoulda been there.” 

Cole would have rather ended his life than be around these idiots for longer than he has to now. “Yeah. Should’ve.” It was the alternative, though, to making out with Ben Anderson in his dressing room. Every single option felt like a fever dream. 

Joanne, the youngest of them all, is silent, though Cole doesn’t need his stupid glasses to know why. Bloody Mary is a terror to most,  the goddamn poster child for Vought Guard Dog in the same way that Soldier Boy is Vought’s special snowflake. 

Obsidian and Stratostorm are still chatting in loud whispers behind Cole, with the occasional chime-in from Liberty. Still, though, there’s no sign of the man of the hour, and Cole can’t help but wonder if he ditched — and if somehow, he’s gonna find a way to flip the blame onto him. 

Legend walks onto the stage, and the room’s buzz of chatter dies into soft murmurs of intrigue and interest. Here’s the man who manages the Six’s shit — or really just covers their asses. To these people, though, he must seem like a god instead of just a glorified public relations manager and string puller. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he starts into the rectangular microphone braced on the podium, “it is with great honor to announce to you the safe return of our Soldier Boy, and along with him, the end of the war.” 

The room erupts into applause. Cole’s already bored, having heard variations of this speech in mindless gossip around the city and straight from the war-ender himself. “It’s another great honor to announce the attendance of the Six with us tonight—” A bright white spotlight bursts above them, illuminating the five of them, drawing the attention of every pampered head in the room. “All here to celebrate the re-arrival of leader Soldier Boy.” 

Cole wanted to tell him that Soldier Boy couldn’t lead a duck to water, but whatever. He didn’t care that much. He cared more about the notable absence of Soldier Boy, knowing that the man wouldn’t ever miss an opportunity to hear about his accomplishments. His skin is crawling with unease over the unknowns that keep building up. 

“Dim that shit,” Obsidian says again under his breath, “I haven’t seen the light of day in months. I’m going to fucking burst.” 

Cole’s eyes roll. Not that he was listening to Legend rattle on about the united front that was supposed to be the Six — checkmate to Allie for having guessed that part of this speech right — but he was a little preoccupied trying to find someone. Someone who he’d made out with in his dressing room. Fuck. 

Still, he glances up into the light, used to the way bright things burn his retinas at this point, as he turns the brightness down a few notches. Murmurs erupt in an undercurrent of sound beneath Legend’s speech. Cole doesn’t bother listening in to hear what they might be saying. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Legend says suddenly to an equally silent ballroom, “Soldier Boy.” 

The answer to Ben’s initial question when he’d walked into Cole’s dressing room was, yes, this was killing him. Celebrating someone that he hated and that hated him was a great feat. Still, he can’t deny the rush of relief that floods his veins at the fact that Soldier Boy was up there, even if it meant that the room was deafening with their equal relief. 

Klara leads the five of them around the back wall while they’re all distracted by whatever the hell Ben is saying — war talk, Cole imagines, or whatever war stories Ben can conjure up to make him look like God’s greatest gift. 

The open space on the right of the stage was for them. To stand and be gawked at like zoo animals. Cole was already counting the seconds to when he could leave and slam a dirty martini or twelve. 

“Now would be a good time,” Joanne whispers without moving her mouth much, her words slurring through her razor sharp teeth, “to unshackle Obsidian.” 

A rare joke — rare words — from her. Cole can’t help but quirk a smile. She’s too young to be reduced to silence like she’s been. It wasn’t her fault people were scared of her. 

“Strato’s got the key.” Obsidian jerks his head slightly in Stratostorm’s direction. 

Stratostorm is less subtle with his reactions, head swiveling back and forth between the two of them, before his eyes land on Cole. He thinks, at least. The visor over his eyes makes it hard to tell. “I do not have the key.”

“What?” Obsidian splutters out, clearing his throat to try and cover it when the sound echoes off of the walls of the stage. Cole can’t help the burst of laughter that breaks free from his throat. Obsidian’s chains rattle in his outrage, bound wrists flailing at his waist, out of sight.  “You fucking promised you wouldn’t lose it, you said—”

Their argument falls to the backburner of Cole’s mind, though, because his eyes make their way over to Ben at the podium, only to find him already looking at him on his strut to join them. Legend’s taking the podium again. 

Ben settles next to Cole, arms deliberately not touching. Cole’s eyes dance to the ceiling, asking gods that long abandoned them for some strength. Then at the spotlights, dimming them, too — the last thing he wants is more attention on him than necessary while his face is red hot. 

“What happened in—”

“Didn’t fucking happen,” Cole cuts him off, eyes straight ahead still, jaw ticking. “Don't Need your orders. Already got it.” 

“Good.”

“Good.”

The rest of their time onstage, Cole doesn’t remember. He’s sure he blacked out in his efforts to ignore Ben right next to him— the heat of his body rolling off in waves. At some point, they were dismissed, and Cole went straight to the first server he saw, taking two martinis off of his tray without a second thought. 

What he really needed was a cigarette. He gave himself ten minutes, though, before he excused himself from whatever useless conversation the equally useless politician had dragged him into. He really fucking hated these things. 

Ben catches up to him before he can push open the exit door behind the stage, hoping for some semblance of illusion of privacy. Cole bristles, his fists clenching at his sides. “Don’t,” Ben grits out, his face unreadable and brutish at once. 

“Fuck you, Ben,” he spits out, his eyes rolling instantly as if it was just second nature, dismissing any and every word out of his mouth, “I’m actually, physically and mentally, sick of your shit tod—”

“Can you shut the fuck up and listen for a second?” Ben snaps, eyes locked onto Cole’s and haunted. The sight of it is the only thing that snaps his mouth shut. “I’m being fucking serious. Don’t go out there.”

Cole has no other choice than to bite. “Why?”

“Obsidian’s dead.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤGREATLY APPRECIATED!

tags: @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas (idk who else to tag the day i'm BLANKING i make a taglist is the day i'll see heaven)

[shaiprsly]

First

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Virgin!Fem!Reader

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : SMUTTT, lots of kissing, fingering, Elvis's a softie and js soooo gentle with reader :(

𝐀/𝐍 : Hii !! Just wanted to say that part.5 & part.6 of "Caged By His Love" will be out tomorrow!! (I'm in Paris so it depends on where y'all are <3)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sitting beside Elvis cozily while he was sprawled on his bed, reading a book, your eyes read over the words printed on the book you were holding, a peaceful silence lingering in the air.

he had invited you over to spend the night, just a simple innocuous 'sleepover' even, not admitting that he’d gotten a little bit too lonely in here, he didn't really like being in Germany. You two met at a party a year ago, he'd opened up to you about his problems, how he felt after his Mama died and all, since then you were like bestfriends.

you were a bit too invested into the plot, some cheesy romance novel that you were somehow enjoying. cliches were not that bad sometimes, after all. you found yourself unconsciously smiling at all these events happening to the protagonist, a foreign ache blooming in your chest. envy? or perhaps just mere curiousity, you’ve never had a decent experience with dating, after all.

not even a first kiss, and it embarrassed you greatly.

almost everyone you knew was either already dating or experienced in this field, and no matter how much you tried to hide your lack of knowledge, it was clearly obvious. you weren’t innocent by all means, the book in your hands was evidence enough, the scenes already accelerating to something more heated. though reading such things sometimes felt like a self sabotaging method because it always left you craving something similar.

your eyes drifted over to Elvis, watching the neutral expression adorning his face, one arm folded under his head while his other hand held the book in his hand. you couldn’t help but take advantage of the fact that he was not looking at you, admiring the way those plump lips of his were parted, his black hair messy from the shower, you loved his hair a lot.

his eyes were half lidded, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him unconsciously lick his bottom lip, blood rushing to your cheeks, the book in your hand long forgotten. why was your body even reacting like this, so eager to memorise every inch of his face?

“starin' a lil' too much, aren’t ya?” his calm voice broke you out of your trance, earning a soft gasp from you as you quickly looked away, the action of no avail. he’d already caught you.

“nah, you just had a thing in your hair” it was clear that you were lying. he noted how you were a little bit too squirmy, avoiding his eyes — flustered. he couldn’t help but feel a smirk rising on his lips, sitting up on his bed as he put his book aside, all of his attention now pointed at you.

“you lyin'.” he scoffed, leaning forward.

silence once again fell within his bedroom, short yet tense. you could hear your heartbeat getting louder in your ears, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

“Elvis, have you ever… kissed anyone?”

what a foolish question to ask, of course he had kissed many times, on stage, for pictures, with his girlfriends, during sex, fumbling your words out in the spur of the moment. though the ways his eyes widened made you go still, realisation replacing the confusion on his face almost as quickly. he snorted, his head falling back as he nodded. “‘course i’ve kissed girls. I mean look a' me”

you rolled your eyes, pursing your lips shut while trying to ignore the fact that you were a little bit too aware of the heat on your face, shrugging your shoulders. “i-it’s… it’s just…” fuck, you couldn’t believe you were actually doing this. “i haven’t… y’know.” you kept trailing off, looking anywhere and everywhere but at him.

he hummed knowingly, staring at you intently. he obviously knew that — definitely not because he always kept close tabs on you behind your back — always surprised that no one had kissed you or swept you off your feet yet. lucky him, he supposed, it was exactly what he’d wanted for a while now. “i know.”

“you do?” you gasped out, though he didn’t let you feel ashamed, his hands soon grasping yours, gently intertwining your fingers.

“i think everyone does.” he snickered, causing you to whine in protest, not even able to swat his shoulders gently since he was holding your hands. “but why’re you bringin' it up, huh?” he feigned innocence.

he was so frustrating, obviously knowing that you wanted to try kissing him, especially due to the way your eyes kept trailing down onto his lips, your own lips parting slightly, as if wondering what it’d feel like to kiss him.

the thought of being your first kiss made his heart flutter in the best way possible, every little dream of his about you aching to come true. but still, it was funny to mess with you and watch you stutter while trying to not make a mess of yourself. you were just so damn adorable.

“i was wondering… if maybe we could try it.” you mumbled quietly.

“try what?”

only if you could punch him. “kissing…!” you squeaked out, already regretting your words. what if he’d reject you, never look at you the same again?

“should’ve said that sooner.” he whispered, making you realise just how close he was to you as he leaned forward, his hands pulling you in front of him, soon moving up to cup your face, the tender action making your fears melt away.

“want me t'be your first kiss, mama?” his voice was more hoarse now, eyes glimmering with need as he stared down from your eyes to your lips, and then back up at your eyes that were staring at him so dreamily, feeling you nod hastily.

he soon closed the distance between you both, pressing his lips against yours. he was slow and gentle, not wanting to freak you out as you clumsily kissed him back, your fists bunching his shirt up as you clung onto him, feeling his head tilt slightly, his lips parting and moving against yours, swallowing up your surprised little noises.

it felt so good, better than you’d expected from all these novels that you’d been reading. his fingers were neatly tucked behind your ears, not minding that you were leaning forward obliviously, just wanting to be closer to him.

“c’mere.” he grunted against your mouth, that noise alone making your heart go all giddy as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, letting your hands leave his shirt as your arms wrapped around his neck, continuing to kiss him. you couldn’ believe you were kissing your best friend.

he reluctantly pulled away after a while, knowing that you had to catch your breath, eyes drinking in the sight of your panting softly, your lips all wet from the kiss. from the kiss he gave you. he found himself grinning like a fool, pressing a few more kisses on the side of your mouth, hearing you giggle.

“not too bad for a first kiss, yeah?” he asked, earning a hum from you as you snugly sat on his lap, feeling his hands hold onto your waist, fingers slipping sneakily inside your waist, rubbing your sides in light circular motions, just a shy away from the waistband of your shorts. you didn’t mind, staring at him with wide eyes, your breathing quickening at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“what’cha thinkin' 'bout?” he asked, beginning to press light pecks on your jaw once he felt that you were comfortable enough.

your throat tightened momentarily, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked down, shaking your head, feeling your ears unbearably heat up once again. “nothing.” you whispered too quietly. he tsked, one hand reaching up to gently grab the side of your face, tilting your head towards his.

“just…” you cleared your throat. “just wanna do more.”

“more?”

“y’know what i mean!” this time, you did swat on his shoulders, causing him to chuckle as he nodded.

“mhm, i know. my lil' baby wants more.” he felt your legs spreading a bit more by his hips, your body squirming on his lap. “ever touched yourself?” he asked, rendering you surprised by his rather crude question.

“yes. doesn’t feel really good… i suck at it.” you huffed, not wanting to give the details of how you awkwardly stuck your fingers inside you or tried to rub yourself, either going too fast or too slow, always failing to reach the peak.

“oh no.” he cooed mockingly, his hand gently resting on your stomach through your shirt, his eyes finding yours, softening up. you looked so shy when your confidence was all drained out, it made him want to kiss you all the more greedily. but not yet, that’d be too fast. “want me t'make you feel good princess ?” he asked, genuine.

your eyes widened, wondering if he was joking or not, though the way he was staring at you and touching you with so much care made you want to swoon, nodding after a few seconds.

“use your words, lil' mama.”

“yes…” a smile found its way to your lips, his hands swift to shift you around so now you were in between his legs once he parted them, your back resting against his chest. you giggled, your thighs squeezing shut while he pressed soft kisses on the top of your head and then your nape, his hands gently roaming over your torso through the fabric of your shirts, caressing away through your breasts, causing your breath to hitch.

“lift your hips up, baby.” he ordered, to which you eagerly obeyed by leaning up so he could tug your shorts down, groaning audibly at the sight of your panties. “fuck, always wanted t'see ya like this.” he confessed, taking down your panties too, putting the clothes aside, not letting you see that he snuck your panties into the pocket of his jacket.

“really?” you whimpered out, feeling his hands gently guiding your legs open, your back trying to lean more into his chest. his fingers snaked down, palming your pussy, your hips already twitching at the foreign touch.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he couldn’t help but groan, pleased as his fingers swiped through your slicken folds, gathering some wetness. he was hard, his cock eager to jump out of his pants but that was a matter for later, some other day. today was all about you.

carefully, he begins to circle his fingers around your clit, feeling it pulsate due to his feather-like, almost teasing movements. you moaned out blissfully, eyes flying shut as he continued to rub your clit, your skin tingling at this newfound feeling.

“feels good?” he asked, earning a hum from you, his head resting on your shoulder, almost nuzzling against your cheek. his other hand went from gently caressing your thighs to in between your legs. “want mah fingers in you too?”

“yes…” you mewled in ecstacy, lips parted in awe as your legs stayed spread, aching a bit though the pleasure coursing within you made it easy for you to ignore that. one hand focused on your clit while the other spread your folds apart, a finger teasing your tight hole, your hips trying to buck forward.

“so eager. all of this is f’me, yeah?” he was breathless, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses against your ear as you nodded, whining out something incomprehensible that seemed like a ‘yeah’.

his finger soon pushed into your pussy, feeling your squelchy walls squeeze around his digit eagerly. fuck, you were so tight, it made him want to stuff you full of his cock to see how prettily you’d stretch around him. he begin to gently move his finger around you, the other hand not ceasing its movements, fingers continuing to rub your clit.

“El… Elvis!” you tilted your head, eagerly gasping out his name, your lips trying to find his. he indulged, kissing your lips once again, sneaking in a second finger inside your pussy, beginning to thrust them in and out. his fingers were nicely long, reaching in and probing against your sweet spots that you had convinced yourself didn’t exist. it all felt so good, your wetness leaking onto his fingers and probably dirtying his sheets too, the pleasure from both the simultaneous rubbing of your clit and his fingers fucking your pussy made your body writhe, feeling all sensitive, getting closer to the edge embarrassingly quick.

every pretty noise you were making was muffled against his mouth, feeling all hot and needy, something building up in your stomach. “i-i think m’gonna cum.” you fumbled over your words after pulling away from the kiss.

“keep lookin’ at me.” his fingers continued to thrust in and out of your pussy at a steady pace while rubbing your wet throbbing clit, his hands a mess, eyes staying locked onto your glossy ones. your breathing quickened as you felt your peak approaching, crying out once you orgasmed, cumming all over his fingers, walls clenching around him impossibly tight as your body convulsed. his fingers didn’t stop rubbing your clit until you were a limp mess in his arms, panting softly, all warm and fuzzy.

he gently pulled his fingers out, proudly looking at them before moving his fingers to your mouth. “lick it f’me?” he asked softly, your brain melted into mush as you opened your mouth to suckle onto his fingers for a while until he pulled them out. comfortably sitting you up, he cradled your face and pressed a kiss on your nose, watching you smile doppily, just so happy.

“wanna get cleaned up?” he tilted his head, causing your brows to furrow.

“but… what about you?” you asked, looking down at the tent formed in his pants. Shaking his head as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“don’t wanna go so fast on ya and freak ya out. someday later, 'kay?” truth was that he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself, claiming you as his as soon as he’d fuck you properly, letting his obsession unveil. he promised himself that he wouldn’t do that — not yet at least — wanting your first time to be gentle with him taking his time with you.

and you'd be looking forward to it.

[taegularities]

meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them. 

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core. 

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR. 

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey.​ Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet. 

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.” 

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…” 

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.” 

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought. 

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity. 

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his. 

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

[madamechrissy]

Put it On Me

nsfw- Your boss Nanami counts how many times he can make you cum on break

Your cunt is dripping down your boss Nanami’s Armani gold watch, he's watching it as it soaks his two fingers, pumping in and out of your soppy little hole now. Nanami has ten more minutes of this break, he's counting how many times he can make his pretty assistant cum.

"One.' He murmurs as you're pulsing around his fingers, thighs spread on his desk, trembling. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweetness off them and moaning. Cheeks hollowing. "So exquisite. Bend over my desk, darling."

You eagerly obey, ass in the air, feeling his silk cheetah tie wrap your wrists, his strong muscles flexing behind you. "Nana-mi!" Your back arches when you feel it, his hot tongue lapping up your slit, his huge hands gripping the fat of your ass, your skirt is bunched around your hips as you press into his oak desk.

Your boss Nanami fucks you so good with his tongue you cum all down his chiseled face, earning his satisfied moan as he stands now, pulling on your hair, wrapping it around his fist, gently cupping your face with his other hand. "Two."

Now your boss Nanami Kento is rubbing the fat tip of his cock between your puffy lips, you gasp at it, his breath against your ear as he bullies his cock in your little hole, you're trembling at the stretch. "K-kento... you're s'big I..."

He presses you up high on the desk, cutting off your words, your legs dangling as he bends down he's so huge, his body, his cock, his hands, you feel so small and pathetic, as you're drooling on his desk, his thick cock pumping in and out, heavy balls smacking your clit, you're screaming now, earning a smack on your ass.

"You've got to be quiet, darling.... oh, f-fuck... three." He peeks at his watch with a shaky hand, hazel eyes rolling back when you flutter around him. "You're such a mess, aren't you?" You barely manage a nod, Nanami’s cock slides in easier and easier as you're dripping g down his office floor, he's pulling that cheetah tie, using it as leverage, gasping when you tighten around him.

Your boss Nanami wants to at least get one more orgasm from you, so he presses your head into the desk, watching you drool out of your stupidly open mouth. Your fucked out eyes are so pretty, he lets you know as he bends over you completely, murmuring "four"

Nanami watches your eyes roll back as his tip abuses your cervix. Your orgasm is blinding, your head falling back, he's shoving his cock so deep, stuffing you so full, you can't take it. You're shattering as you cum so hard it hurts, feeling him in your tummy he's so deep. "Cum in me, please." You whisper, he cups your face now, exhaling at how pretty you are, the tears falling down your cheeks glittering under the office lights.

"Want me to fill you up, pretty?" He's pressing on your tummy over your blouse, you nod eagerly, and he's busting his load so deep in you. You're dripping his white sticky cum, trembling in his hold, pussy pulsing as just his cum gets you again. "F-five."

"Wh-what's the numbers?" You ask, dazed and cock drunk, he unties you, the silk leaving your wrists, that watch going off. He smirks, lips turning up at the corner,then turns you and fixes your skirt, kissing your lips.

"How much I could make you cum during my break." your boss Nanami slides your panties up now, his sandy blond hair falling over his forehead as he kisses up your thigh. "Back to work, darling."

Nanami loves his breaks 🥵 Kinda dom Nanami, I don't see it too much aha but that's my head canon for him <3

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[6toru]

𝑾𝑯𝒀 𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑨 𝑻𝑶𝒀 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑴𝑬? — gojo satoru.

imagine gojo fucking you with the dildo you bought to prepare yourself for his big dick 🧎‍♀️

cw. 18+ content mdni, dildo fucking & explicit language | wc. 2.2k

author's note. another one of my works from my previous blog ! happy reading <3

The first time you stumbled across 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 freshly out of the shower, all naked and bare, the first thing your eyes caught sight of was that obscene baguette of a cock hanging between his legs. By then, you were convinced that he wasn't going to fit – at least, not easily. Your thesis was later proven to be correct when you had your first time with the ivory-haired male; tears immediately welling up in your eyes as you cried out in sheer pain. Of course, your boyfriend stopped his actions, making it his top priority to ensure your comfort and wellbeing. Since then, he didn't make any more advances – offering only his mouth and fingers for your pleasure, despite your many pleas telling him that you're ready.

It had been nearly a month now, and you had finally taken matters into your own hands. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures. While Satoru was off on a mission, you stared intently at the laptop screen, scrolling through the myriad of sex toys that are put on sale. What better way is there to stop your lovely boyfriend from holding himself back any longer than to buy a dildo to prepare yourself for him? Undeniably the mere image of his twitching cock being held down by the confines of his boxers and trousers made your mouth water. Eventually, after a couple minutes, you click on checkout.

It’s the next day, and your boyfriend is still away for a mission, and you find yourself staring at the box sitting in front of your door in surprise — honestly, you had expected it to come in a week. But then again, you’re back to business. Rushing back inside your abode, you plop the box down onto the kitchen table, tearing the cardboard with a scissor in nimble movements. Lo and behold, the extra large rainbow dildo rests upon the palms of your hands.

Blushing, you stare down at the lewd toy and you gulp.

You plop yourself back onto the comfort of your soft mattress; the freshly washed dildo and the small bottle of lube splayed out across the bed. at this point, you were already bare – your bra being the only garment left on your body. Leaning back on the mattress, your back makes contact with the soft and gentle plush of your pillow. You stretch your legs wide open and lick a thin stripe of saliva against your finger, rubbing it against your folds. A hitched breath escapes from your lips as you align the tip of the dildo with your aching hole. God, you desperately wish it's your boyfriend instead.

All you can think about is Satoru; his body above yours, his eyes staring lovingly into yours as his soft lips graze against your own. You shut your eyes closed, softly biting onto your lip as you press the large tip against your entrance —

“Guess who’s home~” The door suddenly opens and in barges your boyfriend, and as if the angels had sent him a message because of how much you have missed him, he finally returns from his week long mission. However within seconds, you both jumped in surprise — despite wearing his blindfold, you could tell by the way his mouth was agape that his eyes were ogling at the sight of a dildo pressed against your slick cunt. “Rainbow?”

As an immediate response, you cross your legs together and tossed the toy to the side; feeling an intense wave of embarrassment wash over your whole entire body. You want to evaporate, you really do. Your face feels undeniably warm, looking at your boyfriend bashfully. “Welcome home, ‘Toru.”

Without any words, Satoru makes long strides to the bed and he presses his lips onto yours, almost greedily; his fingers trails to the back of your head, cupping it as he kisses you deeper. Shortly after, he pulls away from your lips, leaving a thin string of saliva connecting your lips together. you can only look at him, both aroused and embarrassed.

“Were you planning on surprising me with this, my love?” Your boyfriend questions you, tearing the black fabric off his face; revealing his cerulean eyes blown out in arousal. You can barely utter a response, the embarrassment is simply too much for you to bear.

“Can't say that i'm too happy about this, though. Seein' you use a plastic dick instead of my own is making me a lil' jealous, y'know?”

You press a soft kiss against his cheek, looking at the male bashfully, “I'm sorry baby, i just wanted to prepare myself so I can take you better. That’s all.”

As if your words have ignited some sort of flame within him, all signs of fatigue from his mission has evaporated and he pulls you in for another heated kiss. “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he says in between kisses, “you know that?”

You’re unable to reply, your brain already feeling mushed from the way his lips mold so nicely against yours and his hands brushing against your thighs. You can only hum against his lips, though you’re barely keeping track of what he’s saying. But when you see his hand travel towards the toy, you felt your cheeks heat up even more when he decides to lube it once more upon inspecting it.

“Out of everything, why rainbow?”

“it’s the closest thing to your size,” you reply, your voice soft yet it’s dripping in arousal. “I didn’t want you to keep holding back for my sake.”

Satoru glanced down at the toy and right back at you, grinning cockily. “Cute. I hope you know that this is still pretty small compared to my dick.”

he leans to your ear, playfully slapping the toy against your pussy. “Say, baby. Do you mind if I help you prepare?”

Fuck. How can you say no to that? You nod your head eagerly towards your boyfriend, unable to control your desperation and arousal. Your gaze trails down towards Satoru’s trousers and you could immediately feel your mouth water — the sight of his fat cock restrained by the confines of the tight fabric is a sight you’ve definitely missed seeing.

You softly gasp at the sudden, cool sensation of the lube being sprayed onto your folds and then your eyes rolling back shortly after when he sticks his long and thick finger inside your heat — effortlessly kissing your g-spot with the tips of his thick fingers before pulling away, eliciting a small whine from you.

“you’re already squeezing so tightly around my finger,” Satoru comments, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “How are you going to take this dildo, let alone my dick, inside you?”

“I…” you try to find the words to speak, but a shocked squeak merely escaped your throat when he squirted a little bit of lube onto your juicy cunt; the cool liquid making your body jump slightly. Satoru chuckles softly at your reaction, leaning into your face to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “Sorry, hehe, you’re too cute I couldn’t help myself.”

He slides the tip of the dildo along your folds; starting from your clit to down your hole, pushing the tip ever so slightly to elicit a reaction out of you. You shiver slightly at the sensation, thrusting your hips softly against the plastic toy. There's no denying that you feel embarrassment washing over your entire being, yet there's also something awfully arousing about being at his complete submission.

“Try to relax yourself, 'kay baby?” You can hear Satoru's low voice ringing in your ears, dripping in complete arousal. You hum in response, eagerly nodding your head as you await his actions with your lips bitten in anticipation.

“Imagine that it’s my cock fucking you,” satoru says, chuckling deeply, “nice and deep.”

The moment he inserts the tip inside you, your toes immediately curl — your arms scrambling to find solace in his broad and brawny shoulders; your body writhing beneath his as he pushes the toy even deeper, deliciously stretching your velvety walls with his slow movements.

“Shit,” The ivory-haired male lets out a needy groan, his cerulean gaze locked onto your pussy; taking in the pornographic sight of your folds sucking the toy back in each time he pulls away — he’s unable to look away; he wants to see more.

“Baby, you think you take it even deeper?”

The sultry tone in Satoru’s voice sends immediate shocks of arousal straight to your heat, arching your back in delight when he presses his palm against the end of the dildo — pushing it deeper. He grins almost maniacally, relishing in the way you whimper so desperately for him; begging him to use his dick in lieu of a plastic toy.

“S-Satoru… please — I wan’ your cock so badly… Mmh—Oh!”

A loud mewl rips from your throat, your eyes widening as he slams the toy all the way; the head of the rainbow plastic cock planting a kiss on your cervix. You dig your nails deeper into his skin, your lips latching onto his shoulder to mask the desperate moans that threaten to escape your lips. Satoru licks his lips, his jaw clenching at your cute reactions.

He’s tempted, and that's an understatement — he's beyond horny and desperate, yet there's an inkling of curiosity egging him on; wanting to see how you'd react if it was his fat cock instead. He brushes a finger on your face, bringing a strand of hair behind your ear; leaving whispers of praise. After all, you’re taking the dildo so fucking well. He watches, amused, as he pulls the toy back – his eyes glued onto your slick juices coating the ridges before he slams in back inside, laughing almost sadistically when you let out a cry.

It isn't long before he increases his speed, his lips whispering sweet nothings in your ears as he relentlessly fucks the dildo inside your wall, and t's taking everything within him to ignore the ache dwelling in his pants – twitching within the confines of his boxers as he continues to pleasure you.

"F-fuck! 'Toru–mm! Please, baby, I-I'm so fuckin' close please I want your dick so badly – I p-promise i can take it now – Ah!"

Jaws slacked and eyes blown out in lust, he stares keenly at the juices trickling down your gaping hole; your thighs trembling and jumping each and every time he slams the rainbow toy inside you.

"Is that right?" Satoru grunts, licking his lips. He increases the fervour with his thrusts, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he imagines that it's his own cock going in and out of you.

"You're doing so fuckin' good, baby – takin' that toy like a fuckin' champ, yeah? I'll give you my dick right after this. You just have to cum good for me, 'kay?"

His groans comes in tandem with your lewd moans as nears you to your release. He truly revels the way your hips rock frantically against his hands, moaning desperately against his shoulder before you tense on the spot – your juices spraying all over his hand, dampening the bedsheets and a loud cry of his name leaves your trembling lips.

"Mmm... shit." Satoru sighs, staring down at you as he unbuckles his belt with ease, and your eyes snap over to his boxers; your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the humongous bulge as well as the pre-cum that dampened the grey fabric. A delicious sight. He slips out of the garment, almost teasingly and he laughs at the wanton look plastered across your face.

In languid movements, he rubs his giant dick in front of you; relishing in the sight of desperation that is plastered across your face while he teases you. "You've been so hungry for my cock, yeah? You're such a dirty, dirty girl."

"Please, 'Toru." you whimper, you can feel the tears of frustration slowly building up in your eyes. God, you want him so bad. Eventually, he returns to you; reconnecting his lips with yours in an arduous kiss. He leans you back to the mattress, his lips never once leaving yours as he unclasps your bra with one hand in ease. You gasp when you feel his hands immediately grasping at your soft mounds; his fingers rubbing, pulling and twisting at the erect buds.

When you pull away, a thin string of saliva is what was left that connected your lips together and you stare longingly at him through bated breaths — your breathing has gone even faster; your heart pounding against your chest as you watch Satoru align his cock to your needy cunt. It's going to happen now, you thought to yourself, biting your lips.

"Hey, baby. you think you can cum like that again?" He asks as he rubs his fat cock against your drenched folds, eliciting a sweet and needy moan from your lips.

Satoru has long lost his grasp on the remaining control he had on himself. There's a carnal look in his eyes, yet it only makes you all the more excited.

"I want you to cum like that on my dick this time, baby. You think you can give it to me?"

© 6TORU — do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

[rafesangelita]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ when a movie night with your best friend ends with you and rafe naked underneath your blankets..

warnings: bsf!rafe, fluff, cuddling, sexual tension, reader is a little bold in this one, heavy petting, tit play, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. & f. receiving), face sitting, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, biting, finger sucking, size kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms

a/n: movie night dates are my fav <3

wc: 2.3k

“they have the whole twilight series on here..” rafe looked away from your tv, and at your bare legs as you stepped out of your bathroom, a pair of sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts adorning your body. “oooh, put it on!” you joined rafe under the covers, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. anyone from the outside would’ve looked at you and rafe and thought you two were a little too close to be best friends, and while they might be right, you and rafe loved being close like this.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing a sweatshirt,” you tugged at the soft material, “i like it.” rafe looked down at you, the corner of his lips quirking. “yeah?” he pulled you closer, his large palm splaying across your lower back. you hummed breathing in his cologne. he was so warm and just so big, you couldn’t help but snuggle into him more. the movie started playing, the soundtrack playing softly in the background as you two fell into a comfortable silence.

“these are the movies you watch strictly for the vibes, because the acting is terrible.” you gasped at rafe’s words, unintentionally moving against his front side. he cursed under his breath, backing away slightly so you couldn’t feel his hardening cock through his sweatpants. “it’s not that bad.” you giggled, backing up on him which only made rafe shut his eyes. he was trying his hardest to keep his cool right now, but with the way your shorts rode up past the curves of your ass, it was nearly impossible.

rafe was growing fidgety, his movements not going unnoticed by you. “are you okay?” you turned around, his cheeks flushed pink as a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. “yeah— yes, i’m just uhm.. i’m burning up in this sweatshirt.” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt. “so take it off.” rafe swallowed thickly, feeling your nails graze just above his v-line. “what?” he laughed nervously, waiting for you to say you were kidding. “..take it off.” you repeated, watching the way rafe’s chest rose up and down with every breath.

even though you two constantly teetered the edge of what friends did and didn’t do, rafe always made sure to never cross the line.. unless you wanted to, of course. “a-are you sure?” rafe was already going through a mental battle, his jaw ticking when you took it upon yourself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. tonguing his cheek, you and rafe shared a glance before you averted your attention back to the tv. “can you hold me?” rafe knew he couldn’t say no to you, nor did he want to.

letting you rest your head on his bicep, he pulled you against his chest, his hand slipping under your, his, t-shirt. it was hard to focus with his hand on your tummy, his hard-on nestled between your cheeks while his breath fanned the back of your neck. you only lasted ten minutes like this, your hips moving on their own accord as rafe trailed his hand further up your torso. he froze when he felt the swells of your breasts against his thumb, a curse leaving his lips as he whispered in your ear.

“you’re fuckin’ killing me right now.” he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand. you arched into him, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked a stripe up against your skin, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir. you’ve wanted rafe like this for so long, you couldn’t believe he was finally touching you the way you’ve wanted for so long.

craning your neck so you could see his face, you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand under the waistband of your shorts. “no panties either? fuck, you were just begging for this cock weren’t you?” you whimpered a ‘mhmmm’, before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. “what the fuck? you’re soaked..” he grazed your clit, your body jolting in pure unadulterated pleasure.

“when did that happen, huh? was it when you took my shirt off?” rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, gathering the pool of wetness there before gliding his digits back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, “or was it when you got under the covers and put your ass where i needed you most?” he whispered the last part, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in desperation, your lips glossy with his spit.

“please, i need you so bad, ray!” you cried, refraining from whining when he took his hand out of your shorts. bringing his digits up to your lips, you welcomed them in your mouth where rafe watched you suck your sweetness off of them. “you’re such a fuckin’ whore, i didn’t even need to ask you to do that.” he watched with a dark gaze, your tongue swirling around his fingers and sucking them as if it was something else. “you look so pretty when you’re cock hungry..” rafe teased, pulling away from you to take his sweats off.

you got on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where rafe stood fully naked. he was so hard, your mouth practically watered when he pulled you closer to him by your chin. “can i please taste you?” you gazed up at him with those watery eyes as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “oh, how sweet of you for asking,” he tugged at the hair on your scalp, his cock just centimeters away from your face, “do whatever you want with it, ‘pretty. it’s yours.”

you gave him that smile that made him fall in love with you all those months ago before licking a stripe up from the underside of his length, lapping up the pre cum that managed to dribble down his cock. rafe was mesmerized as he watched you, your pretty eyes never leaving his as you managed to wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. he was so big compared to you, he worried about how you’d be able to take it all. slowly, you kept lowering yourself until he bottomed out in your throat, the man above you in complete awe.

rafe was turned on beyond belief, the urge to just wrap his fists in your hair and fuck your face until you’re choking on it made him feral. you stilled, swallowing around him until he had to pull you off. “are you fucking with me right now? you want me to cum inside your mouth that bad?” he squeezed your cheeks together, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you yelped, nodding frantically as he pulled his t-shirt off of your body. with your tits now on full display, rafe balled your hair up and lowered you down onto his cock again.

you doubled over, your back arching as he thrusted into your mouth at an unforgiving speed. the sounds coming from between your lips were nothing short of obscene, heavy tears now rolling down your cheeks. rafe couldn’t formulate a single thought, his brain empty as he reveled in the feeling of your throat taking his cock. he fantasized about this for so many nights, wanting nothing more than to have you at his mercy and letting him take you however he wanted. fuck, he just knew you’d let him too. his pretty little best friend finally taking his cock, he could just cum at the thought.

as if rafe was brought back to earth from floating on cloud nine, he groaned when the band in his stomach snapped, his high washing over him in waves of pure ecstasy. his cum shot down your throat, the thick white ropes painting your tongue as his thrusts grew sloppy, his hold on your hair loosening as he let out a string of curses. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..” rafe lost himself like never before, a hiss leaving his lips as you kept bobbing your head, desperate to take each drop.

“y/n—” he shuddered, pushing you away before you could keep going. overstimulated and out of breath, rafe pulled you up to look at your face. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was going to finish that fast..” he was slightly embarrassed, but even more confused as you shook your head. “it’s okay!” you pecked his lips, batting your eyelashes at him as if he didn’t just cum in your mouth without permission. “where is it?” he cupped your cheeks, your mouth clean of any cum.

“what?” you whispered, equally as confused until rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “did you fuckin’ swallow it?” his thumbs hooked between your lips, opening your mouth to check for himself. he couldn’t put into words how bad he wanted you right now, the simple fact that you took what he gave you so eagerly made him tackle you back down on your sheets, his lips melting against yours in an instant. you welcomed him between your thighs, moaning in his mouth as he took your shorts off.

“sit on my face.” he rolled over, pulling you on top of him. you didn’t have any time to process what was happening before he pulled your thighs down on either sides of his head. rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking between your folds. you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” he circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin.

you cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing. “f-feels so good, rafe!” the man beneath you moaned, his chest filling with pride as you writhed on top of him. despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock. “need you inside, ray,” you looked down at him, “please fuck me.” grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.

standing up on shaky legs, rafe sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. “wait— i don’t have any condoms.” rafe was panting, his lips glistening with your slick. “so?” you kissed him, grinding helplessly on his cock. “you’re okay with that? if i don’t use one?” you hummed, trailing kissing across his toned chest. “fuck— okay, baby.” rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.

you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him like this, both of you shuddering once he filled you to the hilt. “you okay?” his voice was gentle as he spoke to you, his fingers stroking your chin as you nodded. “yes, i just feel so full.” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “listen to me,” rafe started, “you’re not just my best friend after this. me and you? we’re together, alright?” you blinked, a smile gracing your features as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “really?” you felt giddy, your small laugh being cut short when he moved his hips.

“yes, really..” he trailed off, “i need you to know that i love and respect you, because the way i’m gonna fuck you right now? you just might forget.” you were about to question what he meant when he bear hugged you and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a shriek ripped itself from your throat. “oh, fuck!” you rarely cursed, the word throwing rafe for a loop before he smirked to himself. “you cussing now, angel? is the dick that good?” you buried your face in his chest, unintentionally biting down on the flesh as his thighs smacked the bottoms of your ass.

rafe’s force was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix with every movement of his hips. “yes! yes, it’s so good!” you cried, holding onto him for dear life. “i’ve thought about doing this for so long,” he groaned, “just’ wanted you to be mine already.” rafe looked up at you as if you weren’t real, like you’d disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you tight. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses between your neck and shoulder, your head knocking against the headboard.

“shit— sorry.” he laid you down, pinning your knees to your chest before slamming back into you again. nothing could top this, you were sure of it. with rafe pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were sobbing out, both you and rafe kissing each other as your orgasm hit you, quite literally stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, unaware that he could even do that within a fifteen minute time span.

your stomach caved in as you attempted to breathe, your heart beating in your ears as your back arched off of your sheets. “..rafe,” your voice just barely above a whisper before you gasped, the man on top of you cradling your head as he watched you come undone beneath him. you were crying, moaning hysterically as your high came over you, rendering you speechless while rafe marveled at the sight. “too much?” you nodded, rafe pulling out before shushing you with a peck to your lips.

you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled the blanket over you two, both of you flushed against each other as he eased you down from your high. as if the moment couldn’t get any better with you shyly smiling at each other, the song ‘roslyn’ started playing from the movie, both of you stroking the other’s skin. “are we really together now, or were you just thinking with your other head?” rafe laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “no i meant it.” he traced the curve of your lips, admiring you until you fell asleep.

[slut4thebroken]

size kink

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | He as a size kink. That’s it lol.

Warnings | Smut, size kink, manhandling, praise, creampie, gaping, cockwarming.

Words | 1k

Notes | 😵‍💫 that fucking comic panel tho

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 6: manhandling + size kink

Can y’all help me come up with a title😭 I’m literally so exhausted and I just want to pass out but I have to post it within two hours for it to still be day 6 skfhsk

Jason Todd has a huge size kink… He’s so massive that it’s honestly hard not to because there are barely any female body types that aren’t smaller than him. Tall, big, buff— all smaller than him, usually by a lot too. 

Especially you. You’re pretty much the same size as the average woman, but standing next to Jason— he practically dwarfs you. Whenever he holds your hand, you usually end up just holding two of his fingers because it’s more comfortable that way. Even when he places his hand on your thigh, he can completely cover the entire width of it. 

Even though he loves the way it feels to hold you, how easy it is to lift you and manhandle you however he wants… one of his most favorite things is how small your cunt is too. It wasn’t abnormally small— it was proportionate to your body— but compared to his abnormally large cock? Even just compared to his fingers, you could barely take it. 

He always tried to do as much foreplay as possible because, even though he thinks it’s hot when your face scrunches up in pain as you do your best to take him, he doesn’t actually want to hurt you or make it not good for you. So he usually eats you out, slowly working you open on his fingers. He almost always gives you at least one orgasm before even attempting to fit his cock inside you, but even after the time he made you come over and over again for two hours straight, you were still so fucking tight. 

You let out these soft whimpers and sounds of pain that make his cock throb. Sometimes you gasp out and desperately cling to him, trying to ground yourself. He always eases his cock in slowly, holding your hand or cupping your cheek and whispering soft praises into your ear. 

“So good at taking my cock, baby. I’m almost halfway.” You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on taking deep breaths and relaxing your muscles. Jason couldn’t help but look down between your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear into your tight heat. “Almost there, princess.” His voice was low and thick with poorly restrained arousal. When he finally bottomed out, you let out a pained whimper and he closed his eyes, trying not to bust his load right then and there. 

“Such a good girl. You’re doing so good, baby.” He murmured tenderly, leaning down to kiss over your neck as his hand snaked down to rub your clit. You usually signaled whenever you were ready for him to start moving and he’d slowly draw his hips back, then push in again at the same pace. 

Sometimes though, he’d stand and hold you in the air, lifting you up and down on his cock, limiting your squirming significantly. Or if you were riding him, he’d grab your hips and move you however fast and hard he wanted— even if you put all your strength into staying seated or moving away, he was always stronger than you. It took practically no effort for him to lift you up and down, fucking you like you were his own personal sex doll. 

While he usually liked being able to kiss you and watch your expression contort in pain as your walls were forced to accommodate his cock, he also liked putting you on your stomach. Sometimes he’d put you on your knees and push your face into the bed, but he liked laying on top of you even more. With his large legs caging in your much smaller ones, it made you even tighter. He loved being able to completely lay on top of you and wrap his arms around you, forcing you to feel every inch of his thick cock going in and out of your pussy. That position always made you feel trapped, but more in an exciting way rather than an anxious way because you knew he’d get off of you in a heartbeat if you told him to. 

“That’s it… Be a good girl and just take it, baby.” He whispered breathily, lips brushing your ear. You let out a choked moan and he moved his hand to squeeze your neck. “You just lay there and let me use my favorite little fleshlight.” Every single time— without fail— your cunt would get impossibly tighter when he talked to you like that. 

Something else he loved; the amount of come he released was proportional to his body as well… Sometimes he liked to paint your pretty face, completely drench you in his seed, but usually he liked filling you up. He liked dragging his hips back until his cock finally dislodged from your tight pussy that was practically trying to suck him in, and watching his come dribble out of your gaping hole, down your puffy folds. 

“Oh, look at you, baby…” He cooed, voice raspy and thick. You whined and squirmed, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up and his seed leaking out of your abused cunt almost as much as he did. 

“Squeeze that little cunt, princess. Try to keep my come inside.” He ordered softly, grabbing your ass and pulling you open to get a perfect view of your holes. He watched them flutter, but even when you tried your hardest, his cock had stretched you out too much for your hole to be able to tighten up again so soon. 

“Poor thing… can’t keep my come in that needy little pussy.” He chuckled, collecting the leaking come on his fingers and pushing it back into your hole. “But that’s okay, baby. I’ll help you…” you let out a choked moan when he forced his cock back in, stretching you once again, “keep you nice and plugged up, huh?” He laid down over you again, but turned so you were both on your sides in a spooning position with his cock still deep in your pussy— It would usually stay there until you fell asleep, but sometimes only until he got worked up enough for round two. 

(I’m still bad at ending one shots lol)

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[kamitv]

Trying “just the tip” with husband!choso <3

He doesn’t even know why the hell he agreed to try this shit with you, he knew you’d drive him insane.

Positioned on top of him with one of your hands carefully angling the flushed and dripping tip of his cock against your aching hole, he felt like he’d found both heaven and hell in this very moment.

Again, why did he agree to this? Oh he has no idea at this point because your hips are just rocking back and forth against his tip, dragging him in between your soaked folds and pulling huffs and puffs from his throat as he only grows more and more impatient by the second.

“Baby,” Choso’s voice is hoarse— he really couldn’t take it anymore, “Just put it in, please? Fu-uuck… I ca-, hah, I can’t take this…” There’s this syrupy sweet crack in his voice as his words leave him in a heavy and desperate exhale. 

You’re hardly listening to the poor man, continuing your torturing little movements as you drag his cockhead up and down your leaky slit, letting the slick juices from your cunt trickle all down along his thick cock. Your liquids dance down against every vein, every throbbing inch, tickling his hot overstimulated skin as his breath gets caught in his throat due to your horrid teasing.

Choso chokes out a heavy pant, “I-I’m gonna die if you don’t-,” He can’t even get his sentence out before your folds are molding around the flushed head of his dick, slowly and eagerly taking him in only an inch or two, “O-Oh s-shiiiit… please,” Choso croaks, hips lifting in tandem to the small bit of yourself you’ve allowed down on him.

His sanity is barely holding on by a thread– to be this damn close to being fully submerged inside you, feeling only a bit of your heavenly cavern he’d felt time and time before, the taunt of it all makes him drool. Precum mixes with your honeyed slick, making such a sticky mess of filth where the two of you are connected.

“Cho,” Your voice is as soft as ever and he swears he almost came right then and there. You’d only said his nickname and yet he could feel the way his cock twitched and slipped against you, sliding out of you once more and rubbing up against your clit in a way that made you let out a delicious little moan. “You promised you’d last-, mmh, remember?”

As you spoke, you began purposefully rolling the dripping tip of his cock against your clit, making your own breath hitch in between your words.

Choso throws his head all the way back and his entire body is wet with sweat, toned chest as tense as ever, “Can’t,” He groans, lifting his hips in another attempt of shifting his cock back toward your enterance, “Wanna-, fuck, wanna be inside you baby, please?” He huffs out as he slowly brings his head up to meet your eyes.

And there you are, so prettily hovering atop of him, your eyes slightly glossed over due to the intense arousal you felt, kiss slicked lips parted as you gasped in response to his shallow thrust upward, and your face as beautiful as ever– God, he wanted to marry you.

You suddenly let out a delighted little laugh and his brows innocently twist up, “Choso, we’re already married,” You remind the poor man, watching as his face twists up in pure and utter awe with the way you move to hold a hand up and show him the ring in which never leaves that pretty finger of yours. 

So out of it, he didn’t even realize he’d said that out loud…

Choso gulps and bats his eyes up at you, his hands gripping onto your hips a bit tighter, “Right, right… shit, m’sorry, can’t thi-, mmgh.. t-think straight, princess…” He mumbles, sounding almost embarrassed by his own actions, “But,” A sudden deep breath is being taken from him, “Since you reminded me, and I-I’ve been such a good husband to you, s-surely you can reward me a little, no?”

That makes you crack a smile, one he adores oh so much, “You wanna be inside me, Cho?”

He’s nodding almost frantically, almost as if he were afraid you’d miss his eager answer, “Uhuh, wanna feel my pretty wife’s pussy on me again, please? Please baby, I’ll be so fuckin’ good f’you… I know I promised t-to last longer but I-”

All that pleading he just did and the droopy desperate look in his eyes made your stomach churn so much that you couldn’t help but reposition his tip against your aching hole and start sinking down on him. His expression as your pussy parts around his cock and finally takes him in is priceless– Choso’s lashes flutter and he looks dazed, eyes practically crossing from the relief of finally going inside you again.

It’s always that initial push that does it for him, the very first thrust is always Choso’s favorite so of course he’s pouring out a pretty moan from his mouth, lips quivering slightly at just how relieving being inside you once more is.

Knowing damn well he could’ve flipped you over twenty minutes ago and fucked you like he pleased, something about letting you tease him to this point made his head spin. He definitely could’ve tugged your body down ages ago and forced you to bounce up and down on his cock like he so desperately wanted but, this is far better than that.