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highvern · 5 months ago

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Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care.

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth.

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man.

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.”

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless.

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.”

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream.

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using.

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.”

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says.

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want.

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand.

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.”

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses.

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.”

“Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time.

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.”

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting.

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious.

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing.

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence.

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?”

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise.

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit.

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—"

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly.

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg.

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth.

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard.

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure.

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt.

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will.

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips.

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling.

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb.

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

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#ksmutsociety #kvanity #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #JK smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #svt x reader #🫡 highvern

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milla-frenchy · 21 days ago

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Out of the QZ

1k5 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you act like a brat with Joel. He puts you in place Warnings: 18+ mdni. spanking, fingering, size kink, degradation, oral (m), ball sucking, rough sex, piv. No age specified

a/n: Fic inspired by this post (I was supposed to work on my wips, damn) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶 @arcanefox207 for the famous gif 😍❤️ and @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“I'm fuckin’ sick of your damn mood. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Yeah? Well stop talking to me. Do what you usually do, grumble. It'll be better for everyone,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Joel looked at you, nostrils flaring. You had been getting on his nerves since this morning. He had looked at you questioningly at first, not used to those mood swings from you. He gave you some space, but as the day progressed it had been harder for him to keep his cool. In the afternoon, his patience was melting like snow in the sun, and several warning glances from him didn’t change it. You kept huffing every time he opened his mouth.

You were finally approaching the place where you were going to spend the night, before reaching Lincoln the next day. Backpacks filled with aluminum spools for Bill's fence, and medicine for Frank. It was the first time you left the QZ in months and Joel was nervous. And you... you were in an inexplicably bad mood. And now his anger was rising fully.

“Go check behind the house. I'll check the side.”

“Can't you just do it yourself, mister I-do-everything-better-than-everyone-else?”

“Now that’s enough!” he growled, grabbing your wrist sharply and pulling you into the small house.

“Sit,” he said, after he slammed the door behind you, hands on his hips and a dark look on his face.

“I'm not a damn dog, Joel. Who do you think you are?”

He grabbed your arm and before you realized it he sat on the bed, and lay you over his lap.

“I'm tired of your bullshit,” he said, before crushing his hand on your pants-covered ass.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you whined. He had spanked you hard, hand flat, and it hurt like hell. You couldn't believe it.

“You're done?” he asked, jaw clenched.

You still couldn't help yourself, couldn’t stop. Now really pissed off at being held like that, and punished.

“That's all you got, Miller?”

His forearm pressed against your back just before he spanked you a second time, making you cry out this time.

“Shut up. We didn't check the perimeter because of your fuckin’ attitude,” he barked while holding you on his knees.

“Oh, that’s great, Joel. Use your strength if that’s the only way you know how to deal with me.”

“You're actin’ like a brat, I treat you like one, that's what I'm doin’. You're done?”

“Fuck… you….” you answered as calmly as you were able to.

His hand landed a third time, in the exact same spot.

“Fuck,” you gasped, unable to stop your thighs from squeezing against each together.

“What the… you’re turned on?!”

“No!! No, of course not!”

He spanked you again and this time you couldn’t hold back a moan from escaping your lips. When you felt his cock pressing against you, you stopped breathing for a second.

“Joel…,” you didn’t know if you were still pissed or aroused. Probably both.

You didn't even know what was going on with you. Your bad mood had been consuming you all day, without any reason. You were just pissed and couldn’t keep it to yourself.

And nothing had ever happened between Joel and you so far. You trusted each other when you were out of the QZ, you saw each other more or less regularly inside its walls, but nothing more.

When he pulled your pants down your thighs, you stopped moving, totally disconcerted by his gesture.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Told you to shut up,” he said in a low voice, his hand caressing your burning ass. You tried to pull away, without much conviction. His fist was tight on your jacket, holding you in place.

You stopped struggling when he reached your pussy and glided his hand along your folds.

“We shouldn’t…”

“You’ve been on my nerves all day, now shut the fuck up.”

His middle finger slid between your drooling folds. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. That’s what was itching you all day? You needed to be spanked like the damn brat that you’ve been?”

“I… I just…” your words got stuck in your throat as he started to finger fuck you, before quickly adding a second one. His cock was pressing against you, and it seemed fucking big.

“Shit, you’re drippin’.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” you whined, when he brushed your clit. Way too perfectly. As if the apocalypse had never dampened his ease at fingering a cunt. And maybe it never had. Maybe he fucked every month or every week or more in the QZ, what did you know about it, anyway?

He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered.

“You really thought I’d let you come?” he scoffed. “Now you’re gonna do as I say and kneel. Got it?” he asked, brows furrowed, after getting up. You fell on your knees, your pants still at mid-thighs.

“You’re gonna suck my cock,” he said, undoing his belt then unzipping, “at least I won’t hear you grawl or whine, for some time.”

He pulled his cock out and having felt it against you earlier didn’t make you less surprised. It was massive, with a reddish tip, twitching and flowing with precum.

“Yeah, I know, it’s big. Now suck it.”

His cock in one hand, he placed the other on the back of your neck, forcing you closer. You rounded your lips as best you could, taking his tip in your mouth. The precum invaded your throat, flowing slowly. You sucked his tip, trying to get used to its width. You didn't have much choice, with his hands holding you like a fuck doll. He didn't try to push himself further, but he was holding you in place.

“Much better for my nerves when your mouth’s full.”

You felt his gaze lowered towards you and you looked up. His jaw was clenched, tense. He raised his eyebrows as if to say that you shouldn’t have messed with him.

You kept sucking him until he pulled back and took his massive balls in his hand. “Suck,” he growled. “They’ve been tense all day, because of your attitude.”

Tongue flat, you licked each of them, sucking their delicate skin, covered in some slightly gray hairs, mixed with your saliva that had flowed down his shaft when you blew him off.

“That’s it, actin’ like a good girl now, finally…” He was jerking off slowly, his impressive length just above your nose.

“I should paint your face, but I wanna feel that greedy cunt around me. Get on the bed, undressed. On your back. Wanna see your face when I’m gonna be balls deep in your pussy.”

You took off your clothes and lay down, thinking he would undress too. But he stayed fully dressed, coat on, and he was even hotter like this.

He didn’t wait, didn’t try to give you time. As soon as he settled between your thighs he thrust in one go, his hand around your neck. “Oh, fuck!” you cried when he bottomed out. He used you, growling about how tight you were, thrusting hard, keeping the same pace until your moans filled the room. Pulling out, he growled, “Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve to come so quickly.” He manhandled you on all fours and climbed on the bed, kneeling behind you, holding onto your hips before thrusting in again. He took all he needed, finally releasing the pressure of the day, using your pussy like he would use his fist.

“You’re gonna lose that goddamn attitude, now?” he asked, panting in your ear.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, Joel. Please, let me come.”

“Come then… fuckin’ brat.”

You hastily slid your hand down to your pussy, twirling your clit under your finger. It took only a few seconds for you to pulse on his shaft, a dumb grin on your face. When you stopped shaking, you felt him close to coming too, but he didn't pull out.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m about to come,” he groaned, his hand tightening around the back of your neck and pulling you sharply towards him.

“We shouldn't keep going, pull out, pull out, please!”

“If you ever act like that again, next time I won’t pull out. Got it?” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “And if it sticks, you’ll be the one who’ll have to deal with a damn kid. And I kinda like the idea, right now. We clear?”

“Yes, yes!”

He pulled out at the last moment, growling, his cum covering the inside of your thighs, and then finally released you. He let his weight collapse on top of you, both of you lying on the bed, catching your breath.

“You should have told me sooner that taking a cock was all you needed to calm down,” he grunted.

He stood up, and tucked his cock in his pants.

“Now, get dressed, and go check behind the house. I’ll check the side. Let’s hope your moans didn’t attract a shit ton of infected. Jesus.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

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catboyieejeno · 5 days ago

Text

gameboy :: p.js — two

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more. not proof read wc: 14.963k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

“Is that my cardigan?”

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—”

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut.

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—”

“Jisung.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?”

“I-”

“Were you?” You ask sternly.

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips.

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable:

“Show me.”

Jisung works his jaw to gather some spit to swallow, since his mouth has managed to run completely dry in record time. His breathing has picked up significantly too, at your words and the way they drip from your lips with silky lust, or venom—he can’t tell which yet, since he’s not entirely sure he heard you correctly in the first place. For all he knows, they may be one in the same, and that would make him quite the textbook masochist; to be so humiliated and simultaneously, so fucking flustered.

The reddening tint on his face pales suddenly as he realizes that he has yet to respond and the seconds continue to pass. With a shaking voice, he chokes out a single word: “...What?”

There is no beat, no single pause before you speak. Similarly, there’s no hesitation in your words that spill seamlessly from your smooth lips. “Show me how you get off using my cardigan,” you repeat loudly, clearly.

There isn’t an ounce of playfulness in your voice, much less in your stature, upright and commanding. Your expression is unreadable as you stand in front of him expectantly, holding out your cardigan with its new (and not so new) decorative additions for him to grab ahold of.

With a heavy gulp, Jisung lowers his head. “You already got me to admit it. You don’t have to embarrass me any more.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” You explain, taking a few cautious steps forward until you’re but a foot away from him where he sits on the edge of his bed, “If you’re feeling embarrassed, that’s not because of anything I’ve done.”

He gulps again.

“I just wanna know what you did as you…” Your index finger finds the underside of his chin, tilting it up so that he’s forced to look at you, “...thought of me.”

Oh.

For a brief moment, he can’t construct a response, only gawking at you speechlessly as he attempts to process whether or not you really mean the words that are coming out of your mouth and their twisted implications. Then, his length gives a twitch and he fully wishes the ground would swallow him whole because, how could he have so little shame?

“Ji…” you start, and his attention is fixed on you once more. The heat in his cheeks returns as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing all the strands back to allow you a clear view of his face. “It’s kinda pathetic, you know. Having me so close and still using my cardigan…”

His stomach churns, his dick leaks, and his hands grip the bed sheets as you use your index finger to push him back on his chest until he’s resting on his elbows against the mattress.

“If only you would’ve let me know sooner…maybe I could’ve helped you.”

“You can help me now,” the words are tumbling from his lips breathlessly, “please.” He isn’t above whimpering any more, or begging. You have him wrapped around your finger, you have for the last few months, and he’s pent up and desperate. There’s nothing he wants more than to have you sink down on his length at this very moment—and he can't believe how plausible that reality actually seems. Still, you have other plans.

“Tell me what you thought about, baby.”

He gulps, taking a leisurely glance over your body now that the situation allows, each and every thought his imagination previously concocted coming up to the tip of his tongue where it sits idly, unable to be uttered. He’s so embarrassed, so turned on, so conflicted.

You give him an encouraging nod, casting your eyes down to his lap where his length strains against the fabric.

“Can I?”

Jisung nods eagerly, and you pop off the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper so slowly that the buzzing is the only sound either of you can hear for a second or two. The next sound that echoes around the small dorm room is a hiss from Jisung’s drooling lips, elicited when your hand brushes his hard on. He can tell your actions are nothing less than methodical when you reach for his hand. You place the black cardigan in his fist, then lay it over his lap.

Then, you spin around, bringing his desk chair over and taking a seat expectantly.

When he still doesn’t respond, horny and frozen in shock, you smirk.

“Need me to walk you through it?”

Oh, God. He could come undone just from that thought alone.

“Please.” He squeaks out.

“Take off your pants, Ji.” You instruct, leaning forward to rake your nails along his thighs, “I want you to tease yourself as you tell me what you thought about.”

”Fuck, I—” he glances at your hands that rest just inches away from his length, “I wanted you—I want you so bad.”

You scoff. “Not very obedient, are you?”

“Sorry—“ he clears his throat, hoping that of all times, his voice doesn’t betray him now. Following your directions, Jisung hurriedly slides his joggers down so that they’re resting at his knees, before speaking up, “I thought about you, what you looked like. Thought about your body in some pretty little outfit like the one you’re in now.”

“You thought about me wearing clothes?”

”I thought about you taking each piece off, one by one. Just for me,” he adds.

Perhaps, it’s a reward for his compliance, or maybe it’s a punishment; regardless, you lean back, sliding the shirt he had lent you off so that you’re sitting before him in nothing but a lacy black piece.

If he thought your breasts were spilling from your top at the party, it’s nothing compared to the way they sit in your bra, constrained by the lace and begging to be held in his greedy palms.

You hum for him to continue, and he has to remind himself he isn’t dreaming. Subconsciously, his hand has begun to squeeze his cock over his boxers and you don’t miss the way the action makes his lips part.

”I pictured you touching me, like it was your hand instead of mine.” As he mumbles this, he slides his left hand into his underwear and gives himself a generous pump, then another, a shuddering breath making his chest heave.

“Like this?”

Jisung freezes as you reach in to chase his hand, grabbing a hold of his length for yourself. Instantly, he throws himself back onto the mattress, covering his face with his palms as he moans.

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you scold him, “You have to look, otherwise you’re defeating the purpose.”

“Feels so good,”

“I know,” you coo, letting your thumb swipe along his slit. The prettiest sounds leave his lips in the form of whimpers and whines, and he forces his eyes open to watch how you pull him out from his boxers.

“Can you tell me what I did next?”

”You—fuck,” Despite his best efforts, his voice cracks, “you used your mouth.”

“My mouth, huh?” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Some more precum leaks, coating your pouty lips, and Jisung thinks he may have actually died and gone to heaven.

It takes everything in him to keep his head up, especially when you wrap your mouth around him. Your nails dig crescent moons onto his bare thigh and Jisung croaks out a throaty groan as he feels himself poke the back of your throat. There’s a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth, and he brings his thumb forward to swipe it away. With the salty taste of him

on your tongue, you blink at him appreciatively, coming up for air with a gasp.

His dick is so red and swollen that you can’t help the praise that leaves your lips. “So pretty,”

“You should see my view.”

His reciprocation only makes you more eager, and you kiss him again. Teasing him is creating a mess between your legs and the only relief is the way the friction feels when you roll your hips against his desk chair.

You hum contentedly, tongue poking out to kitten lick his flushed head. He shudders and rolls his head back for the nth time, gripping his sheets.

“Shit, you’re driving me crazy,”

You bat your lashes at him, taking him into the warmth of your mouth again. You hollow your cheeks to suck on his head, eyes fixed on his and watching for a reaction—and boy, does he give you one. His jaw goes slack, brows dipping down to hover over his half-lidded, glossed over eyes. As his thighs tremble, he watches you intently, wary of your every move you make and anticipating your next one. The sensation of your wet tongue, and the inside of your cheek, and your tightening throat that swallows around him—it’s almost all too much, and it has him using absolutely all of his self control to keep from bucking up. He wants to enjoy this, to soak this in; he needs to.

But his balls already feel so heavy and tight, and when you moan around him, he feels the vibrations in the form of tingles at the end of his spine. He can barely get a warning out quick enough before he’s releasing a load down your throat.

“Oh, fuck—I’m coming—“

You lift your head off of him with a pop, but not without sticking your tongue out to catch the spurts of white cum that dribble and shoot from his spent cock. A string of strained purrs and whimpers fall from Jisung’s ‘o’ shaped lips as he sees this, right before his vision whites out and his nerve ends go numb. His arms fall limply at his sides as the waves of pleasure drag on and through him, till he’s emptied every last drop into your waiting mouth.

You can tell from the way he’s shaking that he’s starting to become sensitive, but your hands don’t stop stroking him, nor do they let up on their pace—not until he takes them into his own and grips them over his abdomen, chest red and heaving.

His ears are ringing by the time he comes down, the only feeling being your lips that kiss at his thigh and the thumb that swipes along his knuckles. He blinks down at you in awe and mentally professes his love and devotion to you, courtesy of the insane head, though on second thought, he realizes it might just be a side effect of post-nut-stupidity.

“You’re too fucking good at that.” He lets out breathlessly, wiping some sweat from his chest.

“Thank you,” you laugh. The moment you retract your hand from his hold to swipe at the cum and drool that sticks to your chin, Jisung shoots up, cheeks reddening again at the mess he’s left on your face.

“Shit, sorry. Here.” Somewhat awkwardly, he shimmies his joggers back on after tucking himself into his boxers with a wince, then runs to the other side of his room where he gets you a pack of wipes, some tissues, and a fun sized water bottle from his mini fridge.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you some instant noodles or—“

“I’m fine, Ji.”

“Ji? What happened to Sung?”

You ponder for a moment, then give him a little smile as you wipe away the mess of fluids on your face.

“Ji suits you more.” You decide, “I called you Sung before I knew you, like, really knew you. And now that I do, I think Ji is more fitting.”

He’s lost count of how many times he’s gone red in your presence, but he can’t help it. Not after the way the night unraveled, and certainly not when your cheek presses into his shoulder. You’re still not wearing a shirt, and the night’s makeup has started melting off around your cheeks and lips, but for whatever reason, you’ve never looked better. He’s glancing down at you warmly, lost in thought as he tries to decide which feature of yours is his favorite.

It’s a pointless battle, and a decision he gives up on quickly, because there’s no way he’d manage to decide on an answer. Your eyes that looked up at him from between his legs just moments ago are filled with the most extravagant mix of light and mischief, and every time they meet his, he thinks he could float away. Your lips are velvet, he can confirm since he’s felt them now, albeit not on his own. Nonetheless, they’re pillowy and soft and wonderous, and he can’t wait for the moment he gets to taste them.

As he watches you rub your legs together, he’s confronted by a mix of emotions: Firstly, he feels relief, because this could only mean you were worked up, and more importantly, because of him. Then, he’s instantly grieving the fact that he hadn’t asked to return the favor, and now you were needy and helpless. But no matter, because he clears his throat, mustering up a bit of boldness from the alcohol that still swirls through his system.

“Let me eat you out.”

“What?”

”Let me eat you out, please.” he tries again, and instantly grimaces at the poor attempt at rephrasing.

This is why you’re bitchless, Jisung.

You don’t seem to mind, though, letting out a light laugh as you straighten up beside him. “You don’t have to,” you whisper shyly, but you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you.

“I want to!” He corrects quickly, and you flash him a sweet smile.

“Not today,” You can practically see the way he deflates, so you quickly explain,“I’m on my period.”

“Oh.”

“But that just means you owe me next time, right?” His eyes instantly light up at your proposition, and you can practically see the way his pupils dilate.

Oh.

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

You feign offense, “You’re already going back on your offer?”

“No!” he answers quicker than he means to, clearing his throat, “I mean, no. Definitely not. Like, really. I can’t wait. I mean I can wait, but—”

He can’t even process the moment your lips press against his because just as quickly, they’re no longer there. A peck, and then you’re mumbling “good” against his mouth and going in for seconds as his brain starts buzzing.

He acknowledges that this gesture was to shut him up, but he doesn’t care. His mind is numbed by your taste and the way your tongue glides against his teeth. If this is how you intended on getting him to be quiet, he’d never stop running his mouth. It doesn’t help that he can taste himself; that thought on its own is almost enough to give him a semi.

You pull away with a small smack between your lips and instantly, Jisung feels himself melt, leaning into your hand that comes up to caress his cheek and mess with the ends of his hair at the side of his head.

“I should head out.” You sigh, and he thinks he’s never been so disappointed after hearing just four words.

“It’s cold out.” He protests, trying not to sound too whiny.

“Am I supposed to stay here?” He knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he still has to bite back the urge to ask you to do just that. “You can just lend me a jacket. I mean, that would make us even, right?”

When you pick up the end of your cardigan as a notion, Jisung grimaces, but decides that ultimately, if it wasn’t for this cardigan, he might’ve never ended up where he is now: with your hand in his hair and the taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue.

“You want me to walk you home?”

“Please.”

And so he does, with his jacket wrapped tightly around you. He drops you off in front of your door, with an endearing wave of his hand and the plan to see you again after class on Monday set in motion.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“This is convenient.”

“What is?” he perks up, watching as you sit criss-crossed on his bed, a stack of astronomy books piled up on your lap. You don’t look up, but gesture around.

“We can just study at yours,” you say as if it’s obvious, “we don’t have to worry about booking a lab.”

Jisung hums in agreement, gleeful at the idea that you intend to spend more and more time with him, and even more importantly, in his room.

Here, where he can only remember the way your mouth felt around him, and the countless times he’s pleasured himself to the thought of you. Here where you lay, on his bed, in a skirt that’s definitely too short for the harsh winter season, which could only mean you wore it for him. Here, where if he leans back, he can catch a glimpse of the cotton, light blue panties you’re wearing under the hem of polyester.

After he returned from walking you home, Jisung collapsed into his bed, overjoyed and buzzing with energy, and so grateful there was no class the next day—Since he was not sure he’d be able to work himself out of bed with his mind still in a haze. By the time he managed to stop kicking his feet and replaying the night in his mind, the clock had striked six and the sun was beginning to peek over the hilltops.

He can’t stop thinking about what the two of you had agreed on doing the next time you hung out, especially not when your pretty legs are bare and exposed.

It’s a shame they’re not wrapped around his head.

Nonetheless, he remains hesitant to make a move because: what if you had forgotten? Or perhaps, it was the alcohol talking that night and you really didn’t intend to do anything else with him—a totally plausible reality, as much as he hates to admit it.

Although he had gotten the go-ahead with you, and his dick is already growing at the thought of how your cunt would taste, his crippling fear of rejection still managed to choke him. A single, suggestive brush of his hand against you could make you uncomfortable, since the line between sexual and friendly intentions is so blurred, and that terrifies him.

Very quickly, however, he realizes that’s not the case.

“What do the books say about Castor and Pollux?”

“Well,” you start, “for starters, it’s more detailed than all the stuff we’ve found online.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like, for example,” your leg unfolds from its position tucked away under you, and stretches out to rub along Jisung’s thigh. That’s how it starts.

“In the book it goes into a lot more detail about the battle which inevitably leads to Castor’s death.”

He can barely register what you’re saying, because with each word, your foot, adorned by your tantalizing knee-high socks, is rubbing shamelessly over his bulge. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his jaw goes slack, his gaze tracking every move you make over his lap. In fact, the only time he glances up at all, is when you lay back against his pillows and prop your legs apart, granting him a clear view of your panties that now showcase a wet mark.

Jisung sucks in a breath, “Y/n, I think we should take a break–“

“Did you know that Pollux gave up half of his immortality so that Castor could live?”

To put it bluntly, Jisung really couldn’t fucking care less.

“Mhm?” He hums, except it’s practically a moan, because now your legs are fully spread, and your leg is restless, rubbing against him with no remorse. He’s fully hard, so hard that it’s beginning to hurt, but he feels stuck in place.

“Fuck, we need to stop, I can’t focus if—“

“We should add some of this stuff to the presentation.”

You’re playing some kind of game, and he’s happy to take the bait. Your eyes that hover over the top of the book flicker up to his for a split second, glossed over and sultry, revealing just how needy you actually are.

And so, he breaks.

Your leg is flung off his lap as he leans forward, settling his shoulders between your knees and attaching his lips to the plush of your thigh. Wet kisses make a path toward your core before he turns to give some attention to your other leg. It’s indescribable, how soft your skin is under his puckering mouth and how riveting the view of you is from this angle.

You’ve moved the book a bit to the side, giving him full visibility so he can watch the way your eyes roll back for a split second when his big hands push your skirt out of the way, the material bunching up at the small of your waist.

Despite the fact that you’re clutching the pages of the book so tightly that your hands are turning white, you maintain your composure. “When Castor was revived, Zeus turned them into the constellation. Then–“

He tunes you out, squeezing your skin like a stress ball as a newfound determination manifests. You’re only acting unphased—the growing wet patch on your covered folds giving you away—and he’s dead set on breaking your facade.

As bad as he wants to taste you, he won’t; not yet. Not until you’re writhing and shaking and desperate to be touched.

He keeps working his kisses up to your center, then pulling away, alternating between using his teeth to nibble and tug at the more giving parts of your skin, and licking at the firm areas, like your hip bones and below your navel.

Him nuzzling his nose into you tickles, especially since you can feel his breaths as they grow more uneven. Your view isn’t so bad either; you can make out the way his hips rut into the mattress and his hair flops as he moves to kiss across your skin. You only dare to steal a glance when you know he’s not looking; otherwise, you’re reading off the page in the steadiest voice you can muster, though your patience is slowly withering.

When he finally gives any attention to your core, it’s over the panties, nose digging into your clit and breathing you in. His next breath is full of you, and all he can feel is your thighs as they slightly tighten around his head.

The slight friction is ruinous, and it almost manages to make you stammer over your words, but Jisung interrupts you with a groan and misses the way you stifle a whine.

“Put that book down so I can make you come on my face, baby.”

“Y-you’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be studying–“ you argue, but the book is already hanging loose in your hands, moments away from being discarded to meet the rest of the pile. Jisung catches this, and he doesn’t entertain your resistance any longer. You’re about to snap, he can feel it—he can practically taste it.

And so, his tongue pokes out to lick a long stripe from your entrance, up to your clit. His pace is menacingly slow, he still hasn’t moved your panties aside, but somehow, the action rips a moan from your throat and causes your hips to buck.

Humming in satisfaction, he does it again, and the small whimper you let out the second time around almost makes him bust in his pants.

“Ji..”

With his arms hooked under your thighs and his palms situated over your abdomen, he hums in acknowledgement of his nickname and presses his face further into you. Your heels dig into his shoulders to tug him closer, but he tuts, flickering his narrowed eyes up to you.

“Is something wrong?” His tone is teasing and cheeky, and you take your lip between your teeth.

“No–I just,” you huff out, reddening cheeks filling with air, “please–“

“Please?” The single syllable is dragged out, encouraging you to elaborate, but all you can manage is another helpless moan.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, angel.”

“I–please, I need your mouth or–or your fingers. whichever,” you pant, “fuck, Jisung, I don’t care–just touch me—“

You don’t have time to finish your babbled plea before he hooks a finger on the material of your panties and pushes them aside. His tongue darts out to lick your clit, and he instantly, both you and Jisung moan in fervor. When he dips the muscle into your entrance, your essence coats his taste buds, and he decides then and there that he’s never tasted anything better.

He’s also never seen anything better than the sight of you arching your back and digging your hips down to push your aching folds closer to his mouth. And it works, because he gets a mouthful of you and he begins to suck on your bud contentedly.

Forget reading about the constellations, you were practically seeing them.

They swirled over your eyelids when you closed them and swam around the room when you managed to peek them open for a glimpse of the boy laying between your legs. Any time his eyes flicker up to yours, the pleasure peaks, and you have to clasp a hand over your mouth to contain yourself.

He hopes you can’t tell that he’s never done this before; by the looks of it, you have no idea. Your moans are growing louder by the second, with every swipe of his tongue against your slit, and your fingers have long forgotten the book you were clutching earlier. Now, they tug on Jisung’s hair, scratching at his scalp affectionately and pulling on the locks at the root anytime he does anything a tad too well.

He laps you up again and again, replicating everything he had ever seen work in porn videos, until your toes are curling and you seem to be running out of air. Broken cries fall from your parted lips, with an occasional call of his name that has him rutting into the bed at a pace that almost provides as much friction as he desperately needs.

“So pretty like this,” he manages to sputter into your core, and you instantly shiver, pressing him closer to you with your heels—if that’s even possible.

You breathe out a series of phrases, all incomplete and taking after a whine more than anything else: “I’m gonna–“ and “Feels good–“ and “Keep going–“.

No part of your brain is composed enough to form an actual sentence while Jisung’s tongue buries itself into your hole, but he seems to get the memo. He devours you like he’s famished, and when his hands reach up to grab ahold of your breasts, your efforts to contain your moans become obsolete.

Your orgasm crashes into you as he returns his attention to your clit. His fingers busy themselves pinching one of your nipples and his deep hums vibrate at your core, and you find your vision going dark until there’s no choice left but to squeeze your eyes tight and reconcile with the ecstasy that has no means of stopping. For a second, your legs begin to shake, but as the feeling of coming from his swirling tongue becomes overwhelming, they fall limp, held up only by Jisung’s shoulders.

And he doesn’t stop, until he’s completely sure that you’ve taken everything and have started to come down. His face is flushed red from the effort and a bit of sweat shines like gloss on his forehead, when you’re finally able to open your eyes and take him in.

Secretly, he’s both surprised and proud of himself that he’s managed to make you come—for some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he might be under this pressure—mostly put on him by him. If he couldn’t manage to give you an orgasm, he’s not sure how he would have faced you again.

“Holy shit.” Your voice is thinned out and dreamy, and you don’t hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him up to you for a kiss. He moans into your mouth, slick covered lips disappearing between yours as you make out with him.

“Damn,” You mumble as you break apart, “You eat out all your friends like that?”

His eyes that were shut dreamily flutter open at once, and his brows pinch in slight confusion that he refuses to address for the moment.

Technically, you aren’t wrong.

Technically, the two of you are friends.

But that title is the very last one he expected to and wanted to hear right about now.

He can’t spare it another thought, because just quickly as the words leave your mouth, he’s lost again in your kiss. The feeling of your soft lips is so invigorating that it makes him salivate, and as he situates himself properly between your thighs. A few brushes of your wet cunt against his bulge and he’s releasing into his boxers with a groan, emptying himself as you continue to taste his spit and your release on his tongue, hips grinding down to stimulate him further.

He comes hard, considering the compromising position he’s in, but just the idea of his member being so close to your pussy, especially after he’s tasted it, is enough to tip the scale.

“Mmph..”

“Feel good?”

“So good,” he nods, rutting until every last drop has been expelled and his tip is too sensitive to touch. Then, he collapses into your arms that wrap around him, palms smoothing through his hair and down his spine.

“Gimme a kiss,” You plead softly, and he looks up at you, peeking through the strands of hair that cover his eyes until your fingers move them away. He happily puckers his lips to place a gentle peck on yours. He’s almost smiling into it, until then and there, in the back of his mind, he thinks back to your choice of words. Do friends kiss like this? He supposes they do, in a talking stage of sorts. When the lines between friendship and more have been blurred, as they have here, and some sort of romance is blossoming, friends can kiss.

Typically, though, that blur is discussed and some boundary is set. Considering his dick has been in your mouth and he just gave you head until you and him both came from the effort, he figures some of those rules don’t necessarily apply here.

He decides he’d rather not overthink. It got him nowhere when he wanted to come up to you before, and now that he has you, he’s sure it won’t help him here, either.

So instead, he melts into your touch and relishes you until the moment you pull away and remind him of the half-written notes on his laptop that lie discarded since long ago. This gets him to regain focus for the rest of the night, and the two of you manage to get a decent amount of work done without ripping off each other’s clothes. He’s only slightly regretful of that, but the soft look of content on your face is enough.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The project had gone off without a hitch. It seemed that the trick to being productive when it came to you two, was releasing some pent up sexual tension; then, your buzzing neurons would reward your efforts and get to work—like the time you met up at the library, just three days later.

Barely fifteen minutes of little-to-no productivity had passed before you found yourself bored and pressing your thighs together to give your slick-covered pussy any bit of relief. And Jisung, hyper aware of you as always, noticed. It took one lustful glance from him and you were crawling onto his lap, leaning into his side, and nibbling softly on the lobe of his ear until his dick was so hard it almost hurt. His hands flew to your hips, pinning you down until your cunt was rubbing against him. He had barely half a mind to keep you quiet, because the computer labs had no lock on the doors. With his hand clasped over your mouth, you rolled yourself against him until both of you came in your clothes, eyes rolling back and chests heaving with exasperation. That day, you wrote over three thousand words on the constellation—talk about post-nut-clarity.

The powerpoint that came hand in hand with the essay was an idea that came to be at your apartment. He found out Karina was your roommate during his visit, and she had invited Heesung over so they could work on their assignment, too. It wasn’t long before Jisung noticed your dissipating patience, and the overwhelming relief on your face when the two of them announced they would go grab coffee as a pick me up. You pulled him into a kiss almost instantly, discarding your notes and forgetting about the due date that was closing in.

All that mattered in that moment was being close enough to Jisung to breathe him in, and who was he to complain? He wanted nothing more than that sweet bliss—sharing your air, tasting your spit, squeezing your skin, making you come.

He was only denied the last of the four today, because as his tongue sunk into your hole and lapped you up, the door clicked and both of you rushed to straighten out your appearances. Karina and Heesung didn’t seem to suspect anything, only mildly reminded the two of you were in the room after finishing their own sweet interaction.

Karina gasped when the coffee she sipped burned her lip, and Heesung popped off the plastic cap of the cup, blowing the steam away at once and scolding her for not being careful. The scolding was more endearing than anything, and Jisung found himself being jealous at the way Karina’s pupils practically became hearts, gawking at Heesung as he cooled down her drink before returning it and giving her a kiss on the forehead. It became clear as he watched them that you had never really looked at him that way, though he tried not to think too hard about it or the stinging in his heart would get worse.

That’s when he suggests the powerpoint, which both of you finished that very same night. As a reward for his ingenious contributions, you dragged him out into the hallway to “say goodbye” later that evening and palmed him until he ruined his third pair of underpants this week.

Professor Hwang seemed to be more than pleased with your finished product, because when she spontaneously announced the scores for the project would be curved, the two of you got the highest marks in the class—and this called for celebration.

You had to attend your Literature class, but promised to come by his place later, which left Jisung just enough time to do the absolute bare minimum: clean his room, take a shower, make a playlist.

After his shower, the boy spent the better part of an hour obsessing over which cologne to put on, or if any of the three he owned were even pleasant enough for you, at which point, Mark knocked on his door with complaints about how the bathroom on his side of the hall got flooded.

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re an RA, no?”

“Yeah, but like, RA’s don’t fix toilets, you know?” Jisung shrugs.

“Dude–then, at least let me use your bathroom—”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll call—“

“Hey!”

Your sweet voice calls out from the end of the hall, making both Jisung’s and Mark’s heads turn your way. You look ravishing today, a huge grin plastered on your face and the newest book you’d be analyzing in your Lit class clutched in your arm. Your hands hold two coffee cups, and you stride down the hall to meet the two boys where they stand.

Quickly, you place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, direct and short but very bright “hello!” at Mark, then step inside his room with a decisive and upbeat pep on your step. Jisung knows why, of course, but as he turns back to Mark’s dumbfounded, and quite shocked expression, the smile on his lips instantly falls.

“Was that–“

In less than a second, Jisung closes the door to his room and grabs the boy beside him, dragging him down the hall and out of earshot from you as he turns back to glance suspiciously at the wall you stand behind.

Jisung gulps, holding him still, “Mark–“ he knows what’s coming, but even then, he can’t mask the dread on his face.

“It was, wasn’t it? Jaehyun’s ex?” Mark’s eyes are so large, they look like they might roll out of his head.

“Yes, but–“

“Are you crazy?”

“Keep your voice down!” Jisung scolds, but Mark just lands a hit on his shoulder, disbelief written over his features.

“What the hell are you doing with Jaehyun’s ex? You realize he’ll kill you if he finds out, right?”

With a nervous reluctance to his tone, Jisung begrudgingly sighs out, “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, cause you and I kiss all the time when we say hello.”

“Okay, we’re a little bit more than friends, but–why does it matter?”

“It matters because you don’t mess with your friend’s ex, dude..” At this, Jisung’s lips press tightly together. He can’t think of anything to say or argue in an attempt to defend himself, so Mark continues, “If it was Chaewon? Man, I don’t think I could even look at you again.”

“He won’t find out.”

“Dude, not the point!”

“I know, I know. I’m just–“ I’m in love with her “–nevermind. you don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t.” He echoes, “Figure it out before Jaehyun puts the pieces together.”

“You don’t think there’s even a slight chance he’ll understand?”

“If i’m being honest with you man…” He pauses, and the hope in Jisung’s eyes dwindles as Mark casts his own eyes away and sighs. “No. I don’t.”

Mark gives him one last look before striding past him and to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Jisung drags his feet back to his room, only slightly mulling over Mark’s words and the likelihood of their truth—but the guilt dissipates the moment his hand twists the doorknob and his eyes land on you. You’re sitting on his bed, evidently anticipating his return because you aren’t on your phone, or with your nose in your book.

You’re sitting up, hair tucked behind your ear, eyes wide and looking his way as he closes the door behind him and moves closer.

Perhaps, it’s the overwhelming lust or like or even love that he feels every time he looks at you—or maybe it’s a bit of his frustration from the devastating inconvenience of your affiliation with Jaehyun, he’s not sure—but he finds himself taking long strides to close the space between you and him.

“I got you coffee–“

You don’t manage to finish your sentence before his lips are on yours, swallowing down the surprised whimper you let out before reciprocating his affection. In less than a second, he’s crawled onto the bed with you, hands holding you wherever they can.

Your thighs grow sticky almost instantly as he draws moan after moan from you, rushing to peel off every last article of clothing that obstructs him from feeling your warm skin. It’s not long before you become as ravenous as him, only breaking your kiss to pull your shirts over your heads or readjust so he can crawl between your legs as you lay back.

When he finally has expended every last bit of oxygen in his lungs, he moves back to take you in, finding that, for the first time, you’re fully naked before him—and god, are you a sight for sore eyes.

He can see your chest heaving, the action slightly bouncing your curved breasts that sit prettily, spread from laying on your back. Your nipples are eager and perked up, inviting his tongue to run over them, which he takes a mental note to do in just a second. Your smooth stomach, tightened in anticipation, leads down to your messy wet folds, and your thighs, soft under his big hands, tremble as you grow shy and unsure under his gaze.

“Ji? W-what’s wrong?”

“Literally, and I mean this with every fiber in my being, baby—nothing is wrong. You are so,” he leans down to kiss you softly, completely unlike the kisses you shared earlier, “so,” he travels down your chest, “so beautiful.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, baby. God,” he huffs, “I need you so fucking bad.”

“So have me then.”

His movements stutter for a moment, and he snaps his head up to look at you. “You mean?”

“Yes.” You nod, “Please.”

When your fingertips dip into his boxers, he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs out dreamily, allowing you to pull his fully hardened length out.

“I want you so bad, Ji… Need to feel you inside of me.”

Your words send shivers down his spine so intense that he practically shudders, and he knows for a fact you can feel his dick twitching incessantly your palm.

Jisung clears his throat, leaving back to look into your eyes.

“Let me eat you out first, yeah?”

“It’s fine, I just-“

“Please,” he basically whimpers, “I love tasting you so much,”

“Fuck.”

Your legs spread expectantly for him, but he takes his time, stopping at your lips again as if he can never feel them enough. Then, he makes his way down, licking and nibbling, pausing to lap at your nipples as he so desperately wanted to do earlier.

“Jisung, holy shit–“

“So pretty, so good for me always.”

“Baby–“ you gasp out as his lips come off your tit with a pop, and in an effort to quiet yourself down a bit, you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and muffling your cries of pleasure. At this, he has to peel your moving hand off his cock at the risk of coming into it.

He can feel how the layer of sweat coating bus skin, and he can feel the way it’s sticking to yours, slick and wet.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he purrs, lodging his shoulders under your thighs and settling down between your legs where he belongs.

He dives right in, molding his mouth over you in a way that has you arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. He can feel your cunt pulsing under his tongue, all wet and gushing with your arousal. It’s dizzying, your taste, your smell, you, all of it has his mind spinning and him melting further into you.

You can hear the sounds of him devouring you, as well as the noises he’s muttering into you, indiscernible strings of praises that have you on the brink of undoing.

The moment his tongue slips in you, you pull his fingers from your mouth, reaching your own towards his hair. “How are you so good at that? Please, Ji, I’m so close–“

“Please,,” he echoes desperately, “come for me.”

That, and his finger slipping into you has you grinding down onto his tongue and hands, dissolving into your orgasm that he so willingly paints out for you, using every little tactic he’s noticed you like so far, like curving his finger to hit your sweet spot, or sucking on your clit until you’ve got tears prickling at your eyes.

You come on his face, writing and shaking and gripping his locks for dear life as bliss bubbles through your nerves. You’re soaked and breathless by the time he lets up.

“So good,” he reminds you, making his way back up to your lips so you can find out for yourself just how intoxicating you are.

Your hands reach for his hips and tug him closer, and the two of you yelp into the kiss as his length brushes your still sensitive folds. Jisung can no longer think straight, especially with the way your glossy eyes blink up at him sweetly. The realization of what’s to come dawns on him at once. He doesn’t intend to tell you you’re his first, because that’s pathetic and embarrassing, but nonetheless, he can’t hide the nerves.

“Are you sure you still want to… you know? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. We can do something else, yeah? I’ll just take care of myself really quick in the bathroom and we’ll–“

“Ji, baby.” he gawks at you. You smile and brush a few hairs back from his eyes, not even minding when your hand brushes against his slightly sweaty hairline. “Who’s the talkative one now?” His cheeks glow at your attempt to lighten the mood, and you kiss them generously.

“I’m so sure I want this,” you start, “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”

And that makes his heart beat so fast and swell up so much inside his chest, he thinks it may just burst from within his ribs and land right in your hands where it belongs.

His head bobs in a soft nod, and he swallows down the spit in his drying mouth. Between your bodies, one of his hands spreads your legs a bit while the other guides him towards your slick. He rubs his head between you, lathering his dick up in your cum, eyes never leaving yours in fear of missing the way your jaw goes slack at the sensation.

“Okay,” he nods again, “Then I’m all yours.”

“Good.” You whisper back.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Unlike some of his friends, Jisung has never been addicted to porn—addicted to masturbating? Maybe, but that was partly due to his addiction to you. For the first time ever, he realizes how useful a porn addiction might have been right about now, even if it did build unrealistic expectations. Simply because then, he’d know what to do in this situation. The expectation part doesn’t concern him, you’ve already surpassed all of his anyway; the only thing eating him up is whether or not he’ll be able to please you.

For his own sake, he gulps down his nerves and focuses on the pretty girl lying before him, with watering eyes and drooling lips who’s shaking in anticipation each time his head teases her entrance. He’s twitching in his own hand, clumsily bumping into your clit, but you seem to like that, reaching for and squeezing his arms with every accidental brushing.

And finally, when he sinks into your sopping walls, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Your hands slither around his shoulders, willing him closer until the two of you are chest to chest, and his hips push in far enough to bottom out within you.

“Oh, my god..” The words leave you in a whisper, cock stuffing you full and balls pressing against your ass. The stretch is notable, though not painful, and given that you already came once today, you can’t help the way you clench down on him, making him hiss.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” you nod, leaning up for a kiss.

Slowly, he starts rocking his hips, reminding himself to slide almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in. That’s what he’s supposed to do, or so he thinks. Your moans start as little hiccups, soft and airy, but as his rhythm continues, they get louder and whinier, and so he matches their pace and enthusiasm, speeding up in tandem.

After leaving a wet kiss on your neck, Jisung sits up and looks down at where the two of you meet, pushing your knees up until they’re together on your chest. Every time he glances up at you through his brows, you squeeze him instinctively, and the new position just amplifies the pleasure for both of you.

Each graze of his fingers on your face or boob or arm, the weight of his hands keeping your thighs still, it’s all so satisfying that you feel your inevitable orgasm well on its way. It only takes a few more seconds of him fucking your soft, warm walls, before his fingers find your clit and start rubbing it. Instantly, your head is thrown back and you’re calling out for him in pleasure.

As you come again, Jisung has a moment to take you in.

You’ve infiltrated all of his senses: he can see you, hazed and fucked out and staring back at him with an infatuated look—the same one he saw on Karina’s face when she looked at Heeseung, and the very one he’s been longing to see on you. He can smell sex in the air—taste you still on his tongue from when it was in you just moments ago. He can hear your loud moans and pleas, every syllable of his name as it slips from your lips. And finally, finally he can feel you, stretching out around him and sucking him in deeper still with every thrust. You’re gushing so much that your thighs and his are covered, and his sheets have grown darker in the spot below where you’re connected.

“Ji, please–“

“Please what, baby? Just tell me and it’s yours.”

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.”

He wouldn’t dream of it.

Each drag of his cock through you solicits a new wave of pleasure, and you’re coming so hard that you’ve gotta grip his arms to keep from floating. Your nails dig into his skin and Jisung moans, pounding into you faster and keeping his fingers at work until he’s sure you’ve begun to come down. Only then does he slow with you, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Good?”

Through tear-brimmed eyes, you blink up at him, feeling drunk. “ So good.”

He hums into your mouth when your tongue finds his, fingertips losing themselves in your hair.

“Mm, lay down,” you start, slurring, though he catches every syllable you utter with ease, “I wanna ride you.”

His eyes snap open to find you giggling at his reaction, and he doesn’t realize his mouth is hanging wide until your gentle palm reaches up to hold his chin and close it.

“Is that something you’d like?” your thumb tugs on his bottom lip, and he presses a kiss to it before answering quickly.

“God, yes.”

You laugh again, giving him a kiss for his endearing reaction. When he doesn’t budge, still slightly in shock, you prop yourself up on your elbows, pushing him back and guiding him to lay down where you were just a second ago.

The moment your plush thighs settle on either side of his, his hands go limp by his sides. It takes your patient ones to grab ahold of them and place them on your body, one by your waist, the other holding your boob. You keep your hand over his and squeeze, encouraging him to the same, and he does, letting his fingers swipe over and play with your pretty buds.

“You just dicked me down and suddenly, you’re nervous?” You hum, swirling your hips over his length.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous around you.”

“Baby…” You coo, wiping some of the sweat from his cheeks, “You think I don’t get nervous around you? Every time I know I’m gonna see you… You should see how long it takes me to pick what to wear.”

“I mean, you look perfectly fine like this, too.”

“I’m sure you think so.”

Jisung starts to laugh, but it turns into a hiss as you sink yourself down on him. The feeling, he realizes rather quickly, is absolutely incomparable to anything he’s even felt or anything he might ever feel. He’s balls deep, completely hugged by your gummy, wet walls. Your skin pressing against his and your weight on his lap feels so, so right.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers, and you ready yourself to move but he stills you, “God, hold on. Please, just—“

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—It’s just,” he pauses, looking anywhere but at your eyes. “I-If you move right now, I might...”

“Oh.” The skin on your cheeks goes hot. Part of you wants to teasingly roll your hips anyway, but the furrow in his brow tells you he’s not bluffing and he really will blow his load if you so much as clench. So, you give him a few seconds, leaning down to kiss his chest until he bucks up into you as a go-ahead to start moving.

“So good,” he repeats, and you moan back a similar phrase. Each time you take the entirety of his length, his tip kisses the smooth spot inside you and you can’t help but mewl into his neck, giving him back every babbled praise he manages to spew to you though his tightened voice. You start bouncing yourself on him, with your hands resting on his chest for balance, until you feel the pit in your stomach begin to turmoil again.

”I’m really close,” he warns you.

“Me too..”

“Shit, I have to pull out or I’m gonna-“

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” You whisper, and his eyes widen, “I want you to come for me.”

He can barely mold his mouth to form the beginning of an “Are you sure?” before your walls squeeze him and he’s spilling himself inside of you. He lets out a guttural groan as he does so, clutching your hands in his as you milk him for all that he’s worth. The sounds you’re making are absolutely delectable and the grip your pussy as on him makes his ears start ringing so bad, he’s convinced he might pass out.

“Ji, I’m-“ his release triggers your third one of the night, just as you lose yourself in his arms and in the whimpers he’s releasing as he grows more sensitive. You can see his eyes through a sliver, finding them to be dazed and adoring and admiring all that is you.

So you grind against him until you’re both left sweaty and spent, holding on to each other until the pounding in your chests simmers down.

You naturally collapse on top of him, face near his neck with his hand petting the back of your head. For a few minutes, the two of you stay like this: breathing in each other’s scent and basking in the aftermath of what happened. Both of you are sticky with sweat and cum and spit, but neither seem to mind for the time being.

It’s only when your ringtone blasts through the room that either of you move to get up. With a heavy sigh, you pull yourself off of him and waddle over to your bag to find the disturbance.

“It’s Karina.” You announce, and Jisung lays back down with his arm tucked behind his head, admiring your naked body pacing around his room before you swipe to answer and tuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, reaching for his shirt to slip it on.

“Hey… Tonight? Oh, you mean like right now? Uh… Yeah, it should be fine.” You glance over at him to find him raising a brow, “Oh… Oh. Okay, I see. Yeah, no worries. Tell me about it after, yeah? Alright! Bye!” Your shorts are tugged on as you spin around to face him.

“Um…” You start, and Jisung sits up instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” The corner of the mattress dips as you take a seat, “Heesung is over.”

“Oh.”

“And he and Karina are gonna…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He remembers the layout of your room, two beds in one open space. It’s a standard room, like Mark and Chenle’s or Jeno and Jaemin’s. The only reason he scored a solo dorm is because he’s an RA for the floor, a blessing at times like this, where he can confidently say:

“You can stay the night here.” When you don’t answer, he clears his throat. “You know, since they’re gonna…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” his hand reaches for yours, pulling you towards him. “We can watch a movie, or study…”

“Or…” you tease, “we can do something else…” The moment you climb on his lap, it clicks for him—what you mean. And when your lips find themselves on his neck, a shudder goes down his spine.

“Thank you, though.” You smile and he looks down at you and quirks a brow.

“For what?”

“For letting me stay over. You’re such a good friend.”

It’s instant—his stomach dropping before the last syllable leaves your mouth. His hands are on your shoulders to push you away and his stomach is tied into a dozen knots as he blinks, repeating what you’ve just said over and over in his mind. For a moment, he thinks his lunch is starting to come back up, too, and he’s sure he’s gone drastically pale.

You’re absolutely oblivious and confused as you meet his eyes. “What–”

“You don’t mean that.” He insists.

“Ji–”

“You can’t mean that. Right?” When you tilt your head, still lost, he purses his lips, and this time, his question comes out with much less assurance. “Right?”

The disorganized sheets are shoved off of him in an instant, and he’s up and tugging his sweats back on, spinning around as to not look at you for a second. His heart, which he holds his hand over, starts beating faster.

“Y/N. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I–You are a good friend. I do mean that. But–why– I’m so lost, Ji. What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

‘Was it something I said?’

He hates this. He hates everything about this. The look on your face, the nerves in your voice, the way your hand is shakily reaching for him—there’s nothing he wants more than to forget how that word feels each and every time you utter it. He wishes he could brush it off, and crawl back under the sheets with you and mess around until the sun rises the next day.

But it stings, and it burns, and it fucking aches that you insist he’s nothing more than a friend, reminding him for the second time now that he can’t have you as his—and that’s the only way he intends to have you, for the sake of his poor heart that beats only for you.

He didn’t hallucinate. You looked at him the same way Karina looked at Heeseung that night; he saw it, there was something there.

He thinks back to what Mark said earlier. Friends don’t kiss—and they certainly don’t fuck the way you two just did. If he could just get you to admit that…

“Do you do that with all your “friends?””

“No, of course not!” You shake your head quickly, and he can see the offense flash across your features at his implication. Still, he insists.

“Then what are we?”

He sees you physically deflate, but he retains his composure. “Ji…”

“You’re telling me that after all that, and after everything we’ve done this semester–”

“Jisung–“

“–and after all the time we’ve known each other.. You don’t see me as anything more than a friend?”

“I…” That’s it. That’s the only word you manage to mutter, because your thoughts are tangled together and working against you to, for the first time since he’s known you, render you speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

A pricking sensation in his eyes commands him to turn around, because simply put: he refuses to cry in front of you.

“I like you. A lot, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious.”

“I-I like you, too but—“

“But you still like Jaehyun?” Truthfully speaking, he doesn’t even know where that came from. But the words have already left him, and even though he can’t see your face, the fact that you’re hesitating tells him all he needs to know.

“It’s not like that,” you start after a pause, “It’s just—how do you even know about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. I-“ He takes a shaky breath, “Fuck.”

“Jisung…” You mumble cautiously, quietly, too nervous to approach him any more.

“I like you,” he repeats, “so, so bad.”

“I do, too.” You whisper. It’s no use, and you discover that quickly—the moment you see him tear his doubtful eyes away from you and towards the ground.

“Stay the night here. I’ll be down the hall.”

He grabs a random shirt from his drawer, since you’re occupying his, and puts it on as he makes his way towards the door.

“If you need anything,” he adds quietly, “just message me.”

He steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him as you call out his name, storming down the ugly carpet that looks uglier than usual today, until he’s reached Mark and Chenle’s.

He hesitates before knocking as he realizes the tears he’s been fighting to hold back really will start rolling any second. So he passes their door angrily and barges into the bathroom.

He’s careful not to step on the filthy water that covers most of the floor, verifying Mark’s claim that the bathroom had indeed flooded, and navigating the dry patches with his slides to get to the sink. He turns on the faucet and washes his hands, then cups them and brings a decent amount of water to splash some on his face. It washes away the stray tears that managed to escape, and he repeats the process over until his eyes are no longer bloodshot, but not without a few broken sobs escaping his parted lips.

Whether it’s hurt, frustration, or both, he doesn’t know, but before he knows it, he’s fully crying over you, until his throat is dry along with his eyes.

After a lazy once over in the mirror, no longer regarding his looks, he treads carefully back to the exit and toward his friends’ room.

He can hear them through the wall as he gets closer, tapping his knuckles on the wood. They sound like they’re watching the play-offs. He’s not sure, but anyway, he’s never cared about basketball, and he can’t bring himself to care about much now.

It takes him knocking one more time before one of them hears him, and the door opens.

“Oh, it’s you. Hey did you call about the toilet—“

“You look like shit.” Chenle interjects. Jisung just rolls his eyes and walks past them.

“Can I stay the night?”

The two boys look at each other, then back at him.

“Uh… Not that I don’t wanna have a slumber party but… Why?”

“Y/N is staying in my room.”

At the same time, both of their eyes bulge.

“Oh.” Mark says, but Chenle quickly shakes his head.

“You have a girl in your room? Like a real one? No way.” At this, no one cracks a smile, “Why do I know that name, though… Y/N… Y/N…”

”I thought it was going well, though,” Mark inquires, “How did you get kicked out of your own room?”

”Y/N…. Y/N who…”

“We fucked and I asked her what we were.” Jisung regretfully admits. He had no time to mull over how much detail he wanted to share, but confiding in his older friends sounded more helpful than not.

At this, Mark doesn’t reply, but the way he purses his lips is more than enough for Jisung to let his head swing down and he catches it in his hands.

”Y/N… Wait.” Having reached an epiphany, Chenle shoots up from the couch, “Y/N as in Jaehyun and Y/N?”

“I don’t get it…” Jisung sighs, muttering mostly to himself, “everything was fine.”

“So what went wrong?” It takes him a second to ponder Mark’s question, but the answer sits at the tip of his tongue. The hesitation in actually speaking it out loud—a sliver of embarrassment that shows in the way he stutters. “She k-kept calling me a friend and well, I don’t know. I just… ran my mouth.”

“If she made it clear you guys were friends then why would you ask her if y’all are a thing?” Chenle wonders, raising a curious brow. Mark gives him a shove.

”Because,” he starts, “We’ve been hooking up almost the whole semester. And not just hooking up. Talking all night, flirting… meeting up between and after classes.”

“Yeah, that’s not friendly.” Mark agrees.

“She does like you.” Chenle says with some level of astonishment, earning another shove from Mark and a gesturing glare that alerts him of Jisung’s obvious dishevelment.

“Chenle’s right.” Mark says, in a more gentle way, “She wouldn’t do any of… that if she didn’t. Maybe,” he puts a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and the younger boy looks up through wet eyelashes, “she was just a little overwhelmed by your confession.”

“She called me a friend.” He shakes his head, “I just had sex for the first time and she called me a friend.”

Mark quickly interjects before Chenle considers saying something insensitive, “Okay. But you have to remember: her and Jaehyun dated for two and a half years—“

“That’s not what I wanna hear, man.”

“—And,” Mark continues, “they only broke up earlier this year. You and her are new, and she’s probably just getting used to that. Besides, you only confessed after you guys… hooked up—nothing was established before.”

“If you liked her, you should have asked her out first.” Chenle sighs..

“So this is all going wrong because I didn’t do things by the book?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Mark glares at Chenle who at this point, gives up, leaning back to watch his game in silence. “I think if you would’ve made your feelings clear before, she might have reciprocated. She assumed you two were still friends because… you technically are still friends. Maybe she didn’t want to assume and have you freak out or something.”

At this, Jisung nods slowly, processing Mark’s words.

“What are you studying?” Chenle pokes the older boy.

“Engineering. Why? Also, we’ve lived together for two years and you don’t know my-“

“Drop out. Become a relationship counselor.” Chenle pats him on the back. Mark quickly shoves him off and turns to Jisung again who has shot out of his seat with a newfound confidence.

“I’m gonna go and apologize.” He decides. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Chenle replies without looking up from the screen. Mark just sighs.

“Yeah. Let me know how it goes.”

When Jisung knocks on the door to his room, he hears no answer. When he pushes the door open, he finds his room empty, with you and your things nowhere to be found.

The first thing he feels is worry, because where did you go? Not back to yours, because Heesung was there. He knows you have other friends, but he doesn’t know if you’re close enough to any of them to stay the night at theirs, and it was almost 11PM at this point.

He considers calling you, but if you didn’t answer, he would be shattered, more than he is already at the thought that you might have been hurt by what he said. So he settles into his bed that still smells like sex and you, and curls up on his side, legs restlessly shifting in a failed effort to get comfortable.

He spends the better part of an hour planning what to say to you tomorrow after class, or the next day, or whatever day you decide to give him a chance to explain himself and apologize for some of the things he said. Eventually, he drifts off, clutching to his chest the pillow where your head laid.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Absent.

You were absent.

You have never been absent from astronomy before. Your seat besides his is empty, and you’re absent from class.

All morning, Jisung went over his speech as he paced around his room. He changed his sheets after finding some cum stains on it as he recited his confession, his apology. He planned how he would explain his mistake and how he would relay his understanding for your confusion.

He went over scenarios in his head on how to possibly get you back, because truthfully, that’s all he wanted. You were all that he wanted.

And now, you weren’t here.

Karina and Heeseung were, but the two didn’t even look his way, and had sat near the front of the class—an act which worried him, because: had you told Karina what happened? Did you go back home upset and interrupt them? Were they mad at him now, too?

Inevitably, class went by slowly. Painfully slowly. Unable to focus, all that Jisung could think about was you, so when the bell rang and all the students left the lecture room except him, he didn’t notice. The only thing that caught his attention finally, was your name being called out in Professor Hwang’s sharp tone.

“Huh?” He looks up from his laptop.

“I asked,” she starts, not too happy about having to repeat herself, “If you knew the reason for Ms. Y/n’s absence.”

“Oh.” He mumbles. As he looks around and notices the lack of classmates at his side, he starts packing his things. “No. Why do you think I would know?”

“Because, Mr. Park, the two of you are attached at the hip.”

“Well, I don’t.” He swings his bag over his shoulder and jogs down the stairs, “Maybe Karina does.”

As he’s about to pass her, Professor Hwang points her pen at his chest, stopping him.

“When you run into her, let her know her absence will count against her unless she has an excused note. And,” she slides her glasses off, folding them and tucking one of the legs to the neckline of her shirt, “I hope the two of you make up.”

“I-“ He’s speechless, “H-how did you know?”

“Educated guess.” she states simply.

Jisung nods once, and she lifts her pen to allow him to pass. He heads for the door, pushing it open and making his way to the quad so that he can go home.

He’ll just message you. That’s what he decides. He’ll just ask you to meet up with you, he thinks, that shouldn’t be too hard.

But the moment he hits the send button on a message he so carefully crafts for you and looks back up, he sees you from across the huge field of green.

A smile almost breaks out on his face, because he sees your hair and the pretty outfit you’ve chosen today, layered to keep you warm with a scarf tucked under your chin. But he doesn’t quite get to smile, because you’re accompanied by the last person he’d like to see you with right now.

You pause your conversation with Jaehyun to look down at your phone, presumably to check the message Jisung just sent you. Without replying, you quickly tuck it away into your pocket.

Jisung watches as you and Jaehyun stop and sit at a bench on the quad, engrossed in what looks like a serious conversation.

Now: he doesn’t want to be dramatic. It’ll get him nowhere and he knows that. That being said, he still pulls your contact up again, and writes you another message, rereading the one from earlier, too.

To: Y/n :3

hi. i noticed you weren’t in class today… i hope you weren’t avoiding me. i want to apologize to you in person for what happened last night. can we meet up if that’s okay? Sent at 2:10 PM.

To: Y/n :3

i’ll be at my dorm in 10 so just pass by when you have a chance. please.

Sent at 2:17 PM

He presses send and watches, as you pick up your phone again, read the message at lightning speed, and put it away.

Fuck.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Jisung feels absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Why time seems to circle around you and waiting for you to come over so can apologize, he doesn’t know. The rest of his day is meaningless; he doesn’t eat, doesn’t study, doesn’t shower, doesn’t play video games, doesn’t call his mom, doesn’t do any of the things he normally does.

You don’t pass by today, meaning you read his messages, and willingly ignored them or put them off. Doesn’t mean he didn’t think about you or thought about you less; your continuous absence gave him more time to think and dwell.

He’s tired and feeling wide awake at the same time, missing your scent that he can no longer find on his sheets. Maybe he shouldn’t have washed them, even if they were filthy. He’s done worse things, like go to class with dried cum on his stomach, or used your cardigan to jack off. Your cardigan, that’s still by his desk, would have remnants of your scent, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up to retrieve it. And, even if he did, he would probably get hard and he definitely did not have the energy to jack off right now.

So he tosses and turns restlessly until he passes out with his mouth half open and his leg half hanging off the bed.

That night, he dreams of you. The next morning, he wakes up to someone continuously knocking on his door.

“I’m coming,” he grumbles into his pillow, quite literally rolling out of bed and in the process, getting tangled up in his comforter and falling on the carpeted floor of his dorm with a thump.

Jisung lets out some sort of distressed moan before struggling to his feet and wobbling over to the door. His left hand rubs his elbow which braced his fall, while his injured arm reaches out for the doorknob.

The knocking hasn’t stopped, so when he opens his door, his eyes are narrowed with sleep and annoyance.

“What?”

“Dude, why haven’t you called about the bathroom? I had to take a piss in the middle of the night and I stepped on toilet water. In my socks.”

Jisung only rolls his eyes at Mark, turning back to his bed and plopping down on it with a hiss as the rest of his body feels the damage of his fall.

“Have you talked to her?”

“No.” Jisung grumbles.

“Okay.” Mark sighs, “Well, when are you supposed to see her again?”

Jisung looks at his phone for the time. “Right now.”

“What? Is she coming over? Should I go?”

“No, you’re good. I have astronomy with her right now.”

“When?”

With a pause, Jisung rubs his eyes as he calculates, “47 minutes ago.”

Mark huffs, “so you just didn’t go to class?”

“Nope.”

Mark steps further into the room, looking around. “Is she supposed to come over at all?”

“Hopefully.”

“Alright, then. Get up.” His eyes bounce around the room until he finds a trash bag behind a clutter of Jisung’s things, then repeats himself a little sharper. “Get up and start cleaning.”

Instantly, Jisung groans, rolling over and getting under his comforter that seconds later, is yanked off of him. He starts to complain but Mark just shoves a bag in his hands.

“Non-negotiable. You think you’re gonna win her back with your room looking like a rat’s nest? Tidy up a bit, man.”

“Okay, mom.”

Reluctantly, he follows Mark’s lead, throwing away empty water bottles and cans that littered his room, as Mark focuses on any other pointless trash like empty packaging boxes.

“Where’s your hamper?” He asks, and Jisung extends a finger towards his closet.

“Dude.” Jisung turns to him. “When’s the last time you did laundry? This shit is overflowing.”

“Haven’t had the energy.”

“You had plenty of energy before this week. Here,” he kicks it over carefully so it doesn’t tip, then points at the clothes that litter his room, “Put it all here and go wash it. I’ll make your bed and throw out the trash.”

Jisung has never missed his mom so much. Sure, she’d nag him about his mess for days on end, but she was his mom, so eventually, he’d come home and everything would be tidied up for him. He definitely took her for granted, that much is painfully clear now as he gives Mark a long look of disdain. The older boy doesn’t budge; he only shoos Jisung away from the edge of the bed so he can get to work on spreading out the comforter.

Jisung does as instructed, too tired to argue or form a fuss, especially when all Mark is doing is helping him. That being said, he does do it in a very Jisung fashion: shoving all clothes, clean or dirty, into the hamper and literally dragging it down the hall to the laundry room. That includes your cardigan, which he gives one last glance to before tossing in the washing machine. It’s about time he gave it back to you anyway.

He watches his clothes spin around and around in the cycle for two different reasons, the first being that he’s generally zoning out, thinking about you. The second being that he’s making time before going back to his room, cause despite his friends best efforts and even better intentions, he does not want to clean.

But eventually, those two mix together, and he realizes Mark does have a point—if you came over and his room was a mess, that’s just one more thing he’d be embarrassed about.

So, he leaves his things in the washer and sulks all the way back to his room where he finds Mark accommodating the clutter at his desk.

“What a difference, huh?” Jisung wishes he could just shrug, but Mark’s eyes are filled with expectation.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” He grins, grabbing his phone from the dresser. “I’ll leave you to it. Take a shower and try texting her again.”

Jisung nods once.

He checks the time and notices that you’d be out of class shortly, and if you didn’t come over, he’d have to stop by yours later. Regardless of how, the plan is to talk to you today, because Jisung simply can’t keep existing with his even-waking thought being you. The minute that class wraps up, he types out a message to you as he walks over to the shower. He makes a quick call to maintenance for the bathroom down the hall before turning on his ringer in case you reply and stepping into the shower.

For a while, he lets the water run over him, hissing as the temperature fluctuates between an acceptable barely-warm and an icy cold that matches the weather outside. The building’s heating system isn’t consistent or reliable, especially as the temperature drops more and more in the winter months, so he ceases his stalling and washes himself quickly before the water decides to stop cooperating.

He types away into his phone after wrapping the towel around his waist.

“We… really… need… to,” he reads out his text as he writes it, sighing out the last word, “talk.��

But as he walks down the hall to his room with the towel still hanging loosely and his hair dripping over his chest and shoulders, and consequently, the innocent carpet of the hallway, his feet skid to stop. Just as his finger presses send, he hears the ‘ding’ of the receiving end.

Both of you look up from your screens at the same time. As Jisung jumps in surprise, his towel drops, and you yelp.

“Sorry!” You spin around and cover your eyes as frantically looks around the hall to make sure no one else saw the mishap. He picks it up and ties it around himself again, securing it in his grip this time.

“No– I–It’s fine. You… You can look.” It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.

Cautiously you spin around, peeking through your fingers to check before peeling your hands from your face and dropping them at your sides. The air between the two of you is thick for a minute, until you sigh dejectedly.

“I got your texts.” You smile weakly, and Jisung can’t help but mirror your slightly embarrassed expression. The moment is awkward and bittersweet, and neither of you move until Jisung realizes he’s still standing naked in the dormitory hallway.

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head and moves to unlock his room door. “Here,” he gestures, and follows you inside.

You move cautiously through the small space, glancing over at his bed and chair before deciding you don’t wanna take a seat.

“I came over because…” you sigh again, “well, because we have to talk.”

The only word he can utter is “yeah.” as he watches the way you shift your weight between your feet, not knowing he was doing the exact same thing.

“Do you wanna wanna maybe…”

He follows your gaze as it reaches his towel, and he almost jumps out of it again.

“Right! Sorry! I-” he huffs, “could you just…”

Wordlessly, you turn around and opt for twiddling your thumbs as he waddles over to a drawer and finds a pair of shorts and shirt to slip on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to make sure you aren’t looking.

There’s no hiding the red in his face and ears as he spins back around with his lips pursed. “I’m done.”

There’s a pause as you spin around slowly… and another pause as both of you debate the right moment to speak up. It’s so awkward that his skin crawls and his mouth runs dry. There’s no noise, only the creaking of the floor as he walks to his bed and offers you a seat beside him.

“No, I-I’m okay with standing.”

Another pause.

“Jisung–”

“Y/n–

“You first.” You both reply, and you sigh as you realize you should probably go first, seeing as you’re the one who came over to talk in the first place.

“Okay.” With a shaky breath, you nod to yourself once before speaking, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I came to talk to you because… Well, I saw your messages and… I don’t like how we left things off, Ji.”

“Me either.” He admits, looking down at the floor as his mind swarms him with all the possible things you may or may not say.

“I talked to Jaehyun earlier. He’s my, uh,”

“Ex.” He says at the same time as you, and both of you make eye contact.

Jisung’s heart pounds as you stand before him, voice tentative and unsure. When you say, “It wasn’t fair of me to downplay everything between us. I just… I got scared,” he can’t help but clench his jaw. He wants to be understanding, to remember that you’re figuring things out too, but the memory of you calling him just a friend gnaws at him. How was he supposed to take that?

“So… was it just comfort for you, then? Convenience? A quick fuck?” he blurts, his voice tight. “Because I thought I meant something to you.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound so raw, but the words slip out anyway, his vulnerability laid bare.

You look up at him finally, eyes wide. “You do. You mean more to me than anyone ever has, Jisung,” you say, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and longing. His heart stutters.

You take a shaky breath. “I talked to Jaehyun about us.” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up. You talked to Jaehyun, that much he knew. But about him? He swallows thickly, nodding for you to continue, bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.

“He told me that… that you’re a good guy,” you continue, voice soft. “He said I’d be lucky if you… if we…” You trail off, biting your lip, and Jisung’s heart tightens.

“So… Jaehyun’s okay with what happened between us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, looking at him with an intensity that makes his heart race. “He is. And he’s right, Jisung. You’re good to me, and I don’t want to push you away. I didn’t want to call it something more because I was afraid I’d mess it up. But now… I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of your words. He takes a small step toward you, closing the distance, his hand lifting almost on instinct to brush against your cheek.

“Are you serious?” he asks softly, his voice barely steady. “Because if you’re in, I’m in. I’ve been in this whole time. I’ve wanted us to be more, and if you’re ready, I’m… I’m here.”

You nod, relief and a hesitant smile lighting up your face. In that moment, Jisung’s fears and doubts melt away slowly. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, as if he’s finally found his way through the maze of emotions you both have been lost in.

In the warmth of his embrace, you whisper, “I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung holds you close, but there’s a hesitation in his touch, like he’s afraid this might disappear if he lets himself fully believe it. His fingers press into your back, grounding himself in the feeling of you, warm and real against him. He swallows, his heart heavy with the months of wanting, wondering, hoping, and fearing. Finally, he lets his eyes close, murmuring, “I thought I’d have to keep pretending forever, you know? Like maybe if I just waited long enough, I’d be okay with just… us as friends.” He laughs softly, the sound more fragile than he intends. “But I was never okay. I don’t think I ever would’ve been.”

You pull back slightly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. You search his eyes, looking for the hesitation, the doubt that lingers in his gaze.

“I know,” you say quietly, your voice soft but full of sincerity. “I wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t give you the chance you deserved. I was so afraid of what it could mean, of what I could lose, that I… I pushed you away.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. “But now you’re here. Saying you want this… with me,” he whispers, his hands shaking slightly as he cups your face. “How do I know… how do I know you won’t change your mind again?”

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice quivering. “But I do know that I’m not running this time. I’m here.”

And then, almost imperceptibly, you both laugh. It’s soft at first, a tiny giggle that slips out between the quiet, and it catches both of you off guard. The sound is shaky, like it’s laced with the bittersweet relief of finally breaking the tension that’s been building between you for so long.

“God,” Jisung chuckles, his hands moving down to your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze.

The smile between you both widens as you inch closer, drawn by the gravity of each other’s presence. Slowly, almost cautiously, you lean in. And when your lips finally meet, it’s tender and slow.

The kiss deepens, and this time, there’s no hesitation. Jisung pulls you closer, his hands resting at the small of your back, guiding you into him as if he wants to feel every inch of you, to make sure this is real. You respond just as eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of him, the gentleness that’s always been there beneath the surface.

His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, as though he’s savoring the moment, soaking in everything that’s been unsaid for so long. The kiss is slow, deliberate, and full of promise. There’s no rush—just the sweet, simple taste of your mouth on his.

When you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning at each other. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your lips, still tasting the lingering sweetness of the kiss.

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve always been here. I just needed to realize it.” You tilt your head back slightly, locking eyes with him.

With a gentle pull, Jisung brings you in for another kiss, this one more playful, less tender, but just as full of emotion.

You pull away first, your lips tingling, and look at him with a teasing smile. “So, what now?” you ask, a little shy.

He raises an eyebrow, his grin matching yours. “Now, we take this one step at a time, but together.” He wraps his arms around you once more, pulling you into him with an ease that feels natural, “And maybe…” he starts, voice teasing as he buries his face in your neck, “we make up for lost time.”

You gasp out softly, tilting your head to give him room to continue to kiss and lick at your throat, “sounds… good to me.”

He turns his head, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, “Let me lay you down, yeah?”

You nod, ‘Mhm…”

Jisung pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back as the space between you both shrinks. The air feels thick with anticipation, and the playful teasing that once filled the room fades, replaced by something deeper, more pressing. His touch is gentle yet urgent, guiding you toward the bed with a quiet confidence, the two of you knowing exactly what comes next.

The world outside this moment feels distant, irrelevant. There’s nothing but the heat of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, as he realizes, he finally got you.

*. * ·

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months ago

Text

Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja?

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You.

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order.

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee.

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife.

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives.

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment.

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all.

— Your coffee, master.

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask.

— Do you have a boyfriend?

Oh.

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening.

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it.

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly.

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for.

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful?

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are.

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment.

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket.

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible.

— But I can make an exception!

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day.

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business.

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long.

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately.

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say.

God, this is hopeless.

— Can I get my special offer now?

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you.

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you.

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this.

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already.

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass.

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him.

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here.

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return.

And he does have your number with him.

— Are you happy with the pictures, master?

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much.

God, he can’t wait to make you his.

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #loser!konig #konig smut #konig x you #cod konig #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #yandere imagines #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #maid #maids

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kurooangel · 1 month ago

Text

ᯓ take it ★

ft. kuroo tetsuro.

content: haikyuu timeskip. size difference. english isn't my first language. masterlist !!

✧₊⁺

kuroo is huge. he is so tall that you have to be on your tallest tiptoes to give him a kiss, and when you're next to each other, your head is aligned with his chest. when he is inside, he has to go slow and let you get used to it. you already feel full with just the half of his fat cock. "that's it, sweetheart. you're taking it so good." he reassures you with his voice low. he caresses your thight with his big hands when you dig your nails into his broad back. "tetsu, I can't take it." you whine. it hurts a bit, but it feels so damn good. "yes, you can, baby. you've done it a million times." he pushes his hips against yours a bit more, his dick being hugged by your walls as you moan. kuroo kisses your neck as he keeps pushing his length into you, hand still caressing your thight. "baby, you're so tight. it feels perfect. you are perfect." he is always so sweet. he can't help it, you're his princess. he finally fills you with all his length, growling against your neck. he lets you get used to it before he starts to move his hips. his tip reaching your cervix every single time he thrusts into you, it feels like heaven. his sweet kisses claiming your mouth tenderly has nothing to do against how rough he is fucking you. tetsuro's cock makes you cry, moan, gasp, but his lips crushing sweetly against yours takes all of those noises you make for and because of him. kuroo always make you feel so good, desired and loved. his sloppy kisses go down your neck and shoulders while his hands roam all over your body and he keeps bullying your cunt, pace increasing more by each second it passes, his primal instincts dominating him. he feels so damn good being squeezed by your cunt that he couldn't stop even if he wanted. one of his hands starts playing with your swollen clit as you moan against his ear. "fuuuck, tetsu—!" you're about to come, and he knows it. he is on the edge and he just can chase your ecstasy and his own. one hand pinning you against the mattress, your nails digging into his perfect biceps while your mind goes blank. his fat dick and his fingers on your clit making you feel the luckiest woman alive — and you probably are. you just can think about the pleasure he is bringing you when you feel your ecstasy coming.

tetsuro tetsuro tetsuro, that's all you can think about. either way, you manage to mumble a weak. "baby, I'm coming. tetsuro, I-I'm..." and finally you feel how your cum mixes with his inside you. sored legs around his waist, not wanting to let him go, even if it's just to clean the mess you both made. "you're such a good girl, sweetheart. you always take it so good, don't you? now let me clean this while you rest." kuroo kisses your forehead and gently moves your thights so he can get up. "will you put a shirt on?" you whisper, making him chuckle. "no, I won't ruin you such a good view." he smirks and you smile at him, looking how he is almost as tall as your shared closet.

MORE KUROO WORKS: HERE. don't forget to like + reblog and let me know what you think ! love yall ♡♡

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo smut #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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papaya-twinks · 2 months ago

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lando x roommate!reader where the reader thinks he isn't home so she just runs around the flat in lingerie doing her daily things and lando decides to get something from the kitchen while he does so he sees her and decides to fuck her!

including a little teasing and maybe size kink?

love your work!<3

Warnings: lingerie, smut, 18+, tad of fingering

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Lando had yapped something or the other about needing to go and get some drinks with his mates and wouldn’t be back for ages. So you didn’t necessarily care that you were in a set of fluro yellow lingerie, conveniently whatever you could grab from the closet.

You were reaching at rhe tip of the bookshelf, your duster fluttering over the crevices, when a sudden voice made you nearly tip the damn shelf down. “That’s a….sight to see,”.

You sound around at the voice, eyes wide as you saw Lando, his eyes scanning your body. You’d been going through a constant array of flirting and teasing throughout your stay with Lando, most of it, well, sexual.

“Looking nice, though, Y/N,” he said, smirk across his features as you took in his own outfit. It was a�� white button up shirt, well, he buttons undone down to his chest, an array of chains on neck and collarbone.

You’d seen him shirtless countless times anyways, the man insisted on walking around the damn apartment without anything om his torso anyways. “Yeah?” you asked, not afraid or jump into your own little teasing.

“You like what you see?” you asked, watching Lando take a slightly shaky step forwards, his eyes glued to your thighs and chest. “So fucking gorgeous,” Lando muttered under his breath, his eyes tracing every dip and curve in your body.

“Doing housework?” Lando’s attention dropped to the duster in your hand, as you shrugged. “Carry on, then,” he said simply, moving to change his attention to taking his shows off. Your smirk fell as he did so, had he teased you just for the fun of it.

“Clean mr bedroom as well,” Lando called to you as you rolled your eyes indignantly. “I’m not a maid, Lando,” you said to him with a scowl. “I’ll reward you for it,” Lando smirked. Like you’d ever turn that down.

You made your way upstairs, leaning over the bed as you worked in plumping up the pillows. “God, you look so good like that,” Lando said, walking into the room behind you as you looked up, “on all fours, on my bed,”. God you could basically feel the possessiveness.

“Lando…” you gasped as he stood behind you, pressing his growing bulge against your thighs, his lips coming to trace and pepper your neck and shoulders with kisses. He hummed into your neck, not stopping as he slowly undid his belt, his cock springing rock-hard in his hand.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as he ran the thick head of member up your clothed cunt, his hand coming to rub soft circles on your clit. “Let’s get this off, yeah?” Lando grinned. God, you wanted nothing more.

As soon as you were stripped of the lingerie, which Lando took ages to remove, due to him admiring you in his colour, Lando didn’t hesitate in running his hand over your sensitive bud. “Fuck,” you moaned, breath hitched as Lando held you from behind, one hand caressing your clit, the other tangled in your hair.

Lando pulled you it o a messy kiss, tongue begging for entrance as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, running his dick through your folds as a lube to help him enter you.

He didn’t leave a second before he removed his fingers, immediately replacing it with his thick cock, his head stretching you out. “God, you’re beautiful,” he pumped himself in and out of you, before sliding out to turn you onto your back.

Your moans could’ve probably been heard by the neighbours as Lando pushed back into you, his chains dangling over your face, one hand tangled in your hair, the other squeezing at your breast.

“You should be in lingerie everything I come back from a race,” he groaned, his hips snapping into yours with a powerful thrust. “I’d run out of lingerie,” you reminded him as he rolled his eyes. “Whenever I win, then,” Lando changed his words.

“I’d still run out,” you said, nails digging into his back as he groaned. “Supporting me is so hot on you, Y/N,” he said, your pretty moans and whimpers muffled into his neck as he hammered into you. It didn’t take long for Lando to pivot his angle, finding your g-spot easily.

“Too big for you?” Lando smirked seeing the flicker of tears in your eyes as you hit his chest, cheeks a pink hue. “Jerk,” you muttered under your breath with a scowl as he rolled his eyes, turning his body quickly as you gasped, eyes rolling.

It wasn’t hard, all it took was finding which spot made you scream.

“I’m so close,” you gasped, Lando’s cold-ringed fingers tangled in your locks. “But you’re not” Lando said, slowing down as you shrieked in protest, eyes wide. “No, Lando,” you whined, “I need this,”.

“I said I’d reward you if you cleaned my room,” he reminded you, “finish that pillow,” he gestured to the un-fluffed pillow beside your head. “Dickhead,” you huffed, reaching for the pillow and bringing it down lightly on his head before you fluffed it.

“Brat,” he rolled his eyes, letting you have your orgasm as he pulled out. his cock throbbing against your abdomen as his cum spilled onto your thighs. “Nice thing to come home to,” he smirked, giving you a gentle kiss as he gently untangled your hair with his fingers.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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vamph00n · 4 months ago

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now you're so good can I ask for a enha hyungs most to least likely getting angry and have rough sex with their girlfriend pleasee 🙇🏻‍♀️

👀 well, well, well,

mdni!! nsfw

femreaderxenha!!hyungline

mtl to have angry sex with their gf

smut tags under the cut

smut tags: toys, spanking, sadism, toxicity, pnv, public sex, fingering, recording, etc

most

sunghoon: this man, oh god. personally i see him as the type to not let his s/o know how much something bothers him until it makes him break his usual demeanor. like, he keeps it bottled up until he can’t take it any more imo. so when he gets angry, he goes to the extremes. pleading while being gagged by clothe and hands bound behind your back; hoon is a different person when he’s angry. muffled moans escape your throat as he slides out the vibrator from your abused cunt, and replaces it with his own length. “no more!” you’d cry after hours of edging, and ruined orgasms. if your face wasn’t down on the sheets when he slid into you, you envisioned he was cracking a smile. the sight of your pretty hole sputtering out white creamy excretions of your own release, sunghoon slides his long hard cock into you and spanks your ass red. so generously letting you adjust to the size, before he ruins you. the whiny sounds he elicits from your throat makes him grip you harder, and his anger courses through his dick as he slams into you. “fucking take what i give you.” he’d say as his hips thrust aggressively against your body. the head of his length would prod at your cervix with every shove, and tears would stream down your face. he’s fully unashamed to admit seeing you like this gets him off, but you on the other hand are a bit embarrassed to admit you enjoy this too. but then again who wouldn’t? it’s sunghoon.

heeseung: he’s the type to bend you over in public and fuck you hard when he’s angry. i don’t think he’d even necessarily be angry at you, but he’d definitely do it anyways. maybe someone was looking at you a little too hard while you were shopping. you’d notice the change in his attitude, and all of a sudden his fingers are dancing along the hem of your shorts, grazing over your clothed pussy in the damn department store. now, heeseung needs someone who can match his energy, and you being his sweet girlfriend obliges. even if it wasn’t that serious to begin with, like sure some guys were checking you out again, your boyfriend had to let them know you were his. he’d take you to the dressing room, unabashedly fuck you raw. is he’s angry, at you? no. just at the fact some people can’t keep their eyes off of what’s his. while being the brunt of his anger can be tiring, heeseung makes up for it by letting you have your way back at home.

jay: when he’s angry with you, the cruelest punishment he can give is denying you his touch. he wouldn’t give it to you rough or tie you up like sunghoon per say, but he’d probably force you into humiliating yourself in front of him. since i heavily believe he’d turn his girlfriend into a pillow princess, it would be a little treat for him to watch you try and pleasure yourself. hell, i think he’d even record it so he could watch it later. holding his phone up as he watched your fingers toy with your clit, he smiles. not shutting up, he’d talk through your struggle. “aw, can’t even get off without me?” you’d moan at his dirty mouth, and try to rub circles on your cunt, but it’s just not the same as him. your hips would thrust forward onto your drenched hand, an your need for pleasure would drive you insane. jay would be an even bigger tease, as he sits down in the chair in front of you he’d palm his bulge while watching. eyes fixated on him, you’d try to rub faster, your pussy clenching around nothing. finally he’d get annoyed, and stop recording. “you couldn’t even cum on your own like a good girl?” jay would ask in a mocking tone, before picking you up bridal style and taking you to bed to finish you off.

jake: angry? him? well yes he does get angry, but i think you’d probably be the one to calm him down when he’s upset. yes, you may have pissed him off somehow, but you’d ultimately calm him down by treating him. you’d let him sit back as you do all the work, stroking his already hard cock because his sex drive is insatiable. call it manipulative, but even when he’s angry at you for something kind of serious, you manage to turn the tables on him, and use his dick against him. it doesn’t help that when he’s pent up all he can think about is cumming. trying to get that sweet release, he’d just forget whatever it was that made him angry, and submit his body to you. he fully trusts you anyways, and doesn’t mind being at the mercy of such a pretty girl like you. actually, he doesn’t recall actually ever getting so angry he fucks it out. either you calm him down, or he’s on the receiving end, but that’s a different story.

least

a/n: like and reblog if you read/enjoyed 🫶

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enha #sunghoon #sunghoon hard thoughts #heeseung hard thoughts #jay hard thoughts #jake hard thoughts #jake sim #mtl #anon ask #most to least #vamph00n’s mtls

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pressureplus · 3 months ago

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this blog is the goat i love it sm :) totally get if it's too much but i'd love drunk seb headcanons. thnx ❤️

LOVELY, YOUVE GOT THE BIGGEST BRAIN ANON /POS

♡Drunk Sebastian Solace Headcannons♡

Warnings: Intoxication, Warnings to not Fuck The Fish™️, Brief Sexual Content

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

First off, getting him drunk isn’t gonna be easy

His body is significantly bigger so it’ll take a lot more alcohol than a normal human person

That and he could already hold his drinks well, so it’ll take some work to get that man actually drunk instead of just buzzed

Don’t try to match him drink for drink, you WILL die of alcohol poisoning unless you’re an alcoholic

Which wouldn’t matter he’d still out drink you based on weight/size alone, so I guess try not to die is the only goal?

Doesn’t feel comfortable drunk around most people unless you’re BOTH that kind of tipsy or he’s already close with you

When you do actually get him drunk?

The flirtiest, giggliest drunk you’re ever met

Sebastian will laugh at literally everything, it makes him so much easier to talk with

The world is sunshine and rainbows as long as he’s really fucked up

Honestly? He deserves it. He’ll smile at you so softly and actually fully listen when you talk. Maybe he’s not the brightest, or most talkative, but he has weirdly good advice

Though he is super giggly and playful, he does flirt

Usually they’re kind of fun. They’re not meant to really invoke any real feelings

“Hey there hot stuff, you lookin for a chair?” As he pats a portion of his tail.

He WILL forget that he flirted with you later, so don’t try to corner him on it as some kind of gotcha moment. He won’t believe you.

It also doesn’t reflect his feelings entirely…well unless he really likes you.

He’ll get a bit tongue tied and may even let it slip that he thinks you’re just gorgeous

His flirting gets very personal if he has a thing for you, but it’s less frequent because the man is too busy squirming from just sitting with you

Think flustered school girl energy

If he likes you he will do ANYTHING you ask

Please don’t try to fuck the fish, he isn’t very smart and he’s not gonna be able to top you

You’d have to do 100% of the work, and he wouldn’t remember most of it tomorrow anyway

He will probably just fall into a fit of giggles at the offer, honestly, so the likelihood of it happening is like nothing

So unless you’re both so drunk you’re not thinking straight? Don’t do it. Dont even try it.

If he doesn’t like you in that way? You might actually die for attempting it. It’s not worth it.

Speaking of not worth it, that man loses so much motor function. His tail is apparently weirdly hard to control all the way

Will prefer to just sit with you and not go anywhere as he will not have the control necessary to do damn near anything

He tried only once to go do something while really fucked up

Stupid fishman got stuck in a vent for a few hours

Worst experience of his life, (drunk fishman claims) he would never ever do it again

He’s the kind of man that sings when he’s drunk too, but only if you do it with him. He mimics like a parrot.

Or if you manage to play songs with him somehow, he might sing them if he vibes with or knows the song

Get a man to sing your favorite songs horribly at an octave that outright hurts

Idk something like California Girls by Katy Perry? Have fun with it

He can’t exactly dance really well but he might do a fun little shimmy if the music pleases him enough

Have fun doing your shared little dances, drinking to forget (always remembering), and laughing about nonsense

I’m sure, as long as you get him something strong and a whole lot of it

The both of you will get along fine!

After all, he likes people that get him gifts like this a little more

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greenglowinspooks · 1 year ago

Text

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #AWWAWAW IM DONE #FINALLY #this was super fun to write btw #edited while I was sick in bed so if the paving’s still bad there’s not much I can do about it HDKFNSJDJF #*pacing

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apocalypseornaw · 9 months ago

Text

Not so Awkward

Dean Winchester x Reader

Follow up to Awkward Dreams

Smut with feelings?

Your fingernails dug into Dean's back as he rolled his hips into your, enjoying the sounds he managed to pull from you. “Look at you sweetheart. You're so damn beautiful like this, all fucked out and taking me so damn well"

He brought one hand up to your neck, barely putting pressure but he wanted your eyes open “Look at me gorgeous” your eyes flew open and he smiled “There's my girl” before leaning down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. When he broke away you gasped “Fuck I love you Dean”

“DEAN!” He jolted awake and realized he'd fallen asleep at the table. His now cold cup of coffee was still in front of him. You stood at the doorway with your arms crossed and a smirk on your face “You need a nap before we hit the road?”

—------------------

You didn't know what was up with Dean. Months had passed since he even attempted to get a woman's attention at any of the bars the three of you had stopped in and now he was falling asleep at random places in the bunker. Was he having nightmares again?

He wouldn't talk about something like that freely and it hurt your heart to think of him suffering alone. You loved both Winchesters, in their own way of course but Dean had a piece of your heart. If you were being honest with yourself you probably were in love with him but could never admit that for fear of losing him.

He shook his head at your question then glanced behind you “Where's Sammy?” You grimaced slightly “He's not going. I think he may have caught the flu. He's running a low fever so I went on an early supply run. He's set up with meds, there's soup and Gatorade. Just me and you on this one cowboy”

You didn't miss the weird look that crossed his face before he schooled his expression and said “Well gotta admit you are better to look at” you rolled your eyes and motioned to the hall “I'm grabbing my go bag. Meet ya at baby?” He nodded “Yeah. Meet ya at baby”

Dean was trying like hell to concentrate on the road but the dreams of you and him kept resurfacing. What was going on in his head? Yeah he'd admitted to himself some time ago that he was developing feelings for you but it was clear the only thing you felt for him was friends, same as Sam. The fact that he was having sex dreams about you and dreaming that you felt the same about him had nothing to do with anything.

He was fairly certain you'd fallen asleep until you turned in the seat to face him and smiled when he glanced your way. “Dean, you ok?” You asked and he felt his heart flip at the concern in your voice “Yeah I'm good. Just been having weird dreams” “Nightmares?” You asked so he shook his head “Not nightmares just weird”

You nodded then glanced down at your phone “We should be there in about thirty. I'm thinking motel first then medical examiner?” He nodded “Sounds good to me”

Dean watched you walk into the lobby of the hotel from where he stood at the impala. From the sounds of it this was a ghoul case. Hopefully it would be a fairly small pack so it would go by quickly. He wanted to get back home to the bunker and not be in close quarters with you where he may let something slip he didn't mean to.

A few minutes later you walked out and gave him a tight smile “Good news or bad news first?” He shrugged “Bad news?” You held up one key “There was only one room left” he groaned inwardly but nodded “Good news?” You grinned "It's got two queen size beds!”

At least there were two beds. If it was king you and him had shared beds enough you'd know something was wrong if he refused. “Well let's get on it”

—-----------------

You could feel Dean's eyes on your back as you walked into the medical examiners office. He'd been acting a little off still but you'd never known lack of sleep or weird dreams as he'd put it to throw either Winchester off their game so you weren't too worried about the case.

His hand brushed your lower back when he stepped in behind you so you shot a smile at him over your shoulder about the time the examiner noticed the two of you. “Can I help you?” You flashed your badge and Dean did the same “Agents Castle and Page. We're here about the grave desecrations”

Your back slamming into the side of the mausoleum knocked the breath out of you. Dean ran towards you, skidding to his knees next to you “You good?” You nodded and took his offered hand to get back to your feet “That bitch that tossed me?” He nodded and you smirked “She's mine”

—------------

Dean watched you snatch your shotgun off the ground and couldn't help the smirk that slipped onto his own face. Even dirty, bloody and cussing a ghoul you were fuckin gorgeous. He shook his head to clear those thoughts before facing the ghouls that were chomping on his ass.

You walked into the hotel room and wanted to just fall across the bed and go to sleep but knew you had to shower. Dean shut the door and you cut your eyes over at him to see the slice across his cheek was still bleeding. “I need to clean your face and put something on that” you said and he half smiled “If you let me check your back to make sure you're ok”

You rolled your eyes but smiled “Sure. Sit down at the table” he did as you asked and walked over to the table while you grabbed the first aid kit out of your bag then walked over to him.

You sat the kit down then stepped between his legs to get a good look at the cut. You touched the skin around it but he barely flinched, keeping his eyes on yours. “Why are you staring at me Dean?” You asked while you wet a gauze with wound cleaner.

He cleared his throat and shrugged “Those first aid classes shine through when you're patching us up. You're so focused, I just like watching you” you felt your cheeks threaten to warm at his words. Instead of saying anything you just reached into the kit for the liquid skin. “While the sting won't bother you, this crap is cold as hell”

He grinned “If I say it hurts will you hold my hand?” His teasing made the worries you'd had about him lighten a bit. That was how he usually was with you, playfully flirting even if you knew he didn't mean it. You stepped closer before saying “You can squeeze my hip if it hurts” he raised his eyebrows and placed a hand tentatively on your hip “I'll take what I can get”

You shook your head but finished cleaning his cheek and blew on the cut gently to get the liquid skin to go ahead and dry. Once it was you stepped back and nodded “You're good Winchester” he motioned with his finger “Turn around then and let me check you”

You nodded because you had agreed. Without thinking you slipped your shirt over your head leaving you in just a sports bra. You'd seen him and Sam both in less and from injuries and they'd seen you in less as well so it wasn't anything new. You tossed your shirt on the floor next to your duffle and turned with your back to Dean.

—-----------------

The way you focused on him when you were cleaning his cut to how close you were standing and letting him grip your hip had Dean's head spinning bad enough but when you slipped your shirt off and tossed it his mind immediately flew to every dream he'd had.

He swallowed hard once you turned your back to him then stood. When his fingers first touched your back he noticed the trail of goosebumps that popped up but he told himself his hands were just cold and that was the reaction. You had some bruising already across your back but nothing seemed to be broken and you hadn't even flinched when he dug his fingers in a little to check your ribs. After a moment he tapped your shoulder “You're good sweetheart” you smiled back at him “Good. I'm gonna go shower first since I'm already halfway naked”

Images of you straddling him in the impala flashed through his head and he cleared his throat again “Sounds good. I'll go after you”

—-----------------

Your skin still felt like it was on fire from Dean's touch. Christ you may need a cold shower just to keep your hormones in check. It wasn't fair the effect that man had on your body and heart without even realizing it.

You weren't sure what woke you up at first. You sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over your face. You started to reach for the gun on the nightstand but realized quickly the noise that had woke you up was Dean.

You glanced over at his bed and saw his hands were gripping the sheets and from the looks of it a thin layer of sweat was covering his face and chest. You tossed the blanket off your legs and started to climb out of the bed to wake him but froze when you heard him say your name. Was he dreaming about you?

You quietly walked closer to the bed and he spoke your name again, wait no he moaned your name. The noise made a rush of heat go straight through you. Was Dean having a sex dream about you?

You were torn between waking him or going back to bed. If he was in fact dreaming about you wouldn't it be weird to wake him up and acknowledge it like that?

Before you could make up your mind he jolted up, eyes wild and chest heaving. “Dean?” You asked quietly and once his eyes focused on you he looked down towards where the blanket had pooled around his waist and you felt your face warm when your eyes followed his and realized he was hard.

He readjusted the blanket quickly then cleared his throat “Something wrong?” You shook your head “No, you were um dreaming and I guess it woke me up”

You'd never seen Dean blush in all the years you'd known him but in that moment he did. He didn't meet your eyes when he asked “Did you hear anything?” You started to lie, you really did but something in you pushed the truth out of your lips “I heard you say my name?”

—--------------------------

Now would be a good time for the apocalypse to kick back up in Dean's opinion. He'd rather face Lucifer a few times over than admit to you what his dream had contained.

He slowly raised his eyes up skimming over your bare legs, the sleep shorts you wore to bed then the t-shirt you were wearing. It was tight over your chest to the point your breasts looked like they would burst out at the slightest movement. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your face was slightly flushed and he wanted nothing more than to show you just what he'd been dreaming about.

“I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't mean to wake you” he'd hoped you'd take it at that and go back to sleep or did he?

You stepped closer to him and when you raised your hand he watched you curiously until you slid your fingers into his hair, nails lightly grazing the scalp underneath. It took every ounce of strength he had to not completely crumple under your touch. It was so damn gentle.

“What's going on with you Dean?” You asked in all but a whisper as you let your hand slip from his hair before bringing it down to gently cup his chin, forcing his eyes up to meet yours. He wasn't used to this, you always seemed to take charge of things.Anytime anything was wrong with him or Sam you were the caretaker but this was different. This was intimate and made his heart flip having your full attention on him.

“Please tell me Dean” you begged and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard “I was dreaming about you. I've been dreaming about you” when he opened his eyes he wasn't sure what to expect to see in yours. Anger? Embarrassment? Instead your face had flushed even more and a smile had slipped onto your face “What happened in the dreams?”

—-----------------------------------

You weren't sure where this rush of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you or how he leaned into your touch or hearing him moan your name but you weren't letting him brush this off. He'd been acting off and barely sleeping if you were the cause of that you wanted to know.

That damn smirk that always made your stomach churn slipped onto his face “a lot” “Oh yeah?” You asked before moving your hand away from his face “Like what?”

—--------------

Dean wasn't sure how far of a line to cross but you were standing so damn close to him and his latest dream was still buzzing around his head. He wondered if you'd taste the way he dreamt, feel the way he dreamt. “I care about you a lot sweetheart, you know that”

You nodded at his words but instead of moving you moved to sit on the bed within inches of his reach “I know but that still doesn't tell me anything about these dreams”

He looked from your face down to his hands then back to your face. When had he ever been this shy around the subject of sex? Was it how much he cared about you? How long he'd known you? The fact that if he told you how he truly felt and what he'd been dreaming and you didn't feel the same he could lose you?

At his silence you moved closer and reached out to grab one of his hands “Talk to me Winchester” you teased and he groaned lightly. Fuck, the effect you had on him without realizing.

He had two options here, he could brush this off or take a chance of you actually feeling something for him. At the very least he knew if he could just get you in bed with him once he'd do everything in his power to make sure you'd want no other man.

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

You were starting to think maybe you'd imagined everything. The way Dean had been watching you since you left the bunker all the way to him moaning your name until he muttered “Please don't fucking punch me” before you could ask he dropped your hand then grabbed you by the hips pulling you towards him where you had no option but to straddle his waist, the blanket had fallen away somewhere and you could feel the strain of his hardened cock through the sweat pants he'd worn to bed.

You braced your hands on his shoulders, a gasp leaving you from a mixture of the sudden movement along with the feeling of him underneath you “You're everywhere in these damn dreams. Your scent, your taste, your touch, your voice. It's been driving me insane being so close to you and not being able to touch you. I love you, I know it's probably insane but I do. You don't have to feel the same but if you'd give me just this one night I know I can make you feel better than any other man ever has”

—------------

You were silent and Dean was kicking himself. He'd ruined it, he'd lost even your friendship or so he thought until a smile slipped onto your face and you shifted your hips against his causing a groan to escape him. “Who says I don't love you Dean?” His eyes flew to yours and for a moment he wondered if he was still asleep. Had he dreamed all of this? As if you could read his thoughts you leaned forward and stopped with your lips just shy of touching his “It's real Dean. You're awake, I really do love you”

“Yeah?” He asked and you laughed lightly “Yeah” he closed the space between the two of you to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly sliding up to his neck then finally burying in the hair at the base of his head.

When you broke away from each other, chests heaving he searched your face for any uncertainty. When he found none he nodded towards your shirt and you leaned back just far enough to pull the material over your head and toss it back in the room.

He caught your lips again, one hand coming up to catch your left nipple between his fingertips. You arched your back into him, a heavenly moan slipping from your lips. He broke away from your lips to kiss down your neck biting lightly at a few places noting to himself that he'd dreamt of the correct places to kiss you but damn this was better than any dream.

When his mouth finally found your chest, using his tongue to roll one of your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing the sensitive bud you gripped his hair tightly moaning his name. Your hips rolled against his and fuck he could feel the heat coming off of you.

He pulled away from your breasts and smiled up at you “You sure about this? Sure about me?” You took a few breaths then grinned “I swear on everything Dean if you don't put your mouth somewhere on my body I may just fucking combust”

—--------------

“Wouldn't want that would be baby” he teased before flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. His mouth found yours again and you felt one of his hands teasing the waistband of your shorts. Your legs fell apart to grant him access and he smiled into the kiss as his hand dipped into your shorts.

His fingers teased your pussy, barely grazing it the first time but on the second swipe he ran his fingertips across your clit and you shivered under him. He slipped one finger into you, groaning “You're so fucking wet already” you tried to say something back but he added a second finger curling them both up until he hit that spot that had your back arching off the bed and praises of his name falling from your lips.

—------------

He worked you through the first orgasm, whispering into your ear about how sexy you looked coming around his fingers. When you finally came down from that high he held your gaze as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. “Fuck you taste good baby”

He left a bruising kiss on your lips before adjusting his body where he could leave a trail of kisses down yours. When he got to your shorts he raised his eyebrows and you narrowed your eyes “Don't fucking stop there!”

A laugh was the response you got before he was slipping your shorts off your legs. He didn't give you a moment to relax because he lowered his head to you and when the first lick made your legs quiver he chuckled lightly “Better than any damn dream”

He added two fingers in with his tongue, working that spot inside of you and your clit at the same time. It didn't take long before you were shaking under him and all but screaming his name as you came undone again underneath him.

After a moment you weakly shoved his shoulders “Too much baby. Too much” he rocked back from you and grinned as he swiped a thumb across his lips “Did you just call me baby? I like that”

You grinned “Well in that case baby will get your damn pants off and fuck me already?” He laughed “Yes ma'am” and stood off the bed to shove his sweatpants off his hips, kicking them away from him.

Your eyes widened at just how big his cock was. He was fairly long and thick as hell. “Like what you see sweetheart?” You nodded and curled your fingers at him “Come here” he kissed his way back up your body and when he got to your mouth he crashed his lips against yours letting you taste yourself on him.

“I love you” he whispered against your lips as you felt him slide into you. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of him stretching you. He groaned lightly at the feeling once he was completely inside of you “Fuck you feel amazing” once the stretch faded to pleasure and you could speak you pulled him into a kiss then said “I love you too Dean now fuck me like you hate me”

He laughed and shook his head “You're so damn perfect” he left another quick kiss on your lips before pulling almost all the way out then slamming back into you.

—--------------

Dean sat a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours. The only sound filling the room was skin hitting skin and your moans mixing together. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders but neither of you cared as you clung to each other finally giving in. “Dean I'm so damn close” you managed and he nodded before slipping one hand between you. When his fingers found your clit he spoke with his lips against yours “Come for me sweetheart. Let me feel you”

You felt that building pressure threaten to burst right before you were shoved over that peak. Your vision went soft around the edges as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

Once you came down from that high you realized his thrusts were starting to falter, getting a bit sloppy and knew he was close. You buried your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and whispered in his ear “Let me feel you Dean. Please come for me baby”

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts got harder and deeper. You hooked your legs around his waist, spreading them further to allow him a deeper angle and when you did the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you with every thrust.

“I love you Dean” you moaned and that seemed to spur him on even further. He snapped his hips into yours at a pace that had you seeing stars. When he finally came, slamming into you with one final hard thrust it pushed you over the edge again and you tightened around him about the same time your nails dug into his shoulders to the point you were fairly certain you drew blood but he didn't seem to care.

He caught your lips in a kiss that was a lot gentler but still passionate before saying “I love you too sweetheart” he pulled out gently then looked around and leaned over to grab his discarded shirt. He used it to clean you up the best he could then tossed it before collapsing next to you.

He pulled you over on his chest and you curled up with your head laying over on him. You looked up at him and gave a sleepy smile “That was fucking amazing” he grinned “Took the words right out of my mouth” you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before saying “I expect you to sleep now. No more weird dreams” he grinned “Don't think I gotta worry about it. Reality is so much better”

When Dean first woke up he almost worried that he'd dreamt everything but when he opened his eyes you were curled up on his chest fast asleep. You kissed the top of your head and you nuzzled into his chest then opened one eye and looked up at him. Both eyes slowly opened and smile slipped onto your face “Oh thank God I didn't dream that”

He laughed and said “Nope. You're stuck with me sweetheart” you grinned “I can handle being stuck with you” he pulled you over on top of him and you braced your hands on his chest, feeling his fingers trail down your bare back “I love you Dean” “I love you too” he said before pulling you down flush against him and you felt his body react to you.

You pulled back to look up at him and he grinned “I've been dreaming about you for a while” you laughed lightly “Then we need to make up for lost time don't we?” and caught his lips in a searing kiss “Tell me about these other dreams to see what we can make come true before we go home”

@nix-rose

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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