#Note I hate when people run their fingers through my hair this is a Fic thing only

[hoseoksluna]

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it. 

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too. 

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it. 

He doesn’t think you could. 

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts. 

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it. 

You don’t say anything. 

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately. 

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery. 

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly. 

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head. 

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting. 

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.” 

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view. 

Hobi. 

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air. 

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back. 

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you. 

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery. 

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red. 

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage. 

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way. 

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one. 

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you. 

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched. 

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead. 

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip. 

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.” 

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel. 

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name. 

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room. 

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.” 

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin. 

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else. 

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add. 

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away. 

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all. 

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands. 

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely. 

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again. 

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.” 

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness. 

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.” 

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod. 

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled. 

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light. 

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty. 

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest  and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin. 

His heart jumps. 

“I didn’t catch that, baby.” 

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.” 

Your words tell him a lot of things. 

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home. 

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are. 

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it. 

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.” 

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters. 

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.” 

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes. 

“Make me forget about tonight, please.” 

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you. 

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling. 

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb. 

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can. 

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay. 

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night. 

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit. 

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body. 

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care. 

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you. 

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles. 

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.” 

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit. 

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity. 

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy. 

“Oh my god.” 

Serves you fucking right. 

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.” 

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?” 

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.” 

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens. 

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires. 

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.” 

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes. 

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked. 

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes. 

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over. 

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside. 

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.” 

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more. 

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.” 

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten. 

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough. 

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette. 

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine. 

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.” 

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you. 

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.” 

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before. 

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates. 

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty. 

Wants you to get used to it. 

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching. 

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you. 

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance. 

When he penetrates you there, you scream. 

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again. 

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do. 

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want. 

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm. 

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same. 

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart. 

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now. 

Tears well up in his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy. 

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is. 

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out. 

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it. 

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in. 

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted. 

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled. 

A dream come true. A desire gratified. 

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you. 

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much. 

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair. 

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.” 

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.” 

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore. 

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?” 

“Fast.” 

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.” 

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes. 

One person. One mind, one heart. 

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good. 

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop fucking you. 

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?” 

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies. 

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you. 

Gives you all of his cock. 

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you. 

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?” 

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy. 

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?” 

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it. 

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs. 

“No, feels good.” 

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?” 

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair. 

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe. 

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.” 

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too. 

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead. 

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off. 

He pounds into you. 

You’re no longer smiling. 

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard. 

Merciless. 

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone. 

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you. 

Who is he to say no to you? 

“You just want it bad, don’t you?” 

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him. 

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.” 

The air grows dense. 

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has. 

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned. 

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum. 

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning. 

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you. 

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?” 

You sound just like him. 

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down. 

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in. 

With a barrier in between. 

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

[itoshiexx]

running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you. 

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair. 

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you. 

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them. 

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend. 

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions. 

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone. 

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear. 

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you. 

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?” 

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen. 

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one. 

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more. 

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom. 

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes. 

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours. 

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining. 

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[pseudowho]

Surely mister perfect dad-husband-lover Nanami babywears? I could see him in a big woven wrap, maybe one in the same pattern as his tie?

And once the baby is a toddler, tossing them on his back while they run errands about town?

Bonus: would Higuruma? I haven’t read the manga so I only really know of him and his traits via fandom…

Nanami Kento: He absolutely babywears 👏👏 I think he'd be into the reliability of a structured carrier myself, but would absolutely fall apart if Mrs.Nanami has one made with a bespoke, tie-matching pattern.

I think he'd also have a meticulously organised baby bag with snacks, outfit changes, medicine, etc. Truly, a prepared king. He finds it uniquely frustrating that most baby-change rooms are in women's only bathrooms.

I think he'd have a back carrier for a toddler, but he'd encourage them to walk as much as he could, wearing the carrier just in case. They'd get thrown on his back when he needs to carry stuff though. He'd check they're awake back there by doing the Reach Back and Offer Snack technique...if a little hand comes out to take the snack, they're awake 😌

He'd be talking to people while babywearing, his usual low, stern voice, and would randomly interject every now and then with his sweet dad voice to include the baby: "...so we intercepted the Curse on the second floor, and Ino managed to take it out. But you don't need to know about that, do you, sweetheart? No, nooooo. No scary monsters here, no there aren't..."

Talk too loudly by him while the baby's asleep on him, and you'll be met with a death glare, and a single, raised finger in threat; Mr.Nanami Kento, who can excuse murder, but draws the line at disturbing naps.

Higuruma Hiromi: While I HC Higuruma as child free by choice (I have written just one fic of Dad!Higuruma), I think he'd absolutely babywear through practicality, the guy's too busy to push a buggy. If he has to use a buggy one day, I picture him jogging this baby to daycare (because he's running late) while pushing this buggy. He drops his baby off, gives him a big kiss and hair ruffle...then runs back, because the baby's been holding onto his case notes for him, and he forgot them.

That baby would be his confidante; Higuruma would share case details and ask his baby's opinion ("...so the prosecution, think they've got the evidence they need, but they're clowns. They're clowns, aren't they? Aren't they darling? Yes they are..."), go to client meetings with the baby ("Look...I believe you, but my kid doesn't look convinced. Maybe try something more like..."), and use his baby as an excuse ("Ahhh I'm sorry, I can't make that client lunch actually? Why? Oh, me and my baby hate you I haven't got childcare for the afternoon, today.")

Higuruma's a big oral fixation guy, and a fidgeter (pen chewer, gavel twizzler, tie loosening...) and assumes his baby is too, so has a baby fiddle-clip for when he's babywearing (he likes a wrap sling-- he knows it looks sloppy, but he's a dexterous king and can tie one in 10 seconds flat). He may or may not have had a bespoke fiddle/teething clip made, with a little rubberised gavel on it for chewing.

He's one of those dads who feels sleepy when a baby naps on him. You'd find him, slumped back in his office chair, with a baby napping on his chest, while Hiromi snores away, head back and exhausted, a pen and paperwork still in his hand.

Mr.Haitch is a keen babywearer. I'm very into Strong Man Wears Baby as a thing 💀

-- Haitch xxx

[bearambles]

ARUGUMENT FIC W HAMZAH PLEASE like gets into an argument and you need to cool off and leave and he won’t let you jus angst 👅👅

jealous

(hamzahthefantastic)

words: 1.9k

warnings: established relationship, angst, arguing, swearing, hamzah is kinda a pos, happy ending

note: i hope this is what you were hoping for! i could also 100% write a part 2. also, i think another anon recently requested an argument fic, so there might be another one coming bc it was honestly fun to write. love u all, more fics coming soon

hamzah is driving you insane.

he’s usually not the “jealous type”, but for some reason, today is different. he’s grumpy and pissy and you think you know why.

last night you had gone out to dinner with a few friends from your old school. you weren’t out late, and the group was only about ten people, but to his dismay, your ex boyfriend was one of them.

you told him about it as soon as you knew, and he was pretty passive as soon as he heard. still, he didn’t make too big of a deal, even when you wore your skimpy little outfit to the bar. after all, it was high school. besides, he trusts you.

that was until he saw the pictures. your exs hand on your waist. the way he’s next to you in the group photo. it all really pisses him the fuck off, and even when you swear to him it meant nothing and the guy didn’t mean it, he wasn’t so sure.

“y/n, you see this guy after like five years, you look fine as fuck wearing that tiny fucking skirt, and you think he won’t be into you?”

you scoff, your chest now rising and falling. you really never pegged hamzah as the type of guy to act like this. yet here he was, standing in your bedroom, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

you’d crawled into bed last night to him asleep, and the two of you had been completely fine until this morning. he woke up to see your friend post on instagram about the night prior. he scrolled through her photos before finding the ones of the whole group.

“okay, so it’s my fault if he was?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you meant it though!” you run your fingers through your hair, frustrated. “listen, i already told you it was nothing. but if it wasn’t, if he was interested, it doesn’t matter, because im dating you.”

he smiles tightly and shakes his head, the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

“sure. okay. yeah.”

“you think i’d cheat?”

you stare at him, your blood pressure rising. you can’t believe the way he’s acting. the shit he’s implying you’d do.

“i never fucking said that, y/n. i’m just saying he was touchy, and you won’t admit it.”

“it was one fucking photo! he happened to be next to me! where did you want him to put his hands?”

“anywhere else! not your waist! it’s fucking weird!”

“so you’re mad at me because of the way a guy acted towards me.” you say, sitting down on your bed and mimicking his move of crossing his arms. “that’s really fucking progressive of you.”

“oh my god, you know that’s not true. jesus christ. i’m not mad, im just fucking annoyed. and i don’t like how you acted either.”

“how did i act hamzah. you weren’t even fucking there.” you start to feel tears prick your eyes. you hate crying in front of him, you rarely do. but this was so frustrating, listening to him accuse you when you only love him.

“i still saw.” he mumbles, clearly losing what he was trying to say in the first place. he’s just spitballing stuff at this point.

he isn’t even looking at you any more. his eyes meet the floor and he’s breathing so hard you can hear it just barely. he’s close enough to where you could reach out to his arm and pull him on top of you. you won’t though.

“saw what? my tiny skirt?” you laugh, baffled. “just leave me alone.” you can feel some of the tears start to fall.

he looks up at you when he hears your voice break. his eyes soften their gaze but he stays where he’s standing. it’s silent for a moment before you speak again.

“go away, hamzah.” you say, moving your position to lay down, your face turned away from him.

“no. i wanna talk.”

you’re silent.

“y/n-“

“i said go away.” you mumble between sobs.

you’re stiff for a long moment before you hear him sigh. he turns and leaves your room, and you wait till you hear the door click before really letting yourself sob.

you’d dealt with this in the past - controlling relationships where anything you did around any ex was considered suspicious. in fact, you almost didn’t go last night. but you’d wanted to catch up with your old friends. if it was up to you, you wouldn’t have had your ex there either. he was a total jerk back in the day. but he was, and it was fine. you’d barely spoken outside of taking that group picture.

you don’t want to fight with hamzah. he’s your person. but the way he’s acting is scary.

eventually you decide you need some air. you get dressed, throw on some makeup, and head out the door. you don’t know where you’re going, but you know it needs to be away from here. away from him.

he jumps up from the couch and catches your wrist right before you can turn the knob. you whip your head around, and meet his eyes. he looks just as pissed as before.

“where are you going?” he asks, still gripping you hard

“what, do i need your permission to leave the fucking house now?” you bite back, wriggling our arm free, “get off me. i’ll be back later.”

he starts to protest, but you slam the door before you hear any of it. if you had any fucks left to give, youd tear up again. at this point though, you’ve had enough. if he wanted to be like this, you weren’t gonna entertain it.

the city’s relatively walkable, so that’s what you do. there’s plenty of stuff to do around the area. retail therapy, you think. whatever makes you forget about this argument for a while.

-

it’s late when you walk home. later than the night before, and later than you’d ever been out without calling. you and hamzah had one another’s location, so really, he could see anytime where you were. which was the outdoor mall, and then the local bar. you’d only had a few drinks, but you were there for a good two hours. just talking and talking to the bartender. you guys are friends, and she was a good listener. so she listened.

“he’s just being so mean. and like, he’s never mean. sometimes we argue and stuff, but it’s always over stupid stuff, you know? and like, we make up super quick. but he’s like, so mad at me. and i swear to god, i didn’t even do anything.”

“it’s his first real relationship, right?” she asks, while pouring a drink

“yeah. i guess maybe that’s why. i just like, never thought he’d be like this. all jealous.”

“i think most guys are, honestly. or at least, the insecure ones. either way though, he shouldn’t be acting that way. i’m glad you got out to clear your head.”

you nod and take a sip. you’re tipsy, you realize. it actually feels pretty nice though. letting loose to someone like this. you should be talking to hamzah, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen. you sigh and shake your head like it’ll clear the thoughts away.

when you walk through the door, the house is silent. it’s nearly one am, so you assume at first that hamzah fell asleep. that is until you’re going to hang your jacket up and hear him open the bedroom door. you press your eyes closed, ready for the reprimanding.

“you scared the shit out of me.”

you turn around to face him, and his eyebrows are knit together. he’s in the doorway, his arms crossed and his back against the doorframe. he chews at his lip.

“sorry.” you mumble, going to take your shoes off.

“sorry?” he scoffs, uncrossing his arms and using them as he speaks, “you were out for hours, y/n!”

“i told you i’d be back later.” you don’t look at him, don’t step forward. you stand there, your arms pressed against our chest, holding yourself tight.

“that’s all i get then? not even a text? what the fuck, y/n.” his nostrils flare as he talks, and he starts moving closer to you. “I had no idea if you were safe! you could have gotten fucking killed.”

you laugh, moving your head back like you can’t believe what he’s saying. though honestly - he’s right. the city can be sketchy, especially at night. you seldom went on walks without him this late. especially drunk. which, he hasn’t seemed to notice you are yet.

“killed? come on.”

“don’t act like that’s crazy to say. the streets are dangerous. you know that!” he’s in your face now, motioning with his hands. “seriously, y/n, what the fuck.”

you flinch as he raises his hands in exclamation.

“so you’re mad again, great.” before you know it, you’re crying again.

you hold yourself tighter as tears start to fall. you feel like a little kid, just standing there helpless. the drinks are really getting you now.

hamzah is silent for a minute as you sob. he stands so close to you, but doesn’t dare move. when you finally look up at him, his gaze has softened and his hands are in his pockets. he reaches out slowly to brush your hair out of your face, looking at you like he’s waiting for protest. instead, you lean into his hand on your cheek.

he stares at you for a moment and you can’t tell how he feels. his eyes scan your features, landing on your lips, which are quivering just slightly. after a few moments of just looking at one another, he puts his arms out, offering a hug.

you fall against his chest and start sobbing all over again.

he rubs circles into your back absent-mindly, whispering little “shhs”. you don’t even thin of how angry you were today. how mean he was. you just cry and let him hold you. he pulls you two apart and goes to hold your face in his palms.

“how much did you drink,baby? " he asks, wiping a tear.

“not that much. just like, a few.”

“a few what?”

“mmm seltzers?” you say, more of a question than an answer.

he sighs.

“okay. well, i think you should go to bed, yeah?”

your eyes scan his face, searching for whatever emotion he’s hiding. surely he’s still angry. you hold onto both his arms while you speak.

“hamzah.”

“yeah?”

“i don’t like my high school boyfriend.”

“i know.”

he presses his eyes shut tight. his chest rises and falls slowly and before you can argue that he clearly doesn’t know, he speaks again.

“i was gonna apologize when you got home.”

“but now you’re mad again.” you say, pouting

“not about that. and i’m not mad, y/n, i was worried. you were gone for five hours without a text or anything.”

“m’sorry.” you mumble, pressing your head against his chest again.

“let’s go to bed, okay?”

he strokes your hair as you breath in his scent. he’s warm, and it hits you how tired you are. Ou nod softly against him and before you know it, he’s picking you up and carrying you to bed. giggling, you land with a plop. he joins you and holds you tight.

“we can talk more tomorrow, yeah. you deserve a better apology but i have a feeling you won’t remember much of it if i tell you now.”

you nod, scooting back to press your back against his chest. he kisses your shoulder. you fall asleep.

-

i hope you guys enjoyed >.< requests are open

[makkir0ll]

heyy! Can you write a prompt 48 for Kageyama? I don't know why but that prompt just looks like it' meant for him. Hope you're having a good day!

Ps: that daichi fic was so cute😭😭😭

thank you!! i'm glad you liked the daichi fic it's one of my favs. also i got extremely carried away with this bc i love this man, i hope you enjoy.

200 milestone event!

kageyama + 48 ("this is humiliating"/ "there's nothing humiliating about needing help every once in a while, my love")

kageyama had a routine.

every morning he woke up at exatly 5:45 on the dot, not a second later, or earlier. he would lay in bed for five minutes before getting up to brush his teeth for two minutes, then changing and going out the door for his morning run.

regardless of the weather, kageyama always had to have his run. whether it be pouring rain, snowing, or even the hottest day of the year. even when you stayed over at his house you would wake up to a note on the table with the words written "out for a run, be back soon. love you" scribbled in his messy handwriting that you've grown accustomed to reading.

this past week especially it had been pouring rain all morning, and you would've hoped that when your boyfriend went on his morning runs he would atleast put a rain jacket on.

that wasn't the case.

which is how you end up here, on the edge of his bed where your olympian boyfriend who can't remember to put on a rain jacket is buried under several throw blankets along with a hoodie. you can't see his face but you see some of his hair peeking out from under the covers. your hand reaches for it, gently stroking your fingers through his silky locks and he leans into your touch.

"come on tobio, sit up i need to check your temperature." you plead, thermometer in hand as you continue to play with his hair. with a groan, he sits up. you reach behind him to adjust the pillows so he can sit up comfortably. you look at him and his cheeks are flushed from hiding under his covers and his hair is a mess. he looks tired and your heart aches to see your boyfriend like this.

"i'm not sick." he lies, crossing his arms as a pout appears on his face. he hated this feeling, he hated when people looked down on him. he wasn't sick he was perfectly fine.

"sure tobio, you're literally shivering under five blankets" you state, you can feel his body tremble near you. "open your mouth" you say, your hand that held the thermometer going closer to his face. with furrowed brows he opens his mouth and lets you place the tip of the thermometer inside. he closes it tight to make sure to not let any cold air get in. your hand reaches for his under the cover, interlocking your fingers as your thumb rubs comforting strokes above his as you patiently wait for the thermometer to beep. the back of your other hand goes to his forehead and down to his throat to see how hot he was and he was burning up.

when you hear the thermometer beep you take it out of his mouth, inspecting the temperature and your eyes go wide. 39.1 celcius (102.38 fahrenheit). "holy shit" you say under your breath.

"how much is it?" he asks, trying to lean over and get a glimpse of the numbers on the device.

"39.1" you say, getting up to go to the kitchen and he reaches out for you, grabbing onto your t-shirt to hold you back. you chuckle at his actions, he seemed to be a bit clingier than normal.

"where are you going?" he asks, grip on your shirt getting tighter, not wanting to let you go. your hand goes over his, attempting to loosen his grip which you succeeded to do.

"i'm just going to the kitchen, i'm not going anywhere don't worry." you say softly walking out of the room to come back with a bowl of ice water, a clean washcloth, medicine, and an clementine.

you sit back down on the bed, putting the items you brought in on his bedside table. you take the washcloth and dip it in the cold water and wring out the excess before folding it into a rectangle and placing it on his forehead. his breath hitches at the feeling of the cold cloth but he sighs and relaxes at the cool sensation, sinking into his pillows.

"have you eaten anything?" you ask, reaching out for his hand again and you take notice of how his eyes are starting to close. he nods his head no, to which you reach over to the clementine you brought in and he whines at your actions.

"what's the matter?" you ask, trying to stiffle your laughs.

"'m not hungry." he says pouting.

"you need to eat something before i give you the medicine." you try to reason with him. he gives it a moment of thought before deciding that he needs to get better sooner rather than later.

you reach over to grab the clementine, peeling it gently to make sure you don't let any of the juices leak out and get all over your hands and his bed. your put the peel on the table, making a mental note to pick them up when you go back to the kitchen. you grabbed an clementine because you knew he wouldn't be that hungry but he had to eat something, you weren't going to give him medication on an empty stomach. also the citrus will make him feel less gross, the sweet juice making him feel better. you grab a piece of the fruit and bring it to his mouth. with his cheeks flushed red, shy due to your caring actions, he takes the fruit into his mouth. you continue these steps and once he finishes the fruit you take the washcloth from his forehead to resoak it and place it back. his body temperature was starting to cool down slightly.

you go back to the nightstand, opening up the medicine and reading the instructions before popping out a pill and handing it to him with a glass of water. he pops the pill in his mouth before swiftly taking a sip of water and handing it back to you.

you start to clean up the clementine peels when you hear your pouty boyfriend mumble something, you turn to him with a quirked brow. "you need anything tobio?" he shakes his head no, and you continue your actions before you hear him say,

"this is humilaiting." he says, a little bit louder and sinking in deeper into the covers, almost as an attempt to hide away from you. you know tobio, he likes to do things by himself, and he doesn't like the feeling of being weak, unable to do anything as simple as take care of himself when he's sick.

kageyama took pride in being the one to take care of you. to help you put on a new necklace because the clasp was hard to grip with your new nails. to clean the kitchen when you made him a nice home cooked meal after coming back home from an away game. to push your feet back under the covers before he left the house to go on his morning run, not without giving your forehead a kiss of course. to be the one to pay the rent in the apartment the two of you now share, to be able to take care of the bills. it filled his chest with pride. and not being able to take care of himself with such a simple task as remembering to put on a rain jacket, well he felt sort of shameful.

with a soft smile gracing you features, you lean over him and cup his cheek. you move the wet washcloth a little bit off his forehead to present some of his skin to you as you press a kiss to his now cool forehead, some water droplets sticking to your lips. his hands come to your hips and rub soft circles, sort of as a silent plea to not let go.

"there's nothing humiliating about needing help every once in a while, my love," you say, pressing another kiss this time to his cheek. the term of endearment turning his ears a bright shade of red as you adjusted the washcloth to cover his whole forehead again. "now, why don't you sleep okay? i'll be right back" you tell him, getting up to throw away the clementine peels.

as kageyama dozes off, he feels your body lay down next to his, tucking him in better into the layers of blankets on top of him. he realizes that maybe it's okay to be taken care of, especially when its you.

[sinsmockingbird]

Speaking about attires, any thoughts on Zoya's Supreme Negotiation attire, Cinnabar's Courteous Call attire and Chelsea's Moonlight Rendezvous attire (separately) would be strongly appreciated... You know it starts so fancy and ends up so steamy and delightful 🤭

LOOK SO GOOD | Zoya (Supreme Negotiation), Cinnabar (Courteous Call), Chelsea (Moonlight Rendezvous)

PAIRING: Zoya x Afab!Reader, Cinnabar x Afab!Reader, Chelsea x Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Sub!Reader, Dom!Reader(s), Sub!Character(s), Dom!Character, Trans!Zoya, Jealousy (Zoya), Marking (Zoya), Rough Fucking (Zoya), Grinding (Cinnabar), Dry Humping (Cinnabar), Clothed Sex (Cinnabar), Cunnilingus (Chelsea), Begging (Chelsea)

AUTHORS NOTE: Oh, I have many thoughts on those three's attires. So much so that please enjoy these free mini fics on them.

✧ ZOYA (Supreme Negotiation)

IT WAS rare for you to ever accompany Zoya to any sort of negotiation, but this time was different. It was being held at a lavish event, and with your experience with the elites, your girlfriend thought it would be good to have you there and charm the people the Legion were negotiating with. You had accepted without a second thought, not expecting that going would lead to this situation.

"Z-Zoya, please-!" You tried, but were quickly cut off by the woman slamming her lips against yours, silencing you while keeping you pinned against the round table that had just held over 20 people.

"Fucking hate elitists, thinking they can have what's mine," Zoya growled, while pushing her cock into you without much warning, causing you to throw your head back and let out a cry of pleasure mixed with pain.

Seeing some stuck-up older guy flirting and touching you during the negotiations set something off in Zoya. She had ended everything prematurely, ushering everyone out of the room before slamming the door closed and locking it. You hadn't been able to register what she was doing before she had you pinned.

"Zoya!" You threw your head back against the table, a broken moan falling from your lips as Zoya began to mark up your neck while fucking you nice and deep, her nails lightly digging into your thighs as she kept you perfectly spread out for her.

"You're mine! What do those fuckers think when they think they can have you!?" Zoya is ranting, her anger on full display while she thrusts her cock deeper and deeper into you, your walls tightening around her length making her grunt.

"Yours! I'm yours!" You sob, trying to reassure the angry woman, but the only way you were going to get her to calm down was letting her fuck her jealously out onto you and allow her to fill you up with her cum.

✧ CINNABAR (Courteous Call)

"MY HANDSOME Prince Charming," You cooed softly, leaning down to press tender kisses against the woman's face who was lying under you, looking dapper in the outfit she was wearing. She was your own personal prince at the moment.

Cinnabar flushed at your words, a small sound falling from her lips as she felt your knee press harder against her core through her pants. Her eyes were screwed shut, face contorted in embarrassment and pleasure as you encouraged her to grind down onto your knee/thigh.

"You're so pretty," You stated, running a hand through her short cropped hair, moving some of it out of her face, allowing you to see how red her face was. She really did look so enchanting like this, dressed like a prince and all for your eyes. "Come on, grind harder for me, darling."

"Y/N-" Cinnabar tried to mutter your name before stopping and shuddering as you pressed harder against her core. Her pussy throbbed with need, her underwear already soaked through with her arousal. Why did you have to look so enchanting yourself and tease her all night until you finally got home?

"Please, can you touch me?" Cinnabar begged, her voice so small as she looked up at you with pleading eyes, needing to feel your fingers or your mouth on her throbbing core instead of just grinding uselessly onto your thigh.

"If that's what my Prince wants... who am I to deny you?" You smiled, kissing her softly on the lips while your hands moved down to begin undoing her pants.

✧ CHELSEA (Moonlight Rendezvous)

WHEN YOU had gotten an invitation from Chelsea for a banquet she was hosting at her manor, you took it graciously. You had dressed up in your best dress, perfected your makeup, preparing yourself to be among the elites of DisCity, but you were shocked to find that you were at a banquet for two- the other person being none other than the woman who invited you.

"F-Fuck... come on, work that tongue of yours faster," Chelsea whined, a hand tangled in your now messy, undone hair, tugging at it while her perfectly manicured nails scraped against your scalp.

You looked up at her, on your knees between her legs, her tights torn and panties discarded, showing off her glistening pussy that you currently had your tongue shoved into. At her words, you stilled your tongue, making her whine and press her hips forward, seeking out your tongue.

"I didn't hear a please," You stated, pulling slightly away from in-between her legs, making her whine louder, and try to push your head back to the place it was previously.

"Y/N, come onnnn, don't do this to me!" Chelsea whined, pouting and looking down at you with pleading eyes. You knew how much it made Chelsea struggle when you'd stop or edge her in these moments.

You raised an eyebrow up at her, making her whimper while huffing in distaste, her nails digging into your scalp in annoyance, only making you wince in pain before you heard her begin to beg, "Please, Y/N! Please keep eating me out, I need your mouth on me!"

"Good girl," You smirk, before moving your head back between her legs and latching your mouth back onto her slick pussy.

ENDING NOTES: These were supposed to be purposefully short, but enjoy this little bit of content for these three.

[summermoa-ns]

.・。.・゜✭・Smart Mouth・✫・゜・。.

NSFW (18+ ONLY) MDNI

academic rival!taehyun x fem!reader

content warnings: drinking, drunk sex, unprotected sex, pet names (pretty girl, baby), small mentions of smoking/weed, slightly condescending Taehyun, fucking until ur dumb lol, if i missed anything else pls lmk!!

author's note: i've been on-and-off working on this fic until i started hating it! just needed to get it out of my system so i can finally work on other stuff! also i didn't really edit this, so sorry for any typos or grammar errors

song inspos: You Lose! By Magdelena Bay; Cologne by beabadooobee

“Hey… Y/n? Maybe you should slow down a little bit?” Yeonjun furrows his brows in concern as he watches you down your third shot in the last 10 minutes. 

Yeonjun’s worries fall on deaf ears as you suck the lime between your teeth. You just need something to fog your mind, to haze the racing thoughts and anger that swarms inside you. Something to distract you from the shitty day you just had. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to heed Yeonjun’s advice, but you’re not at this party to be smart and logical like you usually are. You are at this party to make bad decisions: to make up for the time you wasted chasing after something, and having it ripped away from you anyway. 

Usually, you’re not at these types of parties. Usually, you spend your free time in front of a laptop, coding for your lab. Or maybe burning your retinas as you stare holes through research journals, looking for articles to cite. Maybe even clocking in overtime hours, proctoring experiments that you were begged to cover last minute.  Day in and day out, you give everything to your lab, and yet they decide to go with him? After doing everything the PhD students and postdocs ask of you– for three fucking years– they give the head coordinator position to him? And now here you are fucking thinking about your lab even though the whole point of being at this dumb party is to not think about it and-

Yeonjun’s soju bottle hitting the table snaps you back into reality. 

After his swig, he waves a hand in front of your face, “Aye, you still here?” Yeonjun’s fingers blur and distort as they move in front of you. The blasting music and sounds of people socializing blend into a slurry. Shit, those shots are finally hitting.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the words fumbling over themselves as they exit your mouth. You rub the palm of your hand into your forehead, turning to look as Beomgyu greets someone at the front door. 

Your stomach drops when you see who comes through the door. Everything seems to slow down and unravel as the tall figure entering the house does some stupid dude-bro handshake with Beomgyu. His chocolate brown hair, his lean figure, his twinkly eyes: you could recognize him from miles away. The heat rising in you is sobering; it blisters in your lungs as you stare at him from across the house. The last 24 hours come crashing down on your shoulders again.

Yeonjun looks over to what has captured your attention and his eyes widen. “Ah fuck!” 

“Jun,” you slowly turn towards your fox-eyed dumbass of a friend, “I thought you said you double-checked with Gyu to make sure he wasn’t coming tonight.”

“I did, Y/n! I swear on my life!”

“Then why are we staring at the Kang Taehyun in your living room?”

Yeonjun runs his hand through his hair, huffing out his answer, “I don’t know! Maybe he changed his mind?”

You look over at Taehyun’s direction again, and your eyes meet. Your heartbeat quickens. His eyes squint, not hiding how he has spotted you. Fuck. You don’t even have time to process and suddenly Taehyun is standing across the kitchen island from you and Yeonjun. 

He leans forward and whispers to you, “Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here~” 

It’s amazing how you could see straight after how hard you rolled your eyes at him. The chocolate-haired boy chuckles in response. Taehyun greets Yeonjun who makes it brief. He may be a little dense, but even Yeonjun knows not to get too chummy with the bastard you were talking shit about all evening. 

“I was just about to leave, actually!” You begin getting up when a firm pair of hands push your shoulders back into the stool.

You turn in shock and see Beomgyu pouting at you, “Y/n~ you never hang out with us anymore. Can you just stay a little longer?” He whines, but you hear a hint of mischief in his voice. 

You try to protest, but before you can utter a sound Beomgyu interrupts, “Plus, you still owe me from that time you promised to treat me out on my birthday… and NEVER did…”

Fuck. You totally forgot about that. You look at Beomgyu and he gives you the biggest, pleading puppy-dog eyes. An irritated sigh escapes your teeth. “Fine.”

Taehyun is already opening the soju bottle with ease. He smiles as he pours a shot for himself, “Uh oh, Beomgyu! You made the pretty girl mad!”

God, he pisses you off. 

Taehyun, the golden boy: good merits with all his peers and professors, at the top of everything he does. When you both joined your psychology lab, it honestly was nice at first. You grew pretty close being in the same cohort. You both seemed driven and, as first-years, shared a lot of interests and hobbies. The only difference between you being Taehyun’s natural ability to succeed. In the beginning, you didn’t notice. Every class, every test, every paper: Taehyun aced with flying colors, while you chased after him, just out of his reach. But it was fine because you were friends. Taehyun would smile, ruffle your hair, and say “maybe next time”. 

But there was never a next time. Even in the middle of your final year at uni, Taehyun has topped you every single time. Though the rest of the department sees your rivalry as light-hearted and playful, a darkness grew underneath it all. Frustration. Anxiety. Jealousy. As the gap between your abilities became more and more apparent,  his “kind” remarks began to sting more and more. The more he teased you, the more tired you became of his patronizing nature. Eventually, you pushed him away.  

No longer stuck in your ruminations, you catch yourself staring as Taehyun pours a giddy Yeonjun and Beomgyu a shot. He tilts the bottle towards you, “Do you want one?”

Yeonjun starts talking before you say anything, “I think it’s better if she sits this one ou-”. You place your shot glass in front of Taehyun before Yeonjun can finish.

“I can handle myself.”

Beomgyu giggles, wrapping an arm around you, “See, I missed you!! Still as bitchy and smart-mouthed as ever!”

Taehyun cocks his eyebrow at you, “I missed that too.” He pours the shot to the brim.

—

Due to spite, you feel extra pissy today. Or maybe it’s because Taehyun has made it a point to hover wherever you are in this damn house. You want to watch the beer pong tournament happening in the backyard? There’s Taehyun wanting to join suddenly. You want to take some mirror selfies with Sakura in the hallway mirror? Taehyun is posing in the background of some of your pics! You want to pass a joint with Heesung and chill on the upstairs balcony? Taehyun just decides he wants a couple of hits too! 

You finally get some peace and quiet by wandering to one of the empty rooms on the second floor. You sit down by the foot of the bed.

You feel defeated, for some odd reason. The whole goal of tonight was to get Taehyun off your mind, and yet he’s creeped into every crevice in your brain, invading every thought. How he downs shots exposes his pretty neck, how his eyes brighten when he smiles for pictures, how soft and big his hands are when you hand him a joint… Ugh. You mentally smack those images out of your head.

There’s a little secret you would take to your grave: the main thing that pisses you off about Taehyun is that he is drop dead gorgeous. It’s just all too unfair. A person can’t be insanely smart and look like an S-tier model. There really should be rules about that. But it’s evident God has favorites, and Taehyun is one of them. Being cross-faded also hasn’t helped with these thoughts. You feel floaty and a bit too…vulnerable. Like everything is threatening to burst from your chest.

The light from the hallway lights up the room for a second as the door opens. It’s the last person you want to see. 

“Taehyun, please. Just leave me alone,” you sigh, not bothering to hide your irritation.

He scoffs, “Happy to see you too,” He closes the door behind him and leans against it.

As you both soak in the silence you can’t help but grow confused by his persistence. How does he just keep popping up everywhere?

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking abou-“ You stand up and get in his face before Taehyun can finish his sentence: just close enough to smell the alcohol on his lips. 

“I’m not stupid, Tae. So please, just tell me what you want.”

He raises his arms up, “Okay, okay. You got me. I’ve just been trying to find a moment to talk: in private.” 

He takes a deep breath. He leans into the door harder, tilting his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why are you acting like this?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “Huh?”

“Y/n, you never come to these types of things. I’ve invited you to them plenty of times,” he continues, “then out of the blue, you come with Jun of all people.”

“I know I’m a shut-in, but I’m allowed to have fun every once in a while.” God, how many times is he going to make you roll your eyes tonight?

His face grimaces with an emotion you’re not familiar with, “I’m not saying that. You just never want to…”

You impatiently cut off his sentence, getting closer to him by the doorway. “Want to what?!” 

“You never want to go out with me. You never want to hang out with me. You basically avoid me all the fucking time.”

Taehyun’s arms fall loosely to his sides, “I just don’t get why you hate me so much.” You look up at his face and are hit with a pang of guilt. Is he… actually sad right now?

“I never said I hated you.”

“I can’t help but feel that way. You never talk to me anymore.” 

In the quiet you realize how little space there is between you two. The atmosphere feels dangerous, heavy, and hot. You catch Taehyun sneaking a glance at your lips. You’re scared to see where this goes, scared of breaking the tension.

You bite down, wanting to flee from the guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You take Taehyun’s hand and try to pull him off the door to make your escape, but he flips you both. Now you’re pinned in between the door and Taehyun.

“Stop running from me, please.” 

His voice is warm and dark and weak like a dying bonfire. Your body shudders in response. His arm is slammed next to you, propping his body up so he can lean over you. “I’m so tired of chasing after you.” 

He says it so quietly into your ear, you almost convince yourself that you must have misheard him. The only thing that grounds your conviction that you heard correctly is how Taehyun’s free hand softly grips the hair on the back of your head, how his face finds solace in the crook of your neck, how gently his breath grazes that sensitive part of your skin. Suddenly your body feels like it’s on fire, and you’re not sure if you can handle it.

“Tae,” you breathe out softly. “Wait…,” but your objection is only met with the alcoholic heat of Taehyun’s lips. He tastes like the bitter aftertaste of lychee soju and mint chapstick and it knocks the air out of you. You buckle under his weight, instinctively gripping at his shirt for support. He is needy and gasping and crumbling in your hands: a complete 180 from the Taehyun you’re used to.

You manage to separate yourselves, both of your lips bruised and wet. “Tae, wait please!” To your surprise, he listens, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s trying hard to restrain himself. 

“You’re drunk!” You push against him, trying to make more space between you two, but to no avail. “Y-you’re really fucking drunk, and not thinking straight. Let’s not do anything we’ll…” You swallow as you catch a glimpse of Taehyun’s lips, “... regret.”

Taehyun cups your face in his hands and looks at you with so much clarity despite all of the alcohol in his veins. The abrupt roughness of the earlier kiss is contrasted by how gently he holds you. The gravity of his stare lingers in the air for a second until he finally answers.

“I’ll only regret it if you end up regretting it. So tell me clearly that you want me to stop.”

“Wha–?”

“I want you to say it. As clear as day. I’ll give you until the count of three: just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop. Otherwise,” he puts his forehead against yours, “I’ll keep doing what I want.”

He starts. “One…”

The room is still and quiet except for your heart knocking against the door, drowning out the muffled music from outside. This should be easy, you think, you just need to tell Taehyun to stop. You say stop, Taehyun stops: simple, logical cause and effect. But despite those thoughts rolling into your brain, something primal in you holds your tongue. The way Taehyun’s woody cologne sticks to your clothes and the desperate way he’s panting after that first kiss makes you ache for more. The way his sculpted body feels under your palms and the way you can tell he’s undressing you with his eyes is all too intoxicating.

“... two…”

Your breathing is in sync with him. Taehyun is holding onto every little sound you make as he finds his way nuzzling back into your neck. He fully leans into you and you feel how hard he is. Your breath hitches and you feel him smile against your skin; his hot length twitches from inside his jeans. It excites you how he responds to your tiniest reactions. Curious to test the waters, you slightly grind against him which earns you a small, restrained groan from his lips. You want to hear him more, want to feel him more. It’s against your better judgment…. 

But remember? You’re not here to be smart: you’re here to make bad decisions.

Taehyun doesn’t even get to three before you crash your lips into his. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the opportunity to feel you up as you both blindly stumble to the edge of the bed, not daring to break the kiss as you straddle him. You feel Taehyun impatiently pull at the bottom of your blouse, you smile and untangle yourself from him in response, letting him take off your top. He also takes this time to rip his shirt off of him, and damn: built like a damn Greek statue, carved and polished to perfection. You could have stared at him all night if he didn’t flip you underneath him.

Hovering over you, Taehyun takes a moment to take in the view. His hand traces over the edge of your lace panties. “Wow, did you wear these just for me?” 

You prop yourself up to kiss Taehyun’s cheek. “No,” you playfully pout at him, “but I’m letting you take them off of me. So be thankful.”

He chuckles at your snide comment, “God, I love it when you talk like that.”

Taehyun starts leaving a blazing trail of kisses, saliva, and bites down your neck, taking some time to leave some blooming hickeys around your collarbone. He gets to your chest and while he marks his territory, he reaches underneath you and unclasps your bra. You have no time to marvel at his mastery when you gasp at his tongue swirling around your nipple. His hand makes quick work of your body, gripping and massaging your other breast, lightly pinching your other bud in between his index and thumb. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy, softly sighing. Taehyun takes his time; his mouth switching between your breasts indiscriminately and occasionally taking a break to kiss the valley in between them. While you squirm under his touch, you feel your wet core ache for more. 

“Taehyun…” you whine.

He looks up at you while swirling his tongue around one of your buds. He hums in a questioning tone, refusing to let his mouth leave your body. 

“Taehyun please…need more of you…”

He finally pauses and his smile wickedly spreads across his face, “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

“Mouth… please. Can I have your mouth please?”

You feel the heat of Taehyun leave your chest as he gets up to quickly strip your panties off of you. You hold your breath when you feel the chill of the room hit you; everything, everywhere is aching. You just want him to touch you, to taste you. It isn’t until you feel the grip of Taehyun’s strong hands around your thighs and the plump soreness of his lips on your hot core that your breath hitches. 

You grip Taehyun's hair while he pulls you full force to his face. How his tongue laps into you, how he switches to intensely sucking on your clit, how he pants as he places the wettest kisses against your inner thighs. The rhythm of his tongue puts you in a trance as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Taehyun absolutely loves giving head. He has had his fair share of partners, so his palette is pretty… experienced. But something about you was so addicting. He thought you tasted like heaven; a flavor so delicious, he could imagine savoring it every night and morning. He could keep your thighs clamped around his face all night if you would let him. 

This entire time Taehyun has been pushing you further and further to your bliss. Your body threatens to unravel with every swirl from Taehyun’s tongue, but never quite reaching the tip. However, it all comes crashing down and the coil in your stomach finally snaps the minute he pushes two fingers deep in you. The sounds that escape you are unholy and all you see is white as Taehyun brings you past your orgasm, overstimulating you.

“God, baby, you’re so wet for me already. I was able to fit my fingers in so easily,” he smiles triumphantly at his soaked hand, “Where’s that smart mouth from earlier, huh?”

You whine, riding your drunken high as you grind on his hand. Your walls pulse around him as he thrusts his fingers rhythmically. Happily smiling to himself, he returns his lips to their rightful home: in between your legs, lightly lapping at your clit. Taehyun is having way too much fun now. Your reactions? Your sounds? Your body? Complete, utter perfection. It’s taking every bit of his self-control to not whip out his dick and slam it into your dripping cunt. Every whimper and moan that comes from you makes his cock throb like crazy. 

It’s certain everyone in the hallway knows the room is currently “occupied” even over the blaring music. You’re too lost in all the sensations running through your system to care about your volume. Then, you feel Taehyun’s fingers curl into that magic spot: the spot you can never quite reach by yourself. The spot that usually needs the help of toys and vibes. Still coming down from the crash of your previous orgasm, you instinctively push away from Taehyun’s hand, almost scared of feeling any more pleasure. But this reaction doesn’t escape the devious eyes of the boy in between your legs. 

Taehyun pauses his movements and asks from below, “Can’t take anymore, baby?” His stare softens a bit as he kisses around your thighs.

You’re conflicted; you don’t want this moment to stop, but feel like you might melt into the sheets if you continue. A small whisper leaves your lips, “I-I think I can, it’s… it’s just a lot all at once.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, “but you can take it for me, right?” Before you can answer, his fingers curl up and hit the spot once more. Again, you feel the heat in your lower stomach release and those aching waves envelope your body, even more powerful than last time. You blink away tears from your eyes, digging your nails into Taehyun’s shoulders as you scream out his name. 

Taehyun continues cleaning the honey dripping out of you with his tongue, his cock twitching every time you whimper out a plea for him to fuck you already. Now that you’re ready for him, Taehyun doesn't have to hold back anymore. He tries to hide how eagerly he is stripping off his pants, but you can still tell in your tipsy haze that he is brimming with enthusiasm. However, Taehyun stops as he hovers over you.

“Last chance to back out now, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, “You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

He rubs the tip of his cock along your entrance. He wets his lips, amused by your answer, “Fair enough.”

Even with proper preparation, the stretch is enough to make you arch your back. Taehyun grips the sheets– his knuckles turning white– until he bottoms out inside you. You grip into his back, pulling him flush against you. His brows are furrowed in complete concentration as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You both stay there for a second, steadying your breaths.

After what feels like an eternity, you adjust to Taehyun’s length and feel ready. However, Taehyun stays still, unmoving.

“Tae… you can move now,” You say, pushing your hips against to demonstrate your willingness.

Taehyun groans, “I know, baby… you just–,” he nearly whimpers, “you just feel really good. Give me a sec…”

A sense of pride swells in your chest. The usually measured, deliberate Kang Taehyun has become a mess just from slipping it in. A coy smile spreads across your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer.

“Aww, is someone struggling right now? Did I make you feel too good?”

Silence. You feel a slight shift in the air that makes you shiver. Silence. Until Taehyun lifts his chest off of you– pulling back his hips– and looks down at you. His stare makes your blood run cold. One of his hands grips onto the headboard, making him hover you. Taehyun snaps a hard thrust back into you, making you moan in surprise.

“I see that smart mouth I love so much is back,” he icily smiles down, “and I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

There’s no warning, no precaution, as Taehyun brutally begins fucking you into the mattress. He grips the headboard, causing it to knock against the wall in a frantic rhythm. Taehyun’s hips piston into you as you claw into the pillow you lay your head on. With every thrust, you feel yourself clamp around Taehyun’s cock, your mouth agape from the sheer pleasure coursing through you. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take all of me,” Taehyun breathes into your neck before taking a long lick along your throat. “How does it feel? Feels good?”

You can’t even form words, you feel like a mindless doll as you frantically nod at Taehyun’s question. You feel him pulse inside you as he flashes you a cocky smile. His hand leaves the headboard, moving so both hands grip into your hips, allowing for more leverage. 

“Bet it fucking does. Fucking you so dumb, you can’t even talk,” He punctuates each word by slamming his full length into you, making you see stars.

With Taehyun’s constant teasing and unruly speed, it doesn’t take long for you to feel your next orgasm peeking from behind the horizon. Your hands reach down, cupping over Taehyun’s on your hips.

You don’t even have to say anything, you look into Taehyun’s eyes and he just knows. Taehyun grabs your knees and pushes them down towards your chest, leaning into you for a searing kiss; it’s filthy and lustful and pushes you right over the edge towards your release. You let out a low moan into Taehyun’s mouth, your walls fluttering around his dick. With that, Taehyun’s force becomes more erratic as he chases his own high. He pulls away from your kiss and starts nipping at your ear. His breathing becomes more shallow and quick each time your hips meet, little sounds escaping his plump lips.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum in this pretty pussy,” he growls.

A final push and Taehyun stills inside you, releasing a few hot pumps, until he begins to soften. When he pulls out, you can feel the mixture of your arousals spill out of your fucked-out pussy. Taehyun plops down next to you, both of you still coming down from your respective highs. The silence is broken by Taehyun chuckling, pulling you into his arms.

“Yeonjun is going to be so fucking pissed at me,” he laughed. 

You looked up at him in confusion, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Because this is definitely his room.”

Your eyes dart around the room: signed concert posters of bands you recognized on the wall, a closet full of stylish clothes, the bluetooth speaker he always brought to dance practice. Fuck. This was totally Yeonjun’s room.

Your hands shoot up to cover your face, groaning, thinking about how Yeonjun would scold you for getting his bed “dirty”. But your panic subsides as Taehyun presses his lips into your check, giving you a quick peck.

“Ehh, I’m sure it’ll be fine…,” Taehyun hums, flashing you that same cocky smile, “we can talk our way out of it.”

You snuggle into his chest, Taehyun’s smile no longer causing bitterness and resentment to flood your thoughts, but something much warmer… 

“...This is what he gets for not warning me about you coming to the party.”

“Okay… maybe don’t start running that smart mouth next time we see him. I’ll do all the talking, alright?”

[nudijsmos]

𝑓𝑤𝑏! bangchan — anything he could do (𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿)

summary: after another fight with your boyfriend hyunjin, your best friend decided to cheer you up by buying some drinks. little did you know that after that you'd forget everything about your relationship and become christopher's little doll.

word count: 5.2 k

note: english is not my first language so expect the nastiest shit on this fic & also this is a collab with my dear @doestalker, i hope y'all enjoy it!.

maybe talking to your best friend about the failed moments of your relationship is not such a bad idea, but you have seen each other in the worst conditions before. nothing bad could happen.

or well, that could be debated.

for months you have been debating or rather questioning your relationship with hyunjin, who happens to be friends with the guy in front of you, bangchan. maybe this is something that all couples go through, maybe this boredom is normal between months of any relationship.

as always after an argument with hyunjin, your fingers typed the number of your best friend, who – having a hunch of what was happening – was quick to answer and invite you to his apartment. your eyes wandered around the blonde’s room, feeling your body tremble as you didn’t know how to start telling him everything that’d happened between you.

“tell me that at least this time he didn’t stood you up on another date, that would be regrettable and too much, even for you,” exclaimed the man, leaning his back against the wall, watching you from head to toe. deep within him he begged that you’d already thrown away that little boy you had as a boyfriend. he groaned when you gave him a knowing look, confirming his assumptions.

it's not that bangchan hated hyunjin, in fact, he was one of his closest friends. it's just that he knew what he was like in relationships, and given that he's had a crush on you since practically the beginning of his friendship with you, it was almost impossible for him not to react in a sarcastic and to some extent malicious way to their relationship.

he felt no modesty within himself, happy to see your relationship crumble upon his eyes. he felt sorry for the way your eyes appreciated hwang, but he longed for the chains of that bond to be broken all at once.

call him selfish, a bad person, a madman, but he wanted you to belong only to him.

“it’s just that i’m so tired, we weren’t like this at the beginning, remember? we were so happy and we were so in love... now i can’t remember a single moment where we’re not arguing.”

bangchan places his arm on the back of the sofa, behind you, putting on his best expression of concern and pretending to empathize by recalling those moments when you were genuinely happy with his friend. he swallowed to disguise the bitterness that went up his throat, and then cleared his throat.

“ah, yes, the good times where you were glued by the hip. but babe, let’s face it, isn’t it too naive of you to think that everything was going to go the way it did when you started dating? relationships change, just like people... sometimes for bad,” he said the last part through gritted teeth, so that you wouldn’t hear it.

you let out a bitter laugh even though you didn’t find any humour on his statement, staring at the floor and running your fingers through your hair as you listened to your best friend's opinion.

“yeah, i know. it’s not the same anymore, it’s just that i can’t help but hold on to the idea that at some point everything will go back to how it used to be,” you turned to look into his eyes, frowning, a glimmer of hope burning inside your chest.

“look, darling, i don’t know what happened between the two of you, but knowing how stupid hyunjin can be, i’m sure it’s nothing new of him to act like that with you.” the man murmured, squatting now, taking your hands out of your own hair and taking them between his. this closeness between you was normal, yet the air felt heavy having him so close to you.

“i have a better idea, there’s a store near here. we have to get drunk and watch a movie, like in the old days,” he added with a smile. “no more hyunjin, now it’s you and me, and i want to please you after he made you feel like you were worth no more than a couple of minutes on a painful date.”

(...)

the streetlights were casting a warm glow on the pavement, the evening between both of you felt like a sweet summer night in the middle of this boring autumn, laughing all the way down to the convenience store. as you entered the establishment, bangchan's hand grazed the small of your back, sending a shiver down your spine. "what are you in the mood for?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "i'm thinking of something strong to cool you off tonight."

you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. bangchan had always been a flirt, but there was something about the way he was looking at you tonight that made your heart flutter.

"how about some beer and chips?" you suggested, your voice barely above a whisper. bangchan grinned, his dimples on full display.

"excellent choice," he said, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the fridge door. the casual touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you found yourself leaning in a little closer to him, making him chuckle at the sight of seeing you near him in that way.

as you made your way to the checkout, bangchan kept up a steady stream of playful banter, his eyes never leaving your face. you couldn't help but feel a little giddy, the weight of your earlier argument with your boyfriend momentarily forgotten.

"you know, I'm always here for you," bangchan said softly, his hand brushing against yours as he handed you his change. "anytime you need a friend, or a shoulder to lean on, i'm just a phone call away."

you looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and a hint of something more. "thank you, chris," you murmured. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

bangchan's smile widened, and he gently squeezed your hand. "that's what friends are for," he said, his voice low and warm as he grabbed you by your waist, letting him try to get a little closer to you while he was talking, almost like a whisper hitting your ear. as you walked back to his apartment, you couldn't help but feel a little lighter, your heart filled with the knowledge that you had someone like bangchan in your life.

when both of you were already in the blonde’s kitchen, you two proceeded to pour the beer on your respective pints, the closeness seemed to be palpable in the air, almost completely forgetting why you came to your best friend’s house. the argument with hyunjin was no longer the only thing on your mind, and bangchan noticed it. you drank there in his kitchen, the both of you leaning against the kitchen aisle while sipping the beer and eating the chips.

the alcohol took control of your body very quickly with every drop that slipped down your throat, that feeling of sadness for the previous situation was already one of the last things that went through your mind. whereas from the blonde’s point of view he was just dying internally to find the right moment to get to touch you again, sink into your sweet aroma.

“you know.” you muttered in a drunken tone, tripping over your own words. “i don’t even know why i’m suffering for him, he didn’t even know how to satisfy me...” your mind was no longer filtering out the words coming out of your mouth, if you weren’t so drunk you’d be dying of shame for your boldness and the excess of information you were releasing.

“is that so?” asked bangchan, his tone almost mocking. the edges of his lips rising and his expression was of satisfaction at hearing the first criticism of hyunjin coming from you, almost relieved that there weren’t only positive or melancholic opinions of his friend. “in what sense?” he feigned a tone of confusion, doing his best to look innocent. it was clear that he knew what you were talking about, he felt like he wanted to jump over the walls. finally! something hyunjin wasn’t good at.

“you know...” you mumble, feeling blood pooling on your cheeks, unable to find the right words so as not to sound desperate.

“no, doll, i don’t know,” he laughed, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his nose because of the flustered expression you had. he rolled his lips and looked at you from top to bottom, stepped forward and took your chin between his fingers, forcing eye contact with his dark orbs. “use your words, babbling will not make me understand you.”

the elder’s voice echoed through your ears, penetrating your brain and making that blush that was already resting on your cheeks more and more noticeable. the kitchen air began to overwhelm you, your breath was cut short by the soft grip of your chin.

“in the two years of my relationship with him i could never..” you were afraid to continue the sentence, but your friend’s orbs penetrated your soul like a sword and you felt like it was now or never, so you sighed. “he never made me finish, i faked my orgasms for months to not hurt his ego.”

bangchan was surprised by that answer. he thought you were talking about his friend’s tiny dick, not that the idiot hadn't been able to give you an orgasm in general.

a mischievous laugh breaks out from his lips, those you glance from time to time without modesty or shame, those pouty lips who surely tasted of beer and salt.

“that’s awful, i would be sorry if my own girlfriend said that about me,” he replied in a mocking tone, letting go of your chin and heading to the kitchen table, resting his forearms against the edge of the furniture as he adjusted his posture without taking his eyes off you, which he knew made you nervous.

“does the great christopher bang know more about pleasure?” you asked jokingly, pretending not to be affected by the way his arms flexed in front of you, you didn’t know where this courage came from.

that’s a lie, you did know.

“oh doll, i don’t think you want to go there,” he murmured, his tone of voice deep and almost stifling. he had his gaze fixed on you, his eyes had a subtle gleam that you couldn’t tell if it was alcohol or mockery from seeing how nervous you were. the boy couldn’t help but enjoy the effect he was having on you.

this time it was you who stepped forward, staying a short distance from the boy, your eyes denoted an innocent glow, like a puppy begging for the attention of its owner and that made the older one salivate. you looked so immersed in that game of not-so-subtle glances, so vulgar that without saying anything they confessed everything.

“give me a reason to listen to you, christopher.” you mused with a mocking smile, defying almost the highest.

oh.

oh. that’s what he’s wanted to hear since you set foot in his house. bangchan can’t help but smile at your defiant expression, leaning closer to you, his face just inches from yours.

“a reason?” he asks mockingly. his eyes run through your body, analyzing every curve in detail. he was enjoying too much of this little game you were having, but the palpable tension you had been building up for quite some time was making him a little desperate. “how about this – i guarantee you i can give you more pleasure in five minutes than hyunjin in a year of dating.” his beer-breath invaded your nostrils, something you normally hated when hyunjin drank with his friends now became incredibly attractive coming from your friend. you were ashamed to admit that his words had caused your panties to dampen. “let me show you, doll.”

you just nod and flutter your lips open, the overwhelming heat you felt right now had made you a little dizzy, your eyes traveled to bangchan’s smile, still present and still mocking, almost evil. “okay, prove it,” you whispered.

bangchan's eyes widened, excited. “with pleasure,” he replies, leaning close to your ear, his rawest voice. “only i have one condition.”

when he leaned back enough for you to see him in the eyes, you frowned, confused. “and what would that condition be?”

bangchan flashed you a smile, like a mischievous cat who just cornered his prey. “you will do everything i say. no buts, no protests. you think you can handle that, princess?”

to say that you were stunned would be an understatement. that touch of dominance that unleashed in the elder’s personality was stronger than any drink you had consumed that same night, again you just nodded without even being able to form a coherent response as your friend’s veiny hand caught your neck and guided you towards his lips, devouring you without any warning.

the taste of beer clouded your mind at every movement of his mouth, feeling your legs falter as you let that man handle your body as if you were just a doll.

it was no longer just his mouth tasting yours, your lips parting in a gasp allows the damp tongue of the taller man to enter your mouth like an intruder to those lips that once belonged to his best friend.

the hand placed on your neck generated a certain pressure that made it difficult to keep pace with that kiss, the so sure grip of those long digits made you see stars. what would it be like to have him fuck you like an animal?

bangchan was in control, and he was enjoying every second of it. he devoured your lips like a starved man, his tongue possesively exploring every inch of your warm mouth. every movement, every breath, every sound you made served only to feed his own desire. as he continued to kiss you, he pushed and turned around your body until you were trapped between the table and his hard torso, his grip on your neck tightening, while his free hand began to venture across your body, groping you lasciviously. he growled like an animal at the little groan that let go of your throat as his hand kneaded one of your breasts.

“do you like that, babe?” he asked, his voice so deep it sounded guttural, his fingers still kneading and playing with your chest, causing more soft groans to escape from your lips. he could feel the way you melted under his touch, and that only made him more desperate to ruin you. his index finger hooked the neckline of your top, lowering it along with the cups of your bra, leaving your chest exposed.

the coldness of the room and the warmth of your body left little to the imagination of the hungry young man, your gasps and the erectness of your nipples no doubt caused christopher to lose what little sanity he had in him. well, if there was any of that left.

the large arms of the opposite managed to raise your body weight so that now your figure will be prostrated on the table. in an attempt to seem more provocative you were slowly opening your legs, almost torturing the blonde who was just letting out curses at such a sight. “use me, christopher.” you muttered in your broken voice, getting rid of any possible regrets in your head.

“use me, break me. i don’t want you to leave any trace of hyunjin inside me.”

a grunt was the answer you received and suddenly the man’s lips surrounded your nipples, biting, licking and pulling them until they turned a pinkish hue, so sensitive to the simple rubbing of the older man’s dry and uneducated boneless bone. your underwear began to feel more and more annoying. the tenacity of the movements of his tongue made your sight go blank, babbling over and over again the name of your best friend.

“poor little girl, you see, that son of a bitch never knew how to take advantage of you.” take advantage? oh no.. more than that, your boyfriend had no idea how to handle your body. the boy's hands gripped your breasts in such a way that they formed a heart, releasing them only to slap them shamelessly. you whined.

“now you’re mine, you have no idea how good i’m going to abuse your pussy, my little doll.”

“please, chris,” you moaned, squeezing his biceps hard, almost nailing his fingernails in despair. “i’m- please-”

he exhaled a laugh at the mess of groans and whines that you were under his touch, and he hadn't even touched your pussy yet. “who would have said that behind that innocent facade you were such a spoiled brat? i’m not surprised that hyunjin couldn’t handle you, it takes a man to handle little sluts like you,” he spat against your cheek, lowering his hand down your skirt, there he slipped his hand between your underwear already ruined by your juices. “damn, you feel how wet you are for me?” he laughed excitedly, as if he were a child who just got a new toy for christmas.

“poor princess, so long without being satisfied as she deserves,” his lips formed a little pout, while his fingers ran through your lips, smearing them with your juices before carefully inserting one, he didn’t want to break you... yet. “i’m going to make all that time worth it,” he promised, leaving you with a chaste kiss on the cheek while inserting another finger without warning.

you let out a guttural groan, opening your eyes wide open as you felt the sweet burn of his fingers stretching your tight walls, you had to bite your lower lip so as not to lose your composure and crumble between his strong arms. you tilted your head so you could see him in the eyes, your brow frowning with pleasure at the scissor movements he made to speed up your preparation. he looked at you with a mocking smile and an arched eyebrow, feigning confusion at your reactions, as if he wasn’t caressing your g-spot with his long fingers.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he asked. he wouldn’t let you answer because the next thing he did was lean against the table, lowering his arm around your waist so he could play with your clit while inserting a third finger. you already felt your legs tremble, you didn’t think you could hold up much longer like that, it was hard to believe that you already felt the knot of your first orgasm forming so quickly.

“look at you, i’m feeling so sorry for how pathetic you look right now. " he murmured once more to your ear, another chill running down your spine was present by the dominant tone that crashed against your skin," he said. “your pussy is made just for me... just look at how it takes my fingers.”

christopher’s voice echoed throughout the room, the constant splashes of the blond’s phalanx penetrating into your poor, abused walls was the ecstasy you had longed to have for months. his middle finger bent inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours that could make you see stars and collapse in front of him.

“ah! chris!” you squealed, holding tightly the wrist of his hand inside you.

“what’s the matter, doll? are you gonna cum? already?” he laughed mischievously, mocking your precocity and despair. “go ahead, baby, cum f’me.”

you sucked air through your nose as the spasms began to hit your body like waves, little tears fell down your pink cheeks. there was no longer a drop of guilt inside you, you just felt relief to achieve an orgasm that was not on your own in a long time.

bangchan let out an excited laugh, his eyes wrinkled to the sides at the sight of his hand soaked in your juices. he brought his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers as he stared at you, you watched his eyes roll back and heard him groan as he tasted you.

“c’mon, babe, let’s take this to my bedroom. i’m gonna make you cum three times today, the first one was with my fingers. then, i’m gonna use my tongue and my cock to make you squirt as many times as i want.”

(...)

“open your legs for me, baby, if you close them I’m not gonna finish anything.” he said, smirking at the obscene sight he had of you. the dim light reflecting on your skin left him desiring more of you, he needed you, he craved you like a predator about to devour his innocent prey. his hands were roaming your skin, slowly almost like he tried to torture you.

his shirt was stripped off somewhere in the room allowing your imagination to fly before the perfect landscape of your best friend's strong body. well, better said your lover.

his body weight leaned over you, his gaze nailed to your teary orbs, lowering his right palm to your weeping cunt, letting his fingers make their way to your clit once again. a loud slap made a presence on his mannerism, his hand pressing again and again on your pussy.

“oh god, christopher-” you said.

“i know, doll. use your words for me. tell me how good does that feels.” he responded, biting his lower lip and leaning closer to you, his body slowly lowered to its knees, letting out several sighs that crashed against the folds of your cunt. a path of wet and lewd kisses went through one of your thighs, receiving bites that would surely leave some mark on your skin.

god, he was gonna kill you.

you were going to protest because of how little contact the opposite was having with you, yet you felt the wet, hot mouth of the blonde hugging and sucking your clit, placing both hands on the sides of your waist to hold you in place. his lips rubbed your folds in the company of that wet muscle making you to see the stars in the front row, his tongue laps on your cunt like a fucking desperate dog.

he was eating you out, feeling so drunk by your taste. he did not waste any time, spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it once again, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive bud. he couldn’t decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side.

the squirting of the older man's mouth against your pussy was so disgusting and obscene, you knew perfectly well that your juices would be overflowing under his chin. “s’good right ?.” chris slurred into your pussy, now sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole.

his hands were so tight on your thighs that you felt helpless and useless, without any method of escape from it, merely grasping the boy’s sheets with your fists as you undid your broken voice repeating his name in whining cries of pleasure.

his big nose slammed against your clit, giving you another annoying and torturing wave of pleasure that swept all over your lower abdomen. you were again beginning to feel that tingling in your lower abdomen, releasing the sheets to grasp without any shame the blonde’s hair, tangling your fingers between the curls of his hair, pulling these with little force but being enough for the young man to devour your core as if it were an animal, a depraved who just wanted to get drunk with the sour taste of your fluids.

"damn doll, you taste divine." the man whispers in between his moist kisses, spitting once more on the fluelle of your intimacy. " cum for me, little one." without warning his tongue made its way into your entrance, slamming against your walls.

"oh god, oh god. you fucking- ngh!." you cried, feeling how your legs lost their footing against the elder’s bed once more. chris moaned just as loud when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

“what a good little slut you are, so fucking good.” this time the boy took his time to clean with his tongue the remains that you had along your thighs, licking and sucking every place. however, something caught both of you by surprise.

it was your phone ringing, right on the floor where you tossed it before bangchan pushed you onto his bed. you both glanced at it, and a cold sweat ran through your body when you saw hyunjin calling you.

“answer him.” said bangchan without further ado.

your eyes went wide open again by the boy’s comment. what? no, you shouldn’t answer it. he shouldn’t know what was going on between you and his best friend. "do i have to repeat myself again, whore? answer the fucking phone."

you were fucked up, so fucked up.

"hello.." was heard on the other side of the line. it was his voice, smooth as always. " i didn’t know if you were gonna answer me or not, but i wanted to talk to you. i’m sorry, okay? i really didn’t want you to be mad because i didn’t go on our date.." he continued, yet you could not concentrate because you were having your friend’s cock rubbing and teasing against your hole so sharply that it was impossible for you to formulate a coherent answer.

"don’t worry h-hyunjin, i just... oh god." you released a gasp that saturated the mic of your phone, tilting your neck to the side while your teeth caught your lower lip in an attempt to silence your groans.

"is everything alright? you sound agitated, love."

that was the point of decline for the blonde, entering you without any warning, making you lose your sanity and shame left in your system. he quickly took the phone from your hand, placing it between his ear and shoulder.

“sorry mate, she’s busy right now.” he chuckled at himself, pulling you by your waist once again, feeling him more deeper than before. he was big, you felt instantly full by his size. “you should’ve treated her better bro, you ‘ave no idea how pretty she looks taking my dick right now.”

“what the fuck, bangchan!?”. hyunjin spits. “pass her the phone bro, i don’t have time for your jokes.” your groans came to light when christopher began to thrust into you, brutally abusing your cunt without even caring if your boyfriend was from the opposite side of the line.

the wet slaps, the moans and the sighs saturating the mic proved that it was no joke. he fucked into you roughly and you would describe his expression as gleeful, because when hyunjin started to yell at him he just giggled.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” yelled hyunjin, so loud you could hear it from your position. “please tell me you’re joking, you sick fuck.”

your bestfriend pulled out and you whined from the emptiness, he just slapped your thigh, commanding you to turn around on all fours.

“oh, does this look like a joke to you?” questioned christopher, putting the phone on video call and turning the camera around to focus it on your plump cheeks slapping against his muscular thighs, he could see through the phone how his cock disappeared into your sopping cunt. god, he almost wished he was recording you instead of letting hyunjin see that ass getting pounded.

“CHRISTOPHER ARE YOU SERIOUS!? HOW COULD YOU!?” hyunjin was so angry that if chris looked closely he could see the smoke coming out of his ears. he just laughed, spanking your ass at the same time.

“you snooze, you loose, bro,” giggled bangchan.

hwang began cursing the both of you, calling you names, wishing the worst to bangchan, you weren’t able to see his expression - oh, how you wish you could - but he sounded at the verge of a mental breakdown. and, you know? you didn’t care. his loss. you were getting the fucking of your life by such the sexiest man you could think of.

your phone dropped, both of his hands were groping the sides of your waist again while his massive cock was pounding your guts, making your eyes roll back by the feeling of him using you just like a ragdoll. “that’s it baby, milk my fucking cock so well— feels so good, doesn’t it?”

you felt unable to formulate any kind of response as you felt his member coming in and out of you, almost ripping your cunt apart. your whines and gasps were like music for the elder, the way your pussy was taking his dick was driving him crazy. he noticed how the phone’s screen went black, clearly hyunjin had ended the call. what a fucking loser, he thought to himself as he watched how your hole was clenching around the base of his cock.

“does this cock make you go dumb, doll?.” he presses down with one of his hands the bulge his cock makes in your belly, causing the both of you to keen, your little dripping pussy fluttering around his cock as he twitches inside of you.

“c-christopher, i’m.. oh god!” you moaned so loudly, almost screaming his name as the third orgasm was approaching. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“aww, my baby’s gettin’ tired?” he mocks you, smirking at you, still guiding your movements on his cock with the help of his hands on your hips. “thought you liked fuckin’ yourself on your best friend’s cock. you’re a spoiled little slut, aren’t you?” you nodded not being able to answer him again, feeling the tears running down from your cheeks while trying to face him while he railed you, biting your lower lip.

“please chris, i wanna come sooo badly. please, please, pretty please, i cannot handle it any more.” your voice sounded so submissive, begging him to release you. your cunt was swollen at this point and your legs were unable to pick up his pace. your eyes went white when he suddenly grabbed your hair, pulling it back and facing one side of your face as he leaned near your ear.

the man’s pelvis rocked against your ass roughly to make your arch your back searching for more contact, more pleasure, more of chris’ insane sex appeal.

“is that so baby? you want me to fill you up? breed you full?”. you shut your eyes as you allowed your orgasm to come, giving in the white heat just by hearing him slut the shit out of you, squirting over his cock while pounding your insides, slapping your ass with his bare hand. “there you go, my little cocksleeve.”

his cum flooded your walls, drawing you back to his pelvis while his lips released the most sensual sighs and grunts you've ever heard in your life. when he pulled his dick out of your sloppy and wet cunt, his cum was dripping out of your hole, long rows of his essence falling down your folds as you tried to regain consciousness after that man fucked you silly.

“pretty little pussy, all fuckin’ mine, yeah? my fuckhole.” he growled, voice raw from all that moaning, while picking up some cum from your folds with a finger and fingering you with it, you whined, sensitive and overstimulated. he was right, you were his, his girl, his doll, his slut. you no longer belonged to the black-haired young man you used to call ‘your boyfriend’. now you were his, you were christopher bang's doll.

you’ve always been, you just didn’t realize it yet.

[bbyquokka]

trapped with him

– in which yn looses a bet and ends up becoming felix's pet !!

pairing | lee felix x fem reader

genre | work colleagues, enemies to ??, smut – 18+ is advised!

cw | dom felix ; breast/nipple play ; sexual bets ; oral (f rec) ; clit stimulation ; vaginal fingering ; sexual asphyxiation (choking) ; unprotected sex ; birth control ; clit slapping w cock ; multiple orgasms ; pull out method ; cum on body ; pet/master

words | 5.7k ~ ( 5,794 )

note | this is a lil thank you fic for @oshimee for sending me a second package 🙊 there is still one more ty fic that is in the works so uh, enjoyyy! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“i can't believe this is happening.” you let out a disgruntled groan, head in your hands. a displeasured tut is heard from the side of you, causing you to feel even more annoyed at the situation.

you're stuck in work, or rather, you're trapped in work with your worst enemy; lee felix. a sudden snow blizzard occurred which caused a major power outage in the city. the whole city went quiet. trains and buses being canceled due to the fast mountain of snow being created.

unlucky for you, the company doors work electrical meaning you and everyone else have a fob key that allows you in and out and when there is no electricity, there's no escape.

what's even more unlucky, is that you and felix are the last to leave. you both work under the same branch meaning you both work somewhat closely together. today, you ended a little bit later than usual (only because your boss insisted on work being completed) 

you and felix were the only two in the office. no words were exchanged between the two of you and if there were, it was very short. once you completed the last set of work, you breathed a sigh of sweet relief, cleaned your desk and grabbed your belongings. as soon as you grabbed your coat, the power went out resulting in your current situation.

“i can't believe i'm stuck in here with you.” felix grunts. he's sat on the floor just opposite you. his hair disheveled from running his hands through it numerous times with his tie and top button of his shirt loosened up.

“i guess that's the only thing we find in common.” you say sarcastically with a sarcastic smile. ever since felix joined the company, you never liked him. you hate how everyone pines over him. you hate how he looks so pretty and perfect everyday. you hate how he can do things better than you. how he can pick things up faster than you. you hate seeing your employees fuss over him. you hate how he always comes into work and is greeted with flowers or chocolates or even a letter of confession.

you hate how he politely turns people down. you just hate everything about him and to be stuck in work with him is a living nightmare for you both.

“why hasn't the back up generator started yet!” you groan, kicking your head back and straightening out your legs in an attempt to feel somewhat comfortable. but that's hard when you spend all day in nothing but work clothing. the appeal of heading home and changing into fuzzy pajamas sounds like bliss round about now.

“this fucking sucks.” felix sighs before standing up and looking out of the window. the snow is still heavily falling with the wind blowing it in various directions. people holding onto their hats, nuzzling their faces into their scarves as the bitter chill hits them.

“how long do you think we will be here?” you mumble. felix tuts.

“the fuck am i suppose to know.” 

“alright! jesus, don't get your panties in a twist felix. was just a simple question.” 

“has anyone told you how annoying you are?”

“several actually. why? am i annoying you?” you smirk. annoying felix is much more enjoyable than you thought.

“please yn.” he sighs before sitting back down on the floor. “just shut up.”

“have you always been like this?”

“like what?”

“a stuck up annoying brat that has no manners.”

“only when it comes to you.”

“mhm, thought so. because you seem so sweet and innocent with other people. especially when they pine over you.”

“it's called being polite and they don't pine!” felix unbuttons a few more buttons of his shirt before untying his tie and throwing it on the floor beside him. his body is heating up due to how hot it's getting in the workplace. you get a small peak at his honey skin as well as his collarbones. 

your heart thumbs a little against your chest. butterflies swim in your stomach and lay dormant in your groin. you frown to yourself.

surely your worst enemy isn't making you feel aroused?!

“oh please! yes felix. right away felix.” you mock before rolling your eyes. felix smirks.

“what can i say. i love it when my pets behave.” 

“pets?!” you look at him wide eyed before glaring. “you're insufferable. i hate you.”

felix smirks before leaning back against the wall. several minutes have passed by in silence with the exception of passing traffic and cars honking their horns. the office now feels like a sauna. the insufferable hot air hanging above your head and making it difficult for you to breathe.

your work clothes stick to your body, making you grimace and feel disgusting. felix has pushed his hair back with a headband, his brow coated in a thin layer of sweat as a few more buttons of his shirt have popped open.

you wish you could pop open a few more of your buttons but with the tops of your breasts daring to show, you chose not to. felix sits with his legs parted, one foot on the ground and leg bent which allows him to rest his arm on his knee. his head tilted to the side a little, lips parted and eyes closed. 

"so fucking hot.” he mumbles. you give him a small hum of agreement, fanning yourself with your hand.

several more minutes pass with you and felix not talking to one another. this allows you to admire him from afar. you're so used to seeing him prim and proper. hair neat and perfectly styled, not a strand out of place.

seeing him like this however, makes you feel a little hot and bothered. he looks different, feels different. your eyes travel up and down his body, taking in every detail you can see. you can't deny that he's a very handsome man with a unique beauty. his freckles being your favourite thing about him; but you'd never tell him that to his face.

“like what you see?” you look at felix as heat travels to your cheeks. he's smirking. you've been caught. you swallow and avert your gaze which makes felix laugh. “cute.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. from the corner of your eyes, you see felix unbuckling the belt of his work pants. his eyes are on you. he's watching you; teasing you.

you suddenly feel vulnerable but you don't hate it. your body heats up, heart rate speeding up. you look at him, making the mistake of making eye contact with him. he smirks. 

he's got you right where he wants you.

“hey yn. why do you hate me so much?” he says with a pout. you frown. you want to look away, avoid the conversation but you can't. your body won't listen. it's like he has a hold on you, gripping onto you tightly whilst watching you slowly melt in the palm of his hands.

“i don't hate you.” you mumble. “i just hate the way you act.”

“how i act?”

“you're so nice to everyone. so caring and attentive. you let people down gently, even when you get showered with cards and confessions. even when you look so uncomfortable, you still remain polite and professional. i hate it. it makes me sick.”

“are you sure you hate me because of the way i act with others or because you hate that other people have my attention?” your eyes widen at the thought.

you open your mouth to speak but felix is quicker than you.

“i see you yn.” he purrs before standing up and walking to you. you swallow thickly as you follow his movements. “i see the way you look at me. i see the dirty looks you give people when they confess. i see the jealousy.” felix bends down between your open legs. he strokes your cheek gently, a soft whimper escapes your lips as your body burns hotter and hotter.

“you want me yn. you desire me.”

“bullshit.” you whisper.

“tell me yn. when was the last time you had sex?” 

“t-that has nothing to do with you!” you stutter. felix tuts and strokes your hair.

“but are you not pent up, darling? don't you want to feel the touch of another human? feel yourself get lost in the pleasure. i know you want me and i can provide that for you.”

“what…?” you stare at him in disbelief. he smirks.

“isn't this what you want?” he takes your hand, slowly guiding it down his body to his crotch. your head spins as you feel his cock through the layers of fabric.

he's hard.

“fuck no!” you stammer. you feel heat on your cheeks. you try to pull your hand away but he's strong. you can feel him grow; feel him throb.

“lets make a bet.” you look up at him. a glint of mischief in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“what kind of bet?” you don't know where this is going. judging by the look on his face, it can only end in disaster but oddly enough, you don't hate it? in fact, you're more inclined and drawn into him.

“if i can make you cum with just my mouth, you have to be my pet. obey my every command.”

“and if you lose?” 

“you can do whatever you want to me. i'll be at your beck and call. your pet, so to speak.” you chew your lip as you think it over. “or i can leave you alone.”

“excuse me?” 

“i know you hate me yn. you told me that before. if you win this bet, i will leave you alone and we shall act as though nothing happened. a simple caught up in the moment kinda thing.”

“i don't hate you, felix.” you whisper.

“you don't?” 

“of course not. but why propose this? why me? why not all those people that confessed and bought you stuff?”

“because i’m not interested in them. i’m interested in you! i have been from day one. as soon as i saw you, i was smitten. you're attractive yn and slowly, i became more and more smitten and interested in you.” 

felix's cheeks are bright red. he avoids your gaze and rubs the back of his neck shyly. you look at him in shock. lee felix has a school girl crush on you and it makes you feel strangely giddy and excited. 

“ok.” you grin. felix looks at you before letting out a sudden groan due to the fact that you squeezed his groin. “lets play. i’ve always wanted a pet.”

felix scoffs before removing your hand from his groin. he leans in close, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. “just to let you know, i've been told i do great things with my mouth.” 

his voice is deep and sensual. purring and rippling along your skin. your core throbs with excitement, heart rate speeding up. you press your lips together in a thin line before scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“prove it, lee felix.” you challenge. he scoffs before pressing his lips against yours unexpectedly. your eyes widen in shock, mind failing to register what's happening. you don't move, not because you don't want to, but because you can't.

you feel felix smirking against your lips. his lips are unusually soft but that's to be expected with the amount of times you see him apply lip balm. felix nibbles on your bottom lip gently which is when your mind finally registers.

you hold onto his broad shoulders. eyes fluttering close as you reciprocate the kiss. you tilt your head to the side to allow more room, the kiss heating up and becoming more needy as time goes on.

it's soft but sensual. it feels natural, like you've both been wanting this for so long. felix's hands cup your cheeks. his palms feel so soft and tender. his skin is hot on your face. he slips his tongue between your lips unexpectedly which causes you to shiver and groan a little.

he tastes the inside of your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. all the while, his hands are gliding down your body and cupping your breasts through your work shirt. there, he squeezes and massages your soft breasts, kneading them as if they're bread dough.

he's not even doing much. just kissing and fondling your breasts but you feel like your body is on fire. you feel electrified. your core throbs with anticipation. the pit of your stomach tightening and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

felix detaches from your lips to kiss your neck. he starts off tenderly before sucking the skin. you tilt your head to the side some more to allow access which allows felix to easily plant kisses on your neck as well as leave a trail of purple bruises behind.

“felix.” you sigh out his name softly. he hums against your neck as a form of acknowledgement before unbuttoning the remainder of the buttons of your work shirt. he's back to squeezing and massaging your breasts through your bra. his lips never leaving your neck.

you're burning. it hurts. you're aching with so much lust and need that it makes you feel uncomfortable. his touch is doing something to you. it feels magical in a way as you can slowly feel yourself melting right into the palm of his hands. 

you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and tug gently. you whisper his name softly which causes him to shiver.

“my name sounds so sweet yet so dirty on your tongue.” he growls against your neck.

“it does?” felix simply hums in response, too caught up in taking your shirt off and unclasping your bra from the back.

“i’ve heard my name many times but it sounds so sinful when it comes from you.” you blush, shocked and feeling bashful at the sudden confession. felix laughs softly and kisses your cheek gently before taking your shirt and bra off and throwing it beside you.

he swallows thickly. his adams apple bobbing in time with the swallows as he stares at your chest. your soft round breasts and perky nipples that are inviting him to touch, to lick and devour. he removes his own shirt, discarding it with your clothing.

you watch him dive in-between your breasts. your breath hitches in your throat as he caresses them softly in the palm of his hands, slowly getting rougher with each passing second. his mouth latches onto your nipples, sucking and licking them sloppily and getting your skin coated in his saliva.

the hot, humid air paired with his saliva hardens your nipples further. the tip of his tongue flicks on them, fingers rolling the buds. your shakily tug his hair gently, head kicking back and moaning his name softly. he peppers kisses on your skin, traveling up to your neck before kissing the valley between your breasts to then instantly attach himself to a nipple.

your underwear is feeling uncomfortable at this point. you don't know what to say or do. your head is foggy and you're moving on your own. it feels like it's not your body. you never thought you'd take your worst enemy on with a bet let alone this type of bet.

you know you're going to lose. the way his mouth is working on your breasts makes you ache with excitement and is a clear indication that what he said is true; he can do great things with his mouth.

“felix. need you.” you pant. he looks up at you through his lashes, a nipple still in his mouth as he sucks. “please..” 

he smirks and lets go of your nipple with a pop. “so shameless.” your cheeks and the back of your neck feel hot. you watch felix strip you of your work clothing, leaving you in just your panties.

he licks his lips hungrily, palming his erection through his trousers. he eyes your body, taking in every detail like a lion eyeing up its prey. you feel small and submissive. your core aching to be touched and throbbing with desire and need. you're sure by now that your panties are soaked with an embarrassing amount of arousal.

you feel his fingers gently brush up your inner thigh, tickling the skin and leaving goosebumps behind. you watch, breath hitching in your throat as he hooks his finger under the waistband and gently tugging.

“cute panties. all for me?” you scoff and roll your eyes.

“not everything i do is for you, felix. i’m not your pet.”

“not yet.” 

“what makes you think you will win?” you raise a brow as you watch him lean down and plant kisses on the lower half of your stomach just above the waistband of your panties. “clearly you don't know me that well.”

“clearly you seemed to have forgotten what i said before.” he peers at you through his lashes. “do i have to remind you again, mhm?”

you swallow and scoff, determined to keep up this tough facade, but you can feel it slowly crumbling. with each touch, each kiss and each word, your resolve is slowly crumbling away resulting in you becoming nothing but a hot mess in the palm of his hands, ready and waiting. 

“i can do great things with my mouth, yn.” he smirks as he repeats himself once again. your bottom lip becomes caught between your teeth as you watch felix grab the waistband of your panties with his teeth and slowly pull them down.

he pulls them down your legs, unhooking one side and letting them rest on one ankle. you part your legs slowly for him to which he raises his brow at.

“already behaving like a pet i see. i didn't even have to give you a command and you're already spreading your legs for me.”

“stop.. it's embarrassing.” you mumble shyly.

“no.” he mumbles back before resting on his stomach between your legs. he starts by planting soft kisses on your inner thigh, leaving behind bruises. “it’s hot.” 

you whimper as you watch him. his lips are so soft against your scorching hot skin. every kiss and suck he does, leaves you wanting more. your skin burns and reacts accordingly to his touch. his hair tickles your thigh, his nimble fingers caressing and squeezing the other. 

he reaches your core, looking at you as a way of saying “can i?” you simply nod and watch him lick his lips before eyeing your core. 

your skin is glistening with arousal. your clit swollen and folds slightly puffy. your core noticeably throbs. felix licks two fingers before rubbing them between your folds slowly. you press your lips together in a thin line as your slick coats his fingers up nicely. he uses your arousal to gently tap on your sensitive clit.

it's just a few gentle taps but it's enough to make your thighs shake a little and electric like pleasure to shoot up your spine. felix gives a low chuckle, amused by your reaction. he applies a bit more pressure to the taps, adding in a few small and slow circles. 

“you’re cheating!” you moan out softly. felix hums and tilts his head to the side in a questioning manner.

“am i?” 

“you said mouth.. this isn't your mouth. you didn't mention anything about fingers.”

“oh? did i not?” felix blinks a few times before shrugging. “oh well.” his fingers pick up in pace, rubbing quick circles on your swollen bud of nerves. your back arches slightly, words stuck in your throat as you watch him lean down and bury his face between your legs.

your thighs instantly shake and jerk. the feeling of his wet tongue pressing flat against your clit to replace his fingers sends a whole new feeling up and down your spine. his eyes flutter shut as he teases and sucks on your clit. the tip of his tongue feeling pointy as he flicks it along the bud.

you bite your lip hard, refusing to let out any sounds. but it builds and builds in the back of your throat. you feel yourself slowly melt and succumb to him and you're in awe of it. all he is doing is licking your clit like a cat licking milk but it feels amazing. you can't describe it but the way your body is feeling and responding to felix is embarrassing.

the built up moan is let free as you feel two of his fingers circle and tease your sopping hole. your arousal gathers on his fingers as he licks and sucks on your clit like a starved man. he teases your entrance before removing his fingers and moving his head lower down.

you watch him with beady eyes. his hands plant on your inner thighs, keeping them stretched wide apart as he licks a long, wet strip from your entrance to clit. your arousal gathers on his tongue, heightening his senses and satisfying his taste buds. he doesn't want to admit it but he can't deny that he loves the way you taste. his body is reacting on its own, his own mind slowly fogging over and becoming hazy.

he's teetering on the edge of becoming feral and it's only a matter of time.

he didn't think it was possible. felix has tasted many before and no one has made me respond, think or feel the way you do. is it because of the weird ‘i hate you’ type relationship that's making it even more exciting for him.

watching someone hold themselves proudly and sneer at everyone with jealousy that pines of him, slowly crumble and succumb to him in a matter of seconds. he loves it more than he likes to admit.

“f-felix..” his ears perk up as he looks at you. he swallows thickly at the sight of your glowing skin and your flushed cheeks. he groans deeply, a groan that ripples through your body and causes you to throb. 

“fuck.” he mumbles repeatedly to himself. his tongue laps at your entrance, lapping up any arousal that spills. it coats his tongue and fills him with greed. the more he tastes, the more he wants.

his cock throbs and twitches in his trousers. he wants relief – sweet sweet relief but he has to wait until the bet is fulfilled.

his tongue dives in and out of your pussy. his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, leaving bruises. you reach down to tangle your hand into his hair. you tug at the strands, removing the headband from before. 

you moan his name like a symphony. you dont hide how much you want and need him, at this point it's pointless. the air around you both is so thick with lust and want, that it's suffocating and clear sign of the desire you both share for one another.

one hand on your thigh disappears and you feel fingers around your entrance again. felix is back on your clit, his face buried deep between your legs. he sucks, licks and spits on your cunt. his saliva and your arousal coating his chin and lips nicely.

as he caresses and plays with your clit, he slowly pushes one finger inside your tight entrance. you gasp at first, toes curling a little at the feeling of something foreign entering you; but you soon relax once his finger slowly pushes in and pulls out.

“relax.” he purrs. you do as instructed, allowing yourself to be completely consumed in the feeling. this makes it a tad bit easier for felix to finger you, your entrance slowly loosening and becoming wetter for him. “there we go. nice to know my pet can behave.”

“i’m not your p-pet.” you stutter.

“not yet.” he smirks between gently nibbling on your well stimulated clit. he slowly and gently inserts a second finger, hooking them against your walls and moving them slowly.

the whole stimulation is enough to make you cum. he's not moving at a pace you'd enjoy but it's making you feel foggy, like he has a spell on you.

you watch felix close his eyes and turn his attention on pleasuring you. his fingers pick up the pace and your body tingles with pleasure. your stomach dips and your hands are quick to pull his hair harshly. thighs shake, body feeling electrified and skin feeling like hot molten lava. your orgasm is fast approaching. 

it burns in the pit of your stomach. you feel dizzy with all the intense lust. you tighten around felix's fingers as well as throb. your cunt sounds wet and sloppy and is mixed in with the sounds of the many moans and groans from you and felix.

felix smirks against your cunt. hot breathy moans fan against your skin as he drives his fingers in and out of you fast, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm.

at first, you decided to act tough and see how long you could last. you didn't want to crumble and give felix the satisfaction of knowing he'd win. however, all rationality flew out of the window the moment you felt his mouth on you.

“felix. i-i can't!” you pant, desperately. he knows by the way you have a vice grip around his fingers. how your hips are bucking against his face and your walls fluttering around his fingers. 

felix just gives a simple and satisfying hum. he watches your eyes flutter shut. he feels his hair being tugged harshly at the roots. in one long breathy moan, your orgasm hits you.

you moan, shake and whimper. felix fingers you and sucks your clit throughout the process, helping to drive your orgasm out a little more. your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers as your thighs shake and threaten to close around his head. his digits get soaked in your arousal and you gently push him away by placing your hand on his forehead due to the sensitivity of your clit.

felix pulls away slowly with a smug look on his face. he kneels between your legs as he makes eye contact with you and sucks on his two fingers. he moans at the taste of your arousal and you feel your body burning up at the embarrassing, yet sexy, gesture.

“seems like i've won.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever.” you mumble. felix dislikes your tone and he grabs your face roughly and growls.

“that’s no way to speak to your master, pet.” you struggle to look away. your cheeks being smushed together for a second before he lets go and travels his hand down to your neck.

your breath hitches in your throat as he squeezes the sides slowly before tightening his grip slowly. your eyelids flutter, oxygen slowly depleting and making you feel dizzy and hazy.

with his free hand, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. he wraps his hand around his hot and throbbing cock and pumps himself a few times, letting out a few grunts.

he lets go of your neck and you feel the oxygen returning back to your lungs. felix swallows a little, his hand pumping him at an uncontrollable fast pace. 

“fuck..” his head dips and he swallows as he looks at your glistening cunt. he wants to fuck you so badly, the want and need making him feral. he squeezes your thigh as well as squeezing his cock at the base. his skin is hot against the palm of his hand, tip wet and leaking pre-cum. he throbs several times in his hand and his hips buck.

maybe it's the sight in front of you that drives you to do it but you lean back a little, legs spread wide as you use two fingers to part your labia. felix's eyes widen as he watches your entrance pulsate and throb; it looks so fucking welcoming.

“it’s ok.” you purr. “you can use me. i am your pet after all.”

“i don't… i don't have condoms.” he stutters.

“i'm on birth control. it's ok.” felix's rationality and common sense snaps. he grabs the base of his dick and gives your swollen and sensitive clit a few slaps with his length. your body jolts with each slap before feeling him rub his length up and down between your puffy folds.

felix hisses as his tip enters you, his thickness stretching you which causes you to hiss at the burn. he pushes half his length in slowly before stopping to give you time to adjust.

as he waits, he shakes. the tightness of your cunt grips around him makes it hard for him to maintain his composure (not like he had any left.) your walls feel gummy and hot with added wetness that coats and hugs his penis so deliciously.

you look up at him with doe eyes and nod. “please move.” you stutter.

felix also nods before slowly moving his hips. his shaft strokes your walls slowly and gently. your brows scrunch up a little due to you not being completely used to the stretch. felix reaches down and toys with your clit with the pad of his thumb slowly. he rubs slow circles on the swollen bud and the added stimulation helps as the pain subsides and pleasure takes over your body.

“f-fuck!” you moan out. you rest on your back, head tilted to the side. felix picks up the speed slowly, his head kicking back as deep and long moans erupt from the back of his throat. his mind slowly turns foggy, his body tingling with pleasure.

you feel so warm and snug around his cock. he dares push all his length in, bottoming out in you. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. felix is thrusting roughly and fast. the sounds of skin on skin and your arousal mixing together with the moans and groans.

the background becomes a distance and fuzzy sound. the sound of cars passing by and pedestrians humming in your ears. you're hyper aware of your body and how good you feel alongside felix's touch. his hands caressing your hips and thighs. fingers on your clit to toy with. 

“god i never knew you could feel this good around me.” he groans. you simply hum, your words drying up in the back of your throat.

felix holds onto your waist tightly to steady your body as he thrusts harder. your breast bounce with each thrust. your body screaming at you from pleasure. 

“ah ah! fuck, felix!” you babble. felix grins and leans over you, his forearms planting firmly by the side of your head.

“are you enjoying yourself, pet?” you look up at him and nod.

“yes. you feel good. mhm, so good. more, want more. i want to be your pet forever.” you shamelessly admit. felix swallows thickly before letting out a shaky and hot breath. he leans down and buries his face into the crook of your sweaty neck.

“be careful yn. your words are dangerous to me right now.” 

you pant heavily and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair. your walls flutter around felix's length as his cock twitches a few times in you. his movements are sloppy and slow. the pit of his stomach tightening with each thrust.

felix feels so deep inside of you that he is stroking untouched territory. it's driving you insane and with your earlier orgasm, you're sensitive and your second orgasm is quickly approaching.

you tighten around felix, your stomach dipping and thighs shaking. you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. felix kneels back up, hands back on your hips as he resumes the fast and hard thrusts to help drive both of you closer to orgasm.

“cum!’ you choke out. your walls flutter around felix, thighs shaking as you moan loudly. it hits you hard, knocking the air out of your lungs and for you to hear a faint buzz in your ears. felix rubs your clit through your orgasm to help you, your arousal soaking the skin of his shaft.

you push away his hand gently as you come down. your body feels heavy, exhausted and sweaty. you lean up and rest your hands behind you to support your weight as you watch felix chase his orgasm.

his brows scrunch together. sweat drips down his temples as his hair sticks to his forehead and back of his neck. his grip on you is tight, leaving bruises behind. he opens his eyes slowly and groans, quickly pulling out and ejaculating on your breasts and stomach.

his hips bucks with each shot, hand around his penis as he pumps himself. his head flops to the side as he pants and moans. once calm, he opens his eyes and bites his lip.

“before you say anything, yes i know you said you're on birth control, but still. the appeal of seeing my pet cover in my cum is just hotter than i imagined.”

you look to the side to avoid his gaze as you slowly feel embarrassed and shy. right now, you want to go home, take a shower and go to bed. 

as if on qué, the lights in the office light up and the sound of the air conditioning buzzing away is a relief. you and felix look at each other triumphantly.

you can finally go home!

“hey, uhm–” you look up at felix as he fixes himself. he looks at you, his cheeks red and stroking the back of his neck.

“yes?”

“uhm.. do you perhaps want to come back to my place?” you raise your brow.

“why? want to go for round two?” you smirk as you watch his cheeks go even redder.

“n-no! i mean, well, maybe but that's not why i suggested it. you're probably sore and well, i did y’know–” he gestures at your breasts and stomach “i do feel a little responsible for you, so please come back to mine. you can use my shower and wash up. i can cook up something to eat and you can borrow some of my clothing for the night.”

“and where will i sleep?” 

“in my bed. i’ll sleep on the sofa.” your eyes widen a little. maybe you've had felix all wrong this whole time. something seems different about him right now, whether that be the adrenaline and hormones slowly calming down but he seems so gentleman-like.

“sure.” you shrug. “might as well take you up on that offer.” felix grins before helping you dress and stand back on your feet.

“please take good care of me, felix.”

“don’t worry yn. i always take good care of my pets.”

[screamingcrows]

Chase - Dottore x reader

Note: Same reader as Tomorrow and Settling in. All of this is just stuff that will never make it into my long fic because those guys don't get to have the happiness these two will get. Keep this out of character ai bots or I'm spreading Pseudomonas aeruginosa in your garden.

Tags: fem reader, reader from Fontaine, she works under him, anger, talk of murder, weapon, angst?

MINORS, AGELESS, BLANK BLOGS DNI

"Doctor? I need to ask you a question," her voice was a far cry from the usual sharpness.

Dottore laid his pen down before taking in her face. It was uncanny how easily her voice could halt his thoughts. Faint traces of salt lingered along her cheeks, but worse still were her eyes. He motioned for her to continue, unwilling to break the delicate silence.

"Why do you pursue knowledge?"

That caused him to pause. She should know, by all means, it was a fact well known throughout the Fatui. But if she needed to hear, there was no harm repeating himself. It was a quiet day after all.

"As you know, there is a discrepancy between what information we, as inhabitants of this world, are allowed to possess and-"

"That wasn't my question," she hadn't snapped at him like that before.

He couldn't help but scrunch his nose in distaste as he briefly considered reprimanding her. The way her flame had wavered during the last month hadn't been lost on him.

Too many nights she would stay long past what was necessary, his segments conveying that they'd found her collapsed atop her desk, freezing cold and difficult to rouse.

"Pose your question better."

"What drives you? What do you want to see at the end of this? I guess," her words faltered when she finally arrived at the right question. "What do you feel when you achieve a goal?"

"A sense of satisfaction from unraveling a mystery, from solving a problem, accompanied of course by a barrage of new objectives to pursue"

His eyes flickered up to her and he found his hand reaching for the mask, diverting the movement to run his fingers through his hair instead. At the first sound of her quiet sniffles he turned his head away, crossing one leg over the other. Something so foreign and so desperately familiar was taking root.

"I feel.. I feel nothing. Like some pitiful ghost that can't move on. And I hate myself for it. Because it means they were right," her voice grew more frantic along with her sobs.

She'd begun pacing back and forth in front of the desk, the force of her steps making his pens rattle in their cup. Dottore felt it in his bones.

"I killed all those people, and it felt so good while they clawed out their eyes. So why is it so empty now? I proved myself, proved that I could, my idea worked a-and they're all dead for doubting me!"

Her frantic laughter rang through the room, making his hands tighten around the armrests. There was nothing he would say to console her, knowing there were only two options from here. It was not something to be driven by another's hand.

"It's not fair!"

The worn desk creaked with the force of her fists bearing down upon it. When he looked upon her again tears adorned her cheeks, and for a moment there was an itch to reach out and brush them away. Run a finger along her bottom lip, swollen from how she'd been chewing on it. Like so much else, it never became more than a simple fantasy.

"Did you expect to bury your troubles along with their bodies?"

"I-.. Well, yes. Obviously."

He had to bite back a chuckle, the hesitation in her voice confirmed his suspicion. She did know better than that. Taking a life out of vengeance was one thing, but living with the consequences was an entirely different issue.

With a small sigh, Dottore reached forward towards where she was leaning over the table, head hanging in defeat. He caught the longing in her eyes when she noticed the approaching hand. It was difficult not to wince when the look was replaced with disappointment when his gloved hand pulled a few things back from the edge.

"You knew it wouldn't make me feel any better," venom laced your words, unsurprising but still unpleasant to hear.

"Yes."

At least her crying had ceased, reduced to nothing but faint sniffles while she rubbed at her eyes. Her voice had risen in pitch, the sound uncomfortably invasive.

"You let me work myself to near-death knowing it was for nothing?"

"We now have a terrifying new weapon in our arsenal, and I'm sure you can improve upon it. I'll get one of the segments working on something to more efficiently deliver it, perhaps we should-"

Dottore tilted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding the pen she'd thrown at him. For a moment, everything stood still as he awaited her next action. There was nothing but the faint sound of his heel repeatedly hitting the ground. Had he misjudged her?

"You absolute bastard, you.. you.."

It was difficult to remain a spectator when the realization became comically clear in her expression. Oh he hadn't misjudged her at all. She knew. What had transpired was entirely by her own choice.

A small curse passed his lips when she threw a mug onto the floor, porcelain shattering alongside her resolve. There was barely time to stop her when she stormed out of the laboratory. Perhaps a segment could check on her later.

[thesimulationswarm]

Garden of Earthly Delights - one shot

sub!Joel Miller x f!dom!reader

A/N: I've been sick and sort of in a feverish fugue state for a couple of days and I wrote this. Definitely inspired by reading this excellent sub!Joel fic by @haylzcyon, but it turned out quite a bit darker. So, welcome to my horny fever dream I guess? Summary: Joel gets dommed by a bratty shopgirl he meets in the Boston QZ and discovers a very unexpected side of himself Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 3.5k Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, hard dom!reader, irresponsible dom behavior that would be abusive irl (don't dom people you meet on the street kids. And for god's sake, use active consent and a safe word), reader described as young and has hair, slapping, spitting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, premature ejaculation, cum eating, praise, degradation, pet names (good boy, baby boy, kitten, mama), submissive produce washing

Joel was tired, and hungry, and he wanted to go home. At home he had half a bottle left of some dark moonshine that approximated whiskey, and a day off tomorrow to sleep through its aftereffects. But his cupboards were otherwise empty, and he knew he needed to lay in some supplies.

Unfortunately, it was the end of first shift and half of the goddamn QZ was thinking the same thing. The line snaking up to the counter at the ration shop was moving slower than he even thought possible, and he shifted irritably from side to side. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to stand that didn’t make his whole body hurt.

Even more maddening, only one person was working the counter today. He was sympathetic with operations being short staffed, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He could see right past the greasy hair of the young guy doling out food, and another person was back there, just leaning against the wall. Looking bored.

He watched you as you idly checked your nails. He watched you as you ran your fingers through your hair. He watched you cock one hip to the side and lean down to pull a shiny red apple from a burlap sack, then toss it loosely back and forth between your hands. Like you had all the time in the goddamn world.

You were beautiful.

You were young.

You weren’t bothered one bit by the grumbling line of customers stretching down the street.

He fucking hated you.

Finally, he reached the front, throwing down a thick sheaf of ration cards. “Two loaves a’ bread. Cooking oil. And a couple apples,” he grunted out.

“Sorry, out of apples,” the gormless kid answered. Behind him, he watched as you lifted the smooth red fruit to your lips and bit down, hard, the flesh giving way with a gratifying crunch. You noted with satisfaction that it was a particularly good apple— tart, sweet, crisp.

The shop boy saw Joel glaring and shrugged. “Last one.” Joel looked over at where you stood again, one knee bent with your foot pressed oh-so-casually against the cinderblock wall. Beside you, the burlap sack bulged with the shape of a good dozen round, suspiciously apple-sized lumps. 

A thin rivulet of juice dripped out from the fruit in your hand, sliding down the curve of your wrist. You saw him watching you, and you bent your head to run your tongue along your skin, lapping up every last, sweet drop.

You liked the way he was looking at you. An older guy, gray streaking through his dark hair and down his stubbled jawline. But fucking built, the solid shape of his shoulders stretching out the worn chambray of his work shirt. His eyes were narrowed, his strong brow pinched. The cut of his jaw practically vibrating with tension.

He wanted to kill you. He also, definitely, wanted to fuck you. Maybe both at the same time. And below all of that simmering ferociousness, there was a hint of something else in his big brown eyes. Something that definitely interested you.

He’d been halfway home when a FEDRA sweep forced him back in the direction of the shops. He wasted a good hour waiting for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds in body armor to “clear the area,” then finally got back on his way.

He was deep in thought, thinking about a smuggling trip he was planning for late next week. Wondering if the soldier he was bribing for intel was too far gone on oxy to be reliable anymore. He didn’t want a repeat of last November, inches away from being gunned down as his crew sprinted across what was supposed to be an unguarded field at the edge of town.

So he didn’t see you coming until you were only a couple yards in front of him, walking home yourself— bag of apples slung over your shoulder.

When his eyes flicked up, finally, you’d stopped walking and were standing there in a wide stance with one hand on your hip. You saw the way his eyes widened briefly, then narrowed again, shining darkly as you watched him watching you. You ran your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, and his gaze followed its slow swirl.

Then you reached into your bag and pulled out an apple. You gave your arm a desultory swing and let it loose. It bounced to the ground, rolling toward his boots, then came to a stop just an inch away from him.

He looked at the apple.

He looked at you.

“Thought you might like a taste.”

The loathing that poured over his features was so intense that for a moment, you thought you might’ve misread things. But no, you could see it there in his face again. That bloom of need.

This poor, beautiful man needed to be taken care of.

And sure enough, you watched as he crouched down there in the street to pick up the apple. You watched as he straightened himself up, his knees crackling audibly.

“Good. Now take a bite.”

The apple, tasty as it was sure to be, had just rolled across the godforsaken ground of Boston QZ. Across dust and ash and human detritus, ground down to a smudging blackness that covered every surface here. He didn’t even know why he’d picked the thing up, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to put his mouth on it.

He shook his head, lip curling in a sneer.

“Don’t think so, honey.”

You tutted softly, walking forward to close the gap between you. He held the apple down at one side, the other hand hooked into his belt loop. Shoulders squaring up to you as you neared. Even as he was doing it, he felt like a fool. What exactly did he have to prove to this bratty little shopgirl? And why wasn’t he walking away?

“That’s really too bad,” you said, letting your words drip slowly from your mouth. “I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me.”

You were right in front of him now, close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened.

“‘Cause I know how to take really good care of good boys.”

Joel closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t understand why, but his cock had swollen to half-mast just from crouching down to pick up that apple while you stood over him. And every time you spoke he felt more warmth pooling in his groin. He wasn’t sure if he was going to have to pay for what you were offering, or if you’d do it for free. But he knew he wanted it, unexpectedly, very badly.

He clenched his hand around the smooth skin of the fruit, and against his conscious judgement he felt his arm lifting it up toward his face.

You watched him moving, his eyes still closed, a smile slowly spreading across your face. As the fruit approached his gently parting lips, you reached up to grab him by the wrist, stilling him. You could feel the jump of his pulse below the rough skin.

“Not so fast, boy.” His eyes blinked open, their soft brown blown out to black. “I think since you’re being so good, we can go back to your place and get that apple nice and clean for you. And then you can show me how pretty you are when you eat.”

His place was nicer than many, a handful of rooms that were worn but clean. Functional furniture, a radio, a shelf with books. He clearly was doing okay for himself. The ones who needed this the most usually were.

He led you inside with a nervous energy that told you he hadn’t done this before. He’d surely brought women to his apartment, with those broad shoulders and that roughly handsome face. But never someone like you. And he wasn’t sure what to do. He stood in the living room, still holding the apple in one hand, his other hand clenching and opening at his side.

You looked him up and down. “What’s your name?”

You saw him hesitate. Wondering if this was a good idea— if you were a psychopath about to rob him or worse. But then he swallowed.

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you purred. “Do you have soap, Joel?” He looked blank for a second, then nodded. “Then go and wash that filthy apple off like a good boy.”

He paused again, and then gave a bewildered shake of his head before walking off toward the kitchen. There was a table in the room, across from an unmade bed. You pulled yourself up to sit on top of it, resting your feet on the seat of a battered old chair, and waited.

Joel returned after a minute, holding the now damp and glistening apple. He still wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Or his body. He held the fruit out to you, watched the bored way your eyes ran down his form as you sat there.

You made a soft tsk. “I see a speck of dirt. Better try again, boy.”

Joel looked at the spotless apple, then back at you. His heart felt like it was going to beat right through the wall of his chest. 

He hated you. 

And he wanted to hear you call him a good boy again. 

He stalked off to the kitchen and stood by the sink, carefully running the damp, soapy washrag back and forth across the smooth, hard peel. The apple was a deep red, flecked with burgundy. Joel held it up in the light that filtered through his window, turning it in circles to inspect for any blemish. When he was satisfied, he carried it carefully back to you. Despite himself, he could feel his brow draw up, his expression pleading, as he offered it again.

You gestured desultorily at the table beside you, and he set down the apple gently. You ignored it.

He was uncomfortably hard now, straining against the too-tight denim of his pants. You looked down at the thick shape of him, and raised a single eyebrow.

“I think you better take your clothes off, kitten. Before you make a mess of yourself.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You watched as he unbuttoned and zipped down his fly, the relief washing over his face as his cock sprung free and bobbed up toward his stomach. You had to fight to keep your face impassive as you took in the sight— you were impressed by the sheer size of him, thick and long and richly veined. The swollen head was stained almost purple as the blood pulsed through him, slick from where he’d been weeping against his boxers.

You had a good feeling about this one. A very good feeling.

“All of your clothes.”

You waited, arms crossed over your chest in a posture of impatience, as he slid all the way out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the curving planes of his muscles and the dusting of dark hair. A little soft right around his tummy and thick thighs, the perfect counterpoint to everything that was hard and rigid about him.

He saw how you were looking at him, and he moved toward you, desperation painting his face.

“Please, baby— I—I need you,” he stuttered, his dark eyes wide and desperate.

Your hand slapped across his face, hard and fast.

He stumbled backward, stunned momentarily as his hand flew up to cup his stinging cheek.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

Part of him wanted to throw you against the wall, and part of him wanted to fall to his knees and beg your forgiveness.  He felt his cock twitch, growing somehow even harder, a thick bead of precum oozing from the slit.

You watched him, smirking. “I think you liked that, didn’t you, boy?”

A hot blush seeped up his neck as you looked down at his needy cock. He knew you were right. If you kept slapping him like that, looking at him like that, talking to him like that— he’d come harder than he ever had in his life.

“Now,” you said, pointing down at the floor. “Kneel for me.”

Joel lowered himself to the hardwood floor, unconcerned with how his knees were going to feel tomorrow. He watched as you pulled the fabric of your skirt up around your waist, revealing a thin pair of cotton panties, sopping wet where the fabric ran between your legs.

“See what you can do for me when you’re a good boy?” You ran a finger up and down along the slick cloth, ghosting over the shape of your slit.

Then he watched, mesmerized, as you slid the underwear down your legs. Leaving your pussy bare, drenched, and just out of reach.

God, you were perfect.

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he stared at you, desperate for a taste.

You smiled. “It looks like you’re ready to serve me already. And you’re very, very lucky today. Because I’m going to let you eat me out, if you just ask nicely. Are you ready to ask nicely?”

He nodded eagerly. You noted with satisfaction that his face was loosening— the jaw no longer so tensed, the deep furrow between his brows softening. He was relinquishing himself to you, little by little. You reached down with one finger and tipped his chin upward, to look into your face.

“Okay, sweet boy. You can ask me now.”

“Please, please let me eat your pretty pussy,” he spoke, his voice hoarse with need. His eyes, looking up at you, were all pupil— hungry pools of black.

You nodded appreciatively, then you reached your hands around to the back of his head and pulled him into you. Your fingers threaded through the thick, salt-and-pepper curls, holding him tightly in place as he began to lick. His beard was scratchy against your sensitive skin, but his lips were surprisingly soft.

You gave him directions— how hard to suck against your swollen clit, how fast to draw his tongue through your folds— and tugged him by the hair to adjust his angle. You could feel the vibration of him whimpering against you.

“Good boy,” you cooed down at him. “Eating that pussy so good for me.” And he was, following your every instruction, responding to the subtlest tap and tug. Like he was born to do this. As you felt your orgasm building, you pressed him deeper against your core, squeezing him between your thighs. He was trapped, and clearly loving it. Below you, you could see the muscular swell of his ass, clenching as he thrust his hips up against nothing.

“That’s it, that’s it. Make Mama come like a good boy.” You pulled hard on his hair as you pressed your hips forward, toes curling, waves of pleasure crashing through you. He moaned just as loudly as you did, your cunt spasming against the press of his hot tongue.

You took your time catching your breath, still holding Joel by the hair. When you finally pulled him free of you, the sight was delicious. Skin blotched and red, your glistening juices smeared everywhere. Hair tousled and sticking out, breath coming fast and hard.

You smiled down at him.

“Don’t worry, pet. We’re not done yet. Now—” you pointed over at the unmade bed—“you’re gonna be my little toy. You’re gonna lie down over there and let me ride you.”

Joel felt a rush of relief at the thought of you finally touching his achy, leaking cock. He nodded up at you, rising to his feet. The sheets of the bed were cool and smooth against his flushed skin.

You took your time, sliding down off the table top and languidly stretching your arms out. Enjoying the way Joel looked lying there, waiting for you with his giant erection jutting up into the air. Finally, you made your way over to the mattress and climbed up on your knees, straddling him.

Your sweet cunt was hovering in the air, inches above the tip of his cock. You paused there, and smiled condescendingly down at him.

“Beg me for it, little boy.”

“Please, please, please.” The words spilled out of his lips, his voice cracked and shameless.

“Please what?”

“Please ride me. Please fuck yourself on my cock like it’s your little toy.”

You reached down and wrapped one hand around his thickness, the grip sending sparks through his body. Then you began to slide his head along your drenched lips, wetting it down. Instead of moving him toward your entrance, you guided the tip to nudge against your clit, and began to tap it against the swollen nub, again and again. His poor, sensitive cockhead was so engorged by now that it hurt, and he whimpered each time you pressed against him.

Then, finally, you slid him down to the hot, wet center of you. You drove your hips down, throwing your head back as you filled yourself with him. He could only fit halfway in your tight little pussy on that first downward thrust, and you whined as you reared up and down again, spearing yourself on his cock. He felt his thighs shaking as you pushed yourself further and further down, until finally he bottomed out inside you. You paused there, letting yourself settle around the heavy length of him.

And then— fuck— he felt that familiar warmth growing in his abdomen, his balls tightening upward. His face screwed up, as he tensed and fought to pull back from the edge.

“Oh, poor boy,” you said, smiling down at him as you began to move your hips in a slow, easy roll. “You’re trying so hard not to come, aren’t you?” The warm slide of your pussy was unbelievable, and Joel’s mind scrambled for something to distract him— think about work detail, plumbing repair, fucking baseball, anything.

“But you can’t hold back, can you? You’re not even gonna make it another minute in this tight little cunt, are you?” You were right. Of course you were right. He grabbed fistfuls of bedsheet in each hand, gripping as hard as he could, knuckles going white as he fought against his hips that wanted to thrust, thrust, thrust into you. He screwed his eyes shut tight.

His eyes flew back open as a spray of warm spit hit his face.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Your voice jolted through him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moaned.

“Tell me you’re sorry for coming so fast, you filthy little boy.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m a filthy little boy and I’m going to come.” The words poured out of Joel, his hips bucking uncontrollably as the electric warmth spilled over. “I’m sorry Mama, I’m coming, I’m so sorry, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He began to shoot into you, spurt after helpless spurt, coming so hard he thought for a second he might pass out.

It was only when his cock and his hips finally stilled that he realized he was crying. Hot tears rolled down the sides of his face to pool against the sheets.

You leaned down, stroking your hand along his stubbled cheeks. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay baby. Mama forgives you.” You slid yourself off his sticky, half-hard cock and moved forward, still straddling him. Your soft hands gently combed through his messy curls.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. You can clean up this mess and I’ll be good as new.” Your hips pushed forward, and you pulled one hand back to hold yourself open, showing Joel where his milky seed was dripping down between your folds.

He nodded, looking up at your encouraging smile. His tongue slipped out between his lips, and he took a first, tentative lick along your slit. The sweet tang of your slick mixed with his own bitter, salty spend.

“That’s a good boy. Clean it all up.” He lapped at you, gathering speed. His tongue pressed inside you, curling against your walls to release every last drop.

Finally, when you were satisfied he’d done his job, you pulled away. He released his mouth from you with a mournful groan, and you sat down against the head of his bed. 

You looked him over from head to toe. He was a fucked out mess of a man. Flushed skin, limbs sprawling. Sticky cock still swollen against his thigh. Lips slick with his own come, and yours.

“Come here, sweet boy,” you murmured softly. You pulled his head into your lap, cradling him there as you gently petted him. “You did good. Close your eyes, Joel. I’ve got you.”

His eyes drifted shut, and in less than a minute he’d fallen asleep. Dark, deep, dreamless sleep— the best sleep he’d had in a long, long time.

When he woke up, it was morning and you were gone. On his table, you’d left the core of an apple, its sweetness slowly turning brown.

[derangedangel]

Forgive and Forget - Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah compels you to forget him then you run into him in New Orleans 

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 5,331

Author’s Note: This has been in my drafts since 2020 lol. I only thought about it because I’m going to a TVD Con this month and I’m seeing Daniel Gillies again so I started re-reading Elijah fics and remembered this bad boy. Also this is my first Elijah fic! Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Dividers are from @firefly-graphics​

Elijah knew what he had to do and he hated himself for it. He always wanted to give you a choice. For you to make your own decisions. But for this, he had to take things into his own hands. 

“What’s wrong, Elijah,” you asked staring into his brown eyes instantly knowing something wasn’t right. You reached up, running your hands through his hair.

“I- I’m sorry,” he replied, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears.

You shook your head confused. “Sorry about what?”

Elijah’s eyes dilated before he spoke. “You are going to forget me.”

“No,” you said in disbelief as you shook your head. “No, Elijah, don’t do this.”

Elijah ignored your pleas and held your head firmly in his hands so you couldn’t look away. “You will have no memory of us, or the times we have shared. You won’t remember that vampires exist, or who Elijah Mikaleson is.” He paused as he stared into your eyes slowly forgetting your whole relationship with him. “You will make new friends, and find love.” 

Elijah constantly thought of you. Even now in New Orleans while Klaus was plotting against the witches, he wondered how you were doing. After he compelled you to forget him, he would occasionally check on you. One day he went back to the town you lived in and you were gone. No trace of where you went. He thought it was for the best. It felt like torture every time he went back and wasn’t able to speak to you. Plus with Klaus regularly making a new enemy, he didn’t need anyone finding out about you and using you against him. 

New Orleans was packed for Mardi Gras. Tourist and locals made there way through the streets and Elijah was over it. All he wanted to do was was go home, but he had to keep an eye out on the witches. He made his way down Bourbon to check on one of the voodoo shops. That’s when he saw you... well he thinks it’s you. Although it had only been a few years and it could have very well been you, he was in denial. New Orleans was a popular vacation destination, especially during Mardi Gras, but for some reason he felt like he saw a ghost.

Elijah quickly changed course and followed the person he thought was you. Of all the bars you could have went into, you choose Rousseau’s. He followed the back of your head and the small group of women you were with. Weaving in and out of people you found a table and he finally caught a glimpse of your profile. Elijah’s breath hitched and he felt as the whole bar went silent. It was you. 

You were just as beautiful as ever. Besides your hair being slightly different, you looked exactly as you did the day he compelled you. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” a voice said next to Elijah but he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Good evening, Camille.”

Camille glanced at you then back at Elijah. She would have told him to just go over and talk to you, but she knew the trouble the Mikaelsons caused, and didn’t want to put a stranger through that. 

“The tourist are starting to get worried about a creepy man in a suit staring at some woman plotting on how he can kidnap her.”

Elijah finally stopped gaping at you and looked at Camille. “I just came in for a drink.”

“Mmhmm... right,” Camille said then went over to the bar to pour Elijah’s usual drink. 

Elijah sat at the bar much longer than he should have. He watched you laugh with your friends. He noticed small quirks that you used to have years ago. How you would twirl your necklace in between your fingers as you told a story. How your lips would quiver when you tried to hold in a laugh before you would burst out giggling as you tossed your head back. 

Everything was find until a man approached your table. His eyes were set on you and Elijah hated it. He wanted so badly not to listen in on your conversation. He had no right. Then he saw you get up and he just had to hear what you were saying.

“Let’s step outside.”

Elijah was on his feet in an instant. He tossed down some cash to pay for his drink and tip Camille, then he followed you outside. The streets were still crowded, but no one seemed to notice you walking the man into the alley. 

You pushed the man against the wall and a flash of excitement with a mix of nervousness grew in the man’s eyes. Elijah watched you whisper something to the man as he stepped closer. Then suddenly you turned around and shoved Elijah against the wall on the other side of the alley.

“Why are you- Elijah,” you said totally confused.

“Y/N,” Elijah said at the same time you spoke, equally as lost as you were.

“What are you...,” you said in a low voice. 

“What’s happening,” the man you were about to feed from asked. His voice shaky and scared.

You rolled your eyes then turned around to compel him.

“You will forget meeting me and this little encounter in the alley. Go back to your friends and find some other woman to flirt with.” 

You watched the man walk away, sighing before turning back towards Elijah.

“Y/N... what happened to you?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” you said shrugging. “Super speed. The ability to compel.”

Elijah huffed. “I know you’re a vampire, Y/N. But the last time I saw you, you were human and living a happy life.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest giving Elijah a slightly annoyed look. “And the last time I saw you, you compelled me to forget about you and our relationship.”

Elijah looked down, guilt filling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my proudest moment, but I assure you I had my reasons.”

“Please do enlighten me.”

He licked his lips before he spoke, taking time with his words. “An alley doesn’t seem like the best place to have this conversation.”

You sighed annoyed at the original. “Fine. Let me go tell my friends I’m leaving first.”

Elijah followed you back into the bar and waited for you at the door while you told your friends you were heading out early. He watched you say something to the women around the small table, then they all turned towards the door to look at him. Elijah was normally a very composed man, but seeing four sets of eyes land on him after his ex told them she was going with him to talk had him a little nervous. 

“Lead the way,” you said after you walked back to Elijah. 

The walk was awkward and quiet, neither of you wanting to speak first. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, or if he wanted to wait until you got there to talk. After a few minutes, you made it to Jackson Square. Since it was late in the evening, all the street performers were gone and the tourist with them. There were just a few people roaming the streets. Elijah walked over to a bench and you took that as your queue to sit.

“I’m not quite sure where to start,” Elijah said as he unbuttoned his suit jacket to sit down next to you.

“How about why you compelled me to forget about you... about us,” you replied, hurt dripping from your words. Although it happened years ago, and you thought you already dealt with it, seeing Elijah hurt more than you wanted to lead on.

“There’s so much you don’t know, Y/N,” Elijah said fiddling with his collar now.

“Then tell me,” you said making him make eye contact with him. “I’m not some naïve little girl. Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me.”

“Do you remember me ever speaking of my brother Niklaus?”

“Yeah, you didn’t talk much about any of your family. I could tell there was something wrong, but I didn’t want to push. You would tell me when you were ready.”

“Well, Niklaus is my half brother. His biological father was a werewolf. So while the rest of my siblings and I were vampires, he was a hybrid. But our mother hid that from him. She put a curse on him to make his werewolf side dormant. For centuries my brother tried to break the curse, but he needed the doppelganger.” 

“Doppelganger,” you asked completely confused as to what that was and why he was telling you all of this.

“A double of the woman my mother used to suppress his werewolf abilities. They are apart of the same bloodline, so her blood could be used to reverse the curse.”

“Okay... so what does this have to do with us?”

“I received word that a new doppelganger was in Mystic Falls. I needed to get to her before Klaus did because I planned to use her against my brother.”

Elijah paused for a moment giving you time to interrupt. “Use her against him? Why? That’s your brother.”

“My brother has done a lot of harm in his thousand years of living. Most to others who stood in his way, but also to our family. Because of his hybrid nature, he is able to dagger our family. He told me he through our siblings' coffins into the sea. I wanted revenge.”

“Your brother sounds like an ass,” you said. Now you were facing Elijah more on the bench. You head was propped up on your head as you leaned against the bench, with you legs curled underneath you.

Elijah chuckled under his breath. “That he is. But I knew I couldn’t seek the revenge I wanted with you in my life. Niklaus would use you against me and I could not have you be put at risk because me.”

“So you made me forget,” you said slowly gazing up at him.

“I made you forget,” Elijah said looking off into the distance. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. Although the two of you were outside, the air felt thick to him.

“Look, Elijah, I’m not trying to rekindle an old flame or anything. I just need closure. Why couldn’t you have just told me all this then? Let me remember you, or our relationship, or vampires at the least. Maybe I wouldn’t be what I am now.”

“Y/N, I know you,” Elijah said looking at you now. “You wouldn’t have accepted that it was just over. I couldn’t have you come looking for me and get pulled into my mayhem.” 

“Maybe,” you muttered. 

“Now that we’ve discussed that, can you inform me on how you-”

“Became a vampire,” you interrupted and he nodded. You sighed pulling your legs from underneath you, leaning forward onto your knees. “There was a guy. We had gone out a few times and I decided he wasn’t that great. He was possessive and spiteful. He didn’t like that I was ending things. So he forced his blood into my mouth then snapped my neck and left.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” Elijah said somberly. He felt like he should have been there to stop it.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“Like you said, maybe if I didn’t compel you to forget about-”

“Elijah...,” you sighed closing your eyes for a moment. “You’ll drive yourself crazy wondering about the what if’s.” Neither one of you spoke for a moment, but the silence wasn’t awkward like it was before.

“You’re a thousand years old, so I don’t know if you remember what it’s like when you first turn. Everything is loud and bright. It’s all too much. Thank goodness I had Melissa, or I would have been completely lost. But after I had blood and I completed the transition, my memories started to come back. The compulsion wore off and I was so confused. At first I remembered you compelling me, then everything came back like lightening. I was a wreak. I didn’t understand why you did it. A year of my life was back and I didn’t even realize it was missing.” 

Although you tried not to, your eyes began to glaze over with tears. Elijah wanted nothing more than to comfort you in that moment. But he knew he couldn’t, because although you said it wasn’t his fault, he knew it was. 

You let out a long breath trying to compose yourself. You refused to cry. “You hurt me, Elijah. And having my emotions heightened made things so much worse.”

“Y/N, I am so sorry for the pain that I caused you. My intention was only to protect you. People tend to get hurt around me and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You reached up, placing your hand on Elijah’s cheek, stroking his face with your thumb. “Thank you,” you said sighing. “And I know you would never intentionally hurt me.”

“I wish I could go back and do things differently,” Elijah said somberly leaning into your hand. 

You pulled you hand away and placed it on your lap. “We can’t though. I’ve learned you can’t change the pass a long time ago.” The two of you were quiet again. Both of you lost in thought of what could have been. “So... whatever happened with your brother?”

Elijah ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “I stopped seeking my revenge once he told me he still had our siblings' coffins. I had to work with him in order to get them back.”

“And did you get them back?”

“I did. Also, my brother Niklaus is here in New Orleans.”

“So you forgave him,” you asked shocked that his brother was still in his life.

“Our relationship is complicated. I want nothing more than for my brother to return to the man he used to be. To enjoy life. Not paranoid everyone and thing is against him.”

“That’s a lot for one person to take on. You can’t be solely responsible for your brother’s redemption.”

“I am not-”

“You are, Elijah. I don’t even know the full story and I can already tell your burdening yourself with this.”

“My brother is not a burden.”

You turned your head glaring at him. “Your brother told you he through your siblings into the ocean. You planned to get revenge, but he had them all along. Then even after you got your siblings back, you’re still around him. He sounds toxic.”

“I was not there for him when he needed me when we were human. I feel responsible for his pain.”

“You can’t keep living with this guilt,” you said placing your hand on his knee. “I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to tell me this when we were dating.”

“I didn’t want to concern you with my problems.”

“We were in a relationship. We were supposed to be able to confide in each other. I would have understood.” 

There was a brief pause before Elijah spoke up. “Like you said... we can’t change the past. There’s no use in rehashing what happened.”

You nodded agreeing with your ex. “You’re right.”

You and Elijah stared at each other for a moment. The silence wasn’t awkward. There was an understanding between the two of you now.  

Elijah broke the silence first. “I suppose I should get you back to your friends.”

You sighed, breaking eye contact, “Uh, yeah. I told them I would meet them at the hotel.”

“Which hotel are you staying at,” Elijah asked as he adjusted his suit so he was pristine again. “I’ll walk you.”

“I can walk myself back to my hotel, Elijah,” you said looking up at him. “I’m a big scary vampire now. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve always been able to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he replied. A small smile graced his lips, but it was just enough to make your heart flutter. “I would just prefer to walk you to make sure you make it back safe.”

“Still the gentleman I see,” you said beginning to walk, Elijah stepping in time with you.

“For you? Always.” He held out his arm for you to take. You looked at him hesitantly, not wanting to confuse what was going on here. Then you wrapped your arm around his and he led you to your hotel.

After the run in with your ex, your friends and you decided you would spend the day sightseeing. Hopefully, you wouldn’t run into Elijah doing the cliché touristy attractions. You ended up running into a local vampire. He was cute, so your friends said you should keep him around. You didn’t have any problems with it. He was handsome and he knew the ends and outs of New Orleans. He even told you all about a party with a fresh blood supply you could crash the next night.

Elijah was lurking on the balcony when he saw you. You were dancing with two of your friends and... Marcel. Elijah set his bourbon down while he stared at you intently. It was bad enough you were at the party his brother insisted on throwing to make the local vampires happy, but you were with Marcel, too. 

“The party seems to be going well. The vampires are more than happy and it seems a new young vampire in town has caught your eye.”

“I am just keeping an eye on everyone. The last thing we need besides the witches plotting against us, are the vampires wreaking havoc as well.”

“If you say so...,” Klaus said lingering by the stairs before he went down to the party. “But your eyes haven’t left her since you noticed her. Lying does not become you, Elijah.”

Elijah watched you for a while longer. He watched as your friends left you and Marcel alone. It mad him furious. He waited until Marcel finally left your side before he came down stairs and approached you.

“Elijah, what are you doing here,” you asked surprised. You thought the last time you saw him was going to be it for your trip, but you should have known better.

“This is my home. My brother Klaus is throwing the party.”

“Right...,” you said sighing. This was just your luck.

“Here’s your drink, Y/N,” Marcel said coming from behind you with your glass in his hand.

“Elijah,” Marcel said acknowledging the Original in the room.

“Marcel,” Elijah greeted as he placed his hand in his pocket. 

“Of course you know each other,” you mumbled under your breath but you knew they both could hear you. 

“Marcellus is an old family friend,” Elijah replied. 

“Friend is being nice,” Marcel said more to Elijah than to you. “You know Elijah,” Marcel turned to you and asked.

“He’s my ex,” you huffed out.

“Ex,” Marcel repeated questioningly. 

“It was before I was a vampire, so it feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Marcel,” a new voice who you didn’t recognize said. “I see you’re having a good time. Made a new friend as well. Enjoying the party, love?”

“I was... and who might you be?”

Elijah spoke up before the stranger could answer. “This is my brother, Niklaus.”

“My brother is being too formal,” Niklaus said with an unsettling grin. “Call me Klaus.”

“So you’re the great Klaus Mikaelson I’ve heard so much about.” You looked at him up and down. “I pictured you taller.”

“It appears you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know about me, yet I know nothing of you,” Klaus said curiously.

You glanced at Elijah before looking back at Klaus. “I guess your brother failed to mention his ex-girlfriend was in town. I’m Y/N,” you said reaching your hand out to Klaus.

Klaus gladly accepted your hand with a surprised look on his face as he shook. “Ex-girlfriend? Must have slipped my dear brother’s mind.”

“Must have,” you smirked.

“Well, now that we’ve all become acquainted, I should get Y/N back over to her friends,” Marcel said trying to end this whole awkward encounter.

“What’s the rush,” Klaus said a little to intrigued by the whole situation.

“Don’t you have some witches to go check on,” Elijah asked trying to get his brother’s attention else where.

“Now why would I do that when the entertainment is right here? Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems, Y/N, right,” Klaus asked pointing to you and you squinted at him. “Y/N, came here with my former protégé with no knowledge that it was actually her old flame’s party they were attending.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah said tight lipped. 

“Now what are the odds of that happening? I for one, would love to hear more about the woman that captured my brother’s heart and the eye of my sire.”

“She is none of your concern, brother.”

Klaus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. I know when I’m not wanted,” Klaus said smirking before he walked away.

“Y/N, I think it’s best that you-,” Elijah began to say but you cut him off.

“I don’t really care what you think is best for me, Elijah.” You shook your head completely over this night. “Marcel, can you please take me anywhere else in New Orleans that isn’t here?”

“I’d be delighted too,” Marcel said then held out his arm for you to take which you gladly did. 

The two of you found your friends then quickly left the party. A hurt Elijah left behind you.

It had been three months since your girls trip to New Orleans and you hadn’t stopped thinking of Elijah since. You hated it. You told your friends you wanted nothing to do with the original who erased your memories of him. 

Honestly, you were fine with Elijah before you ran into him. You never thought much of him. But now, he was constantly in the back of your mind like gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe. How was he doing? Was he thinking of you like you were of him? 

The overthinking wouldn’t stop. Which is why you were in New Orleans searching for Elijah. 

You were planning on going straight to the place you saw him last, his home, but your nerves got the best of you so you went to a bar for a drink first. The tequila stung the back of your throat as it went down, but it helped ease your anxiety, so you didn’t mind it.

“Long time no see,” a voice said from behind you. You turned around smiling at the familiar face.

“Marcel.”

“Y/N,” he said smiling that thousand watt smiled that you knew would pull any girl in a hundred mile radius. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again.”

“I didn’t think I’d be back in New Orleans anytime soon,” you replied. You held up your empty glass to the bartender so she would refill it. Marcel sat down on the stool next to you.

“What brings you back?”

You sighed before taking a sip of your refreshed drink and Marcel immediately knew the answer. 

“Elijah?”

“Elijah,” you answered.

“From the way you were at the party, I didn’t think you wanted anything to do him.”

“I didn’t either.”

“So what happened,” Marcel asked curious.

You shook your head slowly trying to gather your thoughts. “He was in my head,” you said softly. “I missed him.”

“The Mikaelsons have a way of doing that to you,” Marcel replied not making eye contact with you.

You looked at him slightly confused before he spoke again. “Rebekah.”

“Oh yeah... Elijah did mention a sister. What happened with her?”

“Klaus,” Marcel answered, an annoyed tone to his voice.

“Ah, same boat I see. Elijah ended things with me because he thought Klaus would use me against him.”

“No man was good enough for Klaus Mikaelson’s little sister. Not even his own sire that he raised.”

“Damn.” 

“Yeah,” Marcel replied then held up his hand so the bartender would pour him his usual.

You sighed. “Well, maybe it’ll work out one day. We’re vampires. We’ve got the time.”

“Only if Klaus allows it,” Marcel said somberly as he watched the bartender fill his glass. 

“He’s bound to find someone for himself eventually and stop worrying about his siblings so much. We just gotta have hope,” you said patting him on the back. 

“Well, here’s to hope,” Marcel replied, holding his glass up to clink to yours.

After your run in with Marcel and some liquid ammunition, you finally made it to Elijah’s home. You went to the front door, but your least favorite Mikaelson answered. Which said a lot because you had only met two of them.

“Is Elijah here,” you asked looking behind Klaus. 

“He’s not, but I can entertain you until he arrives,” Klaus replied with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You grimaced making eye contact with the hybrid. “I think I’ll pass. Can you tell him I stopped by please?”

Klaus crossed his arms over his chest. “Now why should I do that, love? From what I was told, you left New Orleans months ago on bad terms with him. And before that, he compelled you to forget him. I’m not sure if my brother should be troubled with your return.”

You rolled your eyes as you sighed. “I’m not about to get into it with you, Niklaus,” you said putting too much emphasis on his name. His demeanor quickly changed to annoyance. “I’m positive all you know is that I’m Elijah’s ex and he’s told you nothing else about me. And I’m not about to through him under the bus, but you’re the reason why he compelled me to forget him. He thought once you found out about me, I would be in danger. So all this is your fault.”

“I would watch your tone if I were you,” Klaus said as he took a step closer to you. He was obviously trying to intimidate you.

“Look, I’m not here to start trouble between you and your brother. And I’m not trying to cause any stress in Elijah’s life. I just need him to know how I feel.” Your tone softened before you spoke the last part. “I care about him.”

Klaus huffed, holding eye contact with you. You obviously cared deeply about his brother if you were standing your ground with him. Or you were incredibly stupid. “I’ll let him know you stopped by,” Klaus said reluctantly. 

“Thank you,” you said.

You turned around and left the compound. You were so worried about what you would say to Elijah when you saw him, you didn’t consider what would happen if he wasn’t home. What would he think when Klaus told him you were in New Orleans? 

As you mind was running a mile a minute, you were turning the corner and bumped into a strong chest. 

“Oh my God, I’m so-,” you started to say until you looked up and saw the man you came all the way to New Orleans for. “Elijah, hi.”

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Elijah said as poised as ever. It was like he wasn’t even surprised to see you.

“How’ve you been,” you asked fidgeting in your spot. 

“I’ve been well. And you?”

“I can’t complain,” you replied. You paused looking around. Why was this so awkward? “Um, do you think we could go somewhere and talk? Get a drink maybe?”

“Are you sure Marcel wouldn’t mind?”

“Marcel,” you repeated the name confused. “Why would Marcel care?”

“I assume you are in New Orleans for him,” Elijah said while he adjusted his suit, not making any eye contact with you. 

“What,” you asked completely baffled. “No, I came to New Orleans for you.”

Elijah’s eyes went wide looking back at you. “For me? Forgive me, but I saw you and Marcel earlier, so I assumed-”

You chuckled interrupting him. “You should know better than to assume anything, Elijah. I ran into Marcel at the bar when I was getting some liquid courage to come talk to you.”

Elijah titled his head to the side. “Why did you need courage to talk to me?”

“Uhh,” you began then started rubbing the back of your neck. “Because I needed to tell you how I felt.”

He took a small step towards you. “And how do you feel?”

You shuffled on your feet nervously looking into Elijah’s brown eyes as they bore into your own. “I missed you. I got the closure that I wanted, but then I realized I didn’t want closure... I wanted you.”

Elijah’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. You blinked waiting for him to say something, anything at all, but it didn’t come quick enough. You looked away, avoiding Elijah’s death stare. Your stomach turning every millisecond.

“Can you say something,” you asked quietly. 

“I’m sorry... I just-”

“God, I’m so stupid,” you interrupted him talking to yourself. “Just ignore me and pretend this didn’t happen,” you said to him and quickly turned on your feet to get as far away from Elijah and New Orleans as possible. 

Elijah grabbed your hand and pulled you back to face him. “Wait, Y/N, you didn’t let me finish.” 

You were only inches from Elijah’s face and on the verge of tears. Maybe you should have taken another shot to make this easier. 

“I was going to say,” Elijah continued as he let go of your hand and slowly placed it on your waist, “that I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked up at him confused.

“I want you, too,” Elijah said with a small smile on his face. 

Your eyes grew as you felt a weight lift off your chest. You chuckled in disbelief. “You do,” you asked softly.

“More than anything,” Elijah said wrapping his other hand around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

Your chest filled with joy at his words. A big smile forming on your face. You placed your hands on his chest, the two of you moving in closer. Your lips were centimeters apart when you suddenly stepped back, pushing Elijah away. 

“Wait,” you said, Elijah looking down at you worried. “You have to promise me, you won’t do anything like that again. If things get hard or trouble is coming, and you think I can’t handle it, you come to me. Talk to me. You can’t make decisions about us without me being involved.”

Elijah’s brows knitted into a frown. “I will never do that again,” Elijah said seriously. He reached up and cupped your cheek into his hand. “You have my word.”

You nuzzled you face into his hand, looking up at him with doe eyes. “You have to say promise.”

Elijah chuckled, looking down at you lovingly. You missed having him look at you like that. “I promise.”

You stood up straight, taking your hand off his chest and held it out to him with your pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise.”

Elijah’s smile grew so wide, his eyes crinkled. The hand that was holding your face was now extended, his pinky hooking with yours. “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” you said relieved. You unhooked your pinkies and reached up, wrapping your hand around the back of Elijah’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Elijah was caught off guard for a moment at how quickly you moved, but your lips were on his and he easily returned your kiss. 

His lips were soft against yours but the kiss was rough. His breath was minty while yours had a hint of leftover tequila. Elijah’s hands tightened on your waist, trying to pull you closer even though it was impossible. He had lost you once, and he’d be damned if it happened again. 

[junkissed]

the king's gambit: en passant (teaser)

member — seungcheol x f reader teaser genre — angst (kinda), enemies to lovers series genre — smut, angst, fluff, happy ending; one-sided enemies to lovers, mafia boss!cheol, ceo!cheol, sugar daddy!cheol word count — this teaser - 0.7k; full fic - tbd (estimated 25k+) synopsis — Millionaire CEO Choi Seungcheol has never relied on anybody: not his parents, not his friends, no one. The only person that’s gotten him through life is himself and the power his name holds. But even now, with everything he could ever want at his fingertips, his life lacks purpose… until he meets you. teaser warnings — mention of alcohol series warnings — murder, gun violence; poisoning; kidnapping/hostages; mentions of blood; descriptions of sex workers/sexual acts for money; unprotected sex, BDSM elements; mentions of food and alcohol; warnings are subject to change as i continue writing! notes — this is a very short teaser for the 95z collab i'm doing called the king's gambit! there is no completion date for this yet as i'm still working on it (and struggling quite a bit— plot is not my usual thing lol). i've got a solid 13.1k down for now, which is by far the longest i've ever written, and there have been a lot of challenges getting to this point but i'm so excited to give you a little snippet of what's to come! once it's completed i will also be posting this fic on ao3 for readers who find that platform easier to use. i hope you enjoy, and if you do, don't forget to add yourself to the taglist for more updates!!

collab masterlist • taglist form • my ao3

it’s no surprise that seungcheol finds himself back at the casino, making his way over to the bar.

there’s not as many people in the casino at this hour of the morning as there were last night, but even still, most of the machines are full and a few of the blackjack tables are crowded with people eagerly awaiting their turn to waste away all their money.

you scoff when you see him sit down at your end of the bar. “damn, you look rough, mr. choi.” he hates the way his name sounds in your mouth, sarcastic and cruel. he hates that you don’t even know him, yet you already think you have him figured out. “did you have another long and tiring morning of partying?”

he growls under his breath but lets the comment slide, not wanting to do any more fighting today. he’s had enough of it as it is. “if you make me a bone dry martini i’ll give you a thousand dollars, right now.”

“of course, sir. anything for the vip paying customer.”

he sighs, pulling out his phone and setting it on the counter. “if you drop the snarky comments i’ll make it five thousand.”

you pause, the bottle of vodka in your hand. he sounds genuinely exhausted, and you almost feel a little bad for him. you don’t doubt that he has that much to spend, but that much money just for you to stop berating him seems a little extreme. “coming right up,” you say softly, grabbing a glass from the sparkling silver rack. “and you can keep the money.”

you finish pouring the drink and set it on the counter with a cocktail napkin, and he pulls out a thick stack of crisp hundred dollar bills from his wallet. you try to refuse him again, but he slaps the bills down, grabbing your hand and placing it on top of the money so you can’t pull away.

after a second he lets go of you, picking up his drink instead. “i’ll transfer the rest to your account today. go buy something useful.”

you look up at him with wide eyes. “mr. choi, that’s really very generous of you, but i don’t think—”

but cheol interrupts you, sighing again. “just keep it. don’t argue with me. please.”

you study him for a second, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair is mussed like he keeps running his fingers through it. you nod silently, sliding the bills off the counter and pocketing them in your blouse pocket.

cheol’s eyes watch your movements closely, studying you in return. “don’t you have a safer place to hide that? casinos can be a dangerous place.”

you almost want to tell him, what on earth would he know about danger, but you bite your tongue and keep it to yourself. he’s had a long enough day on his own, it seems like; he doesn’t need to hear about all the times you’ve been catcalled and harassed, just inside his own casino. though, even if you did, he doesn’t seem like the type to care.

you shove the cash in your drawer beneath the bar and cheol nods, downing the rest of his drink with surprising ease, considering how strong it is. he sets the now empty cocktail glass down, wincing a little before he slides off of his stool and starts to walk away, leaving without another word.

“wait!”

he stops and turns around, waiting. 

you freeze, standing there in silence. you hadn’t expected him to stop. you don’t even know why you’ve stopped him. to ask him if he’s okay? clearly he’s not. to tell him to be… happier? to cheer up? you sigh. this was stupid. “nevermind, i’m sorry. have a nice day, mr. choi.”

he gives you a halfhearted smile and a wave. “yeah. you too.”

you watch him walk away, shoulders hunched and suit wrinkled. you can’t help but be curious about what he’s been up to that’s made him so exhausted, and you begin to wonder if maybe there might be more to this millionaire ceo than you first thought.

> no taglist since this is just a teaser; but, you can join the main taglist here!

> please consider reblogging + leaving feedback! this is the first time i've attempted a longer story like this and it has proven incredibly difficult for me, but knowing you guys are equally as excited for it as i am helps me stay motivated to keep going :)

[tojigasm]

The Serpent

Authors note: Here's a little priest fic I've been working on! I'm going to post a Jotaro Kujo version another day <3

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, minors dni, daddy kink, religious imagery, priest!toji is very bad at his job, teasing

"I wouldn't say I'm too concerned—"

"Mmm," a deep voice cuts you off, and a rough knuckle runs over the sharp of your jaw. "You should be."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Why's that?"

A black sleeve falls over your shoulder, and you lean into the rough hand that cups your cheek with a soft hum.

"Careful," the voice warns. Your lips jut out in a pout.

"But–" Your voice rises a tad.

"Shhh." The man drops to kneel beside you on the pew, still taller than you. "You're in a house of worship, y/n."

"And I can't help but hate when people assume things of me." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth with a teasing grin.

The man runs a hand through his thick dark hair, seemingly deciding on what to say before chuckling airly.

"Oh I'm sure you do." He leans in, the leather of his shoe echoing softly, "especially when such assumptions carry the weight of the truth."

You scoff.

"That's ironic." There's a rough pause, "y'know, fr'a priest."

"I'm not sure I follow." The man stands, and his hand falls to lay sturdily on your shoulder. He meets your eyes with a warm smile.

Before you can reply, the bell chimes, and you begin to gather your things for the bus.

As you make your way out the door of the church, the priest's voice echoes off of the sodden walls.

"Oh and y/n," he stands near the cross lamented with a bloody crucified Jesus, "next time you're planning on spying on my congregation, the window in the back is a much better spot for visibility I've heard."

—

"I don't like thinking about those things. Much less talking about them." The priest's voice was quiet, heavy with the heat of the day.

You sat upon the lake outside of the church, too hot to spy that morning, and the breeze by the pond offered a relaxed spot.

"Why not?" You teased, dragging your leg out to run along the thick of his coat.

The priest grabbed your calf with a large hand.

"Not now."

You study him for a moment. His tan skin, his thick brows, sky blue eyes, thick mulleted hair.

"Do you think God would strike you down here and now if you let me blow you?"

He doesn't say anything and rather meets your eyes smugly before making his way back towards the entrance of the church.

For a moment, he stops. And without looking back, he disappears into the cool temple.

—

"Don't you think God would forgive you?"

"Would God forgive you?" The thick of his shoe nestles against your heel.

"I'm not the religious type."

The priest chuckles, falling back onto the pew.

"So, there truly is no way to turn you towards God? You've been here this whole time just ro gawk at me?"

You shrug.

"It started that way, at least. I think I find it comforting." You add, "the chimes, the talk, the crowds, the ambiance. It's not my thing, but I find it relaxing at times."

The priest clicks his tongue.

"Shame."

—

"What you're doing is extremely wrong–" your voice is muffled by the heat of The priest's lips soft to your own.

"Don't remind me." He slips a large hand down the front of your skirt.

Stifling a moan, you gasp lightly and spread your legs some.

The priest's free hand comes up to hold over your mouth, letting you sink your teeth into the rough of his skin.

His fingers scope over the fabric of your panties, circling and pressing into your soaking cunt.

"God, you're fucking soaked." His head drops between his shoulder blades to kiss up and down the soft of your neck gently.

"I have a feeling you've done this before–"

"Don't push your luck." Is all he offers before he's sliding your skirt along with your panties off of your soft legs. Pushing you back onto his desk, he makes room for himself between your thighs.

His cock, thick and tan, rests against the bud of your clit and you shiver.

"D'awh, look who's gettin' all shy now, huh." The priest chuckles, running his veiny length up and down your folds before pressing the fat tip against your pulsing hole.

"Please," you plead, hooking your knees behind him in an attempt to push him into you.

He stops you before you're able to push him any further.

"Fuckin' brat." The priest pinches the side of your thigh before circling his index finger against your gummy walls.

He wastes little time pushing the girth of him past your sopping lips to rest inside of your heat with a rough groan.

The stretch pulls your lids shut and your arms weak.

"Fuck," you gasp, tightening an arm around his shoulders, "deeper, please."

"Yeah, yeah, m'gettin' there." The priest pulls back some to hold a hand at your jaw, keeping you steady as he pulls out to thrust back into you.

"Oh!" You're cut off by a sharp gasp rolling up your throat when his balls press up against your folds. "Jesus christ," you sob.

"Watch it." He scolds, thrusting a couple more times before pulling back with a hiss, "Fuckin' tightest pussy, I've ever been in."

"Daddy," you whine, head falling to his shoulder.

"You're fuckin' deranged." The priest chuckles lightly, moving your head to kiss you gently. "So shameless."

There's a vulgarity to the circumstance. A deranged unholyiness as the priest of your local church, weaved between your thighs, fucks you so deep and stretches you so that your mind nearly falls blank – all in the office behind the podium.

You feel somewhat sickly in a venomous way – one of near betrayal for something you don't even quite believe in.

And as you moan under the weight of him and the rough of his thrusts — begging and calling for him, your mind oozes with lust, and you find it oddly reminiscent of Satan and Eve.

You're the luscious, conniving, venomous python and the priest, dressed to the nine in thickly robes to prove his pureness, falls into your hands, and you can't help but eat him alive.

[gardenofnoah]

it lives where i live

part four

tags: healing, angst, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to ????, hopeful ending

wc: 2k

note: this was a weird thing for me to finish. i feel like i’ve changed so much as a writer and this chapter reflects that. i changed the pov for this chapter because i felt like it was important to see all of touya’s growth and inner turmoil directly. idk y’all this was my baby and it’s weird to say it’s done (also claps for bea for actually finishing a chaptered fic). alright love u be good

Touya starts to get it.

He has no idea what it is–only that he feels different, and he thinks that’s a good thing, maybe. He assumes it is, because there’s been considerably more enthusiastic head nods from his therapist through his screen each week.

It’s new. The therapist, anyway–the Hero Commission sanctioned therapist’s check ins (a generous title, considering the lack of any real therapy) had fizzled out and stopped all together soon enough, and it was at the tail end of another one sided phone conversation with Natsuo that he’d heard of a shrink with a reputation for treating those who’d been harmed by heroes.

“She has a surprisingly booked schedule,” Natsuo had said, half in jest and not without a tangible weight. If nothing else, Touya was curious–and bored. With nothing better to do, he decided to try a session. Before he knew it, he’d sat through the better part of four.

He doesn’t talk much–mostly because he’d talked a whole lot on a national scale and really, what else could he possibly have to say?–but lately, he’s found himself full of questions he doesn’t know how to ask. It’s hard–he doesn’t feel particularly brave these days, and to get his mouth to shift into the shapes of the words is enough of a challenge. But he tries–he figures that has to count for something.

He wants to understand your anger. There’s a weight to it–one that smacks into him solidly every time he’s on the other end of it. He’s not unfamiliar with anger–he’s been pissing people off for years now. But yours is different. Yours is heavy–you hate him and you run your fingers through his hair when he hides his tears in the toilet bowl and heaves out everything he’s buried deep inside himself at two in the morning. It’s not so easy to wrap his head around that part.

“Your friend.”

It comes through the speaker as a statement and not a question, and he scowls. Is that what you are to him? He’d been so sure that he’d never had a friend. But that can’t be right, can it? When everyone had moved on and away from him, but you had not—was that your friendship? The word tastes bitter and unsatisfactory on his tongue, but he doesn’t have a better one. He nods.

“Is that so surprising, Touya?”

He says nothing, only glaring into the camera. She sighs, wholly unimpressed.

“Think about it. You’ve mourned someone and then they show up out of nowhere, and they’re not that person you’ve been keeping in your heart all of this time. It’s like…a second death.” She says, tapping a finger to her chin as if to summon the words. “Another cycle of grief on top of the first. That’s a lot to feel, no?”

And he…knows that. You’d made it pretty clear, of course, but he feels it, now–like a rash. Your grief sits on his skin and festers in a way that his did not. His burned hot and fast and left him empty, and he woke up without a thought of what the consequences of that fire would be. Yours hit him like a brick wall the second he stepped foot through your door. That brick wall only gave way to cement–unending, uncomfortable.

It feels wrong to interfere with it–like for all he took away from you, this is the least he could give you. He can handle the anger, of course–he can sit in your white-knuckled fury and let it close in on him. That’s fine.

The crying is another thing entirely.

It’s not as if Touya is a stranger to tears, either–he saw his fair share of them wet the faces of those he cut down. Just like the anger, it never particularly bothered him. Not like yours do.

And maybe it’s because he doesn’t see them. The only indication that there are tears comes when he lays completely still at night, and he can just barely hear your sniffles through the wall. Something about it feels bad–unfair, maybe, the way you wait until you think he’s sleeping to let out what you’ve been holding on to. He almost wants to laugh at you–he’s already put you through this much. He would deserve to have all of the aftermath be aimed right at him.

But to lie to himself is evidently not off limits, because it does affect him. Every once in a while he’ll hear a whimper that twists his gut into a tight knot. He thinks of the promise he made you, all of those years ago. He tries not to, but your crying fishes it back to the surface–his stupid, idiot promises to protect you no matter what. Only to become the knife that keeps your hands pinned to the table. He doesn’t know how to protect you from himself. He finds himself still taking from you.

“Alright,” he mutters, coming back to himself. “M’hanging up.”

His therapist only laughs. “We made it 20 minutes this time!”

.

..

He starts eating dinner with you. You’ve been dropping little half-invitations for the last few weeks, and he’s been readily avoiding them. To sit across from you at your table feels too much like a confrontation–and the cowardice that he’s become accustomed to shuts it down before he’s even had time to really consider it.

But tonight you’re eating on the couch in front of the TV, and that feels better. In the dark and with a distraction, he doesn’t have to fully face you. He can think of you and you’ll be none the wiser.

He sneaks glances at you from the other side of the couch and finds himself struck–not for the first time–at how for all of the ways you are different now, you are still the same as you were when he was 13. He knows it’s nothing to do with how you look and everything to do with the way that you are–an anchor that both terrifies and comforts him. He woke up in that hospital bed and knew you were there on the other side of the glass before he opened his eyes.

Is that what friendship is?

He shakes himself out of his head when he feels you squirming next to him. From the corner of his eye he watches you fight with the blanket you’ve swaddled yourself in, somewhere between amused and endeared. It’s an unfamiliar feeling and yet, it feels like he’s felt it toward you all his life. He gives you another second to sort it out yourself before he feels bad. He forgets where he is, he forgets himself–he doesn’t think at all when he wraps his fingers around your foot to free it from the fabric tangling it.

Both of you freeze. For an aching moment, neither one of you blinks. And then you wrench your leg away from him like he’s burned you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, already standing, already shaking. “Sorry, I just–”

But you’re already halfway down the hall–voice tapered off in an explanation he doesn’t need to hear you finish because he already knows. Your door shuts quietly behind you, but creates such a divide between you that you may as well have broken it off its hinges. He doesn’t have to be still to know what’s happening on the other side of it.

He can’t listen to you cry again. His body makes the decision before his mind does, and when it finally catches up he’s standing in the middle of your room.

You’ve gone completely silent–he’s not even sure you’re breathing. Rigid and curled into yourself, you look pitiful. Something about it is hard to look at. His stomach twists and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for the covers and sliding into the bed next to you. He closes his eyes and his body forms to yours on a memory he doesn’t have but feels he must. You make a wounded sound like he’s just punched you.

“Touya,” it’s barely a whisper and wholly a warning. There’s so much pain in your voice it makes him nauseous. He ignores it, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you to him. “Touya–”

“Just let it out,” he murmurs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Please. Let it go.”

He feels you freeze–and then the breath leaves you so violently it startles him. He’s almost relieved when he hears the accompanying cry.

He keeps his head pressed to the curve of your back in some strange hope that he might absorb your grief into himself. If he could just carry this, it’d be better. For you, anyway–he’s certain that what you’ve been carrying around would be enough to put him down, but he’d drop dead at your feet if it meant you could be free of what he’s done to you.

His arm tightens around you when he feels you start to fight his grip. “The hell are you doing–”

“Please,” you whimper–only half audible through a tight throat–and it renders him silent. “I just need to see you.”

He can do nothing but let you twist around, and he immediately wishes he’d have fought you on it, because to see your face right now is too much.

Even in the dark your eyes find his and for the first time he can easily name the sadness that permeates into his bones. Sudden and tender like a wound, it’s only a second before he’s pulling you closer for his sake–anything to not have to see. He’d burn the whole world down to not have to see what he’s done.

It's odd, knowing that it’s not necessarily guilt he feels–instead it is a mountain of what can only be his grief, looming and jagged with no perceivable path up it. He looks at you and you reflect back at him a version of yourselves he’d left behind. He takes in your gap toothed smiles and grubby fingers interlocked and tastes iron.

“I was afraid you were really gone.” Your chest shudders harshly against his own. It’s awful–the whole thing. He’s certain he’s never felt like this.

“Yeah,” he can’t get his voice above a whisper. “Me too.”

It’s painful—the child in him that he believed to be destroyed. Looking him in the face now, you stand next to him, but a step behind. That hurts more than anything—the outstretched hand that he never reached for. How different things would have been if he’d have just turned around. He understands now—he’d left you both back there.

He holds you to his chest and feels, for the first time since back then, when something is knocked loose in his chest. He’s not afraid that he’ll bleed all over your bed, because he knows he already is. Something about the certainty of the way you are there, and he is right here next to you, shakes him. There are no tears left in him to shed, so instead he tries to steady shuddering gasps tucked into the crook of your neck.

And then it’s his turn to be held, and that’s painful too, because his skin is still so sensitive and his heart is breaking and god, does he wish he would’ve turned around.

He opens his mouth to say something and can only let loose a tiny, choked sound into the silence, and you understand. But that’s not enough—he needs to try. He needs you to know—to hear him and see that he tried.

“I wanted to find you.”

It shatters the quiet that’s been settled around the two of you. He wonders if it’s a cruel thing to say. He doesn’t know how to gauge your silence. He settles on filling it.

“Didn’t know how,��� he whispers to the ceiling, “Was too late—I was too late—“

“Touya.” You stop his spiral and you sound tired. You lay shoulder to shoulder now, and when your fingertips drag up his palm and weave between his own, it feels like you’ve touched down to bone marrow.

“It’s not too late,” you tell him, turning your head to look him in the eye, “it’s not.”

There in the dark of your room, he thinks he could believe you.

[crabonfire]

Hi! May I request a tssm Eddie Brock x reader pretty plz 💞

TSSM Eddie Brock x Reader <3

character: tssm! Eddie Brock

tags: fluff

note: this is seriously long overdue (sorry anon) but i saw this in my drafts and I HAD to do it because I am hyperfixated SPECIFICALLY on tssm eddie brock.

can be seen as post or pre venom!!! I wrote it ignoring his venom counterpart but I could write venom stuff if yall are interested

also i didn't know if you wanted like...headcannons or a fully fledged fic but I'm gonna do headcannons because at the moment I'm out of ideas for Eddie fics

♡Eddie♡

• He doesn't show extreme PDA, thinks it's a little corny to be so overly intimate with your partner like that in front of people. But he does love holding your hand or having his arm around you when you two are out.

• Makes any attempt to compliment you when he can. It doesn't mean that his compliments have no meaning, no, he means it all.

• Anywhere you want to go, he's willing to take you on his motorcycle.

• He LOVES motorcycle rides with you. Usually its too loud for either of you to talk, but he loves the feeling of your arms around him as you rest your head on his back. The cool air, you, and the road the both of you take. Something about it is real romantic to him. (It's symbolic in a way I guess.)

• Will teach you how to use it if you've never rode one <3

• Loves when you wear his jacket. Oftentimes he'll purposely leave it over at your place to see if you'll wear it. Will tease you when you do, but hates when you take it off.

• He gets super quiet whenever you two are alone together. Usually because he wants you to talk about your day and such, but other times he's preoccupied with other ideas. Sometimes he just wants to sit in silence with you, hugging you from behind or pulling you to his chest and feeling your hair.

• Physical intimacy is a must for him. He won't show it early in the relationship, but he craves your hugs and kisses. Adores whenever you are the one holding him, running your fingers through his hair, he can't get enough.

• He might have a hard time expressing true feelings to you. When he's angry it's obvious, but when it's something about love and trust it's a little difficult for him to convey it into words. He doesn't want to worry you, and if this relationship was serious, he would have a hard time saying "I love you" or even returning that sentiment unless you two had been together for a long time. After being left behind so many times it's difficult to trust.

• But he loves you. And that is enough for him.

♡♡♡

reblogs and comments appreciated :)

I love you tssm eddie brock...one of my fav adaptations...aside from Tom Hardy I love you Tom Hardy...