#OOF time for my fingers to rest

[natasha-in-space]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I really love your writings! I was wondering if possible could you do a Jumin and Saeran x reader (separately) Soulmate AU if you can? It’s fine if not but if you do thank you! And I hope you have a good day/night!

So, funny story: this was supposed to be done by the start of this week! Turns out I love the concept of soulmates way more than I originally thought, so I hope you don't mind this being pretty long ':D

Jumin

Soulmate concept: You have a mark of the first letter of your soulmate’s name on your wrist.

Jumin never liked looking at the small single-letter mark that was forever etched onto the underside of his wrist. It's not that it looked weird or unpleasant to him, quite the opposite actually. It was almost frustrating just how perfectly it fit in there, no matter how hard he would try to ignore it. No, the reason why he would always cover his wrists up with long-sleeved business suits was that he absolutely refused to accept the idea of a soulmate. At least, in a traditional sense that his father would explain it to him.

And how could he not? With the way his father would latch onto anybody whose name began with that cursed letter that was embedded onto his wrist, the idea of doing the same was borderline sickening to Jumin. In some ironic sense, by trying to find your soulmate so desperately, you would lose all sense of authenticity in your relationships. It was all about finding that so-called 'the one'.

Why would he care about that? He had Jihyun: his childhood friend of many years with whom he shared countless of precious memories to reminisce about. His memory was so precise, he could write an entire book about their friendship if put his mind to it. He had Rika, before tragically losing her along with everyone else in the RFA. If there really was such a thing as a soulmate, he thought Rika was the closest thing he ever got to it. Her name did not begin with the same letter as the one that could be seen on his wrist... But, he foolishly hoped that her real name would surprise him. Rika was the first woman in his lifetime who saw the tangled mess of threads that he had so meticulously hidden away in the deepest parts of his conscience. She saw it. And, she accepted it.

Of course, Rika was happily engaged to another. His precious best friend, nonetheless. The last thing Jumin would do is ruin the happiness of those few he holds dear. He's not his father. Besides, he has Elizabeth the 3rd. She's all the company he needs at the end of a particularly stressful day. She never judges him, and she would never go somewhere he couldn't find her.

He was fine with his current life.

By the time you came into the picture like a hurricane, Jumin was certain he would go through his entire life without worrying about that mark ever again. Surely it was just a coincidence that your name began with the very same letter as his mark. And, of course, your lovely personality and good heart were the only reasons behind his growing attachment to you the longer you two talked through your first days in their organization. What else could it be? You were a thoughtful and compassionate person. That's all there is to it.

Oh, how mortified he was when he first saw your uncovered wrist with the visible 'J' etched onto it.

You were asleep at the time, looking way too adorable for your own good as you curled into your blankets like Elizabeth the 3rd would often do as well. He didn't mean to look. Truth is, he had no idea what pushed him to gently take hold of your hand and gaze upon your wrist.

There were a lot of things he couldn't understand. And you were in the center of it all. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to understand the strange and captivating effects your every action would have on his conscience. And... most of all, he wanted to understand his own heart.

Maybe it's because, much like Rika once did, you saw the tangled threads of his heart: weaved together so tightly, it was practically impossible to discern where each thread would begin, and where it would end. He stopped trying to untangle them a long time ago. But, you were different from Rika. Ever since you met him face-to-face, you started trying to untangle those threads of his. With every kind word of yours, with every caring touch and patient gaze, you would gently detangle each tiny knot one by one. And, what shook him most of all is that...

It didn't hurt.

Was it really you helping him figure out his own detached heart, or were you just motivating him to search for those answers on his own? Jumin didn't know. All he did know at this very moment, as he stared at that single letter visible on the soft skin of your wrist, is that he felt strangely... hopeful. Just because both of your names fitted the letters of your soulmate marks didn't mean anything... It could be a mere coincidence. And yet, he couldn't logic his way out of this. Not anymore.

"Jumin...?"

He almost jumped as you suddenly opened your eyes and looked up at him with a groggy look crossing over your features. Damn it. He shouldn't have disturbed your sleep like that.

"I apologize." He swiftly let go of your wrist, absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers together without even thinking about it. "I didn't mean to wake you."

You let out a small sleepy groan, slowly sitting up in bed as you let your blanket clumsily fall from your shoulder. He tried his hardest to ignore the unfamiliar warmth in his cheeks as he took in your slightly disheveled appearance and drowsy eyes.

He wanted to touch your hair... Was it soft? It looked soft. Even when it was all messy like that.

"What were you looking at?" You asked, shifting your attention to your wrist. Some part of him wanted to change the subject, but no words came out. When was the last time he found himself so frozen on the spot? You momentarily met his gaze, a sense of understanding flashing through your eyes. Ah, so clever, as always. "Oh... Was it this?"

You caressed your soulmate's mark with the tip of your thumb, a thoughtful hum emitting from your throat. For some reason, this one simple action made his breath get caught in his throat. Before he could even think about it, Jumin reached out with his own hand, gently taking hold of your wrist again. You didn't seem to mind, just raising your eyes back up at his face as he crouched down in front of the guest bed. He let out a breath. "Yes. I just..."

He trailed off, not really knowing what he wanted to say. He decided to change the subject instead.

"...Do you believe in it?"

"In what? Soulmates?" You asked, sounding a bit puzzled as you tilted your head to the side. He drummed his fingertips against your wrist, finding this action to be oddly comforting.

"Yes."

A moment of silence passed, one that felt way longer than it actually was. Finally, you shrugged. "I don't deny it... But, It's not like finding a soulmate is all that matters in life. I'd like to believe that I will find my soulmate, whoever it is, once the time is right. Until then, I will focus on flourishing in my own way."

The smile you gave him made his chest fill up with ticklish warmth. You were truly such an admirable person. He couldn't help but be so very enamored by you. You shone so brightly, both on your own and with other people around you. Your heart was open to the world, but it was strong enough to sustain you independently. You didn't need anyone to be fulfilled, but you knew the importance of meaningful connections, and you cherished every single one of them. In Jumin's eyes, you were perfectly imperfect in that way.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Jumin?" You brought him back from his thoughts with your question, one of your hands now lightly pressing atop of his. Almost like you were testing the waters. He let it stay there.

Still, your question made him suck in a breath and look away, despite his every cell practically screaming at him to keep on looking into your eyes. "...I don't know. I never understood why everyone around me was so obsessed with finding their soulmate. My father would jump at every person whose name would begin with that cursed letter, no matter what it meant for me or anyone in the company. I think... love should be voluntary, not forced on you by some invisible force."

He could see you nodding out of the corner of his eyes. And then, he felt your thumb gently caressing the palm of his hand, this single touch making him shiver. God, what were you doing to him...?

"You have a very good point... But, I don't think a soulmate bond means that you will instantly be head over heels towards each other." You mumbled. Your words made him pause as he mulled over your point of view. Eventually, he turned back to look at you, feeling more comfortable discussing this touchy subject. He wanted to hear your thoughts. Talking to you was always so insightful and comfortable. Another thing he appreciated about you.

"Then... What do you think it means?"

You hummed. "I think... It just means that this person is your perfect match. But, this doesn't mean that just meeting them is all there is to it. You still have to learn and grow together... work on loving and understanding each other one step at a time. Does this even make sense?"

Another long pause followed as he let your words sink in for a moment.

"What if... I was your soulmate?"

Saeran

Soulmate concept: When one soulmate feels pain, the other does too

Your soulmate had to be the saddest person on this entire Earth.

It started out from such an early age, you were sure your parents were deeply concerned for you at the time. For as long as you could remember yourself, you felt it. Your soulmate would get hurt almost every day, and you had no choice but to adapt to it. At first, you were confused, upset, frustrated. And, who could blame you? You were just a kid. You couldn't possibly comprehend what you were feeling or why. You just knew it was bad, and you didn't like it.

At first, you were angry.

While your parents explained to you the concept of soulmates in the simplest way they could to someone so terribly young, you still found it so very unfair. Nobody around you seemed to struggle as much as you did. Maybe one of your playmates would suddenly start crying over an uncomfortable burning in their knee, or a stomachache, but... for you, it was very different. You felt uncomfortable and sickly almost every day. And, you had no choice but to adapt to it, whether you wanted to or not. All you could find solace in was the comforting touch of your parents as they would share a worried look, while you would curl up on their lap, whimpering about feeling so hungry and thirsty, but not actually wanting to eat or drink yourself, because it wasn't your hunger or thirst you were experiencing.

With age, came understanding.

As you grew up, you learned about how the soulmate bond would work in a more complex way than what you thought of it before. You understood that your soulmate was hurting. That they were probably very sad. And unable to do anything to change that. Your anger was replaced by sympathy. How could it be that your soulmate was growing up like this? How can that be fair? Or unchanging for so many years? You found yourself being very careful about getting hurt as you grew up. Your soulmate was already in so much pain... You didn't want them to suffer any more than they already did.

And then, came acceptance.

As years passed by, you learned a certain pattern of sorts. You learn to work around it. You learned to expect it. Your soulmate would get hurt every other week it seemed, although you couldn't really figure out if someone was hitting them, or they just were very unlucky in terms of coordination. In your teen years, something new came. You hated when something new would happen. You couldn't really figure out what it was. It was dizzying and confusing, almost like having a very mild migraine of sorts, but very far from it all the same. You would feel your head get all foggy, your throat tingling like you accidentally swallowed something very hot and spicy, and your stomach would feel achy and uncomfortable for the entirety of that day. You didn't like when that happened. But, it was something new you had to get used to now.

Just when would they finally stop hurting...?

Soulmates would share their pain with each other. It's something that was supposed to bring comfort and solace to those suffering from it. Knowing that, no matter how hard it would get, they were never truly alone. That sentimental concept, however, would shatter completely once you start thinking about other things than just mundane types of pain a perfectly healthy human being would deal with. You knew you were not alone in your predicament. Lots of people shared the similarities of your situation. But... it didn't make it any easier. Of course, you would never be able to feel the direct pain your soulmate was going through. It was just an... uncomfortable dulled out reflection of it.

When your soulmate would get hit, you would feel a sharp jolt in that same area, making you stumble a bit. Sometimes, it would even knock the air out of you, particularly whenever your soulmate would get hit in the chest. Every few months, your scalp would itch uncomfortably, making you huff and curse as you tried to ignore the irritating burning feeling the best you could. It reminded you of that one time you accidentally used too much bleach on your hair in an unfortunate hairstyling accident. You wondered why it reminded you so much of it. Surely your soulmate wouldn't fry their hair off every single time they wanted to dye their hair, right?

With how observant you've grown over the years, it didn't take you long to realize that Ray was, in fact, your soulmate. Actually, you figured it out on the third day of your stay in this place. It was obvious. Your head would ache annoyingly at the same time as him mentioning a migraine, and your fingertips would itch as you saw him nervously biting at his gloved fingers when he thought you weren't looking. That, topped over with the way you felt naturally drawn to him, made it fairly clear what was really going on here. Still, you decided not to bring it up with him.

Not yet, at least.

You cared for Ray, both because of him being your soulmate and because of your genuine affection towards him. Your affection, however, never clouded your logic. You knew that he was hiding something from you, that there was more to this place than he let on. And... you weren't sure how he would react if he found out about your soulmate bond to each other. He seemed rather attached to you... Sometimes, it was sweet and lovely. But, sometimes, it would make your heart ache as you wondered... just what did he have to go through to think so lowly of himself? To grow so desperate for companionship?

Desperation would often lead to rash decisions. Which is exactly why you were being patient. You would tell him, eventually. You just needed him to trust you more, and you wanted to grow to know him on a deeper level. You wouldn't leave his side, of that you were certain.

But... things didn't quite... went according to plan.

Yesterday, you accidentally tripped over the carpet and hit the edge of the bed with your hip quite badly. You wouldn't be surprised to see a huge purple bruise on that very same spot, to be completely honest. Surely, Ray felt that. You felt a bit bad for causing him this discomfort. This is exactly why you were being extra cheerful to him on your walk through the garden today, trying to conceal the way you would occasionally limp once you put your foot in the wrong way. It wasn't painful or anything... but, it was uncomfortable. Sadly, Ray didn't seem to buy it. Or, at least, judging by the worried look in his piercing mint eyes.

He suddenly stopped walking, just staring you down, a whole mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his gaze, making it hard for you to distinguish what is it that he was feeling at this moment. It made you a bit nervous, quite frankly. But, you tried not to make your soft smile falter. "Is something wrong?"

"You're hiding something from me."

You blinked, a bit taken aback by just how blunt he came off. He didn't sound angry or suspicious per se... You couldn't really figure out what he was thinking. You haven't seen Ray like this before. Or, at least... without him trying to hide it. You let out a breath before giving him your reply, picking your words carefully as you did. "What do you mean?"

You could see him pursing his lips, his fingers twitching as he mulled over his thoughts. He seemed a bit frustrated. Like he didn't really know what he wanted to say. It definitely made him look a bit paranoid, and you couldn't blame him. "I just... Please, you must tell me if there's something on your mind. You must. You trust me, right?"

...Did he not know the reason behind his suspicions himself?

"Of course I trust you... Ray, is something bothering you?" You tried a softer approach, hoping to get to the source of this.

He darted his eyes around the garden, not really focusing on anything in particular. Yeah, he was definitely feeling nervous. "I don't... You didn't answer my question. You're not hiding anything from me, are you?"

It seems like both of you were just going in circles. But, what else could you say? You were starting to feel a bit confused yourself. What was this about, exactly?

"Not that I know of... Say, how about we talk about this back in my room? Maybe we'll figure something out. I don't like seeing you so nervous."

You didn't mention the fact that there would be fewer ears listening in on your conversation in there. Either way, he seemed to consider your suggestion before nodding and offering you his glowed hand, which you quickly took.

"...Yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you, Y/N." He gave you a small but genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat for a moment. He looked so pretty when he smiled...

But, as your thoughts drifted somewhere far away, centered only around Ray's delicate facial features, you completely forgot about your hip. One clumsy step and you instinctively winced, quickly placing your foot into a different position. This, however, made Ray freeze again, his hold on your hand tightening. You didn't know whether it was due to him automatically trying to hold onto you in case you would trip, or... Well, the other option concerning that special bond of yours.

"...Are you hurt?"

This time, it was your turn to avert your gaze. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. "Ah, it's... it's nothing. Just a bruise."

"A bruise?"

Oh, God, he sounded rather... intense. You didn't know how to respond to that. You felt him take a step closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as he did. "Where is it?"

...Should you tell him? That didn't sound like a question, more like a demand. You hesitated, unsure whether or not you should just make up some excuse. Was this really the right time to reveal that you were, in fact, his soulmate? You didn't know. You weren't ready for this turn of events at all.

"I, uh... It's nothing. I just tripped over the carpet yesterday. It's not serious, I'm just a bit sore." That was vague enough, but truthful nonetheless. You hoped your answer would suffice. Judging by the deeply troubled look on Ray's face, your hopes wouldn't be met.

Geez, he was acting like you broke your leg or something!

"Let me see." His grip on your hand tightened again as he took yet another step closer, bringing your bodies together in a way that was definitely beyond just colleagues or friends hanging out. You gulped. Again, he didn't sound angry, but... firm. A side of him you were not used to whatsoever. Still, strangely enough, it made your cheeks burn. Especially when you remembered where this bruise was exactly.

"N-no..." You shook your head, averting your gaze from him nervously. Well, there's no winning this. You'll just have to come clean. You certainly did not want Ray to get even more paranoid than he already was. "It's... It's on my hip, alright? So, it'll be... a bit embarrassing to show you, if you know what I mean."

A choked gasp was all you heard, his fingers quivering where they grasped onto your hand. Did he figure it out? You were too anxious to ask.

"Your... Your hip? You said you... you got this bruise yesterday?" He muttered, sounding both nervous and hopeful at the same time. He gently nudged you a bit closer, tilting his head to presumably take a look at your eyes. "Please... Please look at me, okay, Y/N? This is... This is important."

Of course it was important. You swallowed, feeling your heart picking up the pace as you did turn to meet his gaze. Honestly, it made your knees feel weak with just how many emotions he was looking at you. He looked like he was about to cry or laugh, or faint, and you were not sure which one of these options he would take.

You decided to just be upfront about it now. "...Did you feel it?"

His eyes widened, another strangled breath falling from his lips as he began to tremble, overwhelmed with so many different emotions. You didn't have to spell it out to him. It was obvious. This time, it was your turn to hold onto him. You had no idea what would happen after you utter those words... But, you knew there was no way around it. You were meant to meet one another. You were determined to see it through, no matter what secrets this boy kept hidden in his heart.

"You're my soulmate, Ray."

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 4

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 8.6k

warnings: it's the start of summer break woop woop! some backstory on namjoon and his fiancée, tae being jk's wingman, jk in a leather jacket, oof! tae and jihyo meet and instantly hit it off, jk and oc get a bit flirty, explicit sexual content; sex in a club bathroom, making out, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), slight exhibitionism, soft dom jk, brief oral (m. receiving), cum in da mouf, a morning handjob (m. receiving), the gang meets oc and jihyo, hana being hana, the start of mai and oc's friendship, oc gets a bit drunk, jk gives her a piggyback ride, she stays the night for the first time, lots and lots of soft feels at the end !!!

author's note: we're taking a little break from the angst with this one, lol. i'm curious to hear your thoughts ! what do we think of hana, of mai, of tae and jihyo ??? also, my girl oc is letting her guard down y'all !!!! what do we think will happen on the jeju trip 👀👀👀

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the last day of the spring semester for the university staff, with final exams done and dusted and students' grades already published. Jungkook and Taehyung walk side by side, making their way out to the parking lot, kissing the campus goodbye for a month.

They have plans to meet the rest of their friends at some club that opened recently. Jungkook has never really been much of a club goer, but he doesn't have to worry about work on Monday, the weather is warm, and he recently bought a nice jacket that he's been meaning to wear out. They're also meeting up to celebrate Namjoon and Mai's upcoming wedding.

Namjoon and his fiancée, Mai, have been engaged for over a year, and with their wedding rapidly approaching, they thought it would be fun to get everyone together and unwind after all the wedding planning stress. Seokjin's wife, Jisoo, will also be joining, as they finally found someone to babysit their kids for the night.

Jisoo and Seokjin met during their university days. She was in med school while he was getting his postgraduate degree in business management. Jisoo thought it would be cute to set her best friend up with Seokjin's best friend, the two instantly hitting it off. Namjoon proposed during spring last year and they plan to get married in August, which is just two months away.

"Hey, just a heads up; Hana's coming too," Taehyung says, getting his car keys from his pants pocket, wincing slightly at the look on Jungkook's face.

Hana is Jisoo's younger sister, who happens to have a rather obvious crush on Jungkook. She occasionally tags along with the group, always finding an excuse to be on Jungkook's arm all night. She is far too forward for his taste, but Jungkook would never say that to her face, so he just smiles and nods along, tolerating her when he must.

"Great," he mutters sarcastically, preparing himself for a night of pretending to listen to her go on and on about why dying her hair blonde would suit her skin's undertone.

Taehyung stops at his car and notices you walking in their direction to get to your car, the one parked right next to Jungkook's. "Hey, look who it is," he murmurs with a smirk.

Jungkook turns his head, his heart rate rising when his eyes land on you. A soft smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. "Hey."

"Hey, Jungkook," you greet, offering his friend a polite smile. Taehyung grins widely and steps closer, eager to introduce himself properly. "It's ___, right? You teach political science?"

You nod, recognising him as Jungkook’s friend. "That's right, yeah. Is it…Taehyun…?"

"Taehyung actually," he chuckles, clearly the extrovert out of the two men.

"You heading home?" Jungkook asks, turning your attention over to him.

"Yeah. You?"

"My friends are dragging me to some club tonight actually," Jungkook quips with an amused scoff, earning a surprised look from you.

"Wow. Who woulda thought the walls of a club would see Jeon Jungkook," you tease, wondering what it would be like to see him in that sort of environment.

Jungkook laughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Gotta start the summer off right, I guess. And it's to celebrate a friend's upcoming wedding, so..."

You nod understandingly. You keep it friendly, oblivious to just how much Taehyung already knows about the two of you.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself."

Before Jungkook can respond, Taehyung chimes in, unable to hold his tongue. "Why don't you join us?"

Jungkook looks over at Taehyung with wide eyes. He knows what his friend is trying to do. He's used to Taehyung trying to be his wingman and he appreciates it deep down inside, but the subtle glare he shoots him screams, 'Are you insane?' Taehyung simply smiles, so he looks back at you, noticing the surprise on your face at the sudden invitation. He fiddles with his keys in his hand, feeling like he's been put on the spot.

"Oh, I don't think ___ would want to-"

"Come on, it'll be fun." Taehyung turns to you, feeling confident that he can convince you to join. "You're Jungkook's friend, we'd love for you to join us. We're a lot of fun; you’ll have a good time."

You look over at Jungkook with uncertainty. He offers you a sheepish smile and a shrug, silently agreeing with Taehyung, even if he isn't as forward as his friend. He would have preferred to do things a bit more naturally, but Taehyung's way works too.

It's not necessarily that you don't want to go, but you already have plans with Jihyo tonight. Her date with Mark didn't go well, and after every bad date, she comes over to your place to have dinner and unpack everything that happened.

"I, uhh… I actually have a friend coming over for dinner later. But maybe next time-"

"You can both join us," Taehyung shrugs. He knows he probably seems really forward, but he knows Jungkook is too much of a pussy to actually go for what he wants.

You don't even have to check with Jihyo to know that she'd be more than happy to go. You know that if you reject Taehyung's offer, and then tell her about it later on, she'll just nag you about it all night, and you know she needs a night out after her train wreck of a date. So, with that in mind, you accept his invitation.

"Okay," you murmur, Taehyung's face lighting up as he looks over at Jungkook, the latter man feeling quite surprised that you actually agreed to join him and his friends. You are slightly surprised yourself, but it's a Friday evening, it's the start of summer break, and what's the harm in having some fun after such a long and stressful month.

Taehyung tells you where to meet them and what time, watching you drive off with a satisfied grin.

"Care to explain what all that was about?" Jungkook folds his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhmm, you're welcome. I just got Hana off your back for the night, and you get to hang out with your girl. I just killed both of your birds with one stone," Taehyung grins, patting his friend on the back before walking to his car and getting in. "And hey, maybe her friend’s hot, so that's a bonus for me," he calls out, driving off before Jungkook can argue.

Your stilettos click against the pavement as you get out the Uber, looking up at the packed club, Jihyo reluctantly ending her conversation with the driver before shutting the door. It took absolutely zero convincing to get her to come with you. Taehyung told you to meet them at 9, but you're a bit late because Jihyo decided to wax her legs and armpits for the first time right before you had to leave.

The two of you walk through the crowded club, looking for Jungkook and his friends. The music is booming through the speakers, people are grinding on each other on the dance floor, your dress is short and sparkly, and the smell of alcohol fills your senses. You look through the crowd until you see a familiar face at the bar. Your heart starts to race in your chest at the sight of him. He's wearing a white tank top, baggy jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair styled to show off his forehead. He takes a small sip of his drink as he engages in conversation with Taehyung, and you wish his lips were on you instead of that glass.

"Is he here?" Jihyo asks over the loud music, oblivious to the heat rising in your face.

You nod, keeping your eyes on him. "Yeah. That's him over at the bar. Black leather jacket with the whiskey in his hand."

Jihyo scans the bar area, her eyes widening as they land on him. "Woah. He really is a ten," she muses, nodding in approval before her eyes flicker over to Taehyung, her mouth falling open in awe. "And that's his friend?"

"Yeah, that's Taehyung."

Jihyo scoffs. You told her Jungkook's friend is nice, you didn't tell her he's totally her type – smoking hot. "Thank God I'm wearing a push up bra."

You chuckle and make your way over with Jihyo following closely behind.

Jungkook senses your presence, his eyes landing on you as you make your way over, Taehyung's voice drowning out in the background. His eyes trail from your face down to your feet, his hands suddenly feeling a bit clammy at the sight of you in that short dress. He sets his drink down with a soft smile. "Hey. I was starting to think you wouldn't come."

"I couldn't leave you hanging," you call out over the music, Taehyung turning his head at the sound of your voice.

"___, hey!" His eyes drift over to Jihyo and his tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. She's far prettier than he expected, and his stomach does a little flip as her eyes roam over him. He quickly composes himself and decides to turn on the charm. "You must be ___'s friend," he calls out, holding his hand out to her.

"And you must be Jungkook's friend," Jihyo nods, shaking his hand. Damn, he's even better-looking up close.

"Taehyung," he smiles, holding onto her hand a little longer than necessary.

"Jihyo," she murmurs, holding eye contact.

"Can I buy you a drink, Jihyo?" Taehyung asks, tilting his head with a lazy little grin, neither one of them pulling their hand away just yet.

She looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a smile before nodding and walking off with him, making a mental note to text Mark and thank him for blowing their date.

You and Jungkook both watch them with amused smiles on your faces. "Your friend's smooth," you chuckle, watching them make their way to the other end of the bar.

Jungkook scoffs, leaning his elbows on the bar counter. "Tae's about as smooth as sandpaper."

You laugh, taking a seat next to him. "So, are you gonna offer to buy me a drink as well or...?"

He smiles over at you, his eyes sparkling under the club's dim lights. "I was getting to it...but, uhm...I don't even know your name, though..."

You look over at him with a puzzled smile before you realize what he's doing. You chuckle and roll your eyes, but decide to play along with his little role play anyway. "It's ___."

"___," he repeats in a quiet little murmur, taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "That's a pretty name," he grins, leaning in a bit closer. "You look so familiar. Are you, like, a model or something?"

"Shut up," you laugh, accidentally letting out a little snort. "Do you say that to every woman you meet at a club?"

"Nah," he shrugs, taking a sip of his whiskey, desperately trying to look suave. "Saved that line just for you, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Really?" You cringe, both of you bursting out into laughter.

"Yeah, I know, it felt wrong as soon as it came out of my mouth," he sighs, shaking his head.

"Let's try that again. Do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"Just you, baby." His voice is softer, more sincere. He really means it. He's not the best at flirting, but he’ll do or say anything to make you laugh or put a smile on your face.

You hum, nodding in approval, your stomach doing a little flip at the pet name. "Better."

"I try," he shrugs with a grin, his eyes trailing down to your outfit. You always look good to him, but seeing you in such a short, skimpy dress is doing some funny things to his heart...and his dick.

"You really do look gorgeous, by the way," he murmurs, his eyes slowly trailing back up to your face, his fingers itching to touch you.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," you smile, meeting his eyes.

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. "I was expecting you to be jumping my bones already, but I guess I'll take that."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You look very nice, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbles, a satisfied grin settling on his face. "Now, can I buy you a drink?"

"I'd love a drink."

"Anything in mind?"

"Surprise me," you shrug.

He calls the bartender over and orders a pineapple margarita. He knows you like tropical fruit, and he didn't want to get you something that would get you hammered just yet.

The bartender makes your drink and sets it down on the counter before you, adding it to Jungkook's tab. You take a sip and hum at the delicious taste. "This is really good."

"Is it?" he smiles, leaning in closer. "Can I have a sip?"

You hold the glass out for him and watch as his lips wrap around the sugary rim, his tongue quickly peeking out to lick the sugar off his top lip.

"Wow, that is good. I should've taken one of those too."

"What about your whiskey?"

He shrugs with a faint smile. "I don't even like whiskey, I just wanted to order it to look cool."

You laugh, finding it quite amusing that someone as hot as him can be this much of a dork. The sound of your laughter makes his smile grow wider, his heart fluttering. He doesn't even seem to notice how many women would kill to be sitting with him because he's too busy staring at you with a dopey look on his face.

You take another sip of your drink, his eyes watching the way your lips move, the way your fingers hold the glass, the way your thighs look in your little dress.

"You know what they say about pineapple, right?" he murmurs with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning over to drape his arm over the back of your bar stool.

"What do they say?"

He leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips lightly brushing against your skin. "Makes your pussy taste sweeter."

Your breath hitches in your throat, almost choking on your drink. "They say that?" you ask, looking up into his eyes with flushed cheeks.

"Mm." It's like a switch has gone off, his persona completely changed. He moves his free hand down to your knee, his fingers slowly trailing up your thigh. "Maybe I should taste it and see for myself if it's true. Y'know...for science..."

You and Jungkook make a beeline for the bathroom, the dim lights concealing you from any wandering eyes. He leads you into one of the bathroom stalls, locking the door behind you. He pushes you up against the stall, his lips on yours in an instant, kissing you hungrily. His hands explore up your thighs under your dress, finally getting to touch you the way he's been wanting to since he laid his eyes on you.

He kisses and nibbles down to your neck, grinding his hips against you, his need for you growing more apparent as a bulge starts straining against his jeans.

Your hands slide up into his hair, moaning softly as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

His fingers trail up to your thong, pulling it aside to run his middle finger through your slick folds. He groans into your mouth as he feels how wet you are. You're already dripping and he's barely done anything yet. He slides his finger up to rub slow circles over your clit. "You're so hot," he mutters, nipping at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You tilt your head back against the stall, biting your bottom lip to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out of you. "Is it...unhygienic that I'm...letting you finger me in a club's bathroom s-stall?" You try to keep your voice stable, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Wanna stop?" he asks, chuckling as you frantically shake your head. He withdraws his hand and brings it up to his lips to suck on his middle finger, tasting your essence. "You taste better than any pineapple I've ever tasted," he hums, his eyes growing dark with desire.

Your arousal overpowers any concerns you might have had, feeling a jolt of excitement run down your spine. You watch as he slowly drops down to his knees before you, his hands disappearing under your dress to pull your thong down your legs, putting the wet string of fabric in the back pocket of his jeans.

He licks his lips at the sight of you, his hands trailing up your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. The smell of your arousal hangs heavily in the air as he lifts one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder, his hands splayed over the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta be nice and quiet for me, yeah?"

You look down at him, your cheeks flushed, pupils dilated. You nod quickly, gasping as he presses a light kiss to your clit, your stomach muscles tensing momentarily.

He chuckles, watching you grow a bit flustered. He feels powerful being on his knees in front of you, knowing that he holds such an effect over you. He starts slow, lightly kissing your clit, his tongue peeking out to give you a few gentle licks, keeping his eyes up to watch your face.

He watches the way your lips part and your eyebrows furrow, your breath hitching in your chest as he starts lapping at your pussy. The music thumps through the walls, people's voices echoing just outside. If someone were to hear you moan, they'd know that he's getting you off, eating your pussy like it's the tastiest thing on earth.

He lifts your knee higher to get better access to your pussy, your eyes rolling back in your head as he sucks on your clit.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you moan, trying to be as quiet as possible.

He feels a surge of satisfaction that he can make you squirm in pleasure. He moves his tongue with a fierce determination, his fingers digging into your thighs, his cock straining against his jeans at the sound of your breathless moans.

He reaches down and undoes the button of his jeans with one hand, unzipping it to pull his cock out, needing some relief. He starts lazily stroking it while his free hand slides between your thighs, pushing his index and middle fingers into your sopping entrance.

The sight of him pleasuring himself, mixed with the sensations of his tongue and fingers is almost enough to make you cum right that instant. You hold onto the door of the stall with one hand, the other gripping his hair as your high starts creeping up on you.

"Mmm...'m gonna cum," you whine, biting your bottom lip so hard, you almost draw blood.

He curls his fingers inside you, finding that spongy spot that makes your knees go weak. His tongue laps at your clit, your body tensing and trembling, trying desperately not to scream out as your orgasm suddenly washes over you, harsh jolts of pleasure rushing through you.

He rides you through it, pressing soft kisses to your throbbing pussy and inner thighs, looking up at you with a dazed look in his eyes. He stands up and licks his lips and fingers clean, his hard cock standing tall through his open zipper.

"Damn," he mutters, his voice slightly out of breath. "That theory might be right."

You let out a breathless huff of laughter, your legs tingling, your pussy pulsating. He steadies you with his strong hands on your hips, letting you taste your juices on his tongue as he kisses you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps. "Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, feeling his cock twitch in your palm, his breath hitching at the feeling.

He can only nod, too lost in his own lust to speak, his mind completely clouded by desire. He spins you around, pinning you to the stall, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls your hips back, grinding his cock against your ass.

"Gonna let me fuck this ass one day?" he teases, knowing you'll shut him down like you have before.

"Don't even think about it," you scoff, teasingly pushing your ass back against him.

"Worth a shot," he grins, tapping the head of his cock against your asscheek before aligning it with your entrance, a soft moan slipping from your lips as he pushes it in.

His eyes close as he sinks into you, his forehead falling forward against your shoulder. He groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, your tight, wet heat sucking him in. "Shit, you're so tight," he mutters, thrusting into you, his hands sliding up to your chest, giving your breasts a squeeze over your dress.

The pace is slow and steady at first, the constant thump of the bass and the muffled voices outside serving as a reminder that you're in a public bathroom. He soon starts to get lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him, his thrusts getting a little less controlled. He lets out soft grunts into your ear as he fucks you from behind, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

Then the sound of people entering the bathroom snaps him back to reality, his thrusts slowing down. He quickly covers your mouth with his large hand, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh, baby," he whispers softly, the tip of his cock still sitting snug between your walls.

You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate on not being too loud, his cock inside you making it increasingly difficult. He slows his thrusts down to a languid rhythm, the thrill of other people nearby making it feel sexier, dirtier. "Good girl," he whispers, giving you a particularly deep thrust, his palm pressed firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans, his free hand moving down to rub tight circles over your clit.

You hear the sound of the girls' voices as they touch up their makeup at the sinks, mixed with the loud thumping music outside. Jungkook doesn't let up, thrusting harder to test your ability to keep quiet. It makes your head spin and your pussy throb.

After what feels like an eternity, the girls leave the bathroom, and it's like your body knew to wait, because your orgasm hits you almost immediately. Jungkook keeps thrusting, chasing his own high. You know he's close, his moans growing louder, his thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum...where do you want it?"

"In my mouth."

He quickly pulls out and watches as you drop to your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his cock. You suck on the head and stroke the shaft, looking up at his through your lashes.

One look down at you and he's cumming with a low groan, his hips stuttering as he empties himself in your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your hair. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, watching as you swallow every last drop, his stomach muscles tensing and relaxing as you lick him clean.

He helps you up and grabs some toilet paper to clean you off. He makes sure your dress is straight and your hair isn't messed up before you leave. As you're about to leave the bathroom stall, he pulls you back and gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up to give you a slow, deep kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, mixed with some of your pineapple margarita.

"You taste good," he hums.

"Yeah? What do I taste like?"

"Pineapple and cum."

"You're disgusting," you laugh.

He chuckles, giving you one last peck before pulling away and opening the stall door for you, landing a quick slap on your ass as you walk out in front of him.

Jungkook leads you through the crowd of sweaty people to get to his friends' booth, the guys all there already. He knows his friends can be a bit much sometimes, but he has a feeling they’ll like you. Taehyung and Jihyo are already at the booth, the two getting well acquainted.

"Everyone, this is ___," he calls out over the music, sliding into the booth to sit next to Seokjin and Jisoo.

"Kook, I didn't know you have a girlfriend now," Mai smiles over at you, looking excited to meet you.

"Oh, I’m not- ...we’re just friends," you murmur with a faint smile.

"Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought…" she trails off, feeling a bit bad for assuming.

"It's okay," you chuckle, sliding in next to Jungkook. "It’s nice to meet you all," you smile, immediately being welcomed by his friends. You learn who each of his friends are, that Jisoo is Seokjin’s wife, that they have two kids, and that Namjoon and Mai are the happy couple about to get married. They all ask you a bit about yourself, curious to know who Jungkook’s lady "friend" is.

"You work at the university too, right?" Jimin asks, getting acquainted with you straight away.

"Yeah, I teach political science," you nod, quickly learning that he’s the outgoing one Jungkook told you about before.

"That's impressive," Namjoon muses, his arm slung around Mai’s shoulders.

Jungkook leans over to talk to you over the music, giving you a little insight of each of his friends. "Seokjin is the CFO of YJ Tech and Jisoo is a cardiologist."

"Wow," you quip, giving Jisoo an impressed look. "A cardiologist? That’s impressive."

"Please," Taehyung scoffs playfully, shrugging his shoulder. "A PhD is just as impressive as an MD."

"So, you're saying that teaching literature to 20 year olds is equally as impressive as doing open heart surgery?" Jimin asks, shaking his head in amusement.

"You're saying it's not?"

"Right, because if I’m having a heart attack, I want you there to read me a poem."

While the attention is now on Jimin and Taehyung's bickering, Jisoo's sister, Hana, turns her attention over to you. She has been silently watching you for a while, watching the way Jungkook leans in to whisper in your ear, the way he smiles whenever you speak. It makes her stomach twist in jealousy, and she's having a hard time hiding it, basically piercing you with her eyes. With everyone else preoccupied, she uses the opportunity to finally speak up.

"So, ___ was it? I'm Hana."

You look over at her, offering her a polite smile, completely oblivious to her one-sided animosity towards you. "It's nice to meet you."

She gives you a curt smile, her eyes flickering over to Jungkook. "Kookie, you never told me about your friend before. You guys seem...close."

Jungkook picks up on her snarky tone, but he ignores it. "We are, yeah," he murmurs, looking over at you with a little smile.

Hana looks between the two of you, mentally rolling her eyes. "Jungkook, did you notice I cut my hair? It looks good, right?"

He sighs, giving her a half-hearted smile. "It looks nice, Hana."

She smiles, fluffing her bob, her long, manicured nails tucking some of it behind her ear. She's a pretty girl, with sharp features and trendy style. She's quite confident, so she can't understand why Jungkook's eyes keep drifting over to you and not her.

"I love your hair," you smile, your tone soft and sincere. "I don't think I could pull off a bob."

"Yeah, well, not everyone has the face for it."

You're a bit taken aback by her tone, but you don't read too much into it, instead turning your attention back to Jungkook. He gives you a smile, his fingers trailing up your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You have the face for any hairstyle," he whispers, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Jisoo and Mai on the other hand are far more welcoming than Hana, the two immediately hitting it off with you. Mai especially has taken a liking to you, the two of you finding a comfortable rhythm as you get to know each other. You find out that you have a lot in common. She's great to talk to, she's super funny, and she's stunning, so you see why Namjoon is head over heels for her.

"___, c'mon, let's go do some shots!" she squeals, dragging you along with her to the bar. Jungkook watches the two of you with a soft smile on his face, chuckling as you look back at him with wide eyes. It's nice to see his friends getting to know the woman he thinks so highly of, and he hopes this is a step in the right direction for you and him.

Some of the guys and Jisoo go off to get some drinks, and Taehyung and Jihyo hit the dance floor together, leaving Hana alone with Jungkook. She gets up and slides into his side of the booth, sitting closer than he would like.

"Long time no see, stranger. You too busy with your new friend to send me a text?"

Jungkook clears his throat and shoots her a curt smile, wishing he were anywhere else right now.

"I've been busy with work, Hana," he scoffs. "And ___'s not a new friend. We've been friends for four years actually."

"You've never mentioned her before."

"I didn't think I had to," he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, brushing her fingers along his bicep, her long nails lightly trailing along the leather of his jacket. "You should hit me up some time...when you're not too busy. I could help you unwind a bit," she purrs, looking up at him with her sultry eyes.

"That's okay, I don't think I need to unwind."

"You're such a stick in the mud," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "You should loosen up a bit. Have some fun once in a while."

He scoffs, his eyes trailing over to you at the bar, watching the way you laugh and chat with Mai, how pretty you look when you're carefree, the way your eyes subtly drift over to him when you think he's not looking.

"Believe me...I have plenty of fun," he murmurs, unable to take his eyes off you.

You end up having way more to drink than you initially planned, you and Mai downing shot after shot. With every shot Mai pushes into your hands, the more fun things start to feel.

"So! You and Jungkook," Mai grins after downing another shot of tequila. "What's the situation there, hm?"

"The situation?" you ask, your eyes subtly widening. "What do you mean?"

Mai chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She can tell the question caught you off guard a bit, but she genuinely wants to know. She isn't trying to pry or make you uncomfortable when you just met a while ago, but she isn't one to beat around the bush.

"Come on, don't play coy," she scoffs, giving you a pointed look.

"We're just friends," you mutter with a faint chuckle. "We work at the same university, we get along great, we're friends. Simple as that."

Mai raises an eyebrow at your answer, her intuition telling her there's more to the story than you're letting on. She grins at you, a knowing look in her eyes. "Oh really? Just friends, huh?" She glances in Jungkook's direction for a brief moment before returning to you.

"Mhm. That's all it is." You immediately down another shot, avoiding her eyes.

Mai studies you for a moment, her gaze quite perceptive. She can see there's a bit of defensiveness in the way you brush off her question, but she decides not to press any further, not wanting to put you on the spot. "Alright, alright...if that's what you say," she says with a small smirk, although she knows there's more to the story. Your gazes linger a bit too long for you to be 'just friends'.

You roll your eyes with a faint chuckle, turning the conversation over to her. "You and Namjoon, though. You make a great couple."

"Thanks! We are kind of adorable, aren't we?" She looks down at her ring and her expression softens. It's clear she's truly smitten with him, and him with her.

"How long have you been together?"

"We've been together for about seven years now," she smiles fondly. She leans her elbow on the bar counter, resting her chin in her palm. "I swear it feels like I've known him my whole life. I can't wait to marry him."

The subject of weddings and marriage is a bit of a sore subject for you, but you don't want to take away from Mai and Namjoon's moment, so you nod and smile, not wanting to dwell on your own misfortune. "I can tell. You're good together."

"Thank you," she murmurs with a soft smile. "Speaking of the wedding, we're actually taking a little pre-wedding trip to Jeju in two weeks. My parents have a beach house there and they never use it so we thought it would be fun to get everyone together. You should come!"

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting an invitation from someone you met an hour or two ago. "Really? You want me to come?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun! You can come as Jungkook's plus-one," she smiles, clapping her hands together in excitement before reaching over to take your hands in hers. "Will you?"

You're a bit skeptical about spending three days in Jeju with Jungkook and his friends, who you just met, but Mai seems so happy and you don't want to disappoint her. "O-Okay...yeah, I'd love to."

Mai orders another round of shots as a little celebration for you agreeing to join them on their trip, and by the time you finish them, you're both too tipsy to care about how loud you're both laughing or how bad your headache will be tomorrow.

When Jungkook comes to look for you, he finds you and Mai toppling over the bar counter in laughter about something she just said.

"Hey. How much did this one make you drink?" he asks with an amused smile, finding it kinda cute how drunk you are. He's not used to seeing you like this, but you seem to be having fun.

"Hey! Mai invited me to Jeju! Apparently I'm your plus-one!"

This is news to him, but not necessarily bad news. In fact, he's quite happy to hear that you'll be joining him on the trip.

"That's great," he nods with a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

"I'm gonna go find Joon!" Mai says, giving you a few flying kisses before hurrying off to find her fiancé and presumably make out.

"You're pretty drunk. Maybe we should get you home," he smiles, gently rubbing your back.

"Nooo," you whine, dramatically tilting your head back to look up at him. "I don't wanna go home. I wanna dance. I love this song!"

You get up too fast and stumble, holding onto Jungkook for support. He holds you by your waist, making sure you don't trip over your high heels. "Okay, missy. I think I should get us an Uber."

He leads you out the club, shooting his friends a quick text to let them know he's heading out. The cool evening breeze hits you as you stand on the sidewalk, making you shiver. Jungkook notices, so he quickly removes his leather jacket and gently drapes it around your shoulders, clearly not bothered that he's wearing a thin tank. He'll stand in the cold if it means you're warm.

He orders an Uber to his apartment, standing with you in the cool evening air, his free arm resting around your waist to make sure you don't trip or stumble.

"Where are we going?"

"My apartment. You can stay over and I can drive you home tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Usually, you wouldn't stay the night at his place, but it's not usual circumstances. You're drunk, your feet hurt, and you just want to lie down, so you simply nod and give him consent to take you back to his place.

"What about Jihyo? I should text her."

"I just saw her with Tae with a minute ago. They seemed pretty cozy," he chuckles. "He said he'd give her a ride home, but you should probably still text her to let her know you're leaving."

You get your phone out and try to text her, but the keyboard looks a bit blurry, so you opt for a voice message, getting a thumbs up and an eggplant emoji in return.

The Uber eventually arrives and Jungkook holds the door for you, helping you inside before sliding in next to you. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder the whole way back to his apartment, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knee. "You sleepy?"

You nod, your eyes already starting to droop.

When the Uber drops you at the front of his apartment building, he sees the way you wince as you try to walk to the entrance, so he silently kneels down before you and helps you out of his heels, letting them dangle from his fingers as he turns around and gestures for you to get on his back.

You look down at him with a faint smile, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him give you a piggyback ride up to his apartment. "Thank you," you mumble into his neck, his cologne filling your nose.

"You don't have to thank me, baby."

The pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally, so sweetly, and usually you'd make a little joke or tease him about it, but you don't. You smile and try to ignore the butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

He gently sets you down when you reach his apartment, getting his keys from his jacket pocket to unlock the front door. He leads you inside, just like he normally would when you're over here, but this time he's not rushing to undress you or stick his tongue down your throat. His touches are gentle, and slow, and soft as he leads you to his bedroom and helps you change into an old t-shirt of his. He gets some wet wipes from the bathroom and gently removes your makeup for you. He puts toothpaste on his spare toothbrush for you and stands by your side while you brush your teeth. He goes to the kitchen and gets you a glass of water and an Advil for the headache he knows you'll have tomorrow morning, making sure you drink it.

He pulls back the duvet for you and helps you get settled in. He gently lays the duvet over you and brushes some of your hair out of your eyes, looking down at you with so much care and protectiveness. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as you try your best to keep your eyes open, his smile growing wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

"So, you're joining us in Jeju, huh? How exactly did that happen?"

"Mai invited me. She's sweet. I think we really hit it off. We took a lot of shots," you mumble sleepily.

"Yeah, I saw," he scoffs. "That's why you're so drunk."

You chuckle, your eyes slowly falling closed.

"I'm really glad you're coming, by the way."

"You are?"

"I am," he murmurs softly, his gaze lingering on your tired face. He likes seeing you in his bed, a peaceful look on your face, your cheeks still flushed from the alcohol, your hair splayed over his pillow. You're almost too pretty to be real. He watches you for a while before reluctantly getting up to change out of his clothes.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he gets up to go and change in the bathroom, smiling up at him when he returns in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. Your expression changes to one of confusion when he gets a pillow and turns to walk to the living room.

"Where're you going?" you ask, your voice soft and sleepy.

"To sleep on the couch. I know you don't do the whole 'sleeping in bed together' thing, with your rules and all..."

He's right. You don't do the 'sleeping in bed together' thing. So why do you feel so disappointed that he's going to be sleeping on the couch instead of the other side of the bed?

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, y'know. This is your home. You should sleep in your bed...with me..."

He stops in the doorway, looking over at you with wide eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He never thought he'd ever hear those words coming from your mouth, and he isn't sure if he's the drunk one or if you actually said it.

"I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not."

He stays in the doorway for a few seconds, thinking this can't be real, but when he keeps blinking and you don't disappear, it sets in that it's real. He slowly makes his way back to bed, setting his pillow down and carefully getting under the covers with you, keeping a respectful distance. He has seen you naked and bent you in unspeakable positions, but he knows that simply sleeping in bed together is different for you. He knows that it's about more than what it appears to be, so he keeps a distance because you simply being here is enough for him.

Jungkook turns to face you, watching as the moonlight shines in through his bedroom window, a silvery glow illuminating your face. He feels a strong urge to touch you, not in any way sexual, but to just be physically closer to you. When you slowly turn your back to him, he's met with disappointment, but your next words cause a smile to break out onto his face.

"Can you give me back scratches?" you mumble sleepily, you voice sounding a bit groggy from the alcohol and exhaustion.

He stays still for a moment, just wanting to bask in this moment a bit. He slowly inches closer and reaches out to slide his hand up under the fabric of the oversized t-shirt you're wearing, and ever so lightly run his nails along the skin of your back. You're warm, and soft, and your skin is stained with his scent as you lay in his clothes, on his bedsheets. He doesn't say anything because words aren't necessary in this moment. He just slowly runs his nails over your back and listens as your breathing starts slowing down.

Jungkook doesn't fall sleep until it's well into the early hours of the morning. Not because he wasn't tired, but because he forced himself to stay awake. If he allowed himself to fall asleep, the moment would end, so he watched the back of your head until his eyes burned with exhaustion, and he caressed your back until his arm dropped limply to the mattress. He thinks that's what love is. He was never confident enough to say that he's ever fallen in love before, but if anyone were to ask him about love, he'd tell them about you. It was never obvious that he would fall for you. It didn't happen all at once. It wasn't immediate. He thought you were pretty, and he liked your company, but then somehow you slowly crept up under his flesh and made a home for yourself in the depths of his chest. He knows that he loves you, and if you are ever to be laid to rest in the dirt and soil, he will be envious of the earth that gets to hold your body.

You're still quite groggy when you wake up. The sun looks like it has already been out for a few hours, and if it didn't make your head hurt, you'd probably appreciate it. You slowly turn around to find a sleeping Jungkook. He's cute when he sleeps. His lips are pouty, his cheeks flushed, his hair a little bit messy. You realize that you've never seen him asleep before.

You don't get to enjoy it for too long before he starts stirring awake, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He smiles when his eyes land on you, and you mirror his expression. That sunlight streaming in through his window doesn't feel so annoying now that it's illuminating his face, making his glassy eyes sparkle.

"Morning." His voice. It's deep, a little raspy and husky, and it makes your thighs rub together.

"Morning."

"How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad. My head hurts a bit but I'm okay," you smile, inching a millimetre closer. "Thanks for letting me stay over. I probably wouldn't have been able to find my keys in my purse last night anyway."

He chuckles, a low rumble coming from deep within his chest. "It's no problem. You can stay anytime you want."

If it were up to him, you'd stay every night.

You watch as the duvet slides down to reveal his chest and arms, the muscles involuntarily flexing and relaxing. You've always liked his body. He's just the right amount of muscular. His skin is soft and smooth, and when he cums, he has this thin sheen of sweat that makes him glow.

You've barely woken up, you shouldn't be thinking about what he looks like when he cums. But you do, and you can't seem to think about anything else at the moment.

You slowly inch closer to him, your chests almost touching. You look up at his face, and the sleepy smile that resides there tells you he knows what you're doing and he welcomes it. He stays silent as you gently run your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your touch, looking a bit like Miso when you pet her. He doesn't say anything when you slowly trail your fingers down his neck and chest, making a slow descent down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Only when your fingers inch inside does he speak.

"What're you doing?" he asks with a lazy grin.

"Wanna say thank you for last night," you whisper, leaning in to softly kiss his neck, your fingers trailing down to his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

"You don't...have to," he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I want to," you whisper, tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants. "Take these off."

He reaches down and slides his sweatpants down his legs, having forgone boxers last night. He's on his back, with the duvet pushed down to his thighs, the sun heating up his skin. He has a bit of morning wood, so it makes it easier for you to wrap your fingers around him, his skin feeling warm and soft beneath your touch.

You start languidly pulling and pushing your hand up and down his shaft, his cock hardening in your hand. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing growing ragged.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah...feels...feels good, baby..."

You lean your body up on your elbow while stroking him, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and jaw. You quickly pull away to bring your hand up and spit in it, the lubricant making it feel even better. You glide you hand up and down his cock, twisting your wrist at the tip.

"Mmm...don't stop," he groans, his voice husky from sleep. He subtly rolls his hips up to meet your strokes, his abs flexing as the pleasure rolls through his body. He slowly opens his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with lust and affection. He brings his hand up to bring your face closer, capturing your lips in a soft, languid kiss. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, seeking entrance into your mouth.

You part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, his tongue brushing against yours. You stroke him faster, your fist tightening around him. His tip is already leaking, the head turning a light pink.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes squeezing shut, his fingers sliding up under the t-shirt you're wearing to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"This is a really...nice way to s-say thank you," he murmurs, his voice shaking, his thighs tensing.

"Yeah?"

"Mmmm...feels s-so good..."

His head falls back against the pillows with a soft thud, finding it hard to focus as you speed up your hand. He looks like he's struggling to keep his eyes open, the expression on his face absolutely blissful.

"Fuck, I'm close," he whimpers, his hand involuntarily squeezing your breast. His face is scrunched up in pleasure, his eyebrows are furrowed, his hair is messy. His cock leaks profusely, the head turning a darker red colour. It's a beautiful sight to see, him writhing in pleasure, his muscles tensing, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries to prolong the pleasure.

You lean in to whisper in his ear, your teeth nipping his earlobe, your breath hot on his neck.

"Cum for me, Jungkook..."

It's like a dam breaks, thick white ropes of cum painting his abdomen and chest, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. A string of curses falls from his lips, his body jerking as the aftershocks of his orgasm flow through him.

You run your middle finger through his cum and bring it up to your lips, licking it clean.

"You taste good in the morning."

He looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a goofy smile on his face. He lifts his head to press a tender kiss to your lips, his cock twitching against his stomach. Watching you lick his cum off your fingers is such a turn-on, it's almost embarrassing.

"I feel selfish not returning the favour."

"It's okay," you smile. "I just wanted to do that for you."

You run your fingers through his hair, watching the way his eyes fall closed once more, his body relaxing into the mattress. He has a glow to him, and you didn't think it was possible, but he looks even more handsome right after he cums.

The two of you stay like that for a while before reluctantly getting up to go clean off. He takes a shower while you wait in the living room, wearing last night's dress and heels. While he's in the shower, you think back to the night before, the feeling of his nails on your back, the smell of his bedsheets, how perfect his t-shirt fit. It all makes your stomach feel funny. You smile to yourself as you think of him, how gentle and caring of a man he is.

When he walks out into the living room wearing a fresh set of clothes, his hair styled neatly, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, your heart beats a little bit faster, and when he drives you home, you look over at him with a soft look in your eyes. He stops at a cafe on the way to your apartment and you get two breakfast bagels, even though it's already nearly noon. You insist on paying and he fights you on it, quickly handing the cashier his card before you manage to get yours out of your purse. When you sit in his car in the parking lot and eat your bagels together, your heart feels light and the conversation feels easy, your laughter and teasing remarks filling his car.

When he parks his car outside of your building and walks you up to your apartment, you don't feel that anxious pit in your stomach that you would normally feel after spending a bit too much time with him. So, when you stop in front of your door and he bids you goodbye, you gently grab his wrist before he can turn around and walk away. You stop him, and you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him slowly and tenderly. You kiss him until you both have to pull away for air, and then you give him a few more kisses before pulling away with a little smile.

"What was that for?" he whispers, his smile mirroring yours.

"Another 'thank you', I guess."

He leans in and presses one final kiss to your lips, his hands holding your waist, his nose brushing against yours as be reluctantly pulls away.

"That was 'you're welcome'."

< Part 3 || Part 5 >

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

contents: fluff. satoru makes sweet promises about the future with you. 800 wc.

“What would you say if I retired today?”

The words left his mouth so easily—like they’re one of the many frivolous musings that comes and goes, an afterthought when the shared laughter and playful teasing had died down a bit. Behind his loose grin, Satoru carefully studies your face as he weighs the question in your mind, as though they bear no consequence and he wants to hear your answer no matter how serious or unserious he’s being.

“Retire…” You drawl thoughtfully, “You mean put your sorcerer work behind you?” You more than readily welcome the idea than you let on, it’s all you can think about sometimes and keeps you awake at night. You knew about the dangers and the shortcomings that his lifestyle posed, but your love for him outweighs the troubles and the fears and the risks that come with loving someone like him—that is Satoru Gojo.

Not the Strongest Sorcerer, the leader of something, just a normal person who has a fondness for the sweeter things and never lets good humor go to waste if he could help it. If he truly decided to retire from now onwards he won’t have to participate in another dangerous mission again, no more of those dreadful overseas assignments that keeps you both apart for long stretches of time, and you could get used to knowing that he gets to come home to you every night.

“Well, okay. I suppose I could become the breadwinner for once.”

Satoru lets out a pleased laugh. His arm that encircled your waist tightens as he squeezes you with great affection, receiving a small oof from you and quick gentle pats of surrender before he crushes your lungs. He’s sitting on an abundance of wealth for the both of you to lead a comfortable life, and you’re cute for worrying about finances in the foreseeable future. Maybe he doesn’t spoil his precious sweetheart far enough, he thinks.

“I guess you’ll need to work triple time in order to afford my expensive taste.” He teases, pinching your cheek between his fingers. “We can be a dynamic duo. You can work while I stay home.” He mutters softly, letting his hand settle against the nape of your neck while his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Would I be a good househusband?”

“You’d be awful.” You were a little quick to say, almost shuddering at the thought. He feigns a hurt expression with the slightest furrow to his brows and an adorable pout lines his lips. He had an affinity for sweets as shown in your fully stocked pantry but navigating the rest of the kitchen would cause quite an upheaval despite his best efforts. “Maybe at first anyway.”

“You think I won’t be able to clean or cook properly?” Satoru complains dramatically, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You attempt to push him away between your giggles as the ends of his hair tickles you and he gently nips away at your skin, but his large build unsurprisingly wouldn’t budge. He lays a light kiss here and there shortly after, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. “Giving up on me already, huh? Too bad, that was your only chance of seeing me in an apron~”

Satoru comes up to meet your gaze and he catches your lips for a sweet taste, the warmth of his body sinking into yours and your arms wrap around him to bring him in a little deeper. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you if I came home to you wearing an apron?” It was your turn to pinch his cheeks fondly and you consider something. “But it’s a nice thought—you wanting to lead a different life.”

“I want to make you a promise,” he begins slowly, and there’s a beautiful look behind his cerulean hues filled with just pure adoration and love that’s reserved only for you. “When my time comes and I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll retire with you by my side. We’ll move somewhere peaceful and quiet—as secluded as you like. We could even travel the world if that's what my baby wishes, just the two of us.”

“That’s a big promise you’re making me.” You raise an eyebrow at him. But you like the dream that he’s sharing with you, no matter how close or how far out of reach it may seem. And so, a warm smile softens your face. “Just me and you?”

“Yes, Angel.” He grins happily, pulling you closer so his heartbeat matches yours and the sound lulls into one under the moon’s gaze. As long as you keep giving him every excuse in the world to keep you within arms’ reach—forever, then it’s contentment and peace and everything else in between he’ll find with you. If you’re there, then that’s home for him. “Just us and the sky.”

꒰ note ᰔ still coping with everything that’s happened along with ch. 261 so hope you enjoyed this something silly and something fluff for our sweet loverboy satoru. ꒱

[maxtermind]

Congrats to my favorite writer for 3k!!! I’d like to request an oscar fic with the prompt ᯓ★ “why did you have to come back? why? i was doing so well without you.”. I’m a sucker for angst 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

“why did you have to come back? why? i was doing so well without you.”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one who got away or the one who came back? depends on him. ★:feat:: doctor!oscar piastri x ex!reader ★:genre:: fluff and uh hurt/comfort; loved incorporating texts in this

You hum softly, swaying your hips as you slice the vegetables, the rhythm of your body completely at odds with the frantic pace of your hands. They work quickly, hasty and dangerously, the blade flashing with each chop.

The process continues as you pick up different vegetables, chopping them carelessly while moving your body to the slow music playing in the background.

"Baby," a groan interrupts the calm as you feel Oscar's hands slide against your waist, his touch firm and grounding. "How many more times do I have to remind you?"

You immediately relax, letting out an exaggerated huff as your lover attempts to take the knife from your hand. "What if you got hurt, huh?"

You feel his warm breath against your neck, the warmth from his body comforting and familiar. His fingers pinch the skin of your arm when you stubbornly hold onto the knife.

"Be careful," Oscar murmurs again, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I just got home, and I’d rather not be in the ER again tonight." His voice is teasing, but the stern edge in his tone is unmistakable.

You laugh softly, nudging him with your elbow before pressing a quick peck to his lips, earning a throaty hum from him. "This isn’t my first time cooking, Osc."

"Uh-huh," Oscar says with a smirk, his arms tightening around your waist in warning. "Wouldn’t be your first time cutting your hand either. So, excuse me if I’m a little—"

You cut him off with a roll of your eyes, your tone playful. "Well, if I do cut myself, at least I’ve got the best doctor in the world here to fix me up."

He gently turns you so you're facing him, his hand setting the knife safely aside. "Yeah, no," he says seriously, his eyes locking onto yours before flicking to your lips.

Oscar's lips curl into a soft, boyish grin as you gasp at the way he kissed you softly. "I’d prefer you not get hurt at all."

"Okay, fineee," you tease, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest at his words. You reach up for another kiss, your lips finding his insatiable ones for the third time. "No ER trips tonight."

"Thank goddd," your lover mocks your tone, letting out an exaggerated 'oof' when you smack his chest. Then, with a similar undertone, he pouts, "Now, before you test my medical skills—"

"Y/N L/N!" a sharp voice cuts through, yanking you back into the present. Shaking your head to gain concious.

You blink, the frustration in the nurse's tone making it clear that this wasn’t the first time she’d called your name.

You flush in embarrassment, clutching your hand tightly in a kitchen towel stained deep red. The stinging pain is sharp, but the numbness in your chest is more overwhelming.

You rise, cradling your injured hand, and follow the nurse down the hospital corridor. Your eyes flit across the walls, the fluorescent lighting casting an unflattering glow on the familiar surroundings- the very hospital where Oscar works.

It didn't even register to you that you were driving to this hospital in your panic induced state. Months after he walked away from your life as if you were nothing. Nothing to him.

The nurse leads you into a small examination room, handing you a clipboard with paperwork. You sigh, juggling the clipboard awkwardly with your injured hand, wincing as the pain flares up again.

The door swings open behind you, and you glance up, only to freeze.

What the fuck. Genuinely.

Your ex-boyfriend stands in the doorway, clipboard in hand, wearing his white coat and a look of professional composure that falls apart a bit the moment he raises his head, freezing as his eyes land on you.

Oscar's gaze flicks to your hand, and the worry is instant, etched into every line of his face as he immediately springs into action.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice soft but urgent, reaching forward to touch your hand.

You stammer, caught off guard. “I- uh, cut myself? Cooking.”

His jaw tightens as he gently takes your injured hand, his touch as careful as ever. You stop breathing at the contact.

His fingers graze yours, and for a fleeting second, the sterile white room feels like that night in the kitchen- like you’re still his, like he’s still yours.

“You didn’t think to be careful?” he murmurs, echoing his words from that night. His tone is heavier now, layered with hurt and something you can’t quite name as he's pushing you to sit down.

You try to joke, to lighten the suffocating weight in the air. “I was just fancying a trip to the ER.”

He doesn’t laugh. His stoic face makes your weak smile drop. Of course, he wouldn’t laugh. This wasn’t your boyfriend standing here- it was a doctor treating a stranger.

Fuck, that hurt.

Oscar’s focus is entirely on your hand as he examines the wound. “You need stitches,” he says quietly, his voice steady but his brow furrowed. “You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

The tenderness in his care makes your throat tighten. He hasn’t changed- not in the ways that mattered right now anyway.

“Oh,” you manage, your voice softer than you intended.

He glances up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There’s a storm of emotions there- worry, pain, and something achingly familiar. For a moment, it feels like he might say something more, but instead, he turns away to grab supplies.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, as he stitches your hand. You feel his familiar warmth, but the distance between you feels insurmountable. Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you say roughly, your voice trembling slightly, irritation masking your vulnerability.

Oscar's eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a moment before returning to the wound. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly, his tone laced with a kind of sadness that makes your chest ache.

It hurts- the thought that he’s just acting out of duty, the same way he would for any other patient. Still, you swallow hard, drowning in your unnecessary feelings. “It’s just a cut.”

“No, it’s not,” he counters, louder and sharper now, pausing his work to look at you fully. “You could’ve done some serious damage. What were you even doing?”

“Cooking,” you reply again, your voice small. Surely, he doesn’t get mad at other patients like this, right?

A sick satisfaction blooms in your chest that makes you cringe. This man is just doing his job, and here you are, analyzing him like a lovesick fool.

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “Of course. You didn’t throw away that stupid knife, did you?”

His words make your eyes narrow. He has no fucking right to ask that- not after he’s the reason behind your lonely nights.

Fuck him.

God, you really wanted to fuck him. Ugh.

Oscar clears his throat, his own eyes narrowing when they meet yours. It stokes your anger.

“Why do you care?” you whisper-shout, your voice hoarse.

His hands still for a moment, hovering over your stitched hand. He doesn’t look at you when he says, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Your breath catches, and the room feels too small, too heavy. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” you say quietly, tears welling in your eyes. “We broke up, remember?”

He finally meets your gaze, and the hurt there is raw, unguarded. You don’t know why he’s hurt over you speaking the truth.

“I remember,” Oscar snaps, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a shaky deep breath. “I remember holding you in the kitchen and telling you to be careful with that fucking big knife, day after day, because I was so afraid of it hurting you.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away. “It didn’t hurt me like you did,” you say, your voice breaking. How the hell was your chest hurting more than your hand?

Oscar looks like you’ve punched him, and it makes you ache worse. The fact makes you furious with yourself.

Why the fuck are you aching over the man who dropped your heart on the floor of your apartment like it was garbage?

“I know,” he murmurs, taking a deep, shaky breath, his composure breaking. “But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. It doesn’t mean I don’t still- ”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “Don’t say it. You don’t get to fucking say it.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, and his voice cracks in a way that shatters you. “For everything. For letting us fall apart. For not fighting harder. For not- ”

“I don’t care,” You cut him off again, your own tears spilling over now.

His expression softens, the walls he’s been holding up crumbling fully. “Baby,” he says, and the vulnerability in his voice spreads like electricity through your tired body, making you shudder.

“Stop, please,” you gasp, your voice barely audible. “You don’t get to call me- ” You can’t even say it out loud, and it makes you feel pathetic. “Not after you just fucking left.”

Oscar clears his throat as he nods and looks down at your hand, his professional mask slipping back into place. “The stitches are done. You’ll need to keep them clean, and don’t- ”

“I know,” you cut him off as he wraps your hand in gauze. As soon as he steps away to take his gloves off, you stand.

“Y/N,” he sighs. “At least let me drive you home pl- ”

But you’re already out the door, tears streaming down your face, the ghost of his touch burning on your skin.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[jobean12-blog]

Alpine Approved

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Alpine included)

Word Count: 1,146

Summary: It's your fourth date and since Bucky's already come to your place twice he wants you to come to his apartment this time. You're excited to see his living space and meet his cat Alpine.

Author's Note: Just a cute little thought of what Alpine might do the first time he meets Bucky's girl. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, lots of kisses and Alpine!

Bucky presses you into the wall as he fumbles around in his back pocket for his key. His lips trail across your jaw then with a muttered curse he reluctantly pulls away and pats his leather jacket.

“Where the hell…ah! Here they are!” he says excitedly.

He grabs your hand in his while he unlocks the door with his other and kicks it open. With a yank you’re inside his apartment.

The door slams shut with another kick and before you can even take a look around he has you caged against the door, his large hands resting on either side of your head.

“Now…,” he murmurs. “Where were we?”

His lips brush along yours as his hands slide off the door and down to your waist. You sigh his name and run your fingers through his long hair.

“MEOW!”

You hear the loud meow before you feel something push between your calves.

“Oh!” you squeak and pull away just enough to look down.

Bucky hooks his finger under your chin and brings your gaze back up to his.

“That’s Alpine…you can say hi later.”

He kisses you again and you instantly melt into his embrace. His strong arms pull you from the door and he starts to walk you both backward toward the couch.

“Ow! Damn it!” he says when he walks into the coffee table.

You giggle and bump your nose with his. “Forgot that was there?”

“It’s your fault doll,” he grins, now holding your face between his hands. “I can’t think about anything else but kissing you.”

With that he captures your lips again and continues his journey toward the couch. Just when he thinks he’s safe, Alpine winds himself between Bucky’s legs and trips him up. Thankfully, Bucky is close enough to the couch to plaster you against his chest and propel you both the rest of way to land safely on the soft cushions.

You land on top of him with an “oof.”

“You ok doll face?” he asks with a sheepish look.

“Just fine,” you assure him as you snuggle yourself along his large body. “You’re very comfy.”

He winks and then unexpectedly flips you over, settling just the right amount of his weight on top of you.

“I’m an even better blanket,” he teases.

His thumb caresses the outline of your mouth before he slides his hand behind your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

He’s barely gotten a taste when Alpine jumps onto the back of the couch and starts to swat at his hair.

With a nip of your bottom lip Bucky releases you and turns narrowed eyes to his white fluffy cat.

“You’re a real pain in my ass you know that?”

“MEOW!” is Alpine’s only verbal response. He follows it with another swat.

“Fine! We’ll say hi!” Bucky grumbles and sits up, offering his hand to help you do the same.

“Hi Alpine,” you smile, holding your hand out for him to smell.

He gently nudges it with his cold nose then turns his attention back to Bucky with another loud meow.

Bucky picks up the cat and cradles him against his chest, letting him settle in the crook of his metal arm.

“Happy now?” Bucky asks the white fluff.

Alpine’s tail swishes back and forth as he ignores Bucky and stares at you with piercing blue eyes.

“His eyes are so pretty…like yours,” you tell Bucky as you stare right back at Alpine.

Bucky chuckles and quietly says thank you with a dip of his head.

Alpine never takes his eyes off you as you settle yourself into the couch cushions.

“Does he always stare like this?” you ask Bucky.

“Well…” Bucky starts and then rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Um…sort of.”

“He looks suspicious,” you comment.

“Yeah…I don’t usually have people over and definitely not girls…”

“Are you telling me I’m the first girl he’s met?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide as he looks at you.

“Other than Nat and Wanda yeah I guess and they don’t count like that…”

“Like what?” you ask as you move closer.

“You know…”

“I don’t know. Don’t go all shy on me now.”

“Doll.”

“Bucky.”

“I haven’t stopped kissing you since you walked in! And even before that…he’s definitely not used to me giving someone else all my attention.”

“I feel extra special now.”

“You should doll face.”

Bucky’s smug smile chases away his shyness.

When you look back at Alpine he’s still staring at you in a clearly assessing manner.

“He always inspects every new person that comes over. He might be a bit overprotective.”  

“I hope I pass whatever test this is,” you whisper, giving Alpine your best smile.

The cat blinks several times before he stands and does a big stretch.

“OH BIG STRETCH!” you cheer.

Alpine let’s out a satisfied meow and saunters across Bucky’s legs and into your lap.

“Well,” Bucky starts. “That’s it, it’s official. He likes you.”

“That seemed too easy,” you state and gently scratch Alpine’s head.

“It was the ‘Oh big stretch!’” Bucky teases. “He just loves to hear how awesome he is.”

“Fair enough,” you giggle. “You’re very handsome Alpine.”

The cat meows and rubs closer himself on you.

“Just like your daddy,” you add, completely giving in and cuddling the cat.

“It really does work,” you laugh.

“Great!” Bucky says. “Now he’s really happy and he’s got you right where he wants you.”

Both you and Alpine look at Bucky who’s full on pouting.

“If I stop now he might not love me anymore!” you argue.

“Sureeeee,” Bucky counters.

Alpine starts to gently knead your thigh as he purrs louder and Bucky just let’s out a groan and grabs Alpine off your lap.

“That’s enough buddy. Stop feeling up my girl.”

You let out a peel of laughter and watch as Alpine turns his head up and then gives Bucky his backside as he walks away, clearly annoyed at being displaced.

“He looks mad Bucky.”

“He’ll get over it,” Bucky says. “And besides…this is our date and I plan on getting in all the kisses I can...and then some.”

“I have zero problem with that,” you tell him.

He grabs your waist and drags you into his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his beard.

“Almost as soft as Alpine,” you tease.

“Hey now,” Bucky playfully admonishes.

Just before Bucky presses his lips to yours you catch sight of Alpine sitting across the room on the window sill, staring at the back of Bucky’s head.

“He’s staring again Buck,” you whisper against his lips with a small smile.

“Ignore him. He’s just trying to get our attention again.”

“You know you never gave me a tour of your place.”

“Later,” Bucky murmurs as his hands slip under your shirt. “You’re all mine now.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lizette50

[sideeve]

I’M IN LOVE WITH A CRIMINAL ?!

ᡴꪫ summary . the rivaling rich billionaire's princess mingling with gotham terrorizer. what a headline for vicki vale.

ᡴꪫ includes? . red hood!jason, sionis!reader, rich girl life!reader, smutttttt, p-i-v intc*urse, cheesy but heartwarming relationship behavior, uhhh idk just read ho <3

"this is vicki vale reporting in Gotham News headquarters. Next story, Sionis' daughter involved with the enemy? Pictures caught the infamous Red Hood visiting on her balcony. is he using her for information? making her betray her own father?"

you turn the television down to hear your livid father on your phone. "my own daughter engaging with the enemy! i can't believe you!" you thought his voice couldn't get any louder but his tone conveyed his anger. "yes. yes, father. i know, I'm sorry."

you pace back and forth in your living room as the enemy has a smirk on his face, manspreading on the couch your father bought for you. your ear would be spared if it wasn't for the meddling crummy press. the red hood was a tantalizing human. getting what he wanted with his natural charm.

but you made it known that you knew nothing about your father's plan with his illegal weapons trade. you were just benefiting from the money he racked up.

"sorry, i gotta go." you end the call, dropping your phone on the coffee table. "geez," you card your hand through your hair, letting out a deep breath. "this what you wanted? for all of Gotham to know what i do in my free time?" his eyes rake up and down your body. "sorry princess, i thought i was bein' discreet with us." his smirk widens as his eyes halt at your hips.

"my father will be down my throat with this." you stand in front of him, hands of your hips. "come on. pretty. you're a grown woman. what's your daddy gonna do? stop you from seeing me?" amidst his sentence, his large hands rest on your waist, pulling you on his lap.

you roll your eyes. "you wanna throw me away for some dumbasses' opinion? i thought we had something. you wound me." he puts his hand up to his heart, feigning pain.

"look." you adjust yourself on his lap, earning a groan from his lips. "if we want to continue this, you're gonna have to do something with your appearance."

"you think i'm ugly?"

"no!" you swat at his chest. "i mean you can't keep coming to my place as red hood." his lips lock onto your neck, taking nips at your soft skin from time to time.

"jason, are you even listening to me?" you sigh. but not in anger, more as in a relief of pent-up tension. "yeah, ma. change up my appearance." he lets go of your neck with an exaggerated pop.

"good," his face lines up with yours as you both smile. in a flurry, you both are fighting for dominance on your couch. "come on, princess. you know you're gonna lose." he chuckles, pinning you down.

"come onn!" you whine. he laughs at your defeat, sitting on top of you. "who needs a shirt anyways?" he shrugs, lifting your shirt over your head, revealing your dark red bralette. "oh, i missed my girls." he jiggles your breasts. "jason, quit it!" you laugh. "what? i can't show them any love?" he stuffs his face in your cleavage, shaking his head. his stubble tinkles your skin, something you'll never miss. "okay, that's enough." you weakly push him off you.

his next target was your shorts, sliding them and your panties off, leaving you only in your bralette. "you shaved." he teases. "when do i not?" you send a calf into his side, an 'oof' coming out of him. "play nice, girl." his hands slip in between your thighs, fingertips gliding down your cunt. "fuckin' soaked." he chuckles under his breath. two of his fingers curl into you, something you'll never get used to.

the sounds of your slick sliding in and out of you brought a wide grin to his face. "think she's talkin' to me, baby." he groans, fastening his pace. "mm," you arch your back up a bit, unknowingly giving him more space for his fingers to fill.

"think your ready, baby?" he looks at you, tapping you on your cheek when you don't respond, too fucked out in ecstasy. "fuck-yes." he felt your cunt flutter around his digits, knowing that you wanted more.

without another word, jason moves out of his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free. a few dribbles of precum slip out from his slit, slowly sliding down his shaft. he pumps himself a few times before lining his tip up with your wanting hole. "ready?" you nod.

that's one thing you loved about him. he was always cautious if you were ready or not. he slowly pushes himself into you, letting you adjust to his size again. "fuck, baby." he groans, closing his eyes. after some time of sitting still, he thrusts into you, gradually getting faster. "oh god." he holds onto the armrest above your head for support.

you open your eyes, seeing his handsome face above you. from the array of scars on his face, the white fluff of hair, to the hook of his nose. he was the most beautiful thing you had ever saw.

he takes one of your legs and places it on your shoulder, giving him a better angle. "oh my-" your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, the pleasure becoming unbearable. unmeasurable. "please." you didn't even know what you were begging for, you just were. maybe for him to quicken or to go a little easier on you. you couldn't put your finger on it. but you knew it boosted his ego. "please what, princess?" he looks down, emerald eyes boring into yours. "fuck me." you say just over a whisper.

the last bit you restraint he had went away as his hips began to slam into yours. "god!" he grunts, looking down at where you two meet. he loved watching you take him. a beautiful scene that only he could see.

the band on your stomach was only one string away from breaking before your orgasm would wash over you. and from the way jason was fervorently thrusting inside of you, you could tell that he was chasing his own orgasm.

"come with me, baby." he slaps your hip, making you jolt. you bite your lip, your walls pulsing around his length. all the more signs to tell him that you came. his warm load painted your walls, emitting a sigh from you both.

the both of you sit in silence, catching your breath and relaying the moments that just happened. "how about i get rid of that 'sionis' name and make you a 'todd'?"

[toxycodone]

ship. captain grant mccurley (curly) x reader

content. general hcs + sfw + romantic

an. hehe u guys know i love doing these big ass hc posts to like. characterize and get a feel for how I write for characters sooo yaaaay enjoy this

general curly hcs (feat. the Tulpar crew near the end)

as much as I love scottish/irish/british curly,,,,he is american born. HEAR ME OUT. his parents/grandparents are immigrants buuuut this man is all american (where it counts ig).

he's from Colorado! his family mostly lives around there/mid america. He grew up playing a lot of winter sports (hence his love for it). As a kid he played ice hockey for sure and lost a tooth. there's a polaroid at his mom's place with him smiling happily after a game with a bloodied tooth in between his fingers

but as a pre-teen/teen he moved to the south. somewhere around the mid-south/mississippi basin. as sad as he was to leave Colorado behind, he latched onto southern culture sooo fast. I am a huge southern transplant Curly believer.

And this is when he meets jimmy. They went to 8th grade and high school together. After witnessing Jimmy's terrible ass home life, curly kinda latches onto him. It's a weird mix of being way too empathetic, his savior complex, and just desire to be useful/helpful/etc.

Jimmy basically lived with Curly his junior and sophmore years of high school. His household was abusive and terrible so Curly's own parents let him "sleep over". He has his own toothbrush, loofa, shower products, etc at Curly's. He didn't even ask for them either, Curly and his dad got them out shopping once.

^ Jimmy is thankful but oh my GOD does he resent curly for having such an unproblematic home life. curly has vented about his parents being too overprotective or something before and jimmy lashes out at him for it (oof)

Curly sticks up for Jimmy way. too. much. As much as he cares, it's actually kinda toxic. Curly never lets Jimmy face the consequences of his own actions, downplays all his shit, doesn't take the warning signs Jimmy clearly exhibits...he kinda acts as a barrier to Jimmy growing up and learning to be himself alone.

And on the other hand, Jimmy is way to enabling of this. It's easy. Simple. He latches onto Curly and like. feels threatened by any new friends, romantic interests, etc.

when Curly starts working for the Pony Express (an actual REAL career that takes Curly away from Jimmy)...Jim spirals. yeah.

He goes to jail. and when Curly gets back from his haul, the first thing he does is bail him out, co sign shit for him, etc. So again, Jimmy doesn't face the consequences of his actions. (and we see how that plays out in game...)

BUT YEAH. Jimmy is a mississippi native and he and curly do so much country ass shit together. hand fishing for catfish, mudding, hunting, all that jazz. they are avid rodeo fans too. Curly goes every year (he's tried to compete. broke his wrist doing those calf cathcing/tie down things i think)

Curly and the Tulpar crew have been together for a handful of hauls. (I mean in-game dialogue suggests this too). Knowing people that long means he's a well respected captain and they're kinda a little family!

Swansea is tough to work with, but actually respect's curly. This is bc Curly skirts by the typical PE rules, but not in a bad way. He's really adamant about safety and following protocol, which Swansea respects (although it's annoying). But the 5 hours of rest rule? Curly thinks that's ridiculous. As long as the work is being done, Curly doesn't count break time. So there's plenty of blankets or pillows lying around the common room in case anyone needs a nap on one of the couches. Curly also advises everyone have a blanket and pillow in their work areas during shifts for "comfort" (it's just code for everyone to catch some sleep outside of the time they spend in their quarters).

Curly also makes sure they have game nights + shared meals +etc. He counts these as "meetings" or "team building exercises" when sending reports to corporate.

Curly and Anya haven't been together too long compared to the others. The Tulpar haul is her second haul with Curly, but they've known each other for at least 3+ years and are pretty comfortable with each other. Curly made sure she felt as comfortable as possible being the only girl on their team. (well. yknow. until that ultimately gets tested.) But I think Anya and Curly aren't extremely close which explains why she doesn't immediately come to him w issues + why Curly doesn't deal w Jimmy in a harsher way (it's a combination of Curly being sleep deprived, favoring Jimmy, and ultimately his own paranioa and shortcomings. Curly has a real problem confronting Jimmy bc of his past w lashing out).

Curly is an insomniac. Not on Earth, but on hauls most definitely. He has a lot of anxiety about hauls (which he chalks up to being "normal") and the monotony of them drives him crazy. He's constantly a little sleep deprived.

He picked up weight lifting as a hobby on hauls bc cardio is like. impossible on that ship and it makes him feel good. <3 When he doesn't have access to the gym he does pull ups on loose bars on the Tulpar and stuff lol. He has a few weights and crap though. And that Pony Express brand protein powder is hella useful for cutting.

sfw + romantic

Oh he most definitely doesn't have a partner on earth. It's why he's facing his mid life crisis shit because he's like my god. all this work and status and nothing to show for it wtf. I think he really wants to have a relationship, but most people don't want to put up with the fact he's gone for about a year or so. off planet. with little communication.

On the Tulpar he keeps it in his pants. Curly is a professional and does his best to continue acting that way. But no one really comes onto him anyways? (if they did. my God I think he would be very weak to it.)

He has rizz. Like. Mr. Grant McCurley can fucking flirt like a champ. If he wants you he will make it clear. Ask you out for drinks. Then pay at the end. He makes it clear he's not expecting anything either?? Total southern gentleman shi

Insists on only giving a cheek kiss after the first date too like sheeesh (he's playing the waiting game with you. trying to keep you wanting HIM yeah he's good).

I like to think he's more traditional when it comes to romance like...dates weekly or bi weekly. Gives you flowers and chocolates and stuff. He actively pursues you and its soooooo <3333

No sex until at least after the third or fourth date too like. AGAIN. WAITING GAME. wants you to initiate that stuff (but he'll give hints like putting his hand on your knee and letting it trail up your thigh. YEAH)

He's the type who is always planning his life with you in it. Like, he's gotta have your fave snacks/drinks in his pantry/fridge. You have your own stuff at his apartment before you move in (that he bought, btw. he takes note when he visits ur place). His apartment feels like your home away from home. <3

He definitely rubs his stubble on you to annoy you when he gives you hugs. ewwww i hate men (im lying)

ok idk what else to write but. he used to use old spice but now uses a calvin klein cologne that man smells GOOD ASF

ok thats all i got enjoy

[dontopenfairies]

“Do you need to go pee, baby?”

He wiggles on her lap. He swears she never called him this many pet names before. Now it’s baby, honeypie, sweetheart, every other sentence.

“Y-yeah…a little.” He’s lying. It’s a lot.

“Do you want to go at the same time?” She sinks into the couch a little, pulling him closer. “Okay, I’m going.”

He lets himself relax into the diaper, chewing on his fingers, eyes half-closed.

“I’m going to stop and hold it,” she says. He sits up straight and tries to do the same, concentrating hard. “Aww, your cute little focus face. Are you having trouble stopping?” She pulls him towards her again, patting his back.

“I don’t get how you just do that,” he says quietly.

“Haha, you can’t hold it at all once you start peeing your diaper? You’re such a little baby,” she says, rubbing his back. He’s still peeing, but the stream is letting up now.

“Stoppp-uh,” he whines.

“A whiny little baby,” she says, squeezing her arms right around him and rolling him over, pushing him into the couch cushions. She giggles at the surprised look on his face. “You didn’t touch yourself while I was gone, did you?”

“Uh-uh,” he says, holding up his fingers like Scout’s Honor.

“Wow, you are *whipped*. I’m so glad you’re my little diaper boy, now.” She runs her fingers under his chin. “Okay, I still have to finish peeing.” She pushes herself up and straddles his chest, diaper inches from his face, and lets go.

“Maira,” he whines.

“What, is this gross? Is this grossing you out?” She sits down, hard, on his chest, and he lets out an involuntary ‘oof’. She reaches an arm behind her, cupping his crotch. “Orrrrr…is it getting you hot? Huh? Huh?” She leans towards him, hands on his shoulders, gently pinning him down.

“Get off me, you’re heavy,” he says, trying to sit up and struggling.

“Okay,” she says, laughing again, and stands up. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

“No, I do, I…” He looks up at her.

“You’re so pathetic, aw. So cute. Can I get on top of you, again? I’ll be gentler this time.”

He nods slowly.

She straddles him again, and then slowly moves down his body, lifting up his shirt and kissing his tummy. Finally she makes it down between his legs.

“Oh my, you’re wet,” she says, undoing his fly and pulling his pants down. “I’m surprised you didn’t leak everywhere. Like a stupid baby.”

“Ouch,” he says.

“Too far?” She’s undoing his diaper.

“No, I…”

“You kind of liked that, didn’t you, honey?” She’s rubbing the heel of her hand against him. He squirms, hand in his mouth again.

“Um, maybe…just a little.”

She runs a finger from his taint all the way to his tip and he bucks his hips.

“Do you want me just jerk you off? Hmm, no, I don’t want to do that.”

What? Is she just going to leave him like this again? “Maira, please…it really hurts.”

“Hahaha, you little slut. Look at your hips moving. Could you stop that if you tried?”

“I don’t knoww,” he whines.

“This is going to be gross,” she says, almost to herself, “but I’m going to do it.” And then he feels her lips kissing the head of his dick, all the way down the shaft, and he can feel precum dripping out of him. “Ohh, leaky boy,” she says. She takes him in her mouth, slowly, and it’s wet and warm.

“M—Maira.”

“What? You aren’t going to cum already, are you? Can’t you hold it for just five fucking seconds?”

“Mmmph,” he whines. She rolls her eyes and descends on him again, this time slurping all the way from the bottom to the top, and then really sucking on his tip, the rest of him getting all cold in the air from his pee and her saliva.

“Maira, stop, or I’m not going to—I’m not gonna be able to stop, I’m, I’m…”

“Okay, longer than five seconds, I guess.” She uses her hand to help him through the orgasm. “Maybe even a new record. Good job.”

Her voice is dry and condescending. He raises his arms over his head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She comes back up, walking her hands up the sides of the couch next to him, until they are face to face. She pulls his arms back down to his sides and leans forward, letting him kiss her on the mouth. “That happens to lots of boys. Do you want me to hold you for a little while?”

He nods. “Mm-hmm.”

“Okay, babypie.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

the boys reaction to the reader sending them lewd photos (with consent!)

Oof fuck yeah 😎

tw: slight NSFW/suggestive themes

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Oh sweetheart, you fucked up (in the best way obviously)

He got the text that said “for your eyes only ;)” with an image following after the text, he knew better than to open it around others so he waited. Even when he was alone waited.

And then when he finally decided to open it, hands shaking just a little bit, he was in awe

You were sat in front of a mirror, legs spread and on your knees, back curved to get that flattering angle he loved so much, wearing nothing but his balaclava, your hair poking out from under the edges, doe eyes feigning innocence, your free hand disappearing between your legs

He calls you immediately, white knuckling his phone while he’s adjusting his jeans, suddenly tight, uncomfortable, and far too warm

“You have any idea what you’ve done?”

“No clue what you’re talking about, could use a hint though.” He heard the shit eating grin over the receiver and could practically see you biting your lower lip, eye lashes fluttering in feigned ignorance

“Better find you on your knees when I get home.”

“Or what?” He heard the breathlessness in your voice, knew how much you loved it when he gave you orders. Still he had to at least hand it to you for trying to keep up the coquettish act,

“Careful, pet, choices have consequences.”

(On GOD that line makes me WEAK)

After that interaction, he went silent until you woke up to a text a few days later that reads ‘Home in 5’ the text was sent five minutes ago and you heard the lock clicking at the front door

Consequences, love

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

The least restraint out of all of them tbh

He gets your text and sees that there’s an attachment and he calmly dismissed himself from the group, they’re at a pub, celebrating a job well done and you decided to hang back and let John have his night with his mates team

As soon as he’s alone and he opens the picture, his hand is running over his face and his baby blues are like saucers

You’re on your back, legs closed and turned to the side to show off the curve of your hips that drives him feral, you’re wearing nothing but his dog tags, with one of them between your plush lips and the other resting at the center of your chest

“Sorry, lads, gotta run.” He’s back at the table, grabbing his coat and his keys

“Already? We just got here.” Gaz shouted after him as he practically sprinted out of the building

“Shame. Be seein’ ya!”

He’s well over the speed limit and fighting his keys to get them in the lock, in a matter of seconds he’s got you in his arms, kissing the breath out of you

By the end of the night, and well into the morning, there won’t be a single inch of you that hasn’t been lavished

John Price:

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Da-

John is a patient man, he can bide his time well, knowing what it does to you

So when he sees the text and the attachment that followed, it wasn’t any different. He could wait. He knew what it was. He’s a patient man. So, just like Ghost, he waited. Except even when he was alone he didn’t open it. He’d text you as if he never saw the message and it had you wondering if it had any effect on him at all.

Sweetheart, of course it did. He could feel his phone burning a hole through his pocket despite being cool to the touch. But he wanted to wait until he knew for sure he was going home and when.

He was on the way home when he finally decided to open the picture and thank god he waited

You were sat in his favorite chair, legs crossed over the armrest, back arched over the other, wearing nothing but his hat, with one of his cigars lit between your fingers, you had captioned it with ‘what can I say? I miss my man’

If he’d seen the picture when you’d sent it, he wouldn’t be thinking straight for the rest of his time over seas. No thoughts. Head empty. Just bending you over one of the armrests and biting down on your shoulder as you’re crying out his name.

And that’s exactly what he did when he saw you.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

Oh honey, even though your text said ‘your eyes only’ he shrugged and figured no one was around to see so he opened it and his face went hot so fast, he barely had a chance to take a good look before he locked the phone and put it in his pocket.

He backed out of his chair rather clumsily and practically tripped over his feet trying to get to the bathroom

The lock had barely clicked when he dug his phone out of his pocket to get a better look and my god you looked delectable

You were wearing his cap and his jacket, which you left open, with nothing else. You were sitting on the bed in front of the mirror, legs spread, biting your lip, tweaking your nipple with you free hand

‘Wish my man would serve me instead instead.’

He didn’t even bother going back to meet up with everyone else, he just went straight home, he scooped you up in his arms, kissing you for all you’re worth, before placing you on the edge of the bed and dropping to his knees.

And serve you he did.

[i-yap]

I absolute love how you write Jason and your takes on him like yes!! Giving Gomez and Morticia!!! Very much a man written by a woman!!! ANYWAY, I very much agree that he’d likely be with a civilian reader! So what do you think would be the little routines they’d fall into? Like grocery shopping and working out and date nights, like just the little details and minutiae of life that seems totally normal to her but means a whole lot more to him

I love love domestic jason, i love writing him , like he is so perfect i-

Domestic jason x reader

No one else does the chores around your house, unless you want to hire cleaning service, he doesn't.

He likes the simplicity, the domesticity and warmth and closeness and normalness of just being home, cleaning together, one washes the dishes and one dries. One cooks and the other presses shirts on the kitchen counter. making out on top of washing machines or making putting you bed together an impossible task from how he keeps dragging you in for cuddles (or more wink wink)

Man is starved. Like do something as simple as giving him a tissue just as he is about to sneeze, he will die on the spot. like wdym my lovely y/n was noticing me and observed that I was twitching and raising my arms about to sneeze...she knows I exist??

Rather than going "out out", jason loves really simple dates. Bike ride to a bookstore in a different town just because they have the hardcopy with the pretty art version of a book. Or drinking hot chocolate in a crowded cafe but you two are huddled in the corner. Or staying home and cuddling *(and more wink wink)

Also jason has really cold hands so when you just "oof jason why are you hands so cold jesus you should wear gloves no" and pull his hand into your coat pocket or if your at home just tuck it between your thighs even though you yourself are feeling cold.....man is now dead please bring flowers to his grave. Dw the rest of his body runs really hot.

REPEAT WITH ME, IF HE COULD SIT IN A BATHTUB WITH YOU AND WARM WATER FOREVER- HE WOULD KILL EVERY HUMAN AND ANIMAL AND MICROORGANISM ALIVE TO DO IT.

he just really loves baths, its the intimacy , the quiet , the lesseing of the ache in his muscles, you between his arms playing with his fingers or him in your arms with you washin his hair.

With the amount of time you guys spend with each other, you start following a pattern. so when someone sees you do chores together, or something normal together- they are a bit weirded out.

Like you're at a batfam dinner and jason sets your plate and justs takes out peas(or any other vegetable you hate) and puts it on his plate while you simultaneously take out the mushrooms from his plate. Or if someone asks you something and jason is able to answer in full detail ( if you're drunk-sleepy-tired busy cuz he would never interrupt you)

At this rate everyone believes you just have telepathy cuz you guys never even say a word in public but somehow understand each other. what witchery is this?

He just wants to combine your soul with his because even the thought of you brings him peace and man just loves you so much. please give him the love he never got otherwise .

[skzdarlings]

04. sharing a bed series ; skz ; hyunjin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 4/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. penetrative sex n the pull out method lol. also hyunjin n reader were drugged the night before, premise is based around them getting married in vegas under the influence and not remembering how it happened in the morning. drama llama antics ensue.

-

Hyunjin has the heart of a sentimental corvid; he loves his people, but he’s weird and sneaky about it.  His propensity for dramatics is only in certain situations and the rest of the time he is quiet and tends to balk at grand displays.   He definitely does not like cuddling or hugging.  He will only begrudgingly suffer through it when his more physically affectionate friends get the bright idea to attack him with their loving arms. 

So you are wildly confused when you wake up in your hotel room with Hyunjin plastered to you, hugging you so tightly that you are halfway convinced he glued himself there.  His chin is nestled on your shoulder, his breath coming softly against your neck.  The hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled over his head but some of his long blonde hair still falls on your face.  You blow at it unsuccessfully, getting some in your eye.  He holds you tighter.   

What the hell?

You arrived in Las Vegas yesterday and while most of last night is a foggy blur, you do remember the room had two twin beds.  Sure enough, there is a second bed just a few feet from yours, the covers completely untouched.  The neatly made bed is a stark contrast to the mess of your bed: the duvet sliding off the foot, the pillows on the floor, the bedding partially untucked.  All the sheets are wrapped around your body like a cocoon while a shivering Hyunjin clings to you, presumably for warmth.    

You try to roll over but your bedsheet-burrito has you trapped, never mind Hyunjin’s death grip of a spoon. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper.  “I can’t breathe.”

He grumbles and squeezes you, making you squeak.

“Hyunjin,” you say, a bit louder.  “Wake up.”

He groans in his sleep and buries his face further in your neck.  His nuzzling sends shivers shooting down your spine. 

“Hyunjin.”  It comes out like a croak.   You try wriggling your shoulders.  “Hyunjin, wake up!” 

He makes a disgruntled sound but doesn’t move.

“Oh my god,” you say.  “How are you such a bitch even when sleeping? Wake up!” 

When he stays sleeping, you are forced to take drastic action.  You turn your face and blow, hard.   His face scrunches up and he finally stirs. 

“Ew,” he says, slowly blinking his eyes open.  His mouth draws into a sour pout, his brow tight.  “Stop.  Your breath is so disgusting.”

“Ahem.”

He makes a fist and rubs his eyes.   His dark brows are still furrowed but there is modicum of clarity when he looks at you.  It takes a minute to fully register your proximity, his eyes flicking here and there.  Finally, they open wide.  

With remarkable speed, Sleepy Hyunjin concedes leeway to Drama Queen Hyunjin.   He mewls like a frightened cat, ripping away so quickly that it knocks the air out of you with an oof. 

“What—” he starts.

He is interrupted when his thrashing makes him slide.  You are still bundled in your bedsheet-prison and can only watch as the clumsy oaf slides backwards right off the bed.  All those long limbs make a frantic windmill as he shrieks on his way down, hitting the floor with a heavy crash and groan. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Ugh,” he replies.   “My head.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  Well, when you’re done, come help me.”

His hand appears first, thumping onto the messy bed.  His head follows with an exhausted peek over the mattress.  His hood has fallen back and his long hair is infuriatingly neat considering everything.  Hyunjin is so beautiful that it is ridiculous.  All he does is run his long fingers through his hair, shake his head a little, and he looks picture perfect. 

“You’re staring,” he says with a scowl. 

“It’s because you’re so ugly,” you say. 

“Liar,” he says.  He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them.  “I’m sexy and you love me.” 

He is correct, so it is only natural that you try biting him.    

You chomp at him when he approaches, threatening to bite his fingers when they get too close to your face.  He pinches your nose between two knuckles and squeezes.

“Hyunjiiiiin, staaawp,” you say in a nasally whine.

He does, but only after playfully snapping his own jaws in your direction. 

“I should just leave you here and have a peaceful day,” he says.

“I’ll kill you and bury you in the desert.”

“Gross.  Can’t you bury me on the strip?”

“I’m gonna feed your carcass to some desert scorpions.”

“Ew.” 

It takes some effort, but Hyunjin manages to find where your blanket-burrito starts.  He grabs it and tugs like the annoying bimbo he is.  Your protest comes too late and he whips the blanket open, sending you flying off the bed.  You land with a heavy thud of your own. 

“Oops,” he says.  He rustles through the sheets to peer over the edge of the bed.  “Are you okaaaa—whaaaat are you wearing?”

You were already dizzy before Hyunjin decided to throw you around like a human tennis ball, but now it’s even worse. 

You have no idea what happened last night but it clearly involved a hit of something way, way, way stronger than usual.  It takes you a minute to come back to reality.  After shaking your head a few times, you are able to push yourself into a sitting position.  You finally look down.

You freeze. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“That’s what I just—”

“Hyunjin.  What the fuck am I wearing?!”

It is an utterly useless question because it is abundantly obvious that you are wearing a wedding dress.   A big, poofy, princess wedding dress with giant puffed up 1980s sleeves and enough cleavage on display that Hyunjin almost falls off the bed because he is tilting his head so much. 

You yank up the skirt as if that will offer any answers.  You find a pair of white stockings, one still neatly clipped to a thigh garter and the other halfway down your calf.   You stare at that stocking for a long moment, the vaguest recollection of something fighting its way through the fog of your druggy, drunk memory.   

“Uh,” Hyunjin says. 

You look up at him but his eyes are downturned to his own wrist.  You look there, your own eyes widening when you see what he sees. 

Your missing garter is looped around his wrist like a silky white bracelet. 

An image comes flooding back.  The periphery is still in smog, but you distinctly remember Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, gathering his long hair into a ponytail as he smirked up at you.  You remember him lifting your skirt, his head disappearing under the pile of white lace. 

You look at each other at the same time.  Did he just have the same memory?  Does he remember more?  You have no idea and you can’t bring yourself to ask.  Your voice is shot to hell, swallowed up by the heart that seems to have jumped into your throat.   

The silence is tense.  It is hotter than the desert in here. 

“We didn’t…?” he finally says, pointing between the two of you. 

“No way,” you say.  It sounds very uncertain. 

He lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind his ears.  That’s when you see it.  Hyunjin wears so many rings so often that you completely missed it at first.   But right now his hands are bare save for one unfamiliar ring in a very particular spot. 

Hyunjin follows the trajectory of your horrified gaze and freezes when he spots the wedding ring.  He slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  You are afraid to check your own hand but it is imperative.   Hyunjin looks at you, his shocked hand still covering his mouth.  Together, you watch as your hand shakily rises out of the pile of white princess lace. 

There is a wedding ring on your finger too. 

You and Hyunjin scream at the same time, him clapping both hands over his ears as he hollers and you shaking your head and kicking your feet.  After your mini-freak out, you wave your hands to silence him.

“Stop, stop!” you say.  “It’s okay.  Be calm.  Be quiet.  This is okay.”

“We got married,” he wails, dragging his fingers down his face.  “My mom is gonna kill me.” 

“Your mom?  YOUR MOM?  Hyunjin, I’m gonna kill you before you even leave this city, so don’t fucking worry about your mom.”  You mime throttling him because he is too far to reach. 

Hyunjin flops down on the bed.  He lays on his back with his arms folded like he is ready to be mummified. 

“Oh my gawd,” he says.  “Oh my gawwwd…”

“Look, we might not have even done it,” you say.  It takes a lot of effort and you fall on your ass twice, but you manage to stagger ungracefully to your feet.  “Some rings and a dress don’t mean anything.  We were probably just goofing around.  What do you remember?” 

He is still in a mummification pose, his eyes closed.   

“Nothing,” he says.  He frowns.  “No, wait.  You were hitting on some ugly bitch of a man and didn’t listen to me, as usual, and the loser put something in your drink so I drank it to prove a point.  But then you still drank it because you’re the worst, and I dragged you out of there.”  He covers his face with both hands.  “Then we got married and ruined our lives.” 

“Okay, the last part you don’t know for sure,” you say.  You stumble around the bed.  “I’m gonna go wash up and clear my head and sort this out, because there’s no way we—”  You stop when you spy something sitting on the television stand.  It takes a few clumsy steps to reach, but you get there.

“Uh oh,” you say.

“Is that a marriage certificate?”  Hyunjin asks.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.” 

“Cool.”  He rolls over so he is facedown on the bed, his voice muffled by the messy blankets.  “I love this.”

“I’m gonna… go… wash up still,” you stay.  You sigh and gather up your dress to stomp over to the bathroom door. 

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says.  “Your breath is gross.” 

“I hope you suffocate over there and make me a widow.”  You close the door with a pointed shove. 

You want to disobey him on principle, but there is a truly nasty taste in your mouth so you brush your teeth before anything else.  You avoid your reflection for as long as possible because the crazed madwoman in the mirror is a terrifying sight to behold. 

You reckon with her monstrous appearance eventually, tidying up as best you can.   You remove the stockings and garter, gulping when the memory returns.  You splash a lot of cold water on your face and it helps ground you. 

Just as you begin to feel cleansed, you feel an itch on your throat.  You crane your neck and tentatively touch the sensitive indentation, the raised bruising of a hickey.   Touching it awakens another memory, one that strikes hot at your core. 

Hyunjin.  You.  This hotel room.  He pressed you against the door and caged you in, forearms on either of your head.  Despite his presence looming over you, you did not feel nervous.   You touched him as if that intimacy was something you always shared.  You remember him cupping your face in one hand and turning your head, him kissing you softly on your temple and cheek, him breathing lightly over your throat before sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  He was all teeth and tongue, drawing moans out of you while you bucked against him.   You remember him grinding against you, remember him pinning you to the door.   You remember stringing your arms around his neck and him picking you up, then it all goes black again.   

You turn away from the mirror, still holding your neck. 

Did you… no.

Did you?

No.

You didn’t fuck Hyunjin.  No way.  You would have remembered that much.  If nothing else, there would be evidence now.  A used condom or a mess somewhere, a twinge between your legs.  You are both fully dressed.  You even have underwear on.  It’s not the underwear you were wearing when you first left the hotel room, but it is underwear nonetheless. 

One thing is certain; you did not go that far. He took a bite out of you and carried you to the bed where you probably passed out.  How you got into a blanket-burrito, you are not sure, but at least it protected your dignity.  Whatever was left of it, at least. 

You step out of the bathroom only to walk straight into a pacing Hyunjin.   You bonk heads and cuss each other out, swatting the other person out of your way. 

He walks over to the bathroom and is about to step inside when you release a sigh. 

“I have a hickey,” you say.   

He pauses in the bathroom doorway. 

“You gave it to me,” you add. 

You cross your arms when he turns around, his gaze suddenly too hard to meet.  You tap your foot and stare at the wall. 

“I know,” he says.  “I remember it.” 

That draws your attention.  You look right at him and plant your hands on your hips. 

“Well, what else do you remember?” you ask. 

“I—I—ugh!  This is so annoying!  Ugh!”  He grabs his head and shakes it like a snow globe. 

His stupid beautiful hair is barely ruffled and he still looks amazing when he surfaces.  He runs his teeth over his plump bottom lip and you suddenly remember him grabbing your face with both hands, him smiling at you as a hot breeze fluttered around you, him holding you steady as he planted a big, wet kiss on you.  It makes your whole body lock with tension, barely paying attention to the Hyunjin in front of you now, the Hyunjin on the verge of a meltdown as he intentionally smacks his head against the doorway. 

“We came back here,” he says.  His whole face is scrunched up with disgust like he just ate something bad.  “Then I gave you that.”  He slaps a hand over his face.  “Then you… tried…”  He puts the other hand on his face too.

“I tried what?” you ask, heat creeping your neck. 

“You put your hand down my pants,” he croaks, hands over his eyes.  “I said we should wait until morning and you started crying.  I think you tried to give me a lap dance while crying, actually.”  That does sound like you, drugged or not.  “Then I…”  He points to the messy bed.  “I wrapped you in the sheet to protect your honour.”   

“My honour?  Ewwww.  Don’t call it that.”

“I’m gonna go drown myself in the shower.” 

“Hyunjin, wait.”

Once more, you stop him before he crosses the door.  He sighs and his shoulders deflate.  Pushing a hand through his hair, he turns around.

“What?” he says. 

“I’ll take care of this, okay,” you say gently.  “We weren’t ourselves.  Thank you… for taking care of me.  Seriously.” 

He sniffs and looks aside, the tips of his ears turning red.  You try to ignore the pitter-patter of your heart.  

“It’s Vegas,” you say.  “I bet they have drive-through divorces.  I’m just… I’m just sorry this happened.” 

“You are?” he says, staring at the ground. 

“Of course,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster.  “Hyunjin, I know you.  You’re a goofy old romantic.  I’m sure you’re not happy about your first technical marriage happening while you were drugged up, and to someone you don’t even love.  Right?”

He looks a little panicked when he meets your gaze.  It flashes in his eyes for a second, then he looks away.  He crosses his arms protectively over his chest.    

“Hyunjin,” you say.  It feels like someone just lit fireworks in your chest.  “You… don’t… love me, right?” 

There is a long moment of silence then he throws both hands in the air. 

“Why do you say it like that?” he demands.  “Would it be that bad if I did?”

“What.” Your jaw falls open.  “You love me?”   

“Unfortunately, yes.  Sorry for inconveniencing you with my goofy romantic feelings.”  He snarls at you.  “It just happened.  If I could have stopped it, I would have, but I can’t.  So live with it.” 

“What kind of love confession is this?  You’ve watched like a million romance dramas and that’s what you come up with?”

“I’m a painter, not a poet.  Good-bye.”  He is quick this time, jumping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.   

It leaves you standing there, jaw still hanging open. 

Hyunjin loves you. 

Of course Hyunjin loves you.  How could you be so stupid?  All this time, you had yourself convinced your best friend was unattainable because he’s the most gorgeous creature on earth, but all this time he loved you and you didn’t even notice.   He drank a drugged drink just to protect you.  He got a bit nutty in the head and married you, but even at his most fucked up, some intrinsic part of him sprung to your defense.  No matter how out of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially hurt you. 

Oh my god.  

Hyunjin loves you.  You love Hyunjin. 

You are pacing when Hyunjin exits the bathroom and smacks into you.  You bonk heads and curse, again, then he brushes past without saying anything more.  You watch him go to the clean bed, watch him fold back the covers.   He takes off his hoodie and his pants.  Despite how many times you have casually dressed down around each other, this time you find yourself looking away, hot in the face.   When you look back, he is in a t-shirt and his boxers, sliding under the covers. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Going back to sleep,” he says.  “I’m tired.”  

He doesn’t look at you once.  He rolls onto his side and faces the wall, laying stiff as a board. 

You touch a finger to the mark on your neck and shiver.

“Hyunjin,” you say, to which he just grunts in reply.  “I want to sleep too.  I’m sorry, but can you help me with the dress?” 

He exhales and closes his eyes, shoulders dropping, but then he flips the covers down and gets out of bed.   He still doesn’t meet your gaze.   His strides are long and quick and, before you can blink, he is in front of you. 

You open your mouth to speak but he grabs you and spins you around.  It feels like an electric zap from your heart to your pussy, hands instinctively clutching your chest in surprise. 

You can feel him fiddling with a few buttons, muttering expletives to himself.   

He is still wearing the ring.  So are you. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly.  “I love you too.” 

He has his fingers on the zipper.  He stops. 

“What?” he asks.  He stops touching you entirely so you look back at him.  He is tucking hair behind both ears, shaking his head.  “Don’t just… say it,” he says, still staring sideways.  “That’s worse than not hearing it.” 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  At least he looks at you this time, even if it is with uncharacteristic uncertainty.  You smile at him.  “Unzip me please.” 

You turn back around, chewing on your bottom lip.  

It takes a second, but Hyunjin does what you asked.  You feel one hand on your back, the other circling the zipper.  He tugs it down slowly and you shiver as the cool air conditioned air kisses your back.  His fingers brush your bare skin when releasing the zipper.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing back at him. 

He nods curtly and spins around.  You smile, watching him march back to the bed.   You turn your back to him when you let the dress drop, then you remove your bra.  His open luggage is nearby so you slip a t-shirt out of the suitcase.  It smells like him, his favourite cologne, and that alone gets you hot.  

With a final tug on the hem of the t-shirt, you turn and walk up to the bed he is in.  He is sitting upright but under the covers, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he stares at you. 

“Can I sleep here too?” you ask.  “The other bed is a mess.”

He nods.  A second ago, he refused to look at you and now he can’t stop staring.  It makes you grin, beaming at him as you slide under the covers. 

“You’re staring,” you say. 

“I’m not,” he lies, still staring at you.  He slumps against the headboard and slides down until he is laying flat.  His hair pools around him on the pillow.  Ridiculously gorgeous man. 

You lean over him, staring back.  You rest a hand on his chest and can feel his heart palpitating as quickly as your own. 

“You are staring,” you say, then giggle a little because his expression is still wide-eyed.  “You look like you’ve never seen a woman in bed before, and I know that’s not true.”   

You say it jokingly but he doesn’t laugh.  He tilts his head, his expression softening.  His tongue touches his upper lip then he smiles at you. 

“Not like this,” he says with heart-stopping sincerity.  “Not you.  Not… my wife.” 

Oh god.   People always act like there is something supremely unsexy about wife or husband, some stagnant nothingness that kills sex appeal.  But the second he says that word, it feels like an electric storm ignites between the two of you.   His gaze is dark, his breathing hard, his heart still pounding under your palm.  You suck in a deep breath, a shuddering release.  You are already aching. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. 

His hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.  It passes over your bottom lip and tugs at it.  It feels like you have a heartbeat between your legs. 

“Fuck,” you say, and swing yourself over him. 

He makes a noise the second you are straddling him, both his hands dropping to hold your hips.   You lean down, your hands on either side of his head.  His eyes are already closed when you start kissing him.  You rock against him, feel him getting harder in his boxers as his hands run up and down your thighs. 

The kiss breaks for a second, just to breathe, and he sighs. 

“Good,” he says.  “You brushed your teeth.”

“You are soooo…”  You try to sound annoyed but it’s impossible.  He laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth.  “Ughhh, the worst!” 

You roll off him as if you have any intention of denying him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to tease him.   He just follows, rolling on top of you so it’s you pinned under him, the weight of him between your open legs.   He goes right back to kissing you, taking his time, almost torturously slow while pressed so intimately against you.  He licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, steals your breath and comes back for more. 

“Hyunjin.”  You are out of breath.  You grab his face with both hands, gasping against his open mouth. 

“Mm?” he replies, pecking your lips. 

A part of you thinks you could lie in bed all day doing nothing but kiss Hyunjin.  Just a small part.  The rest of you is burning up with the need for much, much more. 

“Make love to me,” you whisper.  His breath stutters.  “Please,” you say.

He nods frantically.  If you weren’t so hazy with want, it might have made you laugh.  As it is, you string your arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss.  This one gets heated quickly, wet and sloppy and pressed messily to the corner of your mouths, your hands moving over each other, trying to find the hems of your shirts without breaking apart. 

It happens in a frenzy, but you somehow get down to just your underwear.  His boxers land on the lamp and the shirts could have flown out the window for all that you care.  He is laving kisses all over your body and you are so wound up that you get a little teary, arching under him and tugging on his hair. 

“Hyunjin, please,” you say, dragging your nails up his back.  “I need you.”

He looks up at you.  You smile and bite your lower lip.

“I need my husband,” you say.

You are pretty sure you can visibly see his brain short-circuiting.   The next second, he is fully above you, pulling your panties down your hips.  It stays hooked around one ankle but the thought of it leaves your mind quickly.   He slides his hands under your thighs and spreads you open, leaning down to kiss you as he finally eases inside you.   

You both look down at where he inside you.  It feels like your clit is jumping for attention, your whole body shaking when he gently rubs you there while sinking fully in. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself once he fully inside you.  He closes his eyes and breathes a little harder.  “Don’t move,” he says.  He leans down so his chest is against yours, your faces close.  “If you do, this is gonna be over really quickly.”

“Really?” you say with a giggle, pleased he is as unravelled as you. 

He just nods, his eyes still closed.  You kiss his cheek and hold the back of his neck, stroking there lightly and giving him a minute. 

“Feels good,” you say, because it does, even just like this, pressed so tightly together, him so full and hard inside you. 

He just groans, dropping his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder.  You rake your fingers through the hair at his nape when he rocks a testing thrust into you.  You have only just adjusted when those hips starting rocking with fluid determination, rolling steady and deep.  He feels almost impossibly good inside you, driving you into the mattress again and again. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, putting both arms around his neck and clinging tight.  “Hyunjin.”

He just makes noise, unintelligible sounds that make him sound crazy despite how deftly he is moving.  You feel a bit crazy yourself, blinking at him with your mouth open when he lifts his head.   He kisses you, swallowing up your gasping moans, and presses his forehead to yours.  For someone who claimed to be close, he lasts a long time at a steady pace, the subtle, corded muscles of his slender frame holding taut as he moves. 

“Touch yourself,” he says, and kisses you without waiting for an answer. 

You kiss him back, very messily at that, but you do what he said.  You lick your fingertips and slide that shaking hand between your bodies, getting yourself off just seconds before his hips get erratic and he has to pull out.  He strokes himself to completion just over you, coming on your thighs.  He manages to reserve his strength long enough to gather you in his arms and roll over.  He guides you to rest on top of him, your face in his sweaty neck and your rising-and-falling chest against his own. 

“Why haven’t we been doing that for years?” you mumble. 

He laughs, his hand flying to his face to cover his mouth while he giggles.   The ring catches your eye and you reach for that hand.   He gets quiet, watching you. 

You lace your fingers with his, looking at the ring then looking up at him. 

“We’re a little crazy if we stay like this,” you say. 

He leans in and kisses you for so long that you almost forget what you were saying.  You remember when he smiles down at you, when he squeezes your hand, when he leans in and says, “That’s okay.  I like a little crazy.” 

In agreement, you smile back. 

[girlygguk]

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

pairing needy!jk x needy!oc

content needy drabble, 600 words of pure filth, wet handjob, praise, mentions of tiddy sucking, whiny n subby koo, overstim, jk believes in God for a second

a/n oop, sorry for the wait anonnie, i may have dozed off 😭 i wrote this realllly quick & it’s not finished shgjfsdh but my eyes hurt so i thought i’d just post what i have for now since i promised u and finish it another time 😿 rahh sorry baby!!! when i finish it, i promise it’ll actually get to them talking abt free use LMFAOO 😭 love you <3

“oof, well done, bunny.” your voice was soft and teasing as you praised him, your hand still lazily stroking up and down his sticky, softening cock as the cum poured over your hand. jungkook shuddered under your touch, his hips giving little, involuntary jerks at the overstimulation.

“th-th-ah,” he tried to stammer out a thank you, but the words came out strained, choked off by his ragged breaths. your hand hadn’t stopped, your fingers still gliding over the sensitive, red head of his dick, slick with his cum. the sight alone was enough to make you clench around nothing.

you were perched comfy on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of cute pink lace panties he’d helped you pick out from victoria’s secret last week, your legs tucked under you while your free hand rested lightly against his chest. the big t-shirt of his you’d been wearing earlier was now discarded somewhere on the floor, tangled in a pile with his shirt and trousers, and your nipples were still swollen and sensitive from his relentless sucking while you workked him to his second orgasm a few minutes ago.

jungkook's black briefs were pushed down just enough to expose his thick, swollen cock, and you couldn’t help but smile as your gaze flickered over him. he looked utterly wrecked, his glasses slightly askew on his flushed face, his messy, ever-growing hair falling over his forehead. his head was tilted back against the headboard, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

what a delicious fucking sight.

“baby, p-please…” he whimpered softly, but you knew he didn’t really want you to stop. the word was algebra if either of you wanted to hit pause. and as much as you hate the word and everything it means, you knew that if he ever needed to, he'd say it. you'd pinky sworn on that.

the sound of his cum squelching with every deliberate stroke of your hand filled the room, making the thumbing ache between your inner thighs even stronger.

jungkook’s hips gave another shaky jerk, and you felt his fingers flex against your bare thigh. his desperate little whines sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making your nose scrunch at his cuteness as you leaned closer, your lips brushing his jawline.

“you’re so good for me, bunny,” you whispered, your voice low, dripping with affection and love. his breath hitched, and his eyes flutteresd open just enough to meet yours. “letting me do anything i want to you, hm, cutie?”

his big boba eyes were glazed, exertion and pleasure pouring from them so vividly you could almost see his irises dilate. his head nodded incessantly as your hand picked up its pace, the slickness making every stroke so effortless. the pink flush on his cheeks deepened to a fiery red as his eyes rolled back again, his jaw tilting toward the ceiling.

jeon jungkook was a man of science. a man of logic and fact. he’d never been one to believe in gods or divine intervention. but right now? the only explanation for what he was feeling was that you were either an angel or the fucking devil, and he wasn’t sure if his one-way ticket was going up or fucking down.

“ah, lovie, ahh, f-fuck,” he whined, his sweaty hips bucking up, his cock slipping wetly through your grip. the way your small hand squeezed around his thick length had his throat tightening, a breathy string of curses and high-pitched whimpers spilling from his lips.

it was so noisy, so nasty, so fucking hot.

perm taglist @joonwater @fr0ggieth1nk @junecat18 @kooeuphoria @whoa-jo @apobangpogirlyyy @lovieku @elinaki92 @crazy-eight17 @vantaebearr @photogenius-530 @parapiop7

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.  Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry. 

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do. 

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this. 

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max. 

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be. 

The line remains quiet. 

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.” 

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak. 

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall. 

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well. 

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind. 

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you. 

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead. 

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms. 

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too. 

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak. 

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first. 

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve. 

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should. 

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss. 

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this. 

So Steve doesn’t lie to him. 

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do. 

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against. 

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him. 

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest. 

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

– 

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes. 

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!” 

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy. 

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed. 

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you. 

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one. 

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand. 

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly. 

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.” 

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,” you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy. 

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning. 

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. 

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

– 

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out. 

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house. 

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others. 

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air. 

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time. 

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground. 

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you. 

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision. 

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house. 

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard. 

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?” 

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon. 

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear. 

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose. 

Out through your mouth. 

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more. 

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this. 

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you. 

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice. 

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag. 

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else. 

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely. 

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?” 

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again. 

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs. 

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!” 

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.” 

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.” 

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side. 

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders. 

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead. 

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!” 

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her. 

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say. 

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair. 

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him. 

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time. 

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise. 

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid. 

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it. 

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now. 

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend. 

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss. 

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.” 

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand. 

– 

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares. 

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way. 

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to. 

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now. 

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach. 

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby. 

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it. 

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice. 

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna. 

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on. 

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase. 

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored. 

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose. 

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on. 

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together. 

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious. 

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation. 

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.” 

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode. 

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin. 

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up sometime around two, stumbling over to Arts & Crafts. He looks so incredibly, adorably sleepy, face creased with pillow marks and hair sticking out everywhere even worse than usual, that Nico can’t help his smile.

“Morning,” he says quietly, shifting over in the bench to make room. “Or, well, afternoon.”

“Mmfh,” Will responds. He sways on his feet, eyes still closed, so Nico has reach back and take his hand, guiding him to the seat Nico cleared for him.

“Still sleepy?”

Instead of answering, Will slumps onto his shoulder. Nico tenses for a moment, but quickly relaxes — Will is out of it. He’s a heavy weight on Nico’s side, and his breath comes out in little puffs; he’s halfway to snoring. He sets aside the clay sculpture he was making, wiping off his hands, and shifts slightly to make his shoulder more comfortable, sliding his hands in Will’s hair. After a quick glance to double check that no one’s around, he cards through the matted curls, carefully untangling the birds nest that sits currently upon his head.

“Night shift was long?”

Will groans, nuzzling deeper into Nico’s neck. Nico huffs, allowing it, turning his half-limp body so he’s practically sitting on top of him. It’s kind of a nice weight, actually. And Will is warm, slumped and half-sprawled in his lap like a freckly blanket.

“Got thrown up on three times.”

It takes Nico a second to decipher the words, mumbled as they are. His finger gets caught in a strand of Will’s hair as he winces, tugging a touch too hard. Will shivers.

“Oof.”

“Mhm. Shouldn’t complain, though. Not Cecil’s fault.” He pauses. “Well, it’s a little his fault. I told him not to mess with Billie’s garden.”

Nico smiles. “You know, it’s not the first time a Hermes kid has been poisoned for their dumbassery. You could’ve left his cabin to handle him.”

“They would do a horrible job. They might actually make him worse.”

“Yep.”

“…I can’t leave him to suffer, Neeks.”

“Hero complex,” Nico teases. “Sounds like a natural consequence to me.”

“Shhhh. I’m sleeping.”

“It’s two thirty in the afternoon, Solace.”

“Pot, kettle, et cetera.”

Nico smiles. “Only dorky people say et cetera when they’re half asleep.” He shifts, accepting that he has a lapful of head medic, now, no refunds or exchanges. It’s still, somehow, very comfortable — he feels as if he’s laying in a sun patch, under a warm, heavy blanket. Plus, Will smells like strawberries and lavender and his sandalwood shampoo. Nico could get used to it.

He does, however, subtly raise a couple skeleton to stand guard outside the gazebo — no need to get anyone gossiping. As cute as a sleepy Solace is, Nico can and will shove him to the ground the second anyone gets too close. He has a Reputation.

(He is a liar.)

“Did I miss the strawberry coffee cake this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Aw.”

Nico hums, untangling the last of his hair. Without anything for his hands to do, he slides them under Will’s hoodie, resting them in his stomach, ignoring his whining and exaggerated shiver at Nico’s ice-cold hands.

If Nico is going to function as his personal bean-bag chair, Will is going to function as his space heater. Fair’s fair.

“Saved a piece for you, though.”

He feels Will’s grin more than sees it, twisted up as they are. He feels his happy little wiggle, too, arms flailing before wrapping around Nico’s waist, thighs shifting before re-bracketing his hips.

“You’re my actual favourite.”

“Hm. I think you say that to all the boys you save you strawberry cake and let you nap on them.”

“Nah.” Will’s breathing starts to slow, body stilling as he rests his head right about Nico’s heart. He can feel his puffs of breath in his collarbone, tickling the skin under his thin t-shirt. “Just you.”

Nico flushes, more pleased than he’s willing to admit, and rests his chin on his head, watching over the strawberry fields. He checks that Will is actually asleep, and when he is, he presses a quick, darting kiss to his still-creased cheek, and smiles.

“You’re my favourite, too.”

[jolalibrary]

let me worship

francisco "frankie" morales x ofc!reader | collection masterlist

summary: frankie's back, and he's desperate to have his face between your legs.

pairing: pre-tf/delta squad francisco morales x ofc!reader (has a name but nicknamed blue) chapter kink: pussy worship. warnings: smut. pussy worship. pussy pronouns. nickname is given by frankie. no y/n. no physical descriptions. oral (f!receiving). frankie paints you... wordcount: 3.8k an: this is a collection, so you can read any of the kinks and still understand what's going off after the meeting (aka the first part posted). huge thank you to @pedgito for doing whoregust with me, and for filling me with confidence as always. shoutout @luxurychristmaspudding for the shrieks and the cheers.

Frankie's knuckles have barely finished knocking when the door yanks open.

The breeze from it causes the skirt of your dress to flutter around your calves, your face all initially blank, before it stretches into a smile, a grin—wide, all full of light and brightness that seems to dilute all the stuff he’s carrying.

It’s all Frankie can do to stand in it, drown in it. Soak every last part of him in it as he silently hopes it has the same healing effects as being in the actual sun.

Gently, you lean, eyes firmly on him, smile sliding into a cheek as your elbow rests on the door frame. He adjusts the plain baseball cap on his head—the one picked up, no thought, not even sure where it came from—as he drags his eyes up and down you.

Letting them warm you, hoping they are.

He also hopes you’ve been thinking about him, as much as he’s been thinking about you.

Because it’s been occasional texts, nothing overzealous, but plenty to know you had meant your second goodbye to him last time. The same one as when he’d almost left before dragging you back to your bed, when the only breaks had been for the bathroom and eating slices of the obnoxiously large pizza you’d ordered for nutrition.

“Morales.”

“Blue.”

It’s then vanilla hits him, followed by something sweeter. Two scents he remembers instantly from last time, ones that clung to him when he’d left—lingered in his jacket, in his jeans. Unwilling to wash them from him for as long as possible.

It makes his chest tighten at the familiarity, at the way his shoulders loosen instantly.

He suspects it’s why, the moment he’d been able to and had a clear idea of when he’d be finished, he’d messaged.

Typed one-handed that he was free now if you are—your reply coming before he’d slammed the passenger door closed behind his duffel. Spinning his phone in his hand before throwing it under the radio, turning the dial as his tyres kicked up dirt behind him.

“Should thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

You smile, teeth showing, tongue sweeping over the tips of your bottom set. “I passed my exam.”

“You gonna invite me in then?”

Biting your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing, you smile. “What’s the magic word?”

Snorting, and shaking his head, he waits. Six-letters sitting pretty on the tip of his tongue, fingers itching to grab your waist and pull you close.

You beat him to it. Fist balled up in his tee, the other hand looping around his neck, crashing your mouth to his as you drag him flush to you. With more strength than he counts on, making him drop his bag once inside and kick your door shut behind him.

Once his hands were free, they roamed. Reunited, slid around your waist as he grasped at the excess fabric of your dress at the base of your spine.

“Someone’s needy.”

“Vibrator broke two days ago,” you reply between kisses, smirking, pressing it to his mouth. “Glad you could be on call for me.”

He grunts, almost snarling. Perfectly justified he thinks as he manoeuvres you. Allowing him to lead, steer, and angle, until the backs of your knees are at the cushion, and he gives you one light shove. It’s a picture, watching your face shift into surprise. Landing with an oof, mouth parted in shock as your body bounces.

Frankie’s quick to remove the cap, to scratch at the hair close to his forehead. The one that’s a little longer than it should be—the downfall and evidence that he’s been off base longer than he should have been. Not that it matters now. Frankie’s here, with you.

That itch that refused to be scratched by stroking his cock in the shower, from grunting into his own pillow when he was alone, flared. The need, the one burrowed inside of him, a heat that has only fermented and twisted inside of him, not starved off by fucking his own fist, is all but roaring again.

“Spread your legs for me.”

“Why?”

Tracing his teeth with his tongue, he stares, ogles, gawks. “Wanna taste you—properly, this time.”

“Yeah? Gonna fuck me with your tongue, Morales. Make her all wet, messy?”

He almost groans. Almost.

Only able to hold off when your chin tilts up and you stare, dropping your knees as far down to opposite sides of your couch, fingers tugging up the skirt of your dress—not breaking eye contact. Not becoming shy or flustered. Not visibly, anyway.

Fuck, he doesn’t even need to get close to see the wet patch already on the gusset of your panties. The sign of arousal that makes him one to dive his face between your soft thighs and taste it through the cotton.

Because he remembers how perfect you are, he can recall the taste as easily as he can how tight you felt when you came around him sometime between two and four in the afternoon the day after you took him home with you. Just like how he sees how perfect you are with water cascading down your thighs when he dreams, sees it behind his lids when he closes them for a moment of reprieve.

Kneeling, he ignores the way his cargo pants protest at his thighs—the seams digging into his skin as you can only watch, keeping those hungry, pretty eyes on him as he watches you swallow.

“Not even touched you.”

You can only hum, fingers playing with the end of your dress, swallowing again a second later before you inhale when he slides his palms up your thighs.

“This where you want me, Blue?”

You seem to coyly smile at the nickname, leaning yourself further into your cushions as his fingers toy with the band of your panties—nodding, a little up and down with your head.

“Another time,” he begins, hooking a finger on either side before you lift your hips to help, dragging the fabric down, “I’m gonna make you come with these still on. But not today.”

He’s unable to not smirk when he balls them up and discards them to an undisclosed corner. Dropping his gaze, finding his cockiness momentarily stolen—

Because fuck, you’re already wet, glistening. Your breath hitches as he places his palms on your knees, thumbs drawing soft, gentle shapes as you shift your hips—a thing he stops, halts, with just a look.

Good girl he wants to say, but instead places a kiss to your inner thigh. His gaze flicks up, watching your chest rise, making the fabric strain over your breasts, those perfect pair he’d run the soap over last time, slathered with kisses when he got you back into the sheets, when he’d sunk back into you. When you’d keened, arched, fucking pleaded with him as you were already clenching as though you were close—

“You know, she’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

It slips out. Knees digging into your floor, as though he’s confessing. Spilling truths. Running his fingers over your inner thighs as he leans, dipping his head—

“If you mean that, you won’t keep her waiting.”

He cocks his head, blowing out a slow breath as he watches you shift.

And he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, it echoing in the silence as you continue to stare. Stern, challenging and bold. Three things you’re masking over the mist which threatens to boil over, already knowing one kiss, one finger would have you pleading, arching—

He chooses not to tease. A choice he makes, because he's desperate. Having longed, imagined, dreamed. 

Another time, he thinks. Adding it to the list, the one only in his head as he closes the gap and offers one slow, first drag of his tongue. And the broken noise you emit from your throat makes him half-hard. Your hand clenches at a cushion, digging your nails into the fabric, making it crease under your grip as your chin lifts. Then, you whine, repeatedly so when he flicks his tongue against your nerves, swirling a circle, another shape, drawing them out like he’s being tested over, and over again.

All he can think is that you taste good.

A thing he had known but finds himself reminded of, able to savour it, take it all in. Less rushed, more to prove now he’s got you spread, that you’re at his mercy, that you’ve let him back in another time. He moans at the realisation, a thing which makes you whimper from the vibrations as he continues to taste, all but desperate to stain his tongue in you. Wanting to wake up and still taste you. Knowing full well memories are not good enough, not serving him well. He’d only allowed himself a little last time, but today he hopes to be drowning in you. That you embed into his skin, into the faint hair that tries to grow as he presses his palms against the underside of your thighs, forcing you apart, spread.

“This mess all for me?”

You whimpering, soft, eyelashes fluttering.

“You know how this works, Blue. Is this all for me?” he repeats, blowing out intentional cool breath, directly over where you’re slick and glistening.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He smirks, before pressing a kiss to your mound. “Can’t wait to taste it all. Lick it all up. Fuck, you have the perfect pussy for pressing my mouth to…”

Whining, your hips try to grind against his mouth—earning just air and breath, blown out as he laughs. “Can’t—can’t say shit like that, Frankie.”

“No?” he whispers, blowing the word out, fingers spreading your folds, teasing, taunting. “What if I say you look so pretty with your thighs spread, baby?”

“Fuck…”

He keeps one hand on your thigh, tapping as you try to close them, as he uses the other to part you, to tease you, to trace the hole that clenches for him. Tracing, and tracing, before he slides one finger in—earning a moan, more wanton, a cry—as he’s enveloped by velvety warmth.

“I fisted my cock thinking about you, Blue. How you feel wrapped around me—even imagined how you’d look sat on my face. Fuck. You’d look so good. Your perfect pussy on my face. Thighs on either side of me. You’d be a queen. My queen.”

Curling in a second finger, thick, stretching you as he pushes in deep as you hiss, a depraved noise leaving you as your drop to his shoulder, leaving half-moons on as you stare, pleading—fucked, already looking desperate.

Frankie only speeds his fingers up. Wrapping his lips around your slit, the sounds of his wet and thick, crooked fingers finding that spot inside of you that makes you incoherent, a fucked out mess—

And his cock is straining, pressing uncomfortably—almost painfully—against his zipper.

“Could come like this, you know? That’s how pretty you look—how fucking good you taste.”

“Frankie.”

He has to lift, using one hand to undo them, needing to release some pressure—

“Touch yourself, Frankie.”

He doesn’t freeze, but he slows. Lifting his face, your eyes blown, dripping your gaze in lust.

“Show me what you did in the shower.”

He smirks.

A thing which seems to make you only moan when he thrusts his fingers in as far as he can, the noise drenching him, thighs beginning to shake as your hands came to rest on your knees to starve it off.

“You make the best noises for me.”

“Frankie, please—”

You barely finish your thought when he licks a stripe up his palm, wrapping it around his cock as he dips his head. It’s in tandem that he presses his mouth against you—nose inhaling you, alternating between flicking, lapping and sucking—as he begins to fuck his hand. His tongue licking up everything you’re giving him, feeling it on his chin, on the tip of his nose as loud, wicked noises fill the small space. All accompanied by your breaths, quick, frantic.

“Doing so good for me, baby. You know that?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You crack an eye open, staring at him, admiring from the looks of it. Committing the sight of him on his knees, mouth buried against your pussy, hand around his cock. “I—I like that.”

“This?” he asks, before his nose brushes against your clit, before his tongue flicks.

“Yes—but-fuck—when you call me that.”

He smirks, pressing it against you, curling his fingers as his tongue swirls over your clit again. Alternating, changing the movements, spotting your toes curling in the air, that your hips are finding a pace, seeking a rhythm as he pulls his fingers free, wraps his mouth around them, tastes the tang of your need as he groans.

“Need you to come on my tongue.”

Thumb pressing to your clit, mouth latching, side of his thumb abutting his nose as his tongue pushes inside of you. Groaning, moaning against you.

“Feel so good, taste even better. No one is better. Just you, fuck only you, baby—”

He knows he’s going on, practically babbling. His fist works his cock as he lathers each compliment against you, alternating, from tongue to fingers, to fingers to lips. Taking in a glance, a sight he’s thought of, dreamt of, all come true as your fingers tangle in his short hair, nails dragging along his scalp.

“Close, close—fuck, m’close.”

Your hips rock into his mouth as you paint the air in drawn-out, guttural pleas as he increases his pace, feeling your body tensing.

“That’s it, fucking so pretty right now. Love how you taste, baby. So good for me…”

And you're panting, moaning. All high-pitched like music to his ears—watching, looking up as your head throws back, teeth biting down on your lip as you choke out his name. Your breath is ragged, strained; your hips stagger before you clench around his tongue.

Then you snap. Coming into his mouth. His face is slick with it—all welcomed, forever savoured. Lapping up every drop as he guides and pushes you through it, all the while working his cock. Not stopping, not until your fingers loosen both on his head and your leg, quivering, shaking. The softest sob bleeds into a protesting mutter of too much as his mouth presses a kiss to your inner thigh as your lashes flutter open and embalm him in lust.

Frankie slides his hand from your core, massaging your other leg, head lifting, half-resting on your knee as you catch your breath.

“So perfect,” he repeats, “so fuckin’ perfect.”

And he’s close, strangled groans as it ebbs inside of him, building and building. Liquid fire spreading out and ready to burst inside of him as he loses his rhythm, hurtling—

“Where?”

“Right here,” you point. “Make me messier.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fu—

His mind blanks. Finds himself only able to focus on what his hand is doing and what yours is doing, as you play, as you tease your own slick across your pussy. Hips thrusting, teeth grit as his eyes clench shut and it hits him, slams into him, erodes everything for a moment as he hears only the grunt ripped from his throat and the white noise of how hard he comes.

Then nothing.

Nothing.

The room both pauses and spins all at once.

Before soft touches guide him back, a gentle palm against his cheek, eyes blinking open to see you staring at him, dress pulled up under your breasts and the rest of you painted in him.

Your smile is lop-sided, your chest still rising and falling. “Think y’missed me.”

Snorting, breathing ragged, he lowers onto his knees, hand still around his softening cock. “Missed your pussy.”

“Yeah,” you exclaim, breathless, head rolling as you lean back, forearm to your head. “Well, I missed your cock, too. Think you should let me show you.”

He considers it.

Thinks of your lips around his cock, taking him again, the chance to feel himself in your throat again, to have your eyes staring up at him.

“Think you owe me one more first,” he whispers, fingers sliding up and down your inner thigh as you tremble, jerk and shake. “But, maybe, we should order food, shower… then…”

“You staying for a bit, then?”

“If you want me to.”

And you smirk, sly, before you nod.

You wonder if you should be concerned about how quickly time flies with him.

How normal it is.

It feels less like half a day he’s been here and rather a week. A similar feeling to the last time he was here—the first time. When the only reason the two of you knew time had passed was the grumbling of stomaches and the various times of the day you both stirred awake in your sheets.

Now, the afternoon has bled into the night, and it should make you worried. But, you’re finding it hard to linger in negative when your thighs have shaken thrice—jaw still aching from spending time on your knees in your shower until the water had cooled.

There’s no rulebook for this, and no plan for the rest of it, the after. It wasn’t something you do, or usually desired, a thing you’d told him. So much so, even when you’d let it slip to friends, when you’d confessed what you’d gotten up to that last weekend he was here, they looked at you with open-mouth surprise.

Just happened, you’d explained. A truth—one that others found hard to swallow with the same ease as you’d said it.

“How has work been?”

It catches you off guard, almost makes you choke on your noodles.

Reminding you of the reality outside of his visit, outside of the few text messages he’d sent—ones you’d not expected, but found yourself eagerly waiting for the next. Can I see you again? Your body had buzzed and tingled when you’d replied, and then his name flashed up again. Broken flirting spread over days that shifted into weeks, the last before today being yours: Hope you’re not flying and texting?

Somehow, you’d convinced yourself you wouldn’t see him.

But he’s here, palm flat against your lower leg, the ones splayed out over his on the floor. He runs the tips of each finger over your bare skin, all calloused touches, as though it’s normal, a thing he’s done before. Sliding his grip out across your flesh while your hands are busy—one holding your container, the other using your chopsticks as you slurp up a bit of noodle.

“Don’t.”

“What? Friends know things like that.”

Your eyes roll, tilting your head. “You don’t even know if I have a middle name.”

“Do you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you smirk. Then you drop your stare down at your food, at the liquid in the corner and the noodles swimming in it.

“When do you have to go?”

“Not tonight.”

Smirking, tongue clicking you shuffle your hips on the floor—knees bent slightly, still a little sore, but all worth it. Twisting your chopsticks, you hover a portion close to his mouth, watching, finding his eyes staring, sinking into you, those perfect lips parting as you slide the noodles and veggies in before his mouth closes around it before you remove the utensil finding it clean.

Slow, intentional—all heavy with eye contact that makes your skin bristle with warmth and makes you rock a little on top of him.

Swallowing, you stir the noodles again, hearing it—letting it tick around your head. Unsure if it should be spilt, spoken. I liked that my sheets smelt like you. An omission that isn’t necessary, an internal battle occurring, one cleverly hidden as you slide the contents left around the tub. Just as his fingers slide up your knee, thumb brushing over it, almost making you jolt from the ticklishness of his carefulness.

“How’s your knees?”

“Why're you ready to go again, sir?”

The tip of his tongue pokes through, slightly dragging it over two, maybe three teeth, before his lips close, rolling. “See, there was me thinking the last time might have made you less bratty.”

“Bratty, or witty?”

He wants to smirk, you can tell. The slight shadow of a dimple begins to appear, to show. To stand out and present itself as your reward for being quick, for being as quick as him.

“Put the noodles down.”

“M’not finished.”

“Blue.”

Smirking, biting your lip, flicking your gaze up from your food to meet his—ignoring it, that buzz. That same thrum which occurs when you stare for a beat too long and things begin to warm or beat differently in your chest.

“Let me guess, you want me face down, ass up?”

He glares, a muffled grunt coming from the back of his throat, as you carefully place your mostly eaten noodles down on the coffee table where his finished tub sits, before you shift so your thigh crosses over his and your arms slide around his neck, watching his expression remain as stern.

“Can you imagine the angle, Morales,” you whisper, the tip of your nose brushing his, “You’d be so deep, she’d be so tight after earlier...”

His lips part, just ever so slightly.

“Remember how pretty she looks—how you told her how pretty she is.” Your hips shifting over him, rocking. “She’d look even nicer with you filling her—fuck, she’d be so full, Morales, to the brim. Can you picture—”

“Stop.”

But you don’t, fingers teasing the short hair at the base of his neck.

“You said you wanted a photo, you could be the one to take it—fingers parting her as she leaks—”

His mouth crushes itself against yours, almost biting, tongue forcing in your mouth as you taste the sauce from his food, even the two of you on his upper lip when you grasp both sides of his face and somehow fold forward—chest pressing to his, feeling his palms snaking up your thighs, kneading your ass.

And you smirk.

Rocking yourself against his stretched-out legs, already feeling him hardening, as you likely leave a wet patch on the gusset of your clean panties.

“Get on your knees…,” he hisses, each syllable extended out before he kisses you again. “Ass up.”

Shifting, moving, grabbing a throw cushion from the chair and twisting yourself so you’re doing as he’s asked. Cotton panties in the air, the oversized shirt sliding down from its previous placement.

“Fuck, I like it when you boss me around.”

His hand grabs a handful of your ass as he kneels up behind you, it almost bruising. “That mean you're gonna listen to what I say then?”

Glancing over your shoulder, lips spreading into a smile. “Nope.”

[satorusugurugurl]

Power Outage

Summary: When your office building looses power, you get a surprise visit from your boyfriend who finds toy there alone!

Characters: Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: making out, public smexy stuff, oral sex fingering, language, (a little doctor play if you squint)

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I missed my modernau!sukuna so there's a fix no one asked for while I try to finish these last few requests. Its super busy the first of the month for me at work, but I'm getting my fics finished! 🤪 (my modern!au Suluna is markwe in other fics I love him)

“Ugh!” You groaned, moving the computer mouse in lazy circles and glancing at the black screen in front of you, “Why do I always volunteer to do stupid shit?” You asked no one, seeing that you were the only one left in the office.

It was the end of summer, but the head was still scorching, making your office with no power stifling hot. The blackout had happened two hours ago, and there was no clue how long it would take to return. Everyone was bitching and complaining about how hot it was. Instead of listening to the neverending complaining, your boss sent everyone home while she waited for the electrician to show up.

The only problem was that your manager was pregnant and about to pop. So it didn't make any sense for her to stay and wait. So you made the foolish decision to stay there for her instead. Your boyfriend Sukuna was picking you up, and you didn't have your train pass, so you didn't have much choice. But as sweat began to bead on your forehead, you started questioning if you had made the wrong decision, but you knew deep down it was the right choice.

Karma might reward you for your good behavior after she kicked your ass all morning. You overslept, didn't have time to grab your lunch, left your train pass at home, and ran off a couple of hours of sleep thanks to good old insomnia. But maybe it wasn't karma; perhaps it was just your rotten luck. Whether it was luck or karma, you were still a sweating, suffering mess.

“Sukuna’s gonna be pissed,” You said to yourself, twirling around in your computer chair and staring at the clock on the wall. “He‘s always telling me to stop volunteering to do stuff; I really need to start listening to him more.”

You could practically see the disappointment on his tattooed face. Not only were you burning up, but you were starving, running off of nothing, but the remains of coffee from the breakroom rested in the pot of your stomach. Yeah, maybe you should have told her to have the electrician call her when he was on the way because this was torture.

“I'm starving,” Your voice echoed off the walls of the empty waiting room. You had no clue why, and it wasn't like there was anyone out there to care for you. But would that stop you from complaining? Hell no.

Just as you began twirling around in your seat for the thousandth time, the bell to the front door jingles. “Oof!” Fearing it was your boss, you attempted to make it look like you were busy unwrapping syringes, but you twirled in your chair so fast that you ended up falling back with a loud thud. “Owww.” You groaned, rubbing your head as a tall figure loomed over the front desk.

“Kitten?” The familiar deep voice asked. He leaned further over the edge. “What the hell are you doing?” Looking up at familiar crimson eyes, you blew your hair out of your face, smiling at your boyfriend.

“Thank God it’s just you, Sukuna. I thought for sure you were my boss.” Sukuna hopped over the desk, helping you off the horrid multicolored carpet. “Thanks,” you groaned, releasing your grip on his hand. What brings you here to the dark office of boredom?” Your boyfriend scoffed, shaking his head as he held a bag out to you, one covered with grease stains.

“I came to your rescue, " he smirked, placing the bag on the desk in front of you. “Choso texted me that you left your bento box in the fridge. And since my last client canceled, I figured I’d bring you by some food before I went home.”

“Choso, you gothy little angel. How I adore you.” Opening the bag without hesitation, your stomach growled in pleasure at the smell of food. “And I love you, Kuna, thanks.”

“Of course, baby.” Humming in response, you took a burger from the bag, plopping it on your desk and licking your lips, “So where’s everyone else? And why are all the lights out?” Sukuna asked as you took a big bite out of the burger

“Power outage. No one wanted to sit in the head and wait with our very pregnant manager, so I offered to stay.” You wiped your mouth with a napkin. “And before you say anything, I was doing the right thing.” Your boyfriend laughed, sitting on the ledge of the desk watching you.

“At least you're honest about it.”He grinned, pursing his lips together. “Why didn't you text me? My voice could have made your time alone much more entertaining.”

Entertaining; what the hell did he mean by that? “What?” you coughed into your shirt as Sukuna grabbed your hand and looked at it. “Sukuna, what do you think I could have done while here at work? Do you honestly think I would call you for ‘entertainment’ while on the clock?”

“Oh, don't play coy. We could have sexted each other or sent nasty voice memos to each other.”

You took a drink of water, laughing, “Oh yeah, Sukuna, I'd rub one out while here at my desk.” Your boyfriend’s eyebrows rose in shock.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Of course, I’m joking!.” You laughed, turning your gaze to focus on looking at him while you ate, “I would never do something like that here at work.”

“Is that so?”

The burger suddenly doesn't taste that good in your mouth as you eye your boyfriend skeptically. “Yes.” you pointed a french fry at the mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “Don't even think about it.”

”What? I didn't say anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest

“You don't have to say anything; it's written all over your face.”

“Having sex at your workplace was on your bucket list.”

You felt the heat across your cheeks as you took another bite of your burger. That was something you had drunkenly confessed to wanting, but you had never been given a chance to have sex in your office. You and Sukuna had done it several times at his office, and that was different because everyone knew Sukuna at the tattoo parlor. That was the sort of behavior they expected from him.

You, on the other hand, were employed for a doctor's office. To have sex in your office would be a new, thrilling adventure. But the consequences could be great, especially if they caught you on camera. But there was something in your boyfriend's eyes that had you feeling just as mischievous as he looked.

What was it people were always saying? You only live once?

You didn’t say anything; all you did was grab him by the collar of his leather jacket. His eyes widened as you pulled him down to you, kissing him deeply and passionately. He was clearly taken by surprise at your sudden actions because it took him only seconds to grab both sides of your face and kiss you back. His lips moved hungrily against yours, and his teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

“Mhmm,” you moaned, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slide in. As his tongue slowly slid against yours, your fingers tightened on his jacket as his tongue fought for dominance in your mouth.

“What’s this, Kitten?” Sukuna growled, lifting you out of the computer chair and placing you on his lap on the countertop. “What happened to not suggesting such a scandalous thing?” He moved his thick fingers into your hair, forcing your head to the side as he began nipping and trailing hot, opened-mouth kisses down your neck.

“I-I guess I’m feeling adventurous.”

You tilted your head back with a heavy sigh, allowing him more access to your sensitive skin. Sukuna always had a way of making you melt. He knew you; god, he knew you like the back of his hand. Where to touch you, how you loved him nipping and biting your ears. Every inch of his hands grazing your breasts, to how he gripped your sides had you shaking, panties soaked in anticipation. Every move made you gasp in pleasure. It was like his fingers were sending electric shocks and shivers down your spine, causing you to rub your thighs together, searching for sweet release. With every passing second, you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter. The silky wetness usually would have left you embarrassed with how turned on you were, but you didn't give a fuck right now.

“S-Sukuna,” You whispered against his kiss-swollen lips. The breathless tinge of your voice had your boyfriend groping your breasts harder, massaging them through your scrub top. The entire time his hands pleasured your chest, his crimson eyes remained glued on you, so focused on the way he was making you feel.

“Baby, you sound so needy~ it reminds me of the closet at Gojo’s when we first met.” You shivered at the memory of Seven Minutes in Heaven with a man who’d been a mutual acquaintance. Long story short, Seven Minutes turned into a very steamy make-out session in Gojo’s room, which both were now banned from. Sukuna’s hands sliding up your scrub top drew you back to reality. He pushed it up just enough to expose your bra. “It makes me wanna recreate that moment, maybe in an examining room~ we could play doctor.” His voice was thick with need as he pulled the thin fabric of your bra down, exposing your breasts. “What do you say, nurse~? Will you let me examine this perfect tit?” his lips took hold of one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it. You gasped loudly, gripping his short strand of pink hair and tugging on it.

“Yes Dr. Sukuna~”

“Ooh fuck, I like the sound of that.”

Moans trailed out of your mouth as his tongue continued to tease your sensitive nipple. His sharp canines gently grazed it as you gave a rough tug on his hair as you cried out. That action had your boyfriend moaning around the nub as he continued to nibble on it. This was so hot, being the best at work, grinding, and having your boyfriend tease you. More heat began to pool in your panties, your body craving more of Sukuna. You needed him more than you ever had before. Soft moans escaped you as you began rocking your hips against his denim jeans, resulting in him moaning in satisfaction at the friction.

A wet pop echoed off the walls of the empty lobby as Sukuna pulled off your breast. “Fuck,” He snarled as his hand found its place on your hips, holding them in as you rocked harder against him. You could feel an orgasm beginning to build within you.

Seeing how close you were left, Sukuna smirked as he rocked you faster against his bulge, causing you to moan louder in ecstasy. You just needed a little more, and luckily, Sukuna knew exactly what to do. His right hand left your hip as he slid it down your exposed stomach, tugging your scrub pants down to your midthigh. Those devilishly talented tattooed fingers slipped under the hem of your scrub pants, resting at the front of your lace panties. The second he made contact with your wet panties, he growled against your ear. His middle finger began tracing slow circles over your clothed clit, resulting in you bucking your hips.

“Kitten, you're soaked~”

“I-I need m-more Sukuna.” He nodded, placing your back on the computer chair and looking down the hall to the examination rooms. ”We should lock the door for —” Just as the words left your mouth, a cool air hit your bare thighs, your cell phone rang.

“Shit fuck, What’s my boss gonna say?!” You quickly pulled your bra up and your shirt back down.

“Lucky girl?”

Sukuna chimed in with a smirk before you started smacking his chest and shoved him under your desk. “J-Just shut up!” With a deep sigh, you sat up straight, trying to compose yourself as you answered the phone.

“Hello Hun.” On the other line, your boss said in a chipper tone, “I thought I'd call to check on you.” You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it as Sukuna pulled your panties to the side, dragging his pierced tongue over your clit.

“Nngh—I-I’m doing fine, Boss.” You stuttered as Sukuna smirked. He kept licking the bundle of nerves,s“My goodness dear, are you okay?” one of your hands held your phone while the other gripped the armrest of your chair as Sukuna took your clit in his mouth, sucking at it like candy.“Sweetie, are you okay?” You quickly covered your mouth, moaning into it as your boss kept talking. ”Are you sick? Oh my god, you’re getting too hot, aren't you? Fuck, the AC is out.”

Sukuna's mouth expertly sucked on your clit. “I-I yeah! Yeah, it’s s-suuuper h-hot!” You shakily responded as Sukuna began sliding his tongue up and down your wet throbbing slit. Fuck, this was hard; it was taking everything in your power not to continue to moan. You tried not to give her any ideas that your boyfriend was currently going down on you. Which was harder than expected, especially when Sukuna’s tongue teased your entrance, the fill of the metal stud sending shivers down your spine.

“You know what, I’m going to have the patience come out tomorrow! I'm going to call your boyfriend to come pick you up. I don't want you to walk if you're overheated. I want you to take the rest of the day off, okay? What was your boyfriend's name again? So I can call your emergency contact.” The second she asked this, Sukuna took it as an opening to shove two of his thick fingers inside you, causing you to launch forward, gripping his hair.

“S-Sukuna!” you gasped shakily, looking down at the smug bastard. “R-Ryomen Sukuna.” Your boss placed you on hold as you sat there whimpering.

Not even three seconds later, Sukuna roared against your sex as his fingers moved deeper inside of you, pumping faster. Several seconds passed, and he continued his pace. He was doing this when his phone started ringing. and he let it ring twice before he answered it, looking up at you as he did.

“This is Sukuna,” He groaned as he dragged his tongue along the soaked folds of your pussy, sending your hand shooting up to cover your mouth as your boss came through the other line. “ooh no, oh my poor baby.” Sukuna cooed as he sucked relentlessly on your clit, causing your toes to curl as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Oh, of course,” he pulled completely away, leaving you groaning in protest as he kissed and nipped at your inner thigh, “I’m on my way right now. Thank you for letting me know.”

“K-Kuna—” You whimpered as he grabbed your hips, bringing your cunt back to his mouth, making you mewl in pleasure as you heard a rustling on the other line.

“Hun, Sukuna’s on the way to pick you up now, dear. Do you need me to stay on the line with you until then?”

You shook your head as if she could see you while you bucked your hips forward, grinding against Sukuna's mouth, making him grunt in pleasure, “N-no, I-I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I-I’m positive, h-he’s nearby!”

“Okie dokie hun. Thank you for staying; enjoy your weekend, and lock up when your boyfriend arrives, okay?”

As soon as Final goodbyes were exchanged and the line was hung up, Sukuna went crazy. You covered your mouth, stifling the scream as he pumped three fingers inside you, curling them up against your g-spot. All the while, his mouth continued to suck on your bundle of nerves as he looked up at you with hungry, narrowed eyes. The desperation in his eyes left you gasping and moaning, trying to push your thighs together around his head as the coil in your abdomen tightened.

“F-Fuck~ Kuna!” You gritted through your teeth as Sukuna forced your legs open, moving his fingers and mouth at the same fast pace. It was no surprise you came right after that. You screamed into your hand as Sukuna lapped up and down your opening with his tongue as you gushed over his tongue. You leaned back in your chair, panting roughly as your boyfriend finally released you from his grasp. He slowly licked his lips, smirking up at you as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Mmm, tasty as always, Kitten.” He said smugly, pushing your chair back, freeing him from under the desk. He leaning up, kissing you roughly. And thanks to me, you have the rest of the day off.” You kissed back, running your hands through his soft tufts of hair before he stood up. He smirked down at you as you readjusted your clothes.

“I may have the rest of the day off,” you giggled between deep breaths, running your hand down his well-built chest, “but you're in for a long shift tonight ‘Dr. Kuna~”

Sukuna grinned like the Cheshire cat humming in response, “Will it require overtime, Nurse~?” You smirked up at him, grabbing your bags.

“Oh, lots of overtime, doctor~.” You squealed as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You gasped as his hand slapped you on the ass as hard as he could.

“Well fuck,” he smirked, grabbing your saddle bag and turning the lights off, “let's get your sweet ass home, STAT, nurse. I need to thoroughly examine you.”

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