#also don’t stop sending the ass eating asks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder.

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin.

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always.

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.”

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.”

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction.

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle.

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning.

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.”

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.”

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator.

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you.

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.”

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs.

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is.

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel.

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t.

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator.

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it.

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.”

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body.

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch.

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.”

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something.

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated.

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough.

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t.

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery.

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements— it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel.

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.”

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor.

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again.

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

#javier pena smut #javier peña smut #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #javier peña narcos #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 months ago

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𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙐𝙍: 69 w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: i'm actually so proud of myself because i'm exploring all different kinds of dynamics, and i can already tell that it's going to help further my writing abilities. like opening up new doors and what not. anywho, this is nasty and dirty and happy reading!!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

“I’m going to crush you.”

Was your response to Dean bringing up the fact that he had wanted to try out 69ing.

“Baby, you’ve sat on my face before, I think I’ll be okay.”

You blink at him, slow and assessing before shrugging, because he did have a point there.

“Fine.” You say, beginning to shred yourself of your clothes. He balks, wide eyed, but nevertheless scrambles excitedly off of the bed to get naked too, a large smile on his face.

“You wanna do it now? Like… right now?” Unable to keep the utter glee out of his voice. “No time like the present. Plus, it’s an intriguing idea.” There’s a quick second of silence before you playfully add, “Also, I kinda want to get eaten out right now.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises, his voice fond. Always, always fond.

Once you’re both as naked as the day you were born, he coaxes you over with a cheeky pat to his chest. “Come to papa.”

You snort. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you love it.”

“I guess so.” You sigh in false exasperation, but there’s a small smile on your face as you turn your back towards him, settling your ass on his lower thighs. You throw a seductive look over your shoulder.

He doesn’t meet your gaze though, because his eyes are too busy taking in the sight of your naked ass, large, calloused hands dragging themselves over the fatty flesh. His tongue peeks out, swiping at his bottom lip.

“Like what you see?” You can’t help but ask. “You know I do.” His words are choked and he retracts a hand just to place a stinging slap against your skin. You flinch and yelp before shimmying higher.

“Naughty.” You chide, but nonetheless don’t stop moving until your pussy is over his mouth and you’re face-to-face with his half hard cock.

“Always so big, Deany baby.” You coo, hand gripping his base and running a teasing tongue right up the side, trailing along the pulsing vein.

Dean sucks in a breath from below you before attaching his lips right onto your clit, sucking on it with a vigor that sends you forward. You tighten your grip on him as you moan, stroking him up and down.

You don’t hesitate to take him into your mouth as you gather your bearings, swirling your tongue around the head to collect his precum, his semen a bit salty and bitter on your tastebuds, but nonetheless, you sink lower and lower, swallowing around him as you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Dean groans, the vibrations of the low timber of his voice shoots a shiver up your spine. You just hum, stroking what you can’t swallow.

The pleasure that you’re giving him seems to give him a new kind of energy, because his own tongue plunges into your entrance, scooping out your wetness selfishly. You tremble from above him, eyes squeezing shut but you don’t stop.

Both of his hands spread your ass apart, his thumb teasing your asshole slightly just to send you jolting. You detach yourself from him, throwing a look over your shoulder to find that he looks all but pleased with himself.

“Dickhead.” You murmur, but reattach your lips to him, taking him down your throat again, going deeper and deeper until your eyes are watering and spits foams at the corner of your mouth.

Dean eats you out with abandon, eyes closed and stubble slightly burning the skin of your inner thighs. He’s dragging you down over his mouth, forcing you to ride his face as he alternates between suckling on your clit and actually eating you out.

His legs are shaking and you’re pretty sure you aren’t fairing much better, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head at the feeling of your orgasm nearing.

You swallow around him repeatedly before pulling off gasping, stroking him faster, gripping him harder, determined to drag him over the edge with you.

A particular graze of his teeth gently catching on the hood of your clit nearly barrels you straight into nirvana.

“Cumming! Fuck, Dean – cum with – please…” You beg suckling at the head of his tip, coaxing out more precum – you’re all but sucking the soul out him, bless his heart.

His thumb drags over and over your over sensitive nub, and your hips thrash wildly over his face before stilling, your orgasm overtaking you. You take to suckling harshly at the vein running up his cock once more, and he finally cums with a shout. You hurry to cover him with your mouth, swallowing his load.

You rest your head on his thigh as you attempt to come down from your orgasm, chest heaving up and down.

“You okay?” You can’t help but rasp, your throat raw and spent.

“I think… you just took years from my life. From my dick.”

The way he says it so blankly causes you to laugh, shoulders rising and falling with the sound.

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allthesmutl0vers · 2 months ago

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Smutty Harry Potter Headcanons (F! Reader)

MDNI. 18+. Heavy Smut.

Requests Are Open- Please Send Requests

Request: Not a request, just drabble.

Summary: How the characters would react to you teasing them while wearing a short skirt.

Pairings: Harry Potter/F!Reader, Ron Weasley/F!Reader, George Weasley/F!Reader, Fred Weasley/F!Reader, Draco Malfoy/F!Reader.

TW: Smut, Sexual References, Fingering, Oral (M! and F! receiving), Dom/Sub Relationships, Edging, Primal Play, Choking, Claiming, Hair Pulling. (No use of Y/N)

Smut Below⬇️🌶️

Harry Potter

You’ve been teasing Harry all day, bending over just enough to barely give him a peak of the apex of your thighs. When he finally manages to corner you in the hallway, he pulls you into an empty classroom with a hand covering your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want to go giving our secret away now, do you?” Harry chuckles darkly as his hand roams under the front of your skirt as he clutches you tightly from behind. “Mm-mm,” you shake your head, unable to speak under his hand. Harry groans as his fingers pull your panties to the side, slipping a finger between your folds and circling your clit. “So wet for me. Does teasing me get you off, little doe?” he whispers in your ear. You nod against his hand as he slips a finger in your entrance. “Then bend over the desk and spread your pretty thighs for me so I can give you what you’re so desperate for.”

Harry eats you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking and licking your clit, drawing out whimpers that, to anyone else, would make them think you’re dying. And in a sense, you are. The way he thrusts his fingers inside of you as he laps at your clit could send you to heaven or drag you to hell. Either way, you’re just praying he doesn’t stop.

Ron Weasley

Ron acts shy around others, but you know just how possessive he can be. And you intend to draw it out any way you can. You know how much he equally hates and loves your silk tennis skirt. He’s told you countless times never to wear it without tights to prevent anyone else from catching a glimpse at what’s his. So when you saunter down the stairs and sit on his lap with fishnets underneath it, you know you’re in for it. Good thing nobody is home at the burrow for the moment.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks as you sit down on his lap, facing the fireplace. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, giving him the best innocent look you can as his hands grip your thighs. “Nothing at all,” you respond with a smirk. “Did you forget the rule for this skirt already, angel?” Ron teases. “You know not to wear this without stockings,” Ron warns you. “I’m wearing stockings,” You smile smugly. Ron chuckles darkly, and you know you have him right where you want him. But what you don’t expect is for Ron to reach under your skirt and rip your fishnets apart at your crotch. You let out a soft gasp as his hand cups your pussy. “Ron…” You whine. “My stockings,” Ron chuckles as his free hand wraps itself in your hair and pulls your head back to his shoulder. “Pathetic excuse for stockings,” he taunts as he thrusts two fingers into your entrance. “Now cum on my fingers, angel, and maybe I’ll buy you new ones.”

Ron isn’t gentle as he brings you right up to the edge and throws you over. Over. And over. And over again until you’re begging him to have mercy on you. But you knew what you were getting yourself into when you flaunted yourself in front of him, as he not so gently reminds you. Only when you’re a shaky, sweaty, whimpering mess does he finally withdraw his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking your cum off of his fingers and demanding you to change before his brothers get back. Because god forbid anyone else see the mess he turns you into.

George Weasley

George is always the life of the party. Especially when Gryffindor wins a quidditch match like they did today. It’s also a surefire way to know you are going to get a reward for being his favorite cheerleader. You grind your ass against his crotch as you dance and drink, feeling him growing harder under his pants. You know how much he loves when you dress a little slutty. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about other people looking because he made damn sure to ruin sex with anyone else. You bend over slightly, arching your back as you grind against him during an especially sultry part of the song. When he can’t take the teasing anymore, he drags you to his dorm, locking it and slamming you against the door as he smashes his lips to yours.

“Merlin, woman. You drive me crazy,” he groans as he lifts your skirt. “Almost as crazy as this sweet pussy makes me,” he groans, kneeling in front of you and keeping you pressed against his door. He rips your panties down and makes you let out a loud gasp as he shoves his face between your thighs and licks a long swipe between your folds. “Georgie,” you moan as your eyes roll back and you grip his hair. George hums against your clit, sending a heavenly vibration right to your clit, bringing you right to the edge. You whimper at the loss of his tongue when he pulls back and stands up, licking your juices from his lips. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He taunts with a smirk as he pulls down his pants and kicks them off to the side. You nod and moan as he lifts your leg, and his tip pushes against your entrance. “Fuck, yes,” you moan as he thrusts inside of you, your eyes rolling back as his cock stretches you and hits that perfect spot inside. “Give me your eyes,” he moans as he pulls back and thrusts inside of you harder. You pull your hooded gaze to his eyes as he grips your leg harder. “That’s it, baby. Look at me as I bury my cock inside of you,” he pants. “Such a good girl.”

After he makes you cum, he lifts you without withdrawing his cock, sets you on his desk, and fucks you harder. You moan, practically scream, making him cover your mouth. As much as he loves to hear you scream, he loves to show what’s his, but nobody is allowed to hear the sounds you make when he makes you shatter around him two, three, four times. What he does like people to see? How you struggle to walk, let alone dance when you return back to the party.

Fred Weasley

Nobody can make detention fun. Nobody besides Fred, at least. You swear, sometimes you and he try to get detention in the forbidden forest just to get the chance to be chased around in the dark and plowed against the nearest tree once he catches you, and he always does. Tonight, you decided to make the punishment when he catches you even harder on yourself, wearing the shortest skirt in your wardrobe to tease him with on the walk down. Running through the woods, you wonder when he’ll catch you. He does every time, and this time is no different. But he’s extra rough on you tonight as he plows into you without mercy.

Fred grunts as he holds your legs up, plowing into you as you clutch his shoulders. “Look what a pretty mess you are for me,” he moans as he thrusts into you again; you could swear his cock is ramming into your cervix with how deep it is. “Who’s pussy is this? Tell me, little one,” he moans as he grips your thighs with a bruising grip. “Yours,” you moan loudly. “Fuck, Freddie, it’s all yours,” you cry out. Fred moans as he brings you both right to the edge. He shifts, freeing one of his hands, and brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. “Goddamn right, it’s mine. Now I want your screams. Give them to me, baby,” he moans as you clutch his robes. “Give me your screams as you cum on my cock,” he demands. His filthy words and the merciless way he fucks you send you right over the edge with him.

But he’s not nearly done with you yet; the night is young. He pulls you to your knees, shoves his cock into your mouth, and fucks your throat because that’s his, too. You love hearing him claim you, every part of you, as he takes you any and everywhere. After cumming down your throat, he makes you ride him, cumming inside of you again before he has finally had his fill, and you two can look for whatever thing you were supposed to find in this goddamn forest.

Draco Malfoy

Draco loves to fuck you before his quidditch matches and loves to know you’re dripping his cum as you watch and cheer for him from the stands. Today is no different besides the fact you’ve been teasing him all morning, bending over and twirling in the skirt he told you a million times to throw out, buying you new ones, but you can’t help how much it gets you off when he takes possession of you, jinxing anyone who dares to try to sneak a peek. Normally, he would take you to his dorm to fuck you before his game, taking his time and blocking anyone from hearing you with an enchantment. But not today. Today, he fucks you in the locker room, making you scream as he spears you with his cock after he comes down your throat. If you want to show off what’s his, he’ll make you show them just how good he makes you feel.

“That’s it, princess,” he moans as he fucks you from behind, pinning your arms behind your back as you’re bent over the bench. “Let them hear just how much you love my cock buried in your tight pussy,” he demands, gripping your hair and pulling your head back with his free hand. A scream tears through your throat as your walls clench around his cock. “Fuck, yes! I love it!” you cry as mascara runs down your face. “What’s my fucking name?” He growls, releasing your hair to land a sharp swat on your ass. “Draco!” You cry as your ass stings, only serving to make you wetter. He pulls out to the tip and thrusts into you harder. “And who do you belong to?!” He taunts, making you whimper. “Fucking answer me,” he demands, swatting your ass again. “D-Draco!” you scream as your legs begin to shake and the tether winding tighter inside your core threatens to snap. Draco groans and tilts his head back. Normally, he’d kill someone for hearing your screams that are only meant for him, but right now, he’d have you scream in front of a microphone for the entire wizarding world to hear just how good he makes you feel. That he’s the only one who makes you feel so good. He flips you over, laying you down on the bench and thrusting back into you without remorse. “So pretty when you cry for me,” he taunts as he smudges the mascara running down your face before gripping your throat. “Now give me what I want,” he demands with dark, hooded eyes. You feel your walls clench around his throbbing cock as your back arches, and you grip the bench above your head. A scream tears through your throat as your whole body shakes, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane.

People stare at you, some whispering behind your back as you sit in the stands, watching Draco play. Any sensible person would be embarrassed that people heard them get fucking plowed and now have their boyfriend's cum dripping from their body, but not you. Maybe you two need to find some people who like to listen, maybe even watch, but certainly not touch. A shudder runs through you as you think about what Draco would do if someone tried to touch you while he was fucking you. You clench your thighs at the thought, would he kill them? Maybe. Maybe you should find out. God, what has he turned you into?

#harry potter smut #draco x reader #fred weasly x reader #george weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #lemon

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cryptfile · 2 months ago

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Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #logan x reader #logan xmen #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett #jimmy howlett #xmen smut #cryptfile // x-men #minors dni #minors do not interact #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett x vampire!reader #deadpool 3 #xmen days of future past #deadpool and wolverine

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peachie-bumblebee · 1 year ago

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FNAF SECURITY BREACH NSFW HEADCANONS

MAIN 4

MINORS DNI

getting back to my ROOTS with this one!! hope my community is still out there- the dlc has brought back my love for the game :) i haven’t posted SB content in a LONG time so a reminder- I ONLY WRITE FOR CHARACTERS WHO PASS THE JACK HARKNESS TEST. They are OF AGE OR ABOVE, have HUMAN OR ABOVE INTELLIGENCE, and can VERBALLY GIVE INFORMED CONSENT. The SB animatronics are canonically sentient. None of the past ones are. okay- back to the content :D

CW: ONE PREGNANCY MENTION, KINK RELATED T0YS, SEMI-PUBLIC MENTIONS, DACRIPHILIA

GLAMROCK FREDDY

lord have mercy…

he’s the most virgin coded out of all of them. i’m sorry.

but do I think he’s a TOTAL virgin? no.

there are FREAKS out there (me writing this and y’all reading this-) who would 1000% show up to the pizzaplex just tryna get a piece of the fazballs

SORRY

he’s the type to silently get off in his dressing room and then get all embarrassed about it like there’s someone there to judge him

he’s an actual sweetheart in the sheets. he’s so so nice about everything. as we go down the list this DECREASES.

don’t push him too fucking hard tho. if you’re one of the ones who read my old fic Competition, you remember.

his fingers vibrate.

and so does that dick.

he’d turn it on inside of you and listen to you gasp before putting a hand gently over your mouth and hushing you.

he seems a lot like a gasper. maybe the occasional curse word coming out, but mostly praises of how good it feels.

i know he is a messy cummer. i’m right and that’s final.

he’d be absolutely humiliated after the fact and go get a wet washcloth asap, but it’s a very shocking amount anyway.

pregnancy isn’t a concern, but he’s still wary about cumming inside for some reason. he’s the type to make sure it’s okay like 3 times before he does it.

okay i lowkey think he’d be into getting handcuffed. i don’t know what handcuffs could genuinely hold him, but if you brought them out he’d be (figuratively) SWEATING

i think his eyes roll back when he cums. and i’m correct. eat me.

he’s the lead member but he’s humble about it… except a few times in bed. then he lets it go to his head(s). just a bit. ;)

if he was in a relationship he’d have a thing about his partner dressed in his merch

switch! but the most vanilla out of everyone- but remember, not completely.

…he’d eat his cum out of you.

no he is NOT gonna call you superstar during sex leave me ALONEEE

GLAMROCK CHICA

my biggest hc for her will and will always be that she has a MASSIVE toy collection. she is a toy girl. do i know how she gets them? not exactly.

but I DO know that they’re all pink and white and sparkly!

that doesn’t mean it’s all vanilla toys though (respect to the vanilla community but it is not me :) )

she does own a hot pink flogger and she WILL happily use it on a groupie or her partner.

she’s such a tease. she’s such a fucking tease jsghskbnsjh

doesn’t matter if she’s domming or subbing (60/40 ratio)

she’s a TEASE

and she giggles during sex

her whole bubbly pink happy girl thing doesn’t stop

she’ll put you in a bubblegum pink sex swing and use a big ass vibrator on you while giggling and telling you how cute you look

i know she likes pulling on nipples I KNOW SHE DOES

for those who used to ask- no, she can’t give head with her beak. and she’s not taking it off. sun/moon can’t give sloppy either BUT THEY MAKE IT WORK!

AND SHE DOES TOO!

she can fuck up the guitar with her fingers, what else do you think they can do?

she’s the type to pull you into a side room, hush you, finger fuck you, then send you on your way with a hug

i know for a FACT SHE WEARS A STRAP!

yes it IS glitter. it is also 9 inches.

and if you want more, she has more ways to give you that.

she’s also the type to get you front row tickets and put a remote control vibe in you so she can watch you squirm right in front of her.

she’s also a praiser, but there’s a lot of false sympathy in there too.

food aftercare. she wants to eat 3 pizzas with you. food is her love language

ROXANNE WOLF

YOU BETTER BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT!

she’s a dom. she just is.

god I miss that fic I wrote.

she’s so fucking cocky in bed. it’d be insufferable if she wasn’t so hot and so good at sex.

if who she’s fucking is AFAB she’s EATING IT!!!! YOU CAN BET ON IT THAT SHE DOES MUNCH!

if they’re AMAB then you can expect her to lean them back on her chest and give them the most intense handjob of their life.

in general, the animatronics are stronger than people, so when they’re rough they’re still not going at their hardest. that would actually just kill you.

she’s a show-off. she’ll leave marks in very noticeable places on purpose so that everyone knows that you’re getting fucked by THE Roxanne Wolf

she’s a hair puller. I just know she likes to wrap her claws up in it and pull.

don’t fucking pull hers though, she doesn’t like that shit.

yeah her tail wags when you eat her out, what about it? don’t point that shit out, it’s embarrassing to her.

she curses so much during sex.

the strap is purple and THICK. if you want more then she’ll just hit up Chica for a new one. Chica is more than happy to help. and more than happy to watch.

she’s only the jealous type if its some rando loser. THEN she’ll fuck the living shit out of you while telling you how she’s the best and making you repeat it back to her.

if it’s Monty or Chica? If you’d be into it too, then yeah, she’ll share.

…Freddy is more of a hard sell, but it’s not a hard no.

it’s more of a “Yeah yeah yeah but why do you wanna fuck the dumbass bear? Why him? Monty’s got a bigger one, I’ll tell you that.”

yeah but roxy baby his doesn’t vibrate

she comes off a winning high after a particularly close race, she’s going to go feral on you

with those eyes of hers, she can find you wherever you go. so if she’s randomly in the mood and her partner is there, even halfway across the pizzaplex, she’s on her way to pull you into her room and take some “private time.”

MONTGOMERY GATOR

hhhhhhooOOOHHH BOY

y’all remember the start of SB where he’s fucking up his room?

prepare to be destroyed HSGDHJSGBDNH

degrades. degrades the fuck out of you. it’s a toss up between Roxy and Monty who’s the more cocky, but he’s certainly meaner.

LONG ASS DICK. IT’S HUGE WITH ALL SORTS OF BUMPS AND RIDGES AND SHIT.

head pusher IF you’re okay with it. consent is mandatory.

he’d grab all his partner’s hair if they had any to grab, even just an INCH and go ham.

his long ass dick matches his long fucking tongue.

loves giving lethal backshots LOOOOOOOORD HAAAAAAAAVVVEEEE MEEERCYYYYYY

he’s not only breaking the bed, it’s straight up sawdust. idk how his partners live but they certainly live happily after.

as cocky as he is, he’s not exactly a selfish lover by any means. yeah, he’ll edge you, but he also likes to get his partner real sloppy if you catch my drift.

he aims to make you cry from pleasure. it’s straight up his goal.

i just know he knows EXACTLY where all the right spots are. you don’t even gotta tell him, inside or outside, no matter personal preference, he can always pinpoint his partner’s sweet spots

and then he proceeds to abuse the fuck out of that knowledge

he gets so jealous over Freddy, it’s insane

he sees his partner in his merch, he’s ripping it to shreds.

Roxy is less of a threat. That can be more of a collaborative effort.

he honestly doesn’t know how much of a freak in the sheets Chica is. If he had a threesome with her and she whipped out her chest of fun he’d be like “DAMN BITCH WHERE’D YOU GET ALL THOSE” and she’d be like “^-^ wanna see my buttplug collection? :>” LMFAOOO

GROANER. he GROANS LIKE CRAZY

also a bit of a growl but NOT in the cringe tiktok way don’t worry

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!!! I really hope I can start to find my old community with this :)

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monstersflashlight · 17 days ago

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Patreon Commission for anon

Request: Actually if you wouldn’t mind doing a spicier piece with werewolf Tobias (or Toby), that would be amazing! Specifically where he finds out vampire reader is self-conscious about her chubby body, and she is really into snuggling until he pops a boner during movie night?

A/N: This is part 2 of this other commission.

Expert in pussy-ology

Werewolf (Toby) x vampire chubby fem!reader || groping, dom/sub (very lightly), oral sex || tw: internalized fatphobia

Since that day in the cafeteria, things had been more than great between you two. He always picks you up after your shift, and usually stops in the middle of it to order chocolate (no more coffee for him). He sends you silly messages during the day and makes you smile so much that your coworker called you out on looking creepy because of the too big fangs and red eyes. You laughed it off, too happy to even care.

But not everything is as good as your blooming relationship. You had been craving intimacy, the kind of intimacy you had in the alleyway. You made out a couple times over the past few weeks, but nothing as heated as that day, and he didn’t even try to grope you again. And it’s bringing back all the bad memories and self-doubt about yourself.

You’ve been trying to watch the movie, you really are, but the truth is all your focus is in the werewolf cuddling you and his warm body against every inch of your body. He’s snuggling against you so tightly you can feel every breath he takes, almost every beat of his heartbeat. You always run cold, but his warmth is so welcomed can’t avoid a sigh every time you melt into his side.

The movie is playing and he’s nuzzling into your neck, giving you soft kisses every once in a while as he watches the movie. Your brain is far beyond though, you can’t stop noticing his body, his tiny movements, the way he snuggles into you tighter and tighter, his arm around your middle, his hand over your soft belly. You can’t stop yourself from wanting to suck in your breath so there’s less tummy to hold, but you know he wouldn’t like that.

But it’s not only that, it’s also the fact that you want it to go further, so much further. You want to suck his cock, or him to eat you out. Or maybe fuck, or ride him... but you don’t know how to start that conversation and you don’t even know if he would be okay with that. You know he said he didn’t mind you being chubby, but the tiny voice in your head is always talking, always saying all the wrong things that make you self-conscious and worried about your body.

You struggle in your position in front of him, trying to get some room so he doesn’t have to feel your body if he doesn’t want to, but he grunts and pulls you back against his front. You both take a deep breath in when you feel what he’s packing.

“I- I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I know you aren’t ready for this. S- sorry,” Toby stutters as he pulls his hips away from your body, making you whine. He stops in his tracks. “Do you- Do you want this?” He presses his hard on against your ass once again and you whimper, making him growl under his breath. “Fuck, if you don’t want this please say so, you sound so good my brain is going to short-circuit anytime.” He doesn’t pull back anymore, but you are biting your lip with your pointy fang, not sure how to say what’s in your mind.

You turn around in his arms, your neck almost aching looking up at that weird angle, but you don’t care. You need to look at him to have this conversation. “I didn’t know if you wanted this,” you confess in a low tone.

“What? I’ve been jerking off frantically every time I go home after meeting you,” he blurts out and instantly covers his mouth as if he wasn’t trying to say that.

You giggle. “Have you?”

“Ye- yes,” he stutters, a pretty blush covering his cheeks. He looks delightful like that, all his blood running to his face and making you all kinds of hungry.

“But my body…” You start.

“What about it?” He asks when you stop. There’s tears building in your eyes threatening to fall and you don’t know how to say what you want to say.

But you just go for it. “I know I’m not thin, and my tummy is all soft, and my thighs are too big and…” You swallow around the knot in your throat. “My past boyfri-” You don’t get to finish that thought before he covers your mouth and growls so loud your body vibrates.

“Do not talk about other partners when you are with me,” he cuts with a growl. You look at him with uncertainty and vulnerability. He sighs and leans down, kissing your forehead as he says: “I told you you were my best fantasy came to life, and I meant it, moonlight,” he kisses your nose as you giggle between choked breaths.

“Really?” You ask as a tear runs down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and leans down for a quick peck.

“Yes. Now, let me prove it to you,” he says. You have super speed, but you barely see him before he’s manhandled you to your back and his body is between your thick thighs, he looks so good there that you can’t avoid the deep groan that leaves your throat. “Fuck, you sound so good, it’s driving me insane.” Toby’s eyes flash when he says it, and you know that if you had a heartbeat it would be going crazy. “Now, are you going to let me eat your pussy?” He asks, his tone is soft and almost pleading.

There’s only one possible answer to that: “Yes, please.” He doesn’t even respond, he tears through your clothes until he can access your pussy and launched for it like a starving man.

You groan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back as you chant his name. “Toby, Toby...”

“Eyes open, moonlight, I want you to see me enjoying my feast,” he orders.

His words sound filthy as fuck and when you obey and look down at him, half his face drenched in your desire and a shit eating grin on his lips, a groan escapes right from your chest. He looks obscene, and as soon as he drives right in, his eyes never leaving yours, you scream his name again, and your hands find his hair.

He grunts against your pussy and sucks harder on your clit, making you see stars even with your eyes wide open. His hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, groping your tits over your shirt, touching your tummy, pinching your thighs… He’s driving you slowly insane, and you can’t look away from his eyes as you moan like a whore.

He pulls away for a second, staring into your eyes trying to reach to your soul. “Use me, moonlight. Take your pleasure off me as I enjoy you fully.”

You groan again, his words driving you higher in your pleasure as you take his hair with both hands and start rubbing your pussy up and down his face. His nose hits the best place and his tongue is playing with you like an expert in pussy-ology. His fingers find your opening and he fucks into your tender pussy, curling them to hit your G-spot. You cry out and move your hips faster.

You can almost feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, you need it, you need it now. “Toby, Toby, please!” You beg even though you know you are the one in control. You pull at his hair harder, making him grunt against your clit as one of his hands gropes your boob, the other one helping you move your hips.

It takes you less than a minute to reach the peak of pleasure, screaming his name as you thrash under him, milking all your pleasure against his face. He grunts and finger-fucks you deeply, taking you to the next dimension. It’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

When you come back into yourself, he’s still between your legs, your thighs as earmuffs and his face all messy with your juices.

“Are you feeling confident in your body or do I need to fuck you senseless?” He asks, a bit breathless and with the biggest grin on his face. You can’t do anything but giggle.

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javier-pena · 7 months ago

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

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smartkookiee · 2 months ago

Text

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.2 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings/tags: SMUUUTTT (mdni), protected sex (stay safe kids), dry humping, cum eating??, fingering, so much kissing, doggy, really confused about their feelings fr, they still hate each other, yay Melanie and Namjoons wedding hehe, drinking, swearing, Jungkook continuing to be a little shit ❥word-count: 13.9k (I'm so sorry its another monster) ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

Jungkook blinked, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if you had actually said “okay” or if he’d just imagined it. He looked completely caught off guard. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were pretty shocked yourself.

The word still hung between you both, heavy with the weight of the sheer stupidity of what you’d just agreed to. You half-expected him to start laughing, for you to snap out of whatever spell had come over you and tell him to go to hell.

But no one moved. Neither of you even took a breath.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his face. Clearly, he’d expected you to kick his ass, maybe curse him out, not... this.

It felt bizarre. The longer you sat with the idea, though, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Maybe it was because you’d already agreed to this ridiculous plan in your head before your mouth even caught up. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, this was probably going to work better than the endless cycle of arguments. But also, by agreeing to this, you were, by extension, agreeing with Taehyung’s dumb, immature logic.

So in this moment—yes—you were dumb.

You thought back to your last hookup. It had been... disappointing, to say the least. You wanted something better. Needed it, actually. But this? Jungkook? Not what you had in mind, exactly.

“Okay,” Jungkook finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck as if he couldn’t believe you’d gone along with his idiotic suggestion. He was clearly thinking through how the hell he’d come to agree with Taehyung’s logic himself.

He’d spent years watching Taehyung bury his problems in a series of meaningless hookups, laughing it off as Taehyung’s way of handling things. But deep down, Jungkook envied it. Taehyung took life so casually, like nothing really mattered. Jungkook never had that luxury. Not in the last few years, at least.

“So, uh... do we, like, hold hands or something?” you asked, unable to stop the awkwardness from bubbling up. Because really, what else could you say? You couldn’t even figure out how to broach the subject of touching each other, let alone jumping straight to that.

It was like the two of you had never spoken before, it was strange.

“Seriously? Hold hands? What are we four?” Jungkook teased trying to cut the tension and you groaned.

“I don’t know! This is uncharted territory!” You move away from the building wall and start pacing back and forth, Jungkook just watching you.

You just stayed like this for a moment going back and forth. Maybe being a little like Taehyung is what he needed. This just wasn’t the way he expected it to end up, and least of all with you.

Jungkook wasn’t really the hook up type, let alone hook up at a wedding. Yet here you two were, playing out the most common wedding hookup cliche. The best man and the maid of honor.

You let out a long groan before you looked directly at him.

“This is a one time thing.” You say quicker than you can think. You needed to stop thinking, just do.

“Okay.” He was sure in his tone.

“Fine.”

A beat, for the first time ever you two were in full agreement. Jungkook decided that it needed to happen now or never before the two of you thought to much about it. He walked away from you, going to the door back into the hotel. He didn’t look back until he realized that you weren’t following.

“Well, are you coming?” He nodded his head in the direction inside the door.

“Oh we are doing this now?”

Then your feet were moving. Without a word, he held the door open for you and followed you inside. Without some protest, Jungkook grabbed onto your wrist, almost like he wanted some contact with you. Jungkook pulling the two of you into the nearest elevator, pressing a button to what you assumed was his floor.

And then the doors closed.

You both stood in silence for a moment, standing side by side. Jungkook then stood in front of you, the hand that was on your wrist made its way up your arm to your face.

“What are you doing?” You pulled back for a moment and your voice was a little shaky, flinching away from him. Old habits die hard.

Jungkook would never admit this to you but he was nervous. Maybe more nervous than you but he would bury that down for now.

“Oh you know, I was going to kiss you.” The words felt gross coming out of his mouth. Kissing you after all is the last thing he ever thought he would do.

“Oh.” You realized yeah, you probably should kiss. Maybe a good place to start. You were deep in thought before you realized how close you and Jungkook were. Bodies almost pressed against each other. “Yeah go ahead.”

The only sound was the hum of the elevator filling the space. It felt so silent as you looked between Jungkook's eyes. For a moment he hesitated but then decided to just go for it. Kissing you softly at first. He tasted like cigarettes, and it was a little overwhelming. Not as gross as you thought though. His hands had now found a place on your waste and pressed your whole body into his. Without you really thinking about it one of your arms had wrapped around his neck and the other was wrapped in his hair.

The two of you begging silently for another kiss.

It was the only thing you two did on the short ride, just kissed, dipping your toes into the shallow end of your possible mistake. The elevator rang, causing both of you to split apart as fast as you could. The feeling of your mouth weighing on Jungkook's mind.

A memory from college came to the front of your mind.

“What? I’m a pretty good kisser I’ll have you know. I have references.”

You don’t know why you remembered it now, all you could think was that: he wasn’t lying about that.

You both peered around the corners of the hallway, a silent understanding passing between you as you checked to make sure no one familiar was nearby. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft thud of your heart echoing in your ears as Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. He fumbled for his key, hands steady despite the electricity buzzing in the air. The lock clicked, and he hastily opened the door, pushing it open and gesturing for you to step inside.

The room was surprisingly tidy. Too tidy, like he’d barely even been in here.

“Huh. It’s smaller than mine,” you muttered, unable to stop yourself, that competitive streak rearing its head. It was a childish comment, but you were already grasping for control in the situation—anything to anchor yourself.

Jungkook ignored and he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, his lips meeting yours again. The taste of cigarettes filled your mouth, flooding your senses. His fingers pressed into your waist, as if he was trying to push the world away and keep you both in this moment. You kissed him back fiercely, but something was building in your chest—a knot of panic twisting tighter and tighter.

You broke away first, breathing hard, pressing your hands against his chest to put space between you. “Woah, okay.”

He paused, looking at you, his chest heaving. “You okay?”

You shook your head, the room suddenly feeling too small, the walls too close. You raised your hands like you were warding off some invisible force. “God, this feels... weird. Is this not weird for you?”

Jungkook exhaled and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “It’s weird,” he admitted, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what made it weird—just that it was.

You paced in a tight circle, your fingers twitching. “I don’t know, I feel... confused. Like everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong, but I don’t know why. It’s like my head is split down the middle and I can’t—”

“Y/N—”

“And I can’t stand you,” you continued, voice rising, “but for some reason, I agreed to this. Like, maybe I’ve just got some kind of self-sabotaging streak? What is wrong with me?”

Jungkook moved closer, trying not to let you chatter annoy him. “Y/N.”

You met his gaze, finally stilling, but your heart was racing, chest tight with the weight of your own thoughts. His eyes were calm, though you could see the same uncertainty hiding behind them. He had already made up his mind, you could tell, but the awkwardness of it still clung to the space between you.

“Are you in, or are you out?”

The question hung in the air for a second longer than you liked. You blinked, your throat dry. “I was in. But now I don’t know. I can’t get past... being with you. You of all people.” Your fingers picked at the skin around your nails, searching for an answer you couldn’t find.

Jungkook stood there, thinking for a moment. “Then pretend I’m not me.”

“What?” You give him a confused look.

“Maybe we just pretend like we don’t know each other. Like we just met. So I’m not Jungkook… the guy I know you want to kill.” He teases and it actually lightens the mood a little. “I’m just… someone at a wedding, you’re also just someone at a wedding. I’m not me.”

A small smile actually seems to creep on your face for a moment, you have to catch yourself. “You’re not you.”

“I’m not me.”

“And I’m not me?”

“Exactly. We’re just two strangers.” He stepped closer, and you felt the gravity between you shift again. “Does that make it easier?”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart hammering as the absurdity of the whole thing began to ease the pressure in your chest. Slowly, the tension began to melt into something else. Something that felt almost like... freedom.

“Okay.” You found yourself nodding. “You’re not you. And I’m not me.”

Jungkook smiled, taking that as confirmation, his fingers brushing your cheek again, this time softer. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something hotter, more dangerous.

“See?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Just two strangers.”

He stepped forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance. You kissed him again, but this time it felt different—deeper, like the weight of everything that had been holding you back was gone. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself be pulled, let yourself sink into the kiss, the moment. Just two people—no history, no hate—just... heat.

You both stumble your way back to the bed, kicking off your shoes in the process. As you both just let yourselves live in the feeling rather than who it was with. Everything started to move faster and the intensity between the two of you got heavier. Jungkook detached himself from your lips onto the exposed skin on your neck. You found yourself leaning into it easily.Jungkook paused for a moment, his fingers tracing along the straps of the dress you wore.

“Can I take this off?’ He says lowly into your ear.

Both of your minds were quiet. Here it was, no going back after this.

“Yes.” Your voice almost gets caught in your throat.

He very slowly slips the straps off your shoulders. Your dress falling down the rest of the length of your body to the floor. Jungkook takes a pause, he had hoped somewhere deep inside him that you wouldn’t look good under your dress, but of course you did. You still had your bra and underwear on but he knew you’d probably look great without those as well. How incredibly annoying he thought.

“Listen I know I’m hot but you don’t have to stand there and stare.” You felt like you needed to move your hands to cover yourself.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t starring.”

“Yeah right.” Your hand found your way to his tie, beginning to undo it and pulling it off him. Jungkook following by undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Eager are we?” He teases, it was too playful for what you were familiar with. Almost made you cringe but you pushed the feeling away.

“Says the one who took my dress off.”

He pulls his shirt off once the buttons are undone. You wanted to maybe deny for a bit that he did in fact have a nice body and you kissed him again. It left you breathless so quickly, your head was spinning. With some quick movements you moved back onto the bed and Jungkook held himself above you. He kissed down your neck and then down your chest, his mouth was warm against you with every kiss.

Oh god, you thought.

The suddenness of all of this though had gotten you soaked in your underwear and it was going to be embarrassing for him to see. As he inches closer you close your legs rather quickly. Only this one time, Jungkook was going to have this effect on you.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He looked up to you and he placed both of his hands on your knees trying to pry them open, you denying him the satisfaction.

“No.” You were very clearly teasing him and sat up, which allowed you to see the full sight of him, shirtless, kneeling in front of you. Never thought this would be something you would ever see. “And darling? What are we married now?”

“That would be my nightmare.” He shivers at the thought.

“Yeah I’ll be dead before I ever marry you.”

“Well we agree on something at least.”

His hand was running up and down the inside of your thigh, he leaned up to meet your eyeline again. Catching you in a quick kiss before his hand grazed against the outside of your underwear. You held in the gasp that wanted to release from you.

“Be good and let me eat you out.” He brings his face in close by your ears and leaves a small kiss behind.

“Ask nicely and I just might.”

He took the opportunity to stand up straight, towering over you a little. Like he was getting the same sight of you below him that you had just seen of him. He tilted your chin up with his thumb and index finger, to look into his eyes.

“Please.” He said so quietly and kindly. A tone he had never taken with you.

“Fine.” You try to say in a displeasing tone, but you couldn’t help but want it.

He lowers himself back to his knees and opens your legs up again and pulls your underwear down your legs rather quickly. You laid back on your back again.

“For someone who hates me so much, you sure are wet for me.” He laughed a little and it sent a ripple of anger. You covered your face with both of your arms.

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” He replies and his hands slowly slide up your thighs. Almost agonizingly slow.

He reached your pussy which was eager to feel his touch and he swirled his fingers around your clit a few times. You really were wet, his fingers took no time to play with you. Applying some pressure, he uses his other hand to play around with one finger at your entrance. You have been trying not to elicit any sounds because you didn’t want to see that stupid smirk on his face. Your breath was heavy in your chest though. He then instead inserted two of his fingers into your dripping pussy. You let out a low hum, you wanted a little more.

“There you are. Was worried you had lost your voice.”

He switched from using both hands to just one, with his two fingers moving in and out of you. His thumb still circling your clit. He had laid himself down on the bed next to you now, he was playing with a piece of your hair, and looking at you with an amusing smile.

Before you were able to say anything, he pushed his fingers into you deeper and he was touching a spot that could easily make you come. It forced a moan out of your mouth. Which seemed to surprise the both of you.

“You really needed it bad huh?” He laughed a little at your little noises and faces you were making.

He was right.

You turn your head to the side so you don’t have to face him but he stays with you. He had to take his fingers out of you, and adjust his arm but he slipped his fingers right back inside you but this time adding another one. You moan softly into the sheets. He uses his other hand to move some hair away from your face and he leaves little bites into your shoulder.

“Three fingers already? You must be desperate for it,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you faster. Making that little curling motion that is driving you crazy. Your breathing was quick. “Can I make you cum with just my fingers?”

“God shut up already.” You groan, but mostly at the feeling. He had you in the palm of his hand so easily.

“I’m good.” He hums, looking down at his fingers which were covered in your arousal. It made his cock twitch, he wanted to replace his fingers and fuck you but there was something satisfying seeing you all quiet and annoyed just with his fingers. “Annoying you seems to turn me on.”

“Stop.” You gasp but Jungkook picked up the pace of his fingers, and a soft moan left you. You mentally cursing yourself out. “You always this chatty during sex? Feel bad for any girls prior to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Nah, I usually have my tongue inside them by now.”

“You sure are confident in your skills.” Acting as if what he said didn’t send a wave of arousal through you.

Jungkook did a few harder thrusts of his fingers and you moan and your eyes fall shut.

“Just say please, and that can be you too.” He whispers and he kisses your skin.

“I’m never begging you for anything.”

“Nights still young.”

He had gotten a good rhythm with his fingers now. Touching you in just the right way. You were trying to fight the high off as best you could. Jungkook could tell you were trying to fight it but he wanted to get you off. Would be funny in a way that he could make you cum so fast even though you despise him. He begins to suck on your neck, just in a nice little spot and makes goosebumps rise all over your body.

“You really seem to want to get me off? Didn’t think you’d be so considerate considering how selfish you are during the daytime.” There was that competitive streak again, that same part of your that is protesting this whole thing.

“I may not like you, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to cum.”

Jungkook then lowers himself down to press his tongue flat against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. He keeps working his fingers in and out of you. He only sucks on your clit one more time because he wanted just his fingers to do the work here. He brings his other hand down to rub your clit as his other hand fucks you. You were letting small moans fall from you. It turning him on more than he wanted to admit.

It doesn’t take much longer but a few more pumps of his fingers he gets your cumming onto them. You grinding on his fingers. You come down quickly and your face was completely red. Jungkook just smiling down to you. Jungkook then removes his fingers from you with a small protest from you. Licking all of your arousal off them.

“That’s unfortunate, you taste really good.” He did sound a little disappointed at the discovery.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Relax, I’m not even done.” Jungkook let out and exasperated sigh, he wanted you to just trust the process but he should have guessed you give him a hard time.

“Addicted yet?”

“Not even slightly.”

You wanted to take back control since he had his moment of slight dominance over you. You pull Jungkook back onto the bed turn yourself around and swing your legs over his waist and pin him down on the bed. Jungkook knew it was painfully obvious how hard he was in his trousers and you were sitting right on top of it. You couldn’t help the pressure made your mouth drop open a little. You wanted to feel his dick stretch you out. Not just yet though.

You run your hands over his chest slowly, and you begin to grind yourself into his crotch. You were a skittle swollen and sensitive but it seems to drive him a little crazy. His eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of the pressure on his cock. You lean down close to his ear.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that seems to need it badly.” You grind into his dick a little more forcefully. Jungkook moans a little bit and his hands have found the way to your ass, trying to guide you but you don’t let him take control of the pace. You keep your hip movements slow and taunting.

“Shit.�� He whispers, followed by a soft moan.

“Think I could make you cum just by grinding on you? No chance to even slip yourself inside of me?” You're pushing him a little. You would not let this night go without getting fucked but making him cum just like this also sounded hot. Cum in his pants and then leave him here.

“Not a chance.” He says almost like he could hear your thoughts. “I’m fucking you tonight.”

He sits up, keeping you pressed into him. His hand found its way into your hair and pulled your head back. Keeping his other hand on your ass. Again trying to take the control back from you but you keep your hips still.

Jungkook runs his mouth over the side of your neck again, letting his hot breath fan over you. Then finding that same spot earlier that made you twitch. Attaching his mouth there and keeping his one hand tangled in your hair. You hum softly, and Jungkook tries to use his hand to encourage your hips to move. You refuse.

“Say please and I just might move.” You laugh under your breath. Jungkook squeezes your hip, he was getting really desperate though, he needed the friction for some relief.

“So annoying.” He mumbles against your skin and bites you lightly, “Please.”

Thank god, because you needed the friction too. You grind your hips down into him and he moans but this wasn’t enough. You were making a mess on the top of his pants for sure but you didn’t care, it would be his problem tomorrow.

Jungkook leaned away from you. Resting on one of him arms and just watched you move for a moment, it felt like he actually was in some sort of twisted dream. Because you of all people, were here dry humping him in his hotel room, and you both were really liking it. Your face was all twisted up and breathing heavily as you chased your high. Jungkook needed this to end though.

“Okay.” You stop for a moment and sigh, your legs were getting a little tired from the position. “I need… huh.” You mumble under your breath. Jungkook gave you a confused look.

“What was that?.” Jungkook smirks and he grinds his hips up into you. You moan a little but hit his chest to protest the movement.

“Please fuck me.” Your plea comes out more pathetic than you wanted. You wanted him to pound into you though.

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me for anything?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Jungkook takes no pause and he lifts you off of him, and he kisses you so desperately before placing you back on the bed. He wastes zero time in getting off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free and you were upset but also glad to see it was a good size. Of course he’d have a nice dick, how fucking annoying.

You couldn’t help but think about sucking him off though.

Watching him unfold for you. It’d be nice. Unfortunately it was never going to happen. You just needed a good fuck and then you can go back to absolutely hating each other. He’s still vile… Just for this moment though, he is incredibly desirable.

“You got a bit of drool coming out of your mouth.” He teases you. You look away and scoff. Jungkook grabs something from his bag which proves to be a condom, quickly unpackaging it and rolling it onto his dick.

“You just had condoms at the ready?” You ask.

“I didn’t, Taehyung gave me some. ‘Just in case’, his words not mine.” Jungkook leans two hands on each side of the bed next to you. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with anyone.”

“Find that hard to believe.”

He gave you a confused expression.

“How so?”

“Isn’t this your kind of guys stomping ground? Aren’t weddings like prime hookup locations. Taehyung always seems to have some wedding hookup story.” You sit up, coming closer to Jungkook’s face.

“Tell me what ‘my type of guy’ is then?” He was getting annoyed, and it honestly made you happy.

“Assholes. Haven’t said it to you in the last twenty minutes so you probably forgot what you were.” You tilt your head in innocence. You were poking the bear, but you may be starting to regret it because you might be cutting your fuck short.

“Well, you just let this asshole finger you.” He tilts his head in the same direction as you, then using one of his hands to move some hair off your shoulder.

“A minor lapse in judgment, I’m sure.” You place a hand on the back of his neck, you needed him close again. Due to your own inability to not fight with Jungkook, you were cooling off.

Jungkook leans close and kisses you again, head still spinning. You called him and asshole and he was willingly kissing you now. So strange but it was working for the both of you. One of his hands goes down to his cock and strokes himself slowly but then moves on top of you more. He then presses his tip down onto your clit and you break your kiss to gasp.

“Then let me fuck you and we can be done with it.”

He was staring at you so intensely, he needed you. You needed to give up this fight, you needed him too. You nod and he pulls himself back for a second. You don’t think you can face him during this, you decide to flip yourself over instead. You almost preferred it in this position anyways.

“Awe what?” You heard him laugh under his breath and you scoff. “Think you might fall in love with me if you look at me the whole time?”

“Yeah right. I’m here for one thing only and I can only hope you can actually deliver.” You sigh, Jungkook had reached over to the top of the bed for a pillow. He lifted your hips which surprised you and shifted the pillow underneath your hips.

Maybe he did know what he was doing.

He begins to climb on top of you, he presses a bunch of kissing up your back and up to your neck, sucking on a spot there. Your body is completely flooded with heat. He breaks away from you, one of his hands on his dick, stroking it a couple of times.

“Still time to back out now Jeon.” You say, tilting your head to the side to look back to him.

“Nah, I need to feel you cum around me.” He was completely serious.

He pressed the tip of his dick to your entrance, playing with you as he swirls it around and he just watches your reaction. He could see it’s driving you nuts. How badly you want him to sink his dick deep inside of you. You bite your lip to fight back the moans he could be eliciting from you.

“Moan for me baby. You know you want too.”

“And let you have the satisfaction? No.”

“What a brat.” his tone was lower.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were both a little hesitant because this was it. It would be real, you would have fucked each other after this.

Jungkook presses the tip of his dick into you and it elicits a small noise from you. He pushes his dick in more, slowly and you could feel every tiny movement. He slowly stretches you out so you can take the full length. His breath was rather ragged, and his eyes were shut. He didn’t completely bottom out yet but he pulls himself out and then pushes himself in again. You groan at the movement. You hated how much he was driving you crazy and how desperately you were wanting him to pound into you.

“Jungkook please.” You needed it.

“Oh yeah?” he opens his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Enough teasing. Just fuck me.” You grip onto the sheets below you, you needed it so bad and your breath was all ragged and desperate.

Jungkook observes you for a moment, you had laid your head to the side so he could examine your expression. You were desperate. He brought his hands up on top of yours gripping onto them. He then completely bottoms out inside you, which forces a moan out of you. It’s soft but it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears.

“I win.” he says with a chuckle.

He doesn’t give you much time to react before he pulls himself all they way out and shoves his dick all the way back in again. Wanting to feel every inch of your pussy around him. Each thrust forces a small moan out of you. You want to move your arms but Jungkook kept you in place. He is rocking you back and forth with each thrust and pounding all the way inside you.

The sound of his thrust and his pelvis slapping against your skin is so lewd. Its driving you crazy. Both of your moans fill the room. He bites down onto your shoulder and you swear it felt electric.

“Jesus your fucking wet.” He is so out of breath. He can’t get enough.

You can’t either.

“Oh my god.” You moan, you feel the swell of your climax rising again. Jungkook has been stroking a part of your pussy with his dick and it’s driving you insane. You have never cum from penetration sex this quickly before.

He slowed for a second. Moving his hand between your pussy and the pillow. Rubbing your clit. He was going to make you cum again, he was messing with you earlier but he didnt want you to feel good. You press your forehead deep into the mattress. Just letting whatever sound was in you out. You were almost running away from his touch and you push backwards just forced your ass into his pelvis. Pushing his dick deeper.

Double edged sword here, nowhere for you to escape. He did a few slower thrusts while he did this, keeping a certain rhythm. Before you are able to even think, your climax rolls over you again and you’re squeezing Jungkook's dick and he takes this moment to go a little faster with his thrusts while you ride it out on him.

“Fuck.” you let a long dragged out moan, as Jungkook rides you through your high.

“That’s right baby use me.” His hot breath fans over your skin. “I-I’m also close.”

You continue to hang onto his hand as he rocks into you. Filling you up completely. Never stopping for a second as you come off your climax. The stimulation felt crazy, you almost didn’t want to stop. Consider asking him to eat you out and make you come all over again. Then Jungkook gets a little sloppier in his thrusts as he’s close to his climax.

“Coming, coming.” His breath catches in his throat as you feel him fill up the condom.

He thrust a few more times but slows to a stop. Both of your breathing in sync. He rests his head on your back. You both just stay there for a minute. His cock still buried in you. You both relish what just happened. It felt really good.. Really really good… but oh my god.

You just fucked Jungkook.

How, bizarre.

Jungkook kissed your shoulder softly before pulling away and getting out of bed. He stood too quickly, feeling a little dizzy, but more from the weight of what had just happened. You stifled a small whine at the loss of contact, quickly covering your mouth. He chuckled through his heavy breaths, but you couldn’t look at him—your face was already burning with embarrassment.

What the hell did I just do?

You didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The guy you hated more than anyone was just in bed with you. His hands, his mouth, his entire presence—everything felt so good, too good. You hated him, didn’t you? This shouldn’t have happened. Yet, the feeling of him still lingered on your skin, and worse, a part of you already missed it.

Reality hit harder the moment you sat up. How long had the two of you been gone? You turned over, and Jungkook was already reaching out a hand to help you up. We can’t stay here. We need to get back. He held your dress in his other hand.

“Thank you. We need to get back.” You say at almost a whisper as you begin to redress yourself.

You rushed into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Seeing yourself in the mirror made everything feel even more real. Your hair was a mess, and you looked… well, you looked like you’d just been thoroughly fucked. You wiped at your neck where he’d left a tiny mark, hidden easily enough, but tomorrow? You were going to have to get creative.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was dressing in the other room, moving on autopilot. He stared at his ruined slacks, feeling a strange satisfaction. Damn, what did we just do? He hadn’t expected any of this, not with you. You were the last person he ever thought he'd sleep with, but there you were, both standing at the edge of something that shouldn’t have happened.

I don’t regret it, though. Should I? He shook his head. It can’t happen again.

When you came back out, dressed, Jungkook saw the tension written all over your face, mirroring his own. It was thick between you, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. He cleared his throat, glancing at his phone.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah we should hurry.” He had checked the time on his phone, it was well past time that the two of you needed to be back.

The air felt tense between the two of you. What you both just did felt amazing but you also fucking despise this guy. You pretty sure that hate didn’t go away. Knowing what he can do in bed though certainly makes that feeling all the more confusing.

I guess you just go back to hating the guy. He would go back to hating you.

“I’m going to go down first.” You said and you don’t look at him.

He hums in agreement. Better to not show up together, not that you believe anyone would be at all suspicious of what you two had done.

“This is never happening again.” You say back, a seriousness behind your voice.

It shouldn’t happen again. You're reeling a little but from the touch of Jungkook’s skin, how it made you feel so warm. So inviting, even though he makes you burn with a fiery rage.

Your head was completely cloudy, and your mouth with the left over taste of a cigarette.

Downstairs, you entered the rehearsal as if nothing had happened. The walk had been a blur, your mind still buzzing from the touch of his skin, the way he made you feel even though you despised him. Your heart was still pounding, but you pushed it all aside when Melanie spotted you.

“Thank God, everything’s a mess. Where have you been?” she asked, concern mixed with curiosity.

You pulled yourself together, forcing a smile. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were… talking. I think we’re good now.”

“Talking?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. “You guys actually talked?”

“Yeah, sort of,” you replied, keeping it casual. “No more fighting this weekend.”

After some time Jungkook also rejoined the party. You spent the entire party not speaking and not even looking at each other. Nothing else happened, like it never happened. A secret the two of you could bury way deep down. Except it kept playing over in your mind into the next morning. You were completely distracted getting dressed and doing hair and makeup.

Ash definitely took notice.

"Hey, where did you disappear to last night?" Ash tapped your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked a few times, trying to refocus. Where’s my head right now? Well, you knew exactly where. You were still reeling from last night, mentally replaying every fight with Jungkook, trying to figure out how the two of you ended up… here.

“Oh.” You forced a casual tone, definitely not because you had slept with the person you hated most. “Jungkook and I got into a fight.”

“Shocker.” Ash rolled her eyes, not even mildly surprised.

“It was bad this time. Namjoon stepped in, got mad, so we took it outside...” You trailed off, hoping that would be enough to dodge further questions.

She raised a hand, halting you. “If you’re about to tell me you punched him and I missed it, I’m going to be pissed.”

You laughed. “I didn’t punch him. Wanted to, though.”

“So, what happened?” She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity not dropping.

Nothing I’m admitting out loud.

“We came to a truce... of sorts.” You gulped.

“I don’t get why he’s always up your ass.” Ash finally seemed to let it go. “What was he picking a fight about this time?”

“He just wanted to piss me off, I guess.”

At that moment, Melanie stepped out of the dressing room, her hair, makeup, and dress all done. She looked beautiful. Her mom and sister fussed over minor details, but she was radiant, if a little nervous. Hopefully, she’d relax more once we started pictures.

Apparently, she’d had a minor meltdown about dinner last night because the caterers were short on some items, which shifted the schedule. She seemed to have forgotten about it this morning, though. You’d gone straight to the reception area to help smooth things over.

For all the times Melanie had helped you, it was a small favor. Hopefully, today would go smoothly.

“You look so beautiful,” you say, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“No crying!” Melanie waves you off frantically. “The makeup cannot get messed up!”

She fans her face like crazy, trying to hold it together. You glance over at Ash, who’s already wiping away a tear.

“Ash!” You bump her gently.

“I can’t help it,” she mutters, dabbing under her eyes with her fingers.

“Melanie, we need to get down to the fountain for the reveal and photos,” the wedding planner calls out as she steps into the room. You glance at your phone and realize time’s running out—you need to get out of the hotel room now.

“I know, I know.” Melanie smooths out her dress, her mom hovering nearby trying to fuss with her hair, but Melanie waves her away.

Grabbing your bouquets, you start ushering everyone out the door. It’s a bit chaotic navigating through the hotel, with guests stopping every few steps to offer their congratulations. It’s sweet, but you’ve got a time limit, and you and Ash do your best to shield Melanie from well-wishers, playing defense as you maneuver outside.

Eventually, you make it to the courtyard. The photographer, who had been by earlier to get pictures of the hair and makeup process was here again, had gone ahead to get some shots of Namjoon before the big reveal.

“He’s going to bawl like a baby,” you say with a smile, and Melanie laughs in agreement.

“He is so going to cry.”

“You are too, though. I expect full waterworks.” You nudge her playfully.

“I’ve got tissues at the ready,” Ash announces, pulling out a small packet of tissues stashed between her boobs.

“No one wants your boob tissues!” you protest, cringing a little.

“Says you!” Ash pouts, stuffing the tissues back into her bra defiantly.

You all come to a halt as the photographer’s voice carries around the corner. Deciding to check if everything’s set, you sneak ahead and peek around the wall leading to the fountain. Namjoon stands facing the water, the photographer taking a few last shots of him.

You run back to Melanie and whisper, “We’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath before stepping forward. You, Ash, and the others stay back to watch the exchange.

The photographer takes a few more photos of Melanie as she approaches Namjoon from behind. Finally, the photographer waves her forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turns slowly, his eyes still closed.

You hear Melanie giggle softly as she pats him again to get him to open his eyes. The second he does, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate—he pulls her into his arms and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

He sets her down gently, taking a moment just to look at her. You can’t hear what he says, but the words clearly make Melanie smile before they kiss. It’s such a tender moment that you feel your own eyes start to well up.

The photographer waves you all over, and you, Ash, Serena, and her mom step out from behind the wall, walking toward the fountain. As you get closer, it’s clear—Namjoon and Melanie are both absolute blubbering messes, completely lost in the moment. More touching than you’d imagined.

“Oh no,” you laugh and smile fondly at the both of them, “Not the both of you.”

Namjoon is wiping his eyes, and Melanie is also wiping his face while she wipes her own.

“I can’t stop.” He says so innocently.

“Shit I can’t stop either.” Melanie is trying to fan herself.

Ash comes to the rescue, with now an unpacked tissue. You laugh to yourself a little.

“Never thought I would be so happy to see a boob tissue.” Melanie laughs and accepts the tissue.

“A what?” Namjoon asks and looks between you.

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat him on the shoulder.

They both try to pull themselves together, with joyful sniffles. Namjoon didn’t let go of her for a second. His eyes are filled with nothing but her. It makes your heart scream.

“Okay, now we can get pictures with everyone.” The photographer yells a little louder. The fountain as a little loud for everyone to hear. You didn’t seem to notice she was actually trying to call over the groomsmen who were waiting a ways away.

“Hey guys!” Namjoon calls and does that cool like two finger in your mouth whistle thing.

You and Ash both try to mimic Namjoon and fail miserably. Just getting spit on your hands.

The groomsmen usher their way over and are ready and waiting for instructions.

“Okay, we will start getting a picture of everyone lined up! Bride and groom in the middle and then the maid of honor and the best man.”

Everyone lined up in order and Ash placed herself behind you. You get a couple of shots like this, some serious and some goofy. You couldn’t wait to see them later.

“Okay let’s get a picture of just the groomsmen and the bridesmaids really quick.”

She waves for Melanie and Namjoon to step away from the group really quick. You then come face to face with the scum of the earth himself. You had been avoiding acknowledging him up until this point. Jungkook just gives you the widest shit eating grin he can muster. You can’t help but have a look of disdain. His look is the one that says ‘we fucked last night’.

Fucking embarrassing.

“Morning.” He says a little too pridefully.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You groan before standing immediately next to him, making sure you aren’t touching.

“Play nice you two.” You hear Namjoon call off from the side, some of the other snicker knowing exactly who he’s addressing.

“I think we can take a picture, Namjoon.” You smile almost embarrassed, everyone else very audibly disagrees.

“Sure, we can.” Jungkook says, “At least I can.”

You just shake off the comment.

Once the group shot is finished, you waste no time putting distance between yourself and Jungkook, stepping away as quickly as possible. The other bridesmaids follow your lead, and the groomsmen do the same, splitting into their own groups. Namjoon and Melanie are ushered back for more couple shots, their laughter filling the air as the photographer clicks away.

“Jungkook can’t leave you alone for one day, huh?” Ash breaks the silence in your head.

“Seriously,” you sigh.

“He really does like provoking something out of you, doesn’t he?” she adds with a knowing grin.

“This is exactly what I’ve been saying!” You throw your arms up dramatically, earning a laugh from her.

You glance back at Namjoon and Melanie. They look absolutely radiant, like they’re in their own little world. Namjoon hasn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.

“They look so happy, don’t they?” Ash comments, her gaze softening as she watches the couple.

You nod, a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, they really do.”

“Got your sights set on anyone for the evening?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows mischievously.

“That was random.” You give her a look. “And no, I’ll probably be going to bed early tonight. This wedding has been months of stress on the brain. I’ll be happy to turn in, thanks.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay up! You’ve helped Melanie plan this whole thing from the very beginning. You deserve to enjoy it too!” Ash grins widely, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes. “Seeing Melanie happy is all the reward I need from today. No random hook-up is going to top that.” and you know… you already had one.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She leans against you, feigning a whine.

“I don’t know,” you muse. “I’m just not interested unless it’s with someone who looks at me like how Namjoon looks at Melanie.” You gesture toward the couple, where Namjoon is still gazing at his bride-to-be like she’s the only person in the world.

Ash cocks her head. “How would you describe it?”

You pause, watching as Melanie stumbles near the fountain, nearly pulling Namjoon with her. For a second, your heart skips a beat, but they both catch themselves, bursting into laughter. The moment is so full of joy, so genuine, you can’t help but sigh.

“He looks at her like he can’t breathe without her. Like she’s the air that keeps him going. And it’s the same the other way around. They push each other to be better, to grow. And somehow, through that, they keep falling deeper in love.” Your voice grows soft, almost wistful. You want that too, you realize. But it feels out of reach—like something only other people get to have.

Ash is quiet for a moment before she nods. “I get it. You want someone to breathe for, too. Someone who makes you want to be better.”

She pinches your cheek playfully, making an exaggerated cooing sound, and you swat her hand away, laughing.

“Not just that,” you add thoughtfully. “I want someone who makes me feel like fire too.”

Ash raises an eyebrow, teasing. “You want someone to set you on fire? Kinky.”

You shove her with a grin. “You know what I mean. I want tenderness, but I also want passion. The kind that burns. Most people don’t really want the specific kind of passion I’m looking for.”

Ash considers this for a moment, and you both fall into a comfortable silence. It’s not something you talk about often—your idea of love. Mostly because it seems too ideal, too unattainable. You’ve placed it high on a shelf, a fantasy you’ve all but convinced yourself isn’t real.

“I think you’ll find that,” Ash hums after a while.

You shrug. “Yeah? Well, let me know when you find them.”

“Find who?”

Of course, the second you think the day might calm down, Jungkook appears behind you, his voice as obnoxious as ever.

“Speaking of fire extinguishers,” you mutter under your breath before turning to face him. “What do you want?” you ask, your tone dry.

“Just thought I’d let you know—you look nice,” he says, flashing you that infuriating smile again.

“Well, that’s—” you start, but before you can finish, he adds.

“Oh, not you. I was talking to Ash.”

You catch the smirk on his face and feel your cheeks flush. Of course. Why were you even surprised? He’s just determined to remind you of how much of a mistake last night was.

“You really came over here just for that?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.

“Fuck you.”

“Funny you say that, Ash—” Jungkook starts to reply, but you shove him away before he can finish.

You glare at him, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back with a smirk, clearly content with having annoyed you. Linking arms with Ash, you walk away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Just ignore him. Stay ten feet away all day.”

“We have to walk down the aisle together.”

Ash sighs. “Okay, other than that, stay ten feet away from him.”

The pictures had finally wrapped up, after what felt like a few thousand poses in every scenic corner of the hotel. The fairy tale vibe was exactly what Melanie had dreamed of, but now it was getting close to go time.

Except, of course, you couldn’t find the Best Man.

You paced around the ceremony hall, looking for Jungkook. He had exactly one job, and he managed to vanish right before it. Frustration boiled in your chest. Naturally, he’d run off now.

“Where the hell is he?” you muttered, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air. The sun greeted you, but so did the smell of cigarettes. A flash of last night flickered across your mind. Nope. Not going there.

You rounded the corner, and there he was. Of course. Standing there like nothing was wrong, cigarette in hand. Taehyung was next to him, equally guilty.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Your voice is coming out a little more aggressive than you intended.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung grabbed his chest in shock and held the cigarette away from him, “how did this get in my hand!” He threw the cigarette down like it had betrayed him and gave you his most innocent look.

Jungkook just stood there, holding the cigarette in his mouth and taking in a long breath.

“Just get your ass inside.” You look pointedly at Taehyung and he bows his head a little.

“Sorry, I’m going.” He drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out.

He then runs past you to head on inside and you follow him with your head, before you turn to look back at Jungkook. Who has not put out his cigarette.

“Well?” you say folding your arms over your chest.

He looks at you confused like he is supposed to do something.

“Are we supposed to be somewhere right now?” He says sarcastically, almost playful. Now coming your direction.

“Don’t start with me, you damn well know we need to be lining up to walk down that aisle in like five minutes and you’re out here smoking!” you rub the side of your head, you really didn’t want to do this right now.

“I’m kidding I’m sorry I really thought we had more time,” he drops his cigarette and stomps it out, unfinished, “Lets get this show on the road.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Progress.

“Thank you,” you muttered, leading the way back inside.

“No problem,” he said, tone as dry as sandpaper.

You turned around and you went inside first. He was close behind you heading back into the ceremony hall. You rushed a little because you had to go be in line right now or the wedding coordinator would have your head. Ash was in the line in front of you and had your flowers ready for you to grab when you got in line.

You and Jungkook were in the back of the line so that when you lined up you would be first behind the bride and groom at the alter.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ to Ash as you take them and hold it in your right hand. You look next to you and Jungkook is already holding his arm for you to take. You groan a little bit and wrap your arm around his.

“You stink.” You huff.

“Didn’t seem to be a problem yesterday-…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You elbowed him hard, earning a gasp, but he recovered quickly. Just as you settled in, Melanie popped up behind you, looking like she might explode from excitement or nerves.

“Are you two going to be okay back here?”

“Yes you just focus on your wedding.” You give her a soft smile.

“You look lovely Melanie.” Jungkook looks back at her and smiles.

“Awe thank you Jungkook. Stop giving my maid of honor a hard time.” She pats him on the shoulder.

“Fine, only for you though.” He smiles very genuinely.

The music in the Ceremony Hall began and everyone in front of you started walking down the aisle. You smile back to Melanie one more time before you and Jungkook begin to walk.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Namjoon and Melanie’s vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and perfect.

But the day was far from over.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you slipped out to the reception hall, tackling Melanie’s last-minute worries so she could enjoy some alone time with Namjoon. It was a long day—they deserved a moment to themselves.

Unfortunately, things weren’t running as smoothly here. The DJ was late, so you had to improvise. The hotel lent a larger speaker, and the planner decided to shuffle the schedule—dinner and speeches first, dancing later.

Most of the guests had already arrived, found their seats, and were milling around. The open bar helped keep them entertained. Ash was busy working the room, chatting with everyone and keeping things lively, while you stayed on the outskirts, handling logistics.

Stationed by the front door, you kept an eye on the time, knowing you’d need to get things rolling soon, even without a DJ.

“Hello.” Jungkook’s voice rang next to you.

“Yes?” You look at him blankly.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No.” You sniff and continue doing what you were doing.

You walk away from him and he keeps right on your toes. He expected that exact answer from you but he didn’t stop. He placed himself in front of you, making you come to a halt.

“Oh come on. There is seriously nothing I can help you with? You look like you’re under a lot of stress.”

“No, because I don’t need your help Jungkook.”

He crossed his arms, irritation flashing across his face. “You know this is my friend’s wedding too. Thought I’d try to make things go smoother, but I guess you’ve got it handled.”

“Great, then go have a nice time,” you said, waving him off.

“You seriously can’t relinquish control if it’s me, huh? What—”

You angrily groan and push him a little further away from other guests and cover your ears with your hands in frustration.

“God I can’t do this right now Jungkook. I don’t have the brain power to fight with you right now.” You let out a long sigh of anger. “Just go away.”

He was annoyed and so were you. You don’t get why it was such a big deal and why you couldn’t just let him help. You just didn’t want him to ruin anything. You didn’t know where that feeling came from, that he would ruin anything. Maybe just to spite you, because it felt like something he would do.

“See this just makes me believe that last night was a waste of time. Nothing’s changed.” You rub your face a little bit.

“Maybe. Right now though we don’t have time to deal with that.” His voice was pretty steady, he was feeling the same, “I can help though. Just tell me what I can do..”

He was looking right at you. You hadn’t looked straight at him. You let yourself for a moment though and he looked genuine.

“The DJ isn’t here.” You let go.

“Okay… we do have some music playing though.”

“Okay but no one is announcing Namjoon and Melanie.”

He cocked his head to the side like he was a little confused.

“Announcing them?”

“Like ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ that whole thing.” You wave your hands around trying to describe it.

He just watches your hands fly around everywhere.

“Okay. I’ll do it then.” He says it so matter of factly, so easily. “We have a microphone set up. I can easily introduce them. Maybe even throw in a joke or two.”

This was a small weight off your shoulder.

“I was honestly dreading having to do it. I’m pretty worried about my speech. I don’t like talking in front of others.”

You had been dreading the thought. You made some note cards, they weren’t very good and the story was pretty boring. It was still something.

“Well this is one less thing you need to worry about.” He gave you what looked like a little bit of a smile, “See? I can be helpful.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m sure your speech is great.” You mumble a little.

He had a certain confidence in himself that you envied a little bit.

Except you didn’t because you would never envy Jungkook. Obviously.

Still.

“Can I read your speech?” Jungkook held out his hand like you were just going to hand over the cards.

“Uh no.”

“I’m sure it’s good.”

For some reason—maybe because you were already too stressed—you actually did. You pulled the cards from your pocket and dropped them into his hand. He flipped through them with the speed of someone browsing a restaurant menu.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, still holding onto your cards.

“Really?” You picked at the skin on your thumb, surprised. It was weirdly nice hearing that.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, wiping his nose before leaning closer. “Now let’s see if you can remember it.”

He then slipped your cards into the inside of his jacket. Your eyes widened at the action and immediately lunged for him and he backed up.

“You’re not fucking serious right now Jungkook.” You were trying to set him on fire with your eyes. He looked rather amused, “Give me back my cards before I kill you.”

He kept reaching out of your arm range. He knew if you got a hold of him, he was going to the ground for sure.

“Can’t do that.” He grabs hold of one of your wrists and stops you. “Speak from within.”

“I’m going to kill you. That is the worst advice!” You actually couldn’t believe what was happening.

Was he fucking five years old?

“I didn’t write down my speech.” He sounded so cheeky.

“Good for you.” You groaned, throwing your hands up. There was no way you were getting those cards back now.

He really was not going to give it back.

Jungkook, still looking way too pleased with himself, tapped the side of his jacket. “I’m serious, though. You’ll have better things to say than what’s on these cards.”

“Okay, but not everyone can just whip it out like you!”

“Well—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, pointing a finger at his face as the joke formed in his mind. He was practically buzzing with the urge to say it, but you could see him weighing whether it was worth the inevitable wrath.

Just then, your phone buzzed—a message from Melanie letting you know they were waiting outside. Jungkook leaned over your shoulder and peeked at the message too.

“Looks like it’s showtime.” He grinned, leaning way too close to your ear before taking off in a jog across the room.

You watched, half-annoyed, half-amused, as he reached the speaker playing music and paused it. The room’s chatter became the only sound as he tapped the microphone a few times, then cleared his throat loudly.

“Mic works!” He beamed, casually removing it from the stand like he was born to hold it. All eyes turned toward him. “Alright, everyone, sorry for the delay! It is my absolute pleasure to present to you all, for the very first time... Mr. and Mrs. Kim!”

He started clapping before anyone else, but soon the whole room joined in, everyone turning toward the doors as Namjoon and Melanie made their entrance. They looked overjoyed—and completely exhausted—but the energy in the room was contagious. You clapped too, quietly slipping toward your table at the edge of the room.

As Namjoon and Melanie finally reached their seats, the room began to settle, everyone sitting down together just as you reached your chair.

Jungkook still has the microphone and is standing in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone.

“So, I’m Jungkook as many of you know. The best man. It is my duty to let you know there has been a slight change of plan for the night folks.” He was really good at speaking to the whole room, “We are going to get the kiss and cry out of the way first tonight so we can all party and celebrate with my wonderful friends here.”

He flashes a very genuine smile over to Namjoon and Melanie. Who were sitting so close they could have melted together.

“First thing I will say is drink responsibly tonight everyone!” He points around the room, “Specifically you mister.”

He points over to Namjoon who raises his hands up in defense. Everyone laughs a little bit.

“Speaking of whom,” Jungkook clears his throat, “I have a little story. We all know Namjoon to be kind of like a dad,” the guests all nod and agree, “He is pretty responsible and takes care of others a lot. What some may not know though is Namjoon does not hold his alcohol very well.”

Everyone in the room either laughed a little or let out some low chatter.

“Namjoon is actually a terrible lightweight. So he usually is the responsible one when we are out.” He paced around the room a little, “This story has to do with the night he met Melanie. He had a terrible week at his job, several years ago now.”

****************************************************

Four years prior.

Jungkook shoved his way into the bar, immediately swallowed by the crowd. It was packed—busier than he'd ever seen it, and it made finding Namjoon seem impossible. He craned his neck, scanning over heads and across booths, trying to spot his friend among the chaos.

“Come on, man…” Jungkook muttered, pulling out his phone and dialing Namjoon’s number, which, of course, went straight to voicemail. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He sighed and left yet another voicemail.

“Dude, the one time you decide to turn off your phone? I’ve been looking everywhere—”

Jungkook froze mid-sentence, spotting Namjoon on the dance floor, swaying wildly in a sea of strangers. He cut the call and couldn’t help but laugh. Namjoon was not the kind of guy who danced with strangers—ever. And yet, here he was, fruity cocktail in hand, looking like he was auditioning for some bizarre dance competition.

Jungkook fumbled for his phone again, snapping a quick picture to roast him with later.

“Oh, buddy… you are done for,” he muttered, still laughing as he pushed through the crowd toward him.

Just as he was about to reach him, someone yanked Namjoon off the dance floor. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched a girl—someone he didn’t recognize—drag Namjoon over to a booth and force water down his throat like he was a wilting plant.

“Do you have any friends I can call?” she asked, practically shouting to be heard over the noise. Namjoon, half-asleep, slumped against her shoulder in a drunken stupor.

“I have a friend named Jeonnnnyyy,” Namjoon slurred, and Jungkook cringed, feeling secondhand embarrassment from a distance.

The girl sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, can I have your phone to call him?”

“No no no no no no no,” Namjoon mumbled, waving his hands as if the mere thought of Jungkook seeing him like this was some mortal sin. “He’d laugh at me.”

The girl’s patience was saintly. “I’m sure he’d be happy you’re alive, but sure, whatever you say. Let me just text him—”

“I can’t leave. If I leave, I have to go back to work and get fired.” Namjoon hiccupped, sagging further into the booth. “I f-fucked up at work.” He looked like a kicked puppy, and it was almost pitiful.

The girl patted his arm reassuringly. “Hey, we all screw up. You’re not the first person to mess up at work. Trust me, I screw up all the time.”

Namjoon blinked at her, looking like he’d just found the meaning of life in her words. “Yeah, but I can’t screw up. I have to take care of everything.” His voice cracked with the weight of it, and he slouched even lower.

“Well, let me take care of you tonight,” she said softly, pushing his sweat-dampened hair back from his face. “Just for tonight. Let me carry the weight for a bit.”

Jungkook could see the change in Namjoon’s face—a moment where everything clicked for him, and suddenly he was grounded. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear.

The girl laughed, brushing it off. “You’re a mess, but thanks. Now, let me have your phone. I’ll call Johnny.”

That was Jungkook’s cue.

“Johnny here,” he announced, stepping up with a grin. “Actually, it's Jungkook.” He clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Jeonnnnyyy!” Namjoon cheered, looking up at him with bleary eyes, completely oblivious to the embarrassment of it all.

The girl stood and crossed her arms, her brow creased with concern. “You know him? How did you even find us?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “He called me before he decided to turn off his phone. Classic Namjoon move.” Namjoon practically collapsed into him, his weight dragging both of them down slightly. “I think it’s time to call it a night, buddy.”

With the girl helping to steady Namjoon’s other side, they guided him through the crowd and outside, plopping him down on a bench.

Jungkook pulled out his phone to order an Uber. “Thanks for looking after him in there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He usually doesn’t need babysitting, but today was… rough.”

She smiled warmly, wiping some of the sweat from Namjoon’s face. “No problem at all. I’m Melanie, by the way.” She extended a hand, and Jungkook shook it gratefully.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve got it from here, though. You should head back inside.”

Namjoon, however, had other plans. “Stayyyy!” he chanted, practically bouncing on the bench. “Don’t gooo!”

Melanie laughed but knelt in front of him, pressing a piece of paper into his hand. “Here. If you ever need to talk, give me a call, okay?”

Then like that she was gone and heading back inside. Namjoon held the piece of paper up above his head. Namjoon was smirking at him, just watching him completely star struck over this little piece of paper.

****************************************************

“I got Namjoon home that night,” Jungkook said, laughing as he addressed the room at the reception. “And yes, I made sure to stick the little piece of paper on his fridge. Luckily, he didn’t chicken out and actually called her.”

Namjoon stood up with a sheepish grin. “Full disclosure, he did stay at my place the next morning and bugged me non-stop until I called her.”

Some laughter came from around the room, Jungkook was soared through this with ease. Seeing you basically stare daggers into the side of his head the entire time.

“Okay fine, he was a little baby. Though the rest is history now.” He sighed, “Dude you fucking scored.”

He ran over to Namjoon really quick and gave him a fist bump.

“Seriously though, I could not be more happy than to be the best man at this wedding. I’m so happy to see you this comfortable and at ease with someone. She is amazing. I couldn’t be more excited to see how you two grow together. If I find someone who makes me just as happy or comfortable as Melanie does for you. I will consider myself lucky. Congratulations to the both of you.”

Everyone clapped, and a few sniffles echoed through the room as Jungkook wrapped up his speech. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly charming he was when addressing an audience. His story had been sweet, and it stirred fond memories in you. You recalled a slightly different version from Melanie’s perspective—she had fallen for Namjoon that night, captivated by his blend of adorableness and vulnerability.

Thank goodness he’d called her.

You remembered how quickly they’d started dating after that. They dove headfirst into a whirlwind of outings, and Melanie was completely smitten while Namjoon was lost in her. Their connection had been instant. Years had passed since that fateful first date, but today felt like the culmination of a long journey—a day that had been long overdue.

“Alright, I now need to turn over the mic to my esteemed colleague.” Jungkook spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. That familiar, infuriating grin spread across his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Maid of Honor!”

He strode over to you, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted it, grimacing at the unwanted attention, as he hoisted you to your feet. He placed the microphone in your hands, and you could feel all eyes on you as you made your way to the dance floor. Sweat prickled at your brow, and your nerves danced wildly in your stomach.

A quick glance at Ash, who gave you a thumbs-up, and Melanie’s encouraging cheers offered a semblance of comfort, though you still felt like you might explode.

“Hi everyone, I am Y/N.” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I had a speech prepared for this occasion, but apparently, someone who shall remain nameless—definitely not Jungkook—decided to take my notecards. So, I’m winging it!”

That got you a few laughs, out of the corner of your eye you could see Ash hit Jungkook. You gripped the microphone tightly, focusing your gaze on the floor to steady your nerves.

“Anyway, I have a story that’s somewhat fitting. It’s about Melanie and Namjoon’s first date—an experience that couldn’t have gone more wrong. Namjoon had planned an elegant evening at a nice restaurant, but wouldn’t you know it, the place caught fire when they arrived. So, they shifted gears and went to see a movie instead, which turned out to be utterly terrible.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and you took a deep breath, pushing on.

“Determined to salvage the night, they decided to grab some snacks and hang out in a park. But here’s where it gets really interesting—Namjoon accidentally caused Melanie to go into anaphylactic shock because he didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts! And just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, it started pouring—I'm talking a torrential downpour, not a light drizzle.”

“It’s true!” Melanie called out from the back, prompting you to scrunch your face playfully at him.

“Some would say that, yeah that’s a really terrible date. Some may take that as a sign from the universe that you two shouldn’t be together. I certainly did. Melanie had a different perspective...”

****************************************************

“I’m your emergency contact?” You found Melanie’s bed in a far corner of the your own hospitals ER. You were technically in the middle of a shift when another nurse in the ER called you.

You had no idea Melanie had placed you down as her emergency contact. You were glad to see nothing crazy had happened. You came and sat in the chair that was available next to her.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of family in the city.” She looked embarrassed, she played with her hands in her lap. You took one of her hands.

“This is not the place I like to see you in after a date, What happened?” You scrunch your eyebrows together in some serious concern.

“Oh, I promise it was nothing insane. I had a reaction to some peanuts but I’m really okay!” She assured you and she sat up in her bed.

“Well that’s good, was the date good otherwise?”

“It’s actually been a crazy day. First the restaurant caught fire, our movie was terrible, I went into shock and then it rained on us.” She was laughing and you were confused, sounded like a really terrible date.

“Oh my god.” You were in shock just listening to her. “So I’m assuming you’re never seeing this guy again?”

Before Melanie could get in a word, Namjoon had come back with some water cups. He was walking slowly as not to spill. You hadn’t had a chance to see what this guy looked like. He was very handsome, no wonder Melanie suck around during this natural disaster.

“Water for you.” Melanie takes her water with a smile, “And I’m sorry how about you take this one.”

Namjoon tries to pass you the other water but you wave him off to keep the water. He takes a different chair next to the bed.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You give him a small wave and he nods. “You must be Namjoon.”

“That’s me.” He smiles, he looked embarrassed.

“You don’t have to stay I’m really okay.” Melanie assures him.

“Oh no it’s okay. I may go find where they put your jacket though, some nurse took it and hasn’t brought it back.” Namjoon set down his cup and got up again to see if he could find the nurse.

“He’s here?” You look back to Melanie.

“Yeah he was so worried he’s stayed the whole time.”

“That’s sweet. Do I need to scare him off?” You give her a serious look.

“No no don’t. I actually want to keep spending time with him.” She sits closer to you, “All of those things did go wrong. Except all the conversations we’ve had have been like… It’s like I’ve never clicked so well with someone so fast. He’s been very kind and is listening. He has very thoughtful and intelligent things to say to every topic I bring up. He’s very goofy and awfully clumsy, but I never felt more safe. So I promise it’s okay.”

“Still, you don’t know him.” You were hesitant.

“I swear to you that if anything happens I’ll call you in. Then we can kick his ass.” You placed a hand on your shoulder and you smile.

Melanie would probably break all of his bones before anything could happen.

“It’s funny though. I was serious. It’s like every time I talk to him, I’m just so at peace.”

***********************************************************************

“I stuck around because, you know, your best friend has a medical emergency with a random guy; you can’t just leave. We all talked for a while, but it became glaringly obvious when Namjoon came back that he was already so in love with her. I had never seen Melanie let her guard down with someone like that.” You chuckled, and everyone else joined in.

“That night, Melanie came back to my place, and I swear she didn’t shut up about him—not even for a second. She explained everything that happened in excruciating detail, and I thought it was the craziest first-date story I’d ever heard. But that wasn’t what captivated her. It was how Namjoon smiled, how kind and funny he was, how charming. She didn’t care that everything had gone wrong; she only cared about seeing him again. That was when I knew this was serious. This wasn’t just some fling—Namjoon was sticking around.”

You smiled at Melanie and Namjoon, realizing she had found exactly what she’d been looking for. He was the one who would treasure her heart, never to crush it. You remembered the night she met him, how she called you about another idiot she had to rescue, how he reminded her of you and how stupid he was.

She was in love with Namjoon from the very first night.

“All I have left to say is, Namjoon, I’m sorry I thought you were a creep. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better for Melanie to be with. Congratulations!”

You clapped, and everyone followed suit. Letting out a heavy breath of relief, you quickly made your way back to your seat. Ash was practically glowing, excitement written all over her face.

“That was so good!” She pats you on the back a you sit down.

“It was literally the only memory I could think of to be honest.” You scoot your chair in and you watch as dinner was being served to each table. Your food being sat in front of you.

You look back to Namjoon and Melanie who were only looking at each other. She was so happy, so in love, and has gotten everything she wanted. We finally made it to this day.

Thank god because you were over wedding planning for a long time.

“We did it.” You said, Ash was also looking over at them.

“We really did. Now we get to party and have a good time!” She looks at her drink for a moment and then hand sit to you, “Drink up. This night could only get better if you fall on your face”

You rolled your eyes and push her drink back over to her plate.

Everyone at dinner and mingled, a lot of the relatives from both Namjoon and Melanie's sides of the family came over and talked to you. Slowly everyone finished up and cake was also served. Namjoon and Melanie were not fond of the official cake cutting thing so they just wanted it to be served out once dinner was done. Everyone ate and mingled, and you got to hear lots of stories about Namjoon over the years. He really was just a good guy, everyone spoke of him so highly.

Even though he was one of your good friends, it was so interesting to hear about him from before.

You also got to hear some childhood stories about Melanie that you were going to keep in your memory for later. Definitely some embarrassing ones you can bring up at other times. Eventually the DJ showed up and everyone began to dance. Everyone is getting more and more drinks in them and loosening up. You were also one of these people. It was nice to finally wind down after a very stressful weekend.

Just dance and have a nice time.

You had gone back to your table though and it was now a slow song, which gave you a chance to be off your feet for a little while. You did take off your shoes and just watched everyone dance. Melanie and Namjoon had begun to make some rounds around the room to greet family they hadn’t had a chance to speak too yet. Ash was off dancing with some cousin or other of someone.

You just took a sip of your drink and closed your eyes for a moment and just listened to the music.

“All alone?” There he was, the little pest who had avoided you all night.

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook who has taken Ash’s vacant seat.

“I don’t see you with anyone.” You let out an annoyed sigh.

“Hmm not true. I have been chatting up that lovely young thing over there.” He points past you.

He’s pointing to Melanie's widowed grandmother. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“She’s way out of your league.” You take a sip of your drink.

“I know right.” He says matter of factly, “Thought I would come over and give this back to you though.”

He places your cards back on the table, you slide them back over to yourself, lining up the edges of them.

“That was a mean prank Jungkook.” You scowl at him.

“It worked didn’t it? Your story was great.”

“I guess.” You don’t look at him, “Can you go bother someone else now.”

“I can’t. Unfortunately, I have been tasked to ask you to dance.”

You snort, laughing right in his face, maybe louder than necessary. “You’re kidding, right?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Nope. Bride’s orders. She wants to see you ‘enjoy yourself.’ Her words, not mine,” he says, looking as unenthusiastic as you feel.

Your eyes narrow as you scan the room, landing on Melanie, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat and motioning toward the dance floor. You shake your head at her, but she just waves and mouths the word “Go,” as if you have a choice.

You sigh dramatically. “Do we really need to do this?”

“It’s her day. One dance.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. One. But if you step on my foot, I’m taking you down.”

He stands up, stepping around the table with that annoyingly smug look. “Shall we?” His smile is barely there, but it’s cocky enough to make your blood boil.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter, taking his hand. You barely make contact, hovering your fingers above his like even touching him might burn you. As he leads you onto the dance floor, you bury yourselves among the other couples, hoping no one’s watching. His hand settles on your waist, and instinctively, you pull away.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s a dance, genius. I kind of have to touch you.” You begrudgingly let him place his hand back on your waist, feeling the heat of his fingers through the fabric. “Not like we haven’t done more,” he adds with a smirk.

Your jaw tightens. “We are not doing this right now.”

“Why not? It’s funny,” he says, grinning wider.

“It’s not funny. And if you make this a running joke, I swear—”

He cuts you off, still smiling. “Alright, no jokes. Just dancing.”

The silence between you is thick as you sway to the music, the tension almost unbearable. Every inch of you screams to get away, but somehow, you stay. His body is warm—too warm—and it’s irritating how natural it feels to fall into rhythm with him. You hate it.

“This could be worse,” he murmurs, voice softer than you expect.

“Yeah, I could be dancing with someone I actually like,” you shoot back, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes flick down to meet yours. “Always so charming,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to make this harder.”

You smirk, the alcohol making you bolder. “Oh, trust me, I can make it way harder if you want.”

He snorts. “Of course you’d take it there.”

“Just saying. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it together last night,” you bite back, giving him a pointed look. Jungkook competitive side kicking into gear.

His hand tightens ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re really gonna go there?”

“You started it.”

Shaking his head. “Fine. This isn’t so bad, right? We’ve done worse things together.”

You bristle at his words, heat rising to your cheeks. “Like I said, let’s not make this a thing.”

“Fine. But don’t act like it wasn’t on your mind.” His voice is low, taunting. It had been on your mind, but you had been doing your best to push it to a deep place inside you to forget.

You glare up at him. “I barely remember it.”

He grins, leaning in just enough that you can smell the cigarettes and cologne on him. “Sure you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, willing your heart to stop racing. “Whatever. This is officially the worst slow dance of my life.”

“Mine too,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’s not completely serious.

The song drags on, slow and painful. Finally, you break the silence. “So... back to hating each other after tonight?”

He meets your eyes, his smirk fading just slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

You hesitate for a second longer than you should. “Yeah. I guess so.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something you don’t have time to figure out before he lets you go, stepping back as the song ends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

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chevelleneech · 3 months ago

Text

semi-live blog

They are immediately the cutest fucking people when together. So soft, so giggly.

I know it’s part of their social culture, but they drink a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t drink, but dang.

“Jungkook is currently doing his skincare.” They add to the screen after panning away for scenery, yet leaving the sounds of *slap slap slap*😭

Jungkook cycling through multiple pairs of sunglasses, and Jimin swanning in and picking the first pair is peak! They’re so similar I yet so different, lol.

Another thing I’m sure is part of their culture, is the way they pay for stuff, but I find it interesting still that we’ve seen Jimin buy almost everything during their trips, since as far as we know they have pretty lax hierarchy rules between the two of them normally.

Jungkook is in the most romantic moment of his life, lmao! “I love it here!!!” said a million times. That man was experiencing a real life Hallmark movie in his head.

I also thought they spoke/understood way more Japanese than they apparently do.

“Come on everybody!” I understood that reference.

The way they chose to animate over everything to avoid having to blur a billion people in the station is HILARIOUS!

Jimin is too funny bro.

This train ride is so peaceful, it’s selling me on visiting Sapporo despite being broke and not speaking a lick of Japanese.

Can we also discuss how “My man, my man, my man.” Jungkook is? Yet Jimin is too, and somehow both is more than the other, lol. They are perpetually on some, “Jimin will like this.” “Where’s Jungkook?” *films food, pans to Jimin* *films the outside world, pans to Jungkook* *cuddle even while walking* type stuff. Just lovesick.

Girl!dad Jimin confirmed🥰 He’ll be such a sweet dad too, I think. He’s so patient and kind, which is heavily required to raise another human.

I loooooooooe Jimin’s jacket dude.

The way Jimin immediately pivoted to making JK laugh when he tried to downplay himself. Like I said, “My man, my man, my man.” Don’t talk bad about his man, even if you are his man.

My most delusional Jikook theory you’ll ever hear from me: “Are You Sure?” actually became the title because they were asking it if each other, because they in looooooooooove.

Also, to answer my own question from my previous list… yes, the bubble is back.

Role play Jikook strikes again!

Jungkook is it slick! He played with that sip of whiskey the entire time, but the minute Jimin left he downed it.

Them forgetting to pay would’ve been me. And JK initially sending Jimin back to do it would have also been me. You got it, extrovert! Take the embarrassment for the both of us!

They’re so cute! This snow fight makes me want to be somewhere cold for the holiday☹️

The food always looks so damn good! Lord I’m jealous.

I need someone to compile all the times JM and JK go out to eat together, and let me know if Jimin is the one with his back always to the door? It’s a thing in America at least, that the “protector” tends to sit where they can see the door, and I don’t know if that’s a thing in SK as well, but it’s cute, because it matches their dynamic either way.

“Your fingers were all over it.” SIR!? You’ve had his sweaty ear in your mouth… he’s had his mouth on your neck… you’ve also had his fingers in your mouth before and vice verse… AND y’all constantly eat and drink off each other… in fact… yesterday he bit the very sausage you were in the middle of eating and then you continued eating it… before that you gladly allowed him to put his TOES next to your face while you were BRUSHING YOUR TEETH. Stop playing with me, Jeon Jungkook!

Jimin legit being ready to beat Tae’s ass over a dumpling is too crazy, lol. And folks be acting like he some docile helpless baby. Meanwhile, JK is a mediator. They definitely made for each other.

End of the episode. It was fun. Felt like the start of a holiday special. And I didn’t mention it up top, because I decided to “live blog” thoughts like ten minutes in or whatever, but Jungkook softly and sweetly saying he wanted to come back to Japan because it reminded him of their first trip together… SOBBING! He’s such a sentimental guy, with an equally as sentimental guy on his arm.

They truly do vibe so well, and I understand with each passing episode why them enlisting together was a non-choice choice. They click. Like they said themselves, they’re one person split into two bodies, and it’s clear as day they thrive off of being around one another.

Not to get too sappy either, but it’s insane they feel that way about their bond and dynamic, on top of all the things that already just so happened to bring them together. Not just born in the same country, but same city. Auditioned for the same music group. Actually made it into the same group… they were destined to meet, and even they feel that way. All that’s missing is them being the same age, and they’d be the same person. That’s an insane thing to say, but really tells you how deeply they value their connection.

#jikook

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mellifiedprincess · 10 months ago

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GOT MY FIRST MATT REQUEST😝 this is angsty to fluff, so be warned. i got kind of carried away and don’t have anyone to proofread my writing so sorry if this actually sucks ass.

“I’m gonna be working 16 hours again today, so I won’t be home until late.” You can feel the annoyance from your boyfriend before you even turn around. Matt absolutely hated when you worked long shifts like that, but he also knew you loved your job as a peds nurse. Still. He hated the hours. He hated how tired you were after work, all because you would pick up everyone else’s slack.

“Again? Baby-“ He stops himself, watching you pull the baby pink scrub top over your head. You can only laugh softly at his expression. “That’s the 3rd one this week.”

“I know, but I Lisa asked me to cover part of her shift. She’s always been super nice to me.”

That was one of the things Matt loved and hated about you, you were too nice. Always doing for others, never for yourself. And he worried you were gonna burn out.

He places his hands on your cheeks, placing a kiss to your slightly squished lips. “You’ve barely slept baby. You haven’t had anything to eat. You’re barely a person right now.”

“Matt, please don’t do this right now. I’m gonna be late.” You watch as he rolls his eyes, stepping away from you as you gather the rest of your things. “I know you’re just worried about me, but don’t be. I’m fine!”

“Just please text me and let me know you made it to the hospital okay, and let me know when you’re on the way home. Just so I know you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.” He reaches out for you, and you greedily fall into his embrace. “I will. I love you, okay.” You place a soft kiss to his lips and smile sweetly. “I love you more baby.”

And with that you leave.

You kept your word of texting Matt and letting him know you made it to the hospital safely. Even sending him a cute little selfie of you blowing him a kiss.

But when he saw it was almost 45 minutes past the time you should have been home, he felt a pit of anxiety form in his stomach.

He immediately ended the game of fortnite he was playing, and grabbed his phone wasting no time in calling you.

No answer.

So he tried again. And again. And again.

No answer. So he calls the floor of the hospital you work on. Only for the nurse on the phone tell him, you left almost an hour ago.

Kid was shitting bricks he was so scared.

“Nick!” At the sound of Matt’s terrified voice, the older brother of the triplets rushes into his room. “What?” Nick asks as he watches a frantic Matt put his shoes on. “I need you and Chris to take the other car and help me look for Y/N.” This only confuses Nick more.

“Isn’t she at work? And we can’t drive without our-“ “She’s not answering her phone. She left work almost an hour ago. She should have been back by now!” Matt cuts Nick off, trying his best not to break down.

Next to his brothers, you were the most important person in Matt’s life. The thought of anything happening to you made his want to throw up.

“You need to breathe before you pass out. Y/N is fine Matt, she’s gonna be okay.” Nick rubs comforting circles on his back, trying his best to calm his younger brother down.

“Maybe she fell asleep in the parking lot.”

You were not in the hospital parking lot when Matt arrived, only making his anxiety worse. “She’s not here!” He tells his brothers who are on the phone with him as they drive around the city in search of you.

“Chris is gonna take me back home, in case she shows up, but he’s gonna keep looking.”

Matt was barely listening anymore, because as he turned to get back on the highway he sees your car. And when he looks closer, he sees you in it. Asleep.

“I just found her and I’m going to kill her, right after I tell her how much I love her.” “Is she okay?” Chris asks.

“She fell asleep in her car. She’s fine.” Matt hangs up after that. He was relieved to say the least, but so furious with your stupidity.

As he gets out of his car and walks up to your window, he allows himself to take a minute to actually breathe.

You’re startled out of your sleep to a tap on your window, looking up you meet the eyes of your very angry looking boyfriend.

As soon as you unlock the door, he’s pulling it open and unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m so sorry-“ He cuts you off by pulling you into his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours.

“Do you have any idea how fucking worried we were?” You begin to gnaw at the inside of your cheek, the feeling of guilt all consuming your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I was falling asleep.”

“I need you to realize how stupid and dangerous that was. We’re not in Maine or Utah, baby. We’re in LA. You know from working in a hospital how dangerous it is here.” He knows he should be a little more cautious with his words, but fuck he was scared.

“I’m sorry. I closed my eyes for two seconds! I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Matt stops himself from berating you anymore, knowing you probably feel guilty enough. “Just- go get in the car. I’ll grab your things.” “I can’t leave my car here-“ You don’t even finish your sentence at the look Matt gives you.

You get in the passenger seat of his car and watch as he grabs your things, and double checks that your car is locked, before settling in the drivers seat.

“I need you to really listen to me when I say this.” You turn in your seat to face him, his hand reaching for yours. To comfort you or himself, he’s not too sure at this point.

“The next time you even think there’s a possibility of you falling asleep like that, I’m talking you yawn for 2 seconds longer than usual, you better call me. I don’t care what time it is. I love you and you scared the hell out of me tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Matty. I love you and promise I’ll never do anything like that again.” He smiles softly, and places a delicate kiss to your palm.

Now that you’ve faced the repercussions of Matt, you spent the drive home preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture to come from the one and only Nicolas Sturniolo.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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☄. *. ⋆ ┄ How The Gang™ Eats Pussy !

summary: the title is pretty self-explanatory, don't ya think? pairing: the gang™ / f!reader warnings: oral sex (r!receiving) 18+ mdni! a/n: uhh.. happy new year! what better way to start of 2023 than some good ol' fashioned smut? it's been a long time since i've posted any of my writing here so pls be gentle i'm literally so sensitive (but if you have any thoughts or requests feel free to send them here!)

steve !

he’s so so desperate to please

it stems from his reputation as king steve™ i think

like he wants to prove himself so bad even though you’re already head over heels for him

he’s constantly checking in on you

asking you if like it and if he’s doing alright

so when you say yes (because you will say yes) he redoubles his effort

he’s a total sucker for praise

it’s also totally on brand that he’s exponentially good at it

it almost makes you jealous because you’re like how many times have you done this????

but he makes you feel so good you don’t even care

it only takes a couple of times before he’s completely in tune with your body

he always starts off slow and teasing

wants to wind you up until you snap

he knows exactly where to touch you to wring your orgasm out of you

and it comes so gut-wrenchingly slow before hitting you all at once

he’s definitely the kind of guy who’ll talk you through it

“yep, there it is. c’mon, cum for me, you can do it. come on, show me how good you can be. uh-huh. thaaat’s my girl”

he makes you come so hard you cry

and he moans with his mouth on you

because he gets off getting you off

loves getting on his knees for you

and having one of your legs folded over his shoulder

so he can pull you closer by your ass

gets so into it that he won’t stop until you make him

like you have to physically pull him up by his hair

definitely a chronic hand holder™

he’ll have you on your back with his face sandwiched between your thighs

and when your legs start to shake he’ll reach for your hands

“here. hold my hands. let me make you feel good.”

but he won’t let go of you when you come

he’ll keep going as your first orgasm fades into a second, much stronger one

and you can’t stop it or push him away because he’s holding onto your hands

you just have to let it happen and it feels so good

that kind of pleasure you wanna chase and run away from all at once

and after he just smiles up at you with the lower half of his face glistening with you

“see? i knew you could do it.”

eddie !

absolutely loves a woman in charge

would definitely rather you sit on his face and ride his tongue

he’ll make you cum once that way before flipping you over and making you cum again with your legs wrapped around his neck

and he’s so fucking smug

he’s just smirking the entire time

always wants you to say his name

especially when you cum

keeps eye contact the entire time

will look directly at you while he spits on your pussy

and grins when it makes your eyes roll back in your head

if he’s feeling particularly dominant he’ll stop whenever you look away

“c’mon, look at me, sweetheart. can’t keep going until i see those eyes… there we go.”

he’s a little overeager sometimes

sloppy and aggressive when he gets really into it

sometimes you have to be like “whoa, slow down, tiger. we’ve got all night”

and he just smirks at you like “yeah, we do”

then you’re eating your words because best believe he will go all night

he’s also got a massive praise kink

and loves when you tell him how good you feel

bc he’s not all that experienced

and he likes to know he’s not the Worst at eating pussy

especially if you have more experience bc he wants to be the best for you

and he Will absolutely brag about it to anyone that will hear when you tell him no one’s ever made you cum so hard before

he’s also super duper vocal

he loves the way you taste and will 100% tell you

pussy spreader supreme™

just loves to take a minute to look at you before ravishing you

and you hate it because you feel so vulnerable

but he’s so obsessed with you “god, you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen”

and he's not even saying it to make you feel good necessarily

he's basically just talking to himself

will smile and laugh like a cheeky little shit when he makes you cum

can be a little bit patronizing but in the eddie munson kinda way

“i thought you said you couldn’t cum again? what happened to that, huh?”

you’ll also have to pull him off of you or else he’ll keep going

he could absolutely eat your pussy for hours if you let him

robin !

definitely has zero experience eating pussy

like maybe she’s tried to learn by watching porn

but definitely has no idea what she’s doing

she’s a little shy at first and is constantly look to you for reassurance

wants you to tell her what to do

“go down a little bit… a little to the left— yeah, shit, right there”

and once she finds that sweet spot she’ll work at it until you come

she’s super duper gentle at first

but once she gains confidence, good luck

will give you 1000000% when her mouth is on you

like even when her neck starts to hurt from the angle, she will not stop until you cum

she’ll talk a lot and compliment you the entire time

and will say anything that comes to mind no matter how dirty it is

“god, you’re so wet” “you taste so good, i didn’t know a person could taste this good” “you’re pussy is perfect. i honestly didn’t think you could get any prettier”

she doesn’t even know what she’s saying half the time

but it literally drives you crazy

also the sound of her voice is sexy enough to make you cum

and you’re constantly begging her to talk dirty to you

“please, talk to me” you’ll whine

and after the first few times she’ll know what you mean but still play coy

“i am talking to you” she’ll say with an wide eyes all innocent

but yeah she’s more than happy to do it because 1. she can’t shut up to save her life and 2. she knows how quickly it’ll drive you to your breaking point

wants you to pull at her hair and steer her wherever you want her to go and bury her face between your legs

is not against you sitting on her face

even though the idea scares you a little

like you don’t want to hurt her or break her neck or something

she’s just like “if i die eating your pussy, i will die the happiest woman alive”

and you believe her

nancy !

so in my head she’s, like, freshly out

and hasn’t eaten a girl out before

though she has dreamed about it many, many times

but when she goes down on you, it’s like she’s a professional

bc she’s a perfectionist and can’t ever half-ass anything

she’s 100% tactical and sees it as her goal to make you come

so she’ll throw herself wholly into doing just that

will call your pussy her pussy because yeah

i see her as being a little bit rough too

so there are constantly bruises and crescent-shaped marks left on your thighs and hips from her nails

which she keeps trimmed just so she can finger you <3

there’s biting too because she loves the feeling of your skin between her teeth

won’t do it enough to hurt you per se, just enough to leave a mark

she uses just enough teeth to drive you crazy

sucks your clit into her mouth at the same time she drives her fingers into your g-spot

she’ll also spank directly on your clit to drive you towards another (second, third, fourth?) orgasm

she can get nasty with it if she wants

and will eat you out as a way to get what she wants

if you’re upset at her, she Will go down on you

partly as an apology but also because she knows you won’t be mad at her after

bc it’s impossible to be after she’s made you cum so hard you can’t feel your legs

i see her more into praising you than you praising her

she’ll compliment you the whole way through

but it’s also a little bit condescending

“oh look at you, always so pretty and wet for me, aren’t you? this is all it takes? just me touching you? seriously?”

and i see her loving to have her hair tugged at

but like also

she doesn’t like to be told what to do

so if you’re pulling her closer to you or trying to pull her away, she’ll definitely punish you

“what did i tell you about touching me, huh? that’s not what good girls do, right? now, i’m gonna make you come and i’m not gonna stop until i see tears. touch me again and you won’t come again for another week, got it?”

maybe i’m just projecting but i can see her definitely having a mommy kink

and still has an air of dominance about her even when she’s making you feel good

she’ll sense you getting close and will command that you cum for her

her voice is so soft and gentle but she isn’t asking you to cum she demanding that you do

and definitely gets off on working your body to its breaking point

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luvjunie · 1 year ago

Text

— roller skating

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: romance, slightlyyy (barely) suggestive fluff, miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes

summary: you and miles go on a date to the roller rink and you have a hard time picking up the skill. you ask him to demonstrate for you and he obliges, but you’re so caught up in him that you’re not sure you learned anything at all. wc: 1,254

a/n: if you want to listen to the song mentioned while reading, i suggest you start it when you come across the spotify link i added during the exact scene it’s playing in the story. i highly recommend waiting until prompted so you can experience exactly what reader did cause chileeee. it hits differenttt like i fr made myself fall in love with this one 😭 also if you didn’t know, this is the exact vibe of a black roller rink lol. example 2

🎧: Close To You - Dreezy, T-Pain

“miles, i’m going to fall.” you whined nervously, your body basically glued to the length of your boyfriend’s right arm.

“you won’t ma, i got you.”

he laughed gently at your uneasy stance, and secretly at how terrified you were of participating in what’s been one of his favorite activities since he was a child.

his skates rolled smoothly against the floor as he guided the both of you to the rink; but yours, however, awkwardly clunked around as you settled for taking wary steps, instead of actually gliding like you were supposed to.

how you ended up agreeing to a date at the roller rink with miles was beyond you. you were someone who tripped over your own two feet at least twice a day from simply trying to walk. but with his promise of teaching you and his guarantee of going slow, your nerves had dissipated some— until you’d actually slipped the skates on and got out onto the rink.

“don’t pick your feet up mama. just push them out to the side, one after the other and lean your body forward. you got it.”

you heard his instructions loud and clear, but your brain still struggled to send the correct signals to your unsophisticated body.

you wobbled against the browned, laminated wood, not really a fan of your newfound lack of control when it came to your own legs. right hand hovered out beside you in preparation for a tumble, the fingers of your left were tightly clamped around miles’ bicep as an effort to keep your balance. you had a death grip on him, too focused on not eating shit to wonder if you were hurting him or not. you weren’t, but even if you were, he wouldn’t tell you.

“you’re overthinkin’ it.” he smiled down at you, finding your instinctive need to hold onto him adorable.

“how the hell do you do this without falling flat on your ass?” you asked, already exasperated from your short trek from the bench.

“i’m just like that.” he shrugged suavely, chuckling discreetly when your head turned towards him with a pointed glare. “practice. my moms taught me when i was eight,” he rephrased, and you stumbled suddenly, but he quickly caught you by your arm, two strong hands steadying you before your feet could sweep out from under you.

“okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” a shaky breath pushed passed your lips and somehow you managed to bring the both of you to a stop over by the wall of the rink, hand instantly finding purchase on the railing. “can you just, i don’t know… demonstrate, first?” you waved your hand around, motioning towards the other people out on the floor to get your point across. “maybe if i watch you do it, it’ll come to me easier.”

he nodded, retreating from you slowly, backwards. he gestured back and forth between the both of you with his finger, your eyes unintentionally falling to it. “eyes on me, aight?” he instructed with a subtle smirk, a sultry trace lingering in his tone.

you couldn’t take them off him even if you tried, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

you were convinced your attraction towards this man couldn’t become any stronger than it already was, until “Close To You” by Dreezy started playing through the speakers and the spot lights on the ceiling dimmed dreamily to a mellowed pink, blue, and orange— blending into a seductive mix of captivating hues that illuminated the rink. you felt yourself swoon, and had half a mind to curse out whoever was on music and lighting for aiding in the palpitations of your heart as your eyes followed your boyfriend closely.

you watched his feet first, as one fanned out in a small half-circle after the other, the movement allowing him to skillfully glide out onto the bustling rink.

how he was able to skate backwards when you had such a hard time grasping the concept of even doing it the normal way, you didn’t know. not to mention sifting through people without bumping into a single one of them. and while the technique of it all seemed simple on paper, what really impressed you was how effortless he made it look.

facing the opposite way of everybody else as he cruised, his hips languidly swayed to the beat of the music, upper body leaning just the slightest with them and you had no choice but to gawk at him— at how handsome he looked, at how good he was at this. at how his lips were absentmindedly tucked into themselves due to his focus, then unfurled to faintly mouth the lyrics.

lord have mercy.

you were mesmerized to say the least, lips parted somewhat and mouth dry. it was like everyone else had disappeared, like the two of you were the only ones in the room; time moving slower than it usually did.

once he started enjoying himself and got into a groove, he’d forgotten you were even watching him, until he caught your marveling eyes transfixed on him from across the rink, chin dropping to his chest for a beat as he simpered to himself. tongue wetting his lips, he shook his head in amusement. he already knew why you were looking at him like that.

with one foot expertly crossing in front of the other periodically, he maneuvered himself through a few stragglers with a brief look over his shoulder, swiftly spinning around a couple that happened to be in his way.

yeah, now he was just showing off.

you had no idea what your face looked like, but as he rounded back over to where you were, he laughed at your awestruck expression and called out to you.

“you droolin’, mami!”

if your jaw wasn’t already dropped from watching him nonchalantly coast around, it definitely was now.

your fingers mindlessly rushed to check, because honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if you were, only for a playful glower to settle onto your face when you realized he was messing with you.

having forgotten you were supposed to try for yourself, your eyes widened in slight panic when he suddenly skated over to you and gently took your hand, pulling you out onto the floor against your will.

“no no no no-!”

“cálmate, mama.” he drawled, his words dragging on as he shot you that same charming smile that’d made you fall in love with him in the first place. “i’ll hold you, no te preocupes (don’t worry). just c’mere,”

you gave him a look of uncertainty, but reluctantly moved your feet just enough to get closer to him anyway. he met you halfway, and snaked his right arm around your waist, expertly turning you so your backside was facing him before he pulled you flush against his body, and your teeth found your bottom lip before you could stop them.

his left arm then came around to your front to meet the other and your lungs drew in a wavered breath at the feeling of his hands resting on the soft of your inner thighs, dangerously close to having your knees buckling. your face bloomed with a sweltering heat, mind entirely corrupted by him and him only. how the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage cologne invaded your nostrils; how it felt being against him like this. lashes fluttering and mind turning to putty at the way he was holding you, your warning to him was merely a whispered reminder.

“miles.”

“shhh, i know what i’m doin’.” his response had a double meaning to it as he kept you tightly pressed to him, figure hunched over yours a bit. his breath warmed your skin and his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he spoke, his hands tapping rhythmically against your thighs to keep up with the beat of the song while he helped guide you into the same fluid movement he’d demonstrated prior.

your hands came down to rest overtop his, and you were shocked at the way your body naturally began to sway in sync along with his once you let yourself relax into him; the both of you settling into a comfortable stroll.

“see, ¿que te dije? (see, what’d i tell you?)” he teased, his voice a deep hum against your cheek. “you got it.”

- please don’t plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales #x black fem reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales prowler #miles morales x fem!reader #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #prowler miles #Spotify

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worldlxvlys · 11 months ago

Note

PLEASE write a fic of sub chris and the reader edges him until he’s crying & begging

beg

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: nsfw (don’t read if not comfortable), literally no plot just straight smut, 69, squirting, p in v, sub! chris

a/n: sub. chris. 😵‍💫

also yeah it’s just straight smut, like it just goes straight into it lmao, hope ya like <333

“fuckkkk” chris moaned as he pounded up into my pussy. “gonna cum, baby” he whispered into my ear.

“wait.” i told him, wanting to cum with him.

he gasped, “fuck, can’t hold it baby. please please let me cum” his dick started to twitch.

“no, chris. be a good boy and wait”

“b-baby, baby, i can’t, i ca- FUCKK” he yelled out, cutting himself off as he shot his load into me. i raised myself off of him immediately.

“now you don’t want to listen?” i ask as i turn myself around, back facing him.

his eyebrows furrow, “i’m sorry baby, felt so good”

i place my legs on either side of him and stick up my ass, my pussy right in front of his face.

“eat me out like the little slut you are” without a word, he shoved his face in my pussy, licking up and down.

“mmmm nice to know you can follow instructions” i said as i leaned forward, taking his dick in my mouth.

“oh my- mmmmm” he moaned into my pussy.

“ughhhhhhhh” we continued to moan into each other, adding to each other’s pleasure with each new vibration.

his hips jolt upwards, pushing himself deeper into my mouth.

he pulled his head away from me, throwing it backwards in pleasure “holy fucking- FUCK, so gooddddd”

i take my mouth off of him “did i tell you to fucking stop?”

“sorry, sorry baby. so good” he said as he focused on my clit this time, sucking and groaning into it.

i continued to bob my head on his cock quickly, feeling his veins as my tongue ran across them.

he added a finger into me while sucking on my clit. he let out a particularly long moan, sending me over the edge.

“mmmm fuckkkk, chris i’m cumming, i’m cumming” he continued to finger me through my high.

once i finished, i took him in my mouth again and hollowed my cheeks.

“jeez, ma” he moaned. his hands grabbed my ass, caressing it as i continued to suck him off.

his hips started to shake, as his cock twitched. “g-gonna cum, baby” right before he was able to finish, i took my mouth off of him.

“hmmmmmm” he whined. “why’d you stop?” i turned around to face him.

“well you just had to come so bad the first time, right? hope it was worth it, cause you won’t be doing that again tonight”

his eyes widened, “wait, what?”

“you heard me. gotta teach you some god damn self control”

“ok, but wait-“

“you know your safeword?” i asked.

his mouth hung open, nodding his head.

“good.”

i grabbed his dick, making him yell out “SHIT” as his hips jerked forward.

i began to pump him quickly, making him start to whine “hmmmmmmmmmmmm fuck fuck fuck”

his breathing became heavy and his eyes squeezed shut. “yes yes yes”

i continue to stroke his sensitive cock, building up his pleasure.

once he’s almost at the edge, i stop.

“no no no no, please please” he whines.

“aww baby, wanna cum?” i ask, looking down at him. he nods his head rapidly, seeming to gain hope.

“too fucking bad” i said. “maybe next time you’ll listen when i tell you to wait”.

i sat on his lap, right below his dick.

i took him in my hand, squeezing the tip. “f-fuck” i watched as he shuddered.

i rubbed his dick between my folds, but didn’t put it in.

“shit baby, ughhhh” he whined as i continued to rub him on me.

“yes baby, feel so fucking good against me” i moaned.

i rubbed my fingers against his tip, continuing to move him against me.

“mgh- ughhhhhhhhh” he continued to whine and groan.

i watched as his ab muscles began to tighten, and he started to twitch, indicating his oncoming orgasm.

i quickly let go of him, rubbing myself with my fingers instead.

“don’t even think about fucking touching yourself” i said. he whined in response.

“pleaseeeee please, baby”

i ignored his pleas, watching him breathe heavily and attempt to contain himself.

“shit chris” i said as i rubbed my clit, increasing my speed.

he groaned in response.

his hands started to rub my thighs, “can i touch you? please, ma?”

“go ahead, baby” with lightening speed, he thrusted his finger in me.

“FUCK, CHRIS! OH MY GOSH” i screamed, his speed taking me by surprise.

between the stimulation to my clit and his fingers practically vibrating in me, i was in a state of pure bliss. my juices shot out of me, directly onto chris’s cock.

“hmph- fuckkkkk, baby” if i didn’t know any better i would’ve thought he came untouched with the way he whimpered.

i grabbed the tip of his dick, making him cry out. i focused just on the tip, as i moved the palm of my hand around it in circular motions.

“s-shit, fuck, fuck, fuckkkk” “pl-hmmmmm- please, please, please” he continued to whine, his hips bucking up uncontrollably.

his ab muscles began to clench again, his legs shaking.

he tried to close his legs, overwhelmed by the sensitivity.

i moved my hands away, using them to hold his legs open, and leaned forward. i placed my tongue on his tip, just licking once every few seconds. i continued to tease him, not giving him what he wanted.

“fuck, baby, you can’t- ngh- pleaseeeee please please please” tears started to stream from his eyes, as i used the sensitivity of his tip to my advantage.

“baby, please” his voice cracked. his hair was drenched in sweat, his face red and tear-stained. i then hovered over him before sinking down onto his cock. “let’s try this again.”

“holy-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence as his mouth hung open.

i leaned back, holding onto his thighs as i rolled my hips into his.

“ohhhhh” he groaned.

“make me cum and i’ll think about letting you” i said to him, continuing my movements. as soon as those words left my mouth, he began to push his hips up into mine.

“yes yes yes chris, fuckkkkk” i yelled out.

“mmmmmmm ohhhhhhh” he began to whine again, already so close to finishing. “i swear to god, chris you’re not coming until i do”

with that he wrapped his hands around my waist and fucked up into me like his life depended on it.

“shit! yesss, chris! oh my GOD! fuck, just like that”

he whimpered as more tears began to stream down his eyes.

“i-we-jus-y-fe-s-ti-ughhhhhh” he wasn’t even forming comprehensible words as he continued to pound into me, squeezing his arms around me.

he then took one of my boobs in his mouth, licking and sucking feverishly.

“mmmmm so good, chris. feels so fucking good”

his legs start shaking and twitching as he holds his orgasm back. his shaking creates even more friction, sending me over the edge. “fuckkk, chris! i’m cumming”

his pace never lets up, helping me ride through my high.

“you wanna cum? fucking beg.” he didn’t waste a second.

“pleaseeee, please, please let me cum baby. please, fuck, need it so so bad. need it, please.” the tears kept flowing, as he continued to twitch.

“go ahead, baby. let go” when he released, his hips jerked up, giving a thrust so deep i swear i felt him in my stomach.

we both screamed out, it taking us both by surprise as he fucked his cum into me. the thick strings of cum continued to flow out of him, as he twitched and whimpered.

once he finished, his body continued to be ravished by aftershocks, making him jolt every few seconds.

“see? was that so hard?” i asked.

“yes.” i pinched his nipple.

“FUCK, ok sorry!”

———————

happy new year loves <333

starting the year off with sub!chris is the only correct answer

hope y’all enjoy :)

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soft4gguk · 4 months ago

Text

to build a home | chapter fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. fluff. smut.

Word count: 17.2k

Warnings: angst, jealousy, it gets so sad, they fight!, you have no idea who’s the CULPRIT lmao. mutual masturbation!!, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t, babes), ass eating hehe!, a little spanking, a bit of backshots, it’s a bit rough but sweet, so much praise!!, multiple o’s!! tbh i think this is the best smut i’ve ever written lolsies.

Author’s note: aaaaah! thank u so much for being so patient and waiting for this chapter as i recovered!! i loved this writing this chapter so much. it was fun, i found myself giggling in front of my computer screen like a crazy person multiple times lmao. also!! this was hot to write, i didn’t know i still had that in me! but yeah, it’s angsty, i’m so sorry in advance!! do let me know what you think. i love you guys so much!!!!! sending so much love and kissies. xoxo <333

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Fourteen

You sleep soundly that night.

You find it quite ironic, how your body finally rests when it’s aided by him. Last night’s actions, the way you let him wrap his strong arms around you, pulling you closer as your legs intertwined. For a second, you think being so impossibly close would make you cry, but your heart was hazy by then, foolish even, and all his touch did was swarm you with peace and deep slumber.

Soori’s baby monitor wakes you up before the alarm can. She doesn’t cry or fuzz, all you hear is her little babbles – something she often does when she wakes up from a nap, playing with the plushies in her crib.

“Soo’s awake,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow. Jungkook’s torso is flushed to your back and you dread his warmth leaving you.

He hums, head coming up for a second to hear her. “It’s ‘kay, we’ll let her play.”

“What time are you going into the office,” you ask, eyes heavy with sleep still.

“Noon-ish,” it takes him a while to answer and you know he’s falling back asleep. You reach for your phone, checking the time. It’s 6.35 a.m. “30 more minutes?”

“Mm, yeah, baby,” he says, face nuzzling against your neck, his steady breathing sending goosebumps down your spine. “I’ll make us breakfast later.”

“Deal,” you say, pressing yourself against him further as you cozy up into the pillows. Your ass shimmies a bit as you get comfortable and your eyes snap open at the feel of Jungkook’s hard cock against it. He whines, hand tapping against your thigh to get you to stop moving. A little giggle leaves you. “Wow.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he says, “but I can’t open my eyes.” You don’t mean to push your ass back into him, but his words get to you and so the action is merely subconscious. He hisses. “___.”

You smile, biting your lip. “I’m sorry. Sleep, sleep…”

And he does. No more than a minute later you’re feeling his body relax around you, arms growing heavy, multiplying that warmth, his soft snores on your neck working as a lullaby as you let yourself be thrown into a pleasant slumber.

It’s short lived, though, your pleasant slumber. When you open your eyes again, you look at the time and realize you’d only slept for twenty minutes, as opposed to the thirty you’d both agreed on. You feel the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest against your back, his arm had found a place in between yours and you were closer to him than you remember being when you fell asleep. It makes your chest feel tight and heavy. You stare at his hand, so close to yours, and thinking about him pulling you closer and snaking his body around yours like this makes you smile. Your fingers gently caress his hand before your own is closing around it, your thumb stroking his slowly. It’s a wild concept to you at times – a thought you like to ponder on – how you get to hold him. How you get to share a bed with him, kisses, touches. Sweet, little words that get thrown back and forth between you two in the heat of the moment – the softness of it, too.

That’s how you’d realized you loved him. When his body on yours started feeling so overwhelmingly good and his warmth became your own and you couldn’t imagine how something so perfect could come to be. The word perfect dissipated from the notion of it all quite quickly, but you still believed the same. You loved him, and the feeling was tarnished – imperfect. But you couldn’t stop. You loved him and you wondered if you could keep loving him without him loving you back. Physically, speaking. You wondered if you could be this close to him knowing what you knew. Knowing what it felt like to love him. Knowing what it felt like to have him not love you back.

Soori’s soft cries resound from the baby monitor and you gently pull Jungkook’s arm from over you, sneaking from under the covers to make your way to the nursery. You look at him, peaceful and so, so beautiful. You can’t fight with your heart anymore and you don’t quite knows what this means, but the realization is clear as day to you.

You open the door to Soori’s nursery and find her standing up on her crib, chubby hands holding onto the bars.

“Good morning, princess,” you grab her face and kiss her cheeks, “you’re gonna be walking in no time.” she giggles, giving tiny jumps as she bounces on the mattress. “Daddy’s sleeping but let’s get you out of your jammies.”

You pick her up, placing her on your hip as you rummage through her drawers, finding a cozy yellow onesie to change her into and grabbing her diapers before you’re placing her on her changing table and getting her ready for the day.

She babbles the process away, a mix of Nana’s and Dada’s as she plays with her favorite giraffe plushie. You sit her down on the floor and place a book for her to leaf through whilst you sit behind her and comb her hair. It’s getting longer and you take your time to brush through her locks, giggling when the feeling relaxes her and she draws her head back with her eyes closed. She’s such a character and you love it. You opt for two pigtails and tiny sunflower clips, turning her around and standing her up in front of you so you can examine your job.

“Nana,” she says, taking one step towards you as she balances herself in your hands.

“I hate to do this to you, but you can’t walk right now, your daddy would cry,” you say, holding her in your arms and standing up. You take her to the mirror and she claps and shrieks when she sees her reflection. You give little jumps and she laughs. “Soori,” you say, pointing at the mirror, “that’s you! Can you say Soori?”

“Nana,” she babbles, smiling and pointing at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me.”

“Dada,” she pouts, looking around her nursery and opening her little hands as if to show confusion.

“Wanna go get Dada?”

She smiles and puts her little hands over her eyes and you take that as a yes as you walk out of her nursery and make your way back to Jungkook’s room. When you guys’ walk inside, he’s still asleep, now on his back with his arm over his head. You’d forgotten to close the blinds last night and he was probably hiding from the sun. It makes you chuckle.

“Dada!” Soori screams, outstretching her little arms towards him and making grabby hands. When Jungkook fails to respond she starts to cry her whiny crocodile tears.

“Wake him up, baby,” you tell her, placing her on the bed next to him, watching as she crawls fast towards him.

She touches his face and you see the way his lips form into a smile, eyes still closed as he fakes sleep. She’s in the middle of calling out for him once again when he opens his eyes, grabbing her and letting out an, “aaaaghh,” that both startles her and has her breaking into fits of giggles and shrieks. He has her over his body, making her jump in his hold before he’s bringing her back down again and kissing her soft cheeks.

“Good morning, my little alarm clock,” he says and she laughs like she understands, “you slept good, didn’t you? You look so cute.”

You smile at the sight. Seeing them together is something you never get tired of and it makes you feel things you’d never felt before. In the list of reasons why you loved him, the fact he was an amazing dad stood at #1, always.

“Good morning, you,” he tells you, reaching his hand towards you, kissing it when you take it. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked so peaceful. Plus, you needed rest.”

“Thank you, baby. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “I did.”

“Come here,” he pulls you towards him and you land on the bed, Soori crawling towards you now and sitting on your tummy. You both laugh as she just stares at you. “She’s a little weird in a really cute way, isn’t she?”

You look at her, cocking your head to the side. She imitates your movements. “Yup. In the best way.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s perfect.” he says, reaching for her and shaking her in his hands, making her laugh before he’s placing her between the two of you. “Aren’t you perfect?”

Soori just shrieks, enjoying the love and the cuddles she gets – rejoicing in them, even. At some point, she tires herself from so much laughter and she just stares at the ceiling. You and Jungkook laugh at this, looking at each other for what starts as a split second and then lingers.

“I like mornings like these,” he says, finding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Me too,” you say.

“You hungry,” he asks, and you nod. He looks down at Soori, who’s still spaced out, squeezing her cheeks with his hand. “You hungry?” He asks her, making her nod.

“Jungkook,” you laugh, pushing his hand away from her.

“Her cheeks are like, made out of clay or something,” he says, bringing his hands back to her face and squeezing her chubby cheeks until she looks like a fish out of water.

“You’re one to talk,” you say, bringing your own hand to his face, squeezing his cheeks and shaking his head from side to side.

“Fair enough,” he says, voice muffled as you squeeze further. Your hands are still squeezing as he pulls himself up, inching his face closer to yours and placing a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll go make breakfast. Wait here, okay?”

You nod and he places a kiss on Soori’s forehead before he jumps out of bed and heads downstairs.

“Hey,” you say, looking down at Soori, “you wanna watch Bluey on daddy’s huge TV?” She shrieks at the mention of her favorite TV show and you nod once, reaching for the remote.

The next thirty minutes are spent like this. Soori laying down against a mountain of pillows, a bottle in hand that Jungkook had brought her as you two waited for breakfast to be ready, and Bluey on the big TV. You card your fingers through her hair gently as she watches intently, mostly just letting yourself stare at her. She’s so perfect it leaves you in awe.

When Jungkook walks inside of his room once again, he makes sure to let his gaze linger on the two of you. Neither of you have felt his presence in the room yet, gazes fully focused on the screen in front of you. He smiles, for certain convinced he could wake up to this every day. Soori sees him first and she waves her hand at him, making him laugh. You turn your head around, a soft smile on your face when you see the tray he holds – pancakes and fruit, orange juice and coffee for the two of you.

“Kook,” your voice is soft, “this is so nice.”

“I am quite the chef,” he brags, placing the tray on the bed and placing a chaste kiss against your lips. “Plus, I’ve got to feed my girls.”

My girls.

It makes you both happy and sad. A part of you wants to believe it, but the other part begins to feel like you’re living a life that doesn’t quite belong to you. A life that you know for a fact he wanted to live with Ira. The notion sinks in like a ton of bricks falling from your heart, all the way to your stomach, and suddenly, you’re not hungry anymore.

Your eyes zero in on Jungkook and Soori as he wraps her bib around her and places soft kisses on her cheek. She points at the strawberries and he feeds her one, saying something about his cutting skills not being as good as yours. But you can’t quite grasp his words, even if you laugh. It dawns on you, as you take them in, that you’re living under her shadow. You’re in a house that she once made hers, with the person she considered to be the love of her life, and what came out as a result: her daughter. You look around, wondering how much of her touch was perfectly placed all over this room. How much input she had in making this a home where they’d raise babies and maybe even grow old together. How much of these thoughts she had when it was all coming together. You look at Soori, wondering about all the dreams she had for her. You look at Jungkook, seeing just how much of her love she could’ve fit inside of him, and it makes you wonder how much of her is still in him.

“Wanna try, baby?” His voice is muffled, faint and distant compared to how loud your thoughts are, but you nod, and he brings the fork to your mouth. You take a big bite, smiling at him and humming in satisfaction. “Good, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, heart breaking as you see the smile that forms on his face.

The morning goes by slowly, your realizations sinking in more and more with the passing of time, and this time the question is louder than ever,

What were you doing?

You pack the last of your necessities inside your duffel bag, double checking the inside to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. It all seems to be there – a couple of dresses, two bathing suits, a pair of sneakers, more underwear than you’ll probably need and two separate bags full of your makeup and skincare. You throw your journal and pens inside of your bag and reach for your copy of Sense and Sensibility, throwing it in there, too.

You head out into the living room, placing your bags on the sofa before you make your way to the kitchen, pondering on the very limited options you have for breakfast. You opt for an apple and a granola bar, making yourself a cup of coffee as you munch on those.

You try to keep your thoughts at bay when it comes to the dreaded beach house trip. You don’t quite know what to expect but, then again, what was there to expect? You were there to do your job and take care of Soori. Jungkook never showed any sort of affection towards you when you guys’ were in big groups like these and you were mostly used to it by now. You try to quieten down the voice inside your head that tells you that the truth of the matter is that you want more. And then there’s also your newly discovered realization. You know, the living under Ira’s shadow. That one keeps you awake at night the most, if you’re being honest. And so you sigh, lowering your expectations and shifting your mentality, reminding yourself that you were there to do your job.

Jungkook’s punctual, and so are you. You’re placing your freshly washed coffee mug into a cupboard when he calls you.

”Good morning,” he chimes.

”Good morning,” you say.

”You ready, baby?”

”Yeah, are you downstairs?”

”Yup.”

”I’ll be there in a second.”

”Can’t wait,” his voice sounds dreamy, and you roll your eyes. You hate being mean, you hate being so mad at him, but you also hate the fact that he’s acting like this is some sort of romantic getaway.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to carry your anger downstairs with you. Grabbing your bags, you head outside your door, going down the stairs and past the entrance to your building. He leans against the door of his car, legs crossed as he scrolls through his phone. He’s got dark shades on and his hair is getting longer. You curse at yourself for swooning. Right as you’re about to say something, he looks up, eyes meeting yours and he smiles.

“Hi,” he walks over to you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer before he places a soft kiss on your lips. “Missed you.”

”I missed you, too,” you say, solely because it’s the truth. You had missed him, even though it’d only been one night.

”Let me get this for you,” he says, reaching for your bags and you let him, following his every move as he opens the boot of the car and places it inside gently. “Ready to go?”

”Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, sighing. He thinks this is funny, chuckles a bit and everything, but inside, you’re already dreading what the long weekend will hold.

Soori waves at you when you step inside the passenger seat, shrieking and babbling a sweet, “nananana.” You smile, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Jungkook gets behind the wheel, taking his time to find the right playlist before connecting his phone to the car. For Road Trips, the screen reads and you can't help but find it endearing.

“You’re such a dad,” you say, looking over at him.

“This is an exquisitely curated playlist.”

“Mhm,” you say, putting your seatbelt on and settling into the seat.

“You look pretty today,” he tells you, and when you turn to look at him, his eyes are scanning down your body.

“Thank you,” you say, fixing the hem of your white sundress.

“We should be there in,” he looks at his watch, “one hour and fifty two minutes. We’ll stop by the gas station halfway there, though.”

“I have a small bladder,” you say, genuine concern lacing your features.

He laughs, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “We’ll stop whenever you need to go, baby.” You don't know why, but the kiss makes you blush. You nod at him, and he gives you a sweet smile before he’s starting the engine and the three of you begin the journey.

The ride is pleasant. The moment you step out of the city the road breaks into vastness – nothing but blue skies and lands of green at the sides of the road. Jungkook was right, his playlist is indeed exquisitely curated and you enjoy the soft music that plays from the stereo. Soori plays with her plushies and babbles some, but you’re not surprised because she’s often really good in the car, oftentimes making her sleepy. And you’d testify to that because before you know, you’re falling asleep, too, and when you wake up, Jungkook is parking the car at the gas station.

“How long did I sleep for,” you ask, voice groggy as you rub the sleep off of your eyes.

“Thirty minutes or so,” he says, “good morning.”

“Sorry for being the worst co-pilot ever.”

“Nah, it’s okay, baby. Soori just went down, too,” he says, and you both turn around, laughing at the way her cheeks squeeze against the seatbelt of her seat. “I’m gonna go get some snacks, Joon’s in there, too, they’re just behind us. Want anything?”

“Oreos, please.”

He laughs. “Oreos it is.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand in his before exiting the car and making his way to the convenience store. A bell chimes when he steps inside, making Namjoon turn to the door, smiling when he sees him.

“The girls said chocolate chip cookies,” Namjoon says, holding two different packs of cookies on each hand, “but there are so many options.”

Jungkook reaches for both packs, placing them back on the shelf before he’s grabbing another and handing it to him. “These are the good ones, everyone knows that.”

“Thanks, bro.” He pats the youngest’s back. “What a nice day. The road is smooth, too.”

“Yeah, we lucked out. It’s usually packed this time of year.”

“Classic,” Namjoon says, pointing at the pack of oreos in Jungkook’s hand.

“Oh, they’re for ___.”

“She’s coming?”

He doesn’t know why, but Namjoon’s question makes him nervous. “Yeah. She is Soori’s nanny.” Namjoon ponders on his answer but doesn’t say anything. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, I just didn’t think she’d come. You know, with all the extra hands we’ll have over the weekend.”

“Are you nanny shaming me,” Jungkook asks playfully, making Namjoon laugh.

“Fuck, no. Never,” he says. “Soori seems to be very fond of her, no?”

Jungkook looks out the window of the convenience store, staring at his car, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, she is. We both are.”

Namjoon’s head turns so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “Oh?”

“What,” Jungkook says, walking down the drink aisles, eyeing his options.

“You’re fond of ___,” the oldest states, matter of factly.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? She’s great with Soori.”

“Have you guys gotten close? I get the impression that you have some times.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to reply to his question without giving himself completely away. Then again he considers what giving himself away would actually entail. Namjoon was one of his best friends, after all.

“Yeah, a bit.” He feigns nonchalance, pretends to read the back label of a Fanta bottle.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon says, making the youngest turn to face him. “You have a crush on your nanny!”

“I- it’s not like that,” he defends, stuttering on his words a little, making his friend laugh. “Can we not do this here?”

“Why? Is the horny police around?”

‘The ho- what are you twelve?”

Namjoon laughs. “Oh, please. Give me something. Anything! The group’s official bachelor is out of duty for what looks like, ever. You having the hots for your nanny would be legendary. It would restore the balance, you see?”

“First of all, do not compare me to that era of Jimin,” he says, pointing a finger at Namjoon, making him laugh harder. “Second of all, it’s not like that.”

“I mean, as your older, therefore wiser, friend I do have to tell you to keep it in your pants.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” Jungkook frowns, even though he knows exactly what he means. He’s stalling, if you will.

“It means look don’t touch, try don’t buy. Ya know. Don’t be stupid and fuck your nanny. You know how hard it is to find a nanny in this day and age? Mary Poppins is a myth, son.” He says. “Although, she’s kinda hot, isn’t she?”

“Huh,” Jungkook looks at him, confused. He hasn’t been able to thread his words since the beginning of this conversation.

“Mary Poppins! She’s kinda hot,” he repeats.

“What the fuck, bro,” he says, and Namjoon shrugs, heading to the self check out.

Jungkook pays for his stuff, too. Promptly returning to the car, brain going round in circles at Namjoon’s words.

Jungkook’s beach house was like something out of a TV show in which the main premise of the plot was to display the tribulations of having great wealth.

You’re in awe the minute you step out of the car, speechless as Jungkook unbuckles Soori out of her car seat. The house is big, tall and white. The front garden alone was to die for, an array of palm trees making way to the entrance. You could hear the distant breaking of the waves in the ocean from where you stood.

“How far are we from the beach,” you ask him, taking Soori in your arms so he can retrieve your bags from the boot.

“Not far at all, actually. We can access through the backyard. It’s maybe a five minute walk.”

“Woah,” you say, mouth slightly agape as you take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour and we can get settled in.”

The home was a contrast of modern and classic, certain corners retaining the charm the years had given the property and some others bathed in the minimalist edge Jungkook seemed to be fond of. The spaces were big and spacious, the furniture beautiful and in neutral shades that really gave off that zen, vacation vibe. The kitchen was white with a big window that gave way to the garden, making you gasp at the sight of it. Green and vast, a huge pool in the middle and different living areas, but what raptured you the most was the ocean. Blue and serene at a nearby distance.

The upstairs mainly consisted of bedrooms – plenty of them.

“Soori’s room is my favorite in the house, look,” Jungkook says, opening the door to her nursery, revealing the beautiful white interiors.

“This is gorgeous, oh my God.”

“Thank you,” he says, placing Soori on the floor and letting her crawl around. “I hired the same interior designer for both houses. He did a wonderful job.”

“When did you get this house?”

“Um,” he says, hand ruffling his hair at the back, “it was my 21st birthday present.”

Your jaw drops, eyes widening, looking around you as if to ground yourself to the reality of his statement. “Woah?”

“Yeah, I know…,” he says, nervous. “I didn’t do much to it for a while, though. Me and the boys would drive here on the weekends and just sit by the pool and grill burgers. I didn’t know what to do with such a space. It was only two years ago that I decided to hire someone and now it looks more like a home.”

“It’s cozy,” you say, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Yeah, we love it. It’s nice to be able to have people over. Jimin’s parents- their beach house is four houses down. And my parent’s is next to theirs.”

“Wow, you two really did grow up together, huh?”

‘Yup,” he says, walking over to you, pulling you closer by the hips.

“I got a vacuum for my 21st birthday,” you say, right as he’s about to kiss you. You feel the way he laughs against your lips. “Oh, and Lucy got me a gift card from our favorite burrito place. Free burritos for a whole month.”

He pulls away, looking at you before he says, “that’s pretty fucking cool, actually.”

“I know right?” He nods, laughing and kissing you again. “Where’s Namjoon?”

“He drives, like, super slow,” he says. “You know he only learned how to drive like, three years ago?”

You laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, he used to drive his bike everywhere.”

“Sustainable,” you say.

“Yeah, this one time he got on it drunk and crashed against a tree, though. It was funny.”

“Oh my God, was he okay?”

“Minor concussion,” he says, laughing at your shocked expression. “Everyone should be here soon, though. We’ll go to the grocery store and get the weekend’s supplies.”

“Sounds good,” you say, still wrapped in his arms.

“And then tonight we’ll BBQ. I have a couple of friends coming over that are also here for the weekend. They’re nice, you’ll like them.”

You nod, smiling at him. He smiles back and you divert your gaze from his eyes to his lips. You see the way he smiles as he pulls you closer, softly putting his lips on yours. It’s a short-lived moment, though, as you begin to hear the arrival of his guests, bursting your little bubble of bliss and abruptly throwing you into uncertainty once again.

It’d been a day of fun, mostly spent under the sun, inside the pool and then later in the afternoon, you all headed to the beach. The kids built sandcastles and swam in the ocean, the waves tame and serene, it was like straight out of a movie. The sun set and you got to see it merging with the blue of the water as it painted the sky in a million hues of pink, orange and yellow. It was so beautiful it took you a while to believe your eyes.

It often surprised you, how this was your job, specially since everyone was so nice and friendly towards you, often engaging in conversation that slowly faded out of casual Soori talk into making an effort at getting to know you. The girls in particular seemed to be growing fond of you and Lucy. They rejoiced on the fact that Jimin had found someone to tame his wild spirit without failing to keep him, well, a little wild still. You loved seeing her adapt to the group so well, but most importantly you loved seeing the way Jimin loved her and was so proud to show her off. You overheard a conversation they’d had with Dae and Sun as they buried Jimin in the sand and Lucy gently brushed his hair away from his eyes.

“Are you two in love,” asked Sun, looking at them dreamily.

“Eughhh,” Dae had said, grimacing.

“No, Dae,” Sun told him, gently as ever, “Love is nice. Love is a good thing.”

“Do you two kiss,” Dae asked, eyes a little shy as he focused on burying Jimin further.

Lucy and Jimin turned to each other, almost scared of saying the wrong thing.

“Often times, when two people are in love, they kiss, yes,” Lucy said, taking her time at choosing her words.

“So you two are in love,” Sun looked at her, then at Jimin, as if waiting for her uncle’s confirmation.

“Yes, Sunny. We are in love,” he said, making her smile, her cheeks tainting crimson. “That’s kinda cool, huh?”

“Why,” Dae asked.

“Why what, buddy?”

“Why are you in love, uncle Jimin?”

“Um,” Jimin looked at Lucy, who was starting to get shy herself. “Because Lucy’s the coolest girl in the world!”

“Do you get butterflies in your stomach?” Sun’s question makes both her and Dae giggle.

“All the time,” Lucy says, bringing her forehead to hers as they break into a fit of giggles.

You’d been giggling along with them from your place in one of the sunbeds, Soori napping deeply on your chest. You had a blanket over her and your hand on her head, caressing her silky hair, entranced by how peaceful and lovely the moment you’d witnessed was. Your eyes had veered over to where Jungkook, Taehyung and Namjoon played a rather competitive game of badminton. He was winning, of course. You could tell from the smile on his face – confident, a little cocky even. But he didn’t fail to look any less beautiful as the wind caught his hair and his laughter got caught in the sound of the waves, making it one eternal thing that you were convinced could hold its beauty forever.

You wanted him to love you the way Jimin loved Lucy. It was such a silly thought, but nonetheless true. Today had proven it to you enough. You wanted him to be proud of you, to introduce you as his girlfriend, to weave you inside his circle because he couldn’t imagine it any other way. You wanted to be a sure thing for him, one that he felt the need to share. Perhaps not with the whole world, but with this world. His little bubble of comfort and love. His chosen family. You had no reason to feel left out, but in that moment you did. It was a feeling so visceral that it made his rejection sting more, like the burn of the absence of him was something so unbearable you doubted you could sit through another minute of it. You felt at a distance from him and it made your body ache and your eyes sting with the pain of your love.

Now you stood in front of the mirror, the remnants of the summer sun slowly making themselves present on your body. The shower had been refreshing and in a way, you were hoping it’d wash the sour feeling of comparing yourself to your best friend away. It was hard to show yourself compassion because your thoughts were so unlike you. You try to conceal your sunburn, but opt not to after one failed attempt, keeping your makeup light and naturally golden. You brush through your wet hair, enjoying the feeling of the cold strands against your shoulders and back. In simple moments like these, you think summer is the only season that matters.

There’s a knock at your door, startling you a bit.

“Coming,” you say, as you reach for the white, fluffy robe you’d found in your bathroom.

When you open the door, Jungkook’s face greets you with a smile. His hair is wet, too and his skin has the sun painted all over it. He looks radiant and beautiful. He looks like summer.

“Hi,” he says, stepping inside when you open the door and closing after him.

“Hey,” you say, “where’s Soo?”

“Watching basketball with uncle Yoongi.”

You laugh. “Fair enough.”

“I miss you.”

For a second he just stands there, looking at you, not doing much to close the distance between your bodies.

“Jungkook,” his name on your lips feels final and you don’t know what to follow it with.

“Yes, baby,” his voice is soft, his eyes on you.

The words you’ve kept from him for weeks travel from your head to your throat, sitting on your mouth for a beat too long, not getting close enough to your lips because they’re tangled in your tongue. Too many words, too little sense to make as your heart starts beating faster.

“Today was fun,” is all you can muster.

“I’m glad you enjoyed,” he finally closes the space between you, coming closer. “I had a lot of fun, too.”

“You have,” your worlds falter as he takes the single step it takes him for your bodies to be touching. Your back hits the dresser. “Wonderful friends. You have wonderful friends.”

“Yeah,” he says as his hand travels up and his fingers card through your damp hair. “They’re pretty awesome, huh?”

“You’re so lucky,” you say, eyes closing as his hand caresses your cheek.

“I am,” he responds, and when you open your eyes he’s looking into them. It’s so easy to believe him. It’s so easy to believe what you guys have is more than what he’s willing to give. You wonder if perhaps you love him enough for the both of you.

“W-we should head down soon.”

“In a bit. Tae’s starting the fire,” he says. “He lost the bet.”

You scoff and it makes him chuckle. “They’ll suspect, if neither of us are there, I mean.”

He shrugs. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” your words are firm even if your voice is soft. “But it bothers you.”

“I don’t know that it does, to be honest.”

“Oh?”

“Namjoon sort of caught me today,” he says, a playful smile on his face as his hands sit at your waist.

“What do you mean he caught you?”

“He thinks I have a crush on you,” he says. “Actually, I think his exacts words were you have the hots for your nanny. Which, both are kinda true.”

You laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“Mhm, for you.” He kisses you. “Am I that obvious?”

“You’re not,” you say, and when you do it has a slight bite to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

He changes the topic because he doesn’t know what to make of your subtle hostility.

“You look so pretty with a tan.”

You turn around for a second, looking in the mirror behind you. “It’s more of a sunburn right now.”

“Still. It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” you say, running your finger down his nose. “You too.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue finding yours quick enough yet moving in a slow pace. If you were ever to wonder why you can’t deny him, why you’d rather your mouth be on his than spitting a truth that could potentially compromise moments like these, this is why. His hands travel from your waist down your middle, working the strings of your robe undone as the cold air hits your bare skin, his touch scolding hot in contrast. Jungkook lets his hands roam over your body, rejoicing on the feel of your soft skin and the way you smell clean and floral, a hint of sweetness he’s learned to recognize in your presence. It prepares his senses for the best of it all as he pulls away from your lips softly, taking a step back to take you in as his eyes scan down your body. He stops for a second too long at your lips, red and plump from the sun and his kiss, down your collarbones and the faint tan lines that accentuate the golden of your skin. He wants to look, to take you in, but his hands fail him and they travel up, closing around your tits. You shiver when his thumbs lightly graze your nipples and his eyes are back on your lips, plump flesh caught between your teeth.

“So beautiful,” his voice is a whisper that sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself.

He lets his right hand fall from your breast, down your waist until it reaches your hip. His fingers feel feather light against your skin and as you lean backwards against the dresser, he can see the way your stomach caves in as your breath hitches in your throat, every touch but a build up of anticipation. He smiles, loves the way you react to him, even to the faintest of his touches. He follows the path the curves of your body dictate, squeezing at your hip before he’s letting his hand fall down the curve of your ass, eyes looking for the small ink he now knows where to find. He smiles when he sees the butterfly, biting his lip in what one could call disbelief. It is then that Jungkook wonders if you’re his. He can’t quite explain the thought that occurs him but it comes without fail as he takes in your body. A body he’d very much like for it to be his. He doesn’t like to feel possessive, believes he’s a little too old for that now and ultimately knows it serves him no purpose. But the question comes softly to him, the idea that someone else had you before him and the potential of someone having you after him. It leaves a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t miss, not even as his cock throbs at what stands before him.

“I want you,” he says, eyes finally landing on yours, voice a little desperate.

You know better. Still, you say, “take me.

His smile holds lust, features soft but eyes dark and Jungkook’s so entrapped by the prospect of having you that he loses track of time completely. That’s why Taehyung’s voice coming from the hallway startles him.

“Jeon!”

The two of you jump, both your hands coming to your robe to close it instinctively.

“Shit,” Jungkook says, hand coming to his forehead to regain some composure.

“We should’ve seen that one coming,” you say, a bit lighthearted at the sight of him. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy for no reason, fully flustered. Not to mention the hard on.

“I had visions of other things coming,” he says, frowning. “Not Taehyung.”

You laugh, and just as if he’d invoked him, his voice resounds again. “Where the hell are you? I’m not grilling for fourteen people all by myself!”

“Go,” you whisper-yell.

“He’s out there!”

“Just- make some excuse up, or something.”

“Okay, okay.”

Jungkook walks to the door, fixing the front of his shorts before opening it. To his fortune, Taehyung had been walking right in front of your bedroom, stopping in his tracks as he sees his disheveled looking friend. He peeks behind Jungkook, catching a glimpse of you and waving.

“What a pleasant surprise, Jungkookie,” he says, what Jungkook would call his bastard smile plastered all over his face.

“I had to fix ___’s leak. A leak- on the- a pipe.”

You mentally face palm. Taehyung just breaks out in boisterous laughter.

“Aren’t you the handyman,” he says, after he’s composed himself slightly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook says in resignation. “Let’s go.”

“See you downstairs, ___!” He waves at you with a big smile on his face as Jungkook drags him by the collar of his shirt. You give him a small wave, cheeks fully red in embarrassment before Jungkook closes the door to your room.

You look at yourself in the mirror, running the brush through your hair once again and applying lipstick, timing your breathing so as to come down from the little high your moment had left you with. You rummage through your bag, retrieving a short linen skirt that you pair with a strappy cotton top with a little pink bow at the center. Once you look presentable enough, you take a deep breath and open the door, sighing before you brace for the night.

It wasn’t panning out to be half as bad as you’d expected. With the exception of Taehyung’s wink at the sight of you, followed by Jungkook’s palm hitting him straight on the head. Aside from that, the evening had taken a relaxed vibe to go with the cool summer breeze and the bright stars in the sky. You’d been in awe the minute you stepped foot outside, taking Soori into your arms as she’d thrown herself to you when she saw you, and gasping at the beauty of the sky.

“That’s unreal,” you say, making Kenny laugh at how Soori imitates your movements, drawing her head back and opening her mouth in mock shock.

“Ah, I know. We’re so used to the city, this almost feels fake,” she says.

You reckoned she was right. You couldn't remember the last time the stars looked so bright in the sky before – or well, at least for you. You think about the fact that you’d left your small town, where the skies were clear and the stars would put on a show every night – it’s crazy to think you’d forgotten how that felt like. You blamed it on coming a long way, though. It made you hopeful, although nostalgic and a bit sad at the same time. Your heart was all over the place.

“I’d also forgotten how the air feels at night next to the ocean.”

“I do not miss the clammy city heat,” Kenny says, laughing, bringing a glass of wine to her lips.

“I don’t mind it, but I definitely prefer this,” you bounce Soori on your hip.

Taehyung joins the two of you, putting a glass of wine on your hand and taking Soori from your arms. “Excuse me, ladies, I’m taking Soori to the grill. Gotta teach ‘em young!”

“Careful with the fire, Taehyung!”

“Will do, auntie Ken!”

“Well, cheers,” she says, bringing her glass forward.

“I don’t know that I should,” you tell her.

“Come on, you’re in a room full of responsible adults. Plus, it’s her bed time soon.”

You bring your glass forward, clinking it to hers before you’re drawing the sweet liquid back.

“Kenny,” a voice from behind her says, his hands closing around her shoulders, one of the few new faces you didn’t recognize this evening. She turns back, smiling at the sound of his voice. “You know, I think I saw you the other day… you didn’t say hi, though.”

“Impossible!” She exclaims, face in shock at the possibility.

“Yeah,” he says, feigning a sullen face. “Dior, was it? Your face was way up there on a billboard.”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her lips. “I fall for that every time.”

“It’s a classic,” he says, eyes finding yours before smiling and growing a bit timid all of a sudden.

“Oh! Mingyu, this is ___,” she turns to you, “__, this is Mingyu. One of Kookie’s high school friends. They went to college together, too.”

Mingyu smiles, outstretching his hand that you take in greeting. “Have I seen you in a billboard before?”

You can feel the warmth traveling to your cheeks, gaze meeting the floor as you shake your head. “You have not.”

“I can totally see that, though,” Kenny says, “you have such a pretty face, ___. Like a doll.”

“Yeah,” he says, his hand squeezing yours softly before releasing it. “How come this is my first time seeing you, though?”

“Oh, I’m Soori’s nanny,” you say, meeting his eyes again.

“No way,” he smiles, “what a cool job. She’s the best.”

“I know right?” She’s always such a good way to break the ice in these situations.

“Yeah,” he turns to Kenny, “I can’t believe Mr Jagerbombs goes by Dad.”

Kenny laughs. “Aw, he’s so good, though. Like he was meant for it all along.”

Mingyu nods, mimicking Kenny’s coos. She shoves him playfully and he laughs before turning his attention back to you. “How long have you been working for Kook?”

“Three months,” you say, “and a bit.”

You can see it in his face, how he does the math. How he thinks of Ira.

“I see,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

Kenny asks him about his whereabouts for the past couple of months and he says he’d been busy with work. Lots of travel, very little time for himself. He was looking forward to taking it easier for the rest of the year as he’d just completed an important project. He too had rejoiced on the wonders of nepotism from what you’d gathered, often mentioning his father when talking about his job. In the short ten minutes since you’d met him you knew more about him than you’d expected at the beginning of the conversation. He liked to ski, had just purchased a property in the alps, he was a pescatarian and, as he so clearly stated whilst looking at you, was single.

You try not to make much of the heavy flirting, often diverting your gaze elsewhere when your eyes land on his and he lingers. Kenny talks and you listen to her intently, trying to act cool when you feel his eyes on you again. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t miss the way he begins to close the proximity between the two of you. The way he looks at you when you speak, then at your lips, and back at your eyes before he’s laughing his charming smile that he knows a little too well. He doesn’t notice, but he’s frowning as he takes the scene before him in.

Taehyung flips his steak, whistling in satisfaction at its perfection. He looks over at his friend, mostly to gloat, but sees he’s lost in beef that isn’t of his culinary talents.

“Chill, Matilda.”

“Huh,” the youngest says, taken out of his trance.

“You have these crazy eyes going on,” he says, hand coming in front of his face to motion his point.

“Hey,” Jungkook turns to Taehyung, completely dismissing what he’d just said, “wasn’t Mingyu dating Jennie?”

“Uh,” he ponders for a second. “Nope. Mai told me they broke up like three months ago. It was friendly, though.”

“Ah,” he says, eyes still on him and you.

“You peanut butter and jelly?” Taehyung says this casually as if it wasn’t the most absurd thing Jungkook has ever heard. True, but absurd nonetheless.

“No.”

“I’d be. He’s a charmer,” he says, directing Jungkook’s frown at him this time. He just shrugs.

“Whatever,” he says, gaze back to focusing on his grilling. When Taehyung fails to hit him with a witty remark, he looks at him, confused for a second before he’s following his line of vision. Kenny had left and was now with Hobi, leaving you and Mingyu alone.

“Peanut butter and jelly now?”

“I trust ___.”

Taehyung laughs. Jungkook frowns.

“Last I knew you guys weren’t official or anything like that,” he states, matter of factly.

“Do you need labels for loyalty?”

“Uh, yes, dumbass. That’s the whole point of exclusivity.”

“It’s complicated between us, you know that.”

“What’s so complicated about it?”

“Well, I can’t just-”

“Date the nanny?”

“It’s only been three months, Tae.”

“Ira upped and left, Kook. She vanished.”

“I know that.”

“Can I ask you a question,” he says, looking at him. Jungkook nods. “Do you have hopes? Of her coming back, I mean.”

“No.”

“Do you want her to come back,” Taehyung asks, voice soft, threading carefully.

“No,” Jungkook says, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Then three months might as well be three years,” he puts his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder when he says this. “Don’t put a pause in your life for her. Not when she went for a full stop.”

“Ouch,” is all he can reply, and it makes him feel foolish.

“I know,” he gives his shoulder a little squeeze. “But I have to be the voice of reason because you seem to be reasoning all wrong. And I get why but, why hold back, Kook?”

“I don’t know, I-” he looks at you, your arms wrapped around your body as you listen to his friend intently. “It just feels like so much stands in the way sometimes.”

“Ah, well, it always does. There’s always gonna be something that stands in the way. Family, friends, work, money. I got a flat tire on the way to my wedding, for fuck’s sake!” Jungkook smiles, recalling the memory vividly. “But if you focus on that then… really good things might just pass you because you were so worried on how to get there.”

Jungkook is quiet as he takes Taehyung’s words in.

“Some others,” he continues, “get snatched right from your hands.”

Jungkook and Taehyung see the way you shiver slightly, your hands rubbing at your arms in a futile attempt to warm them. Mingyu notices this, taking a step closer towards you and putting his own hand on your arm, caressing your skin as he, too, attempts to warm you up. They can’t quite make up what he says, but you nod and he smiles before you’re both making your way back inside the house, disappearing from their sight.

“Shit,” is all Jungkook can muster.

He shifts his focus elsewhere. He fixates on the steaks and the vegetables on the grill. On Taehyung’s golf talk. On what wine to pair the food with. He checks his watch – it’s been ten minutes since his friend had taken you inside. His eyes scan the entirety of his backyard, nobody seems to be missing. It’s just the two of you in there. He asks Taehyung about their upcoming trip to Italy, gives him sightseeing recommendations and travel pointers. They spend what feels like forever to Jungkook going back and forth between trains and plane rides in Europe. Jungkook’s for trains, Taehyung’s for planes. He checks his watch again. Fifteen minutes. It surely should’ve been more. He feels insane, questioning his watch’s ability to tell time.

“Get us a refill,” Taehyung half asks, half commands as he passes his empty glass to Jungkook. He gets bossy on the grill, plus he reckons his friend could use a bit of a walk.

And so Jungkook makes his way to the table they’d set up with the wines and cheese boards. Eyes the bottles carefully to find the one they’d been drinking, takes a couple of cheese cubes to his mouth, munches on pistachios, praises Mai and Seulgi for their ability to make a killer charcuterie board.

Yoongi’s hand on his upper back startles him.

“Woah,” he says, frowning. “On edge much?”

Yoongi doesn’t know why, Jungkook knows this much. But he also knows he has a weird gift for perception. He can read a room, specially if inhabited by his near and dear.

“This is good cheese,” Jungkook says in between bites, offering some to Yoongi. He stares at his palm, shaking his head before he’s taking the wine bottle and refilling his own glass.

“This is good wine.”

“I do pride in my selection.”

“You have good taste,” Yoongi says, taking a sip. This makes Jungkook think about you, ironically.

Jimin joins them, grabbing the cheese cubes on Jungkook’s open palm, making the youngest scowl at him.

“Tae says to go help him,” his voice is muffled by his munching.

Jungkook brings his hand to his jaw and closes Jimin’s mouth, making Yoongi chuckle. On his way to the grill he checks his watch again. Twenty three minutes. It’s been twenty three minutes and now he actually begins to wonder on what could possibly be taking so long. He tries to tell himself that he trusts you, despite Taehyung’s words that are slowly but surely sinking in. He trusts you. Does he trust Mingyu? Why should he? He’s a good friend, sure, but he doesn’t owe Jungkook loyalty on a matter he’s unaware of. The matter being you. And him. And your relationship, or lack there of.

“There you are, buddy,” Taehyung brings him closer, hand panning over the steaks he’d transferred to a wooden platter. “Look at these babes.”

“Stop calling the meat babe.”

“Why? She likes it!”

“Stop calling her a she.”

“There will be no gender disparities on my grill, Jeon Jungkook. Plus, we have enough he’s,” he says, pointing at the eggplants that were in the slow process of grilling still.

“I should get the salt,” Jungkook says.

“There’s salt here,” Taehyung points at the small bowl he’d brought from the kitchen, to the brim with flaky salt. But it takes him but a second to realize what the salt means. “But we’ll probably need more, yes.”

“Be right back!”

Jungkook walks. Well, no. Jungkook speed walks back inside the house, slowing down his pace the moment he’s back inside, putting nonchalance back in his strut. His stomach feels heavy all of a sudden, though. Like he’d just finished a whole meal and dessert. Discomfort. A voice in his head tells him to fear something, anything. He fears about the possibility of walking in on you guys in the middle of something, anything. He walks through the living room, steps faltering a bit. How would he feel? How would he feel if he walked in on something he didn’t want to see? Like his friend with his arm around you, mid kiss. Or worse. The worse case scenario feels silly and a bit reckless. But then again, the question still stands. How would he feel? His first thought is angry. The second one doesn’t much come as a thought but as a pang right on his chest that nearly takes his breath away. He hears Mingyu’s voice coming from the kitchen, your soft laugh. His heartbeat grows frantic as he rounds the small hallway and heads in the direction of your voices.

Relief washes over him as he sees that there’s no kissing involved, or physical contact for that matter. You two lean against the counter as you talk. More like, Mingyu talks, you mostly just listen. You hold a big cup with both hands that you’re about to bring to your lips before Jungkook walks inside the kitchen, making both you and Mingyu turn to face him.

“Hey, man,” his friend says, a big smile on his face.

“Hey,” Jungkook tries to make his voice sound as lighthearted as possible, but he fears he fails to convey much of that. “Food’s almost ready.”

“Oh,” you say. It’s peppermint tea you drink. Jungkook notices the label. “Have we been gone for long? Is Soori-”

“No, no. She’s fine. She’s on uncle time,” he laughs, but it’s barely there.

“We must’ve lost track of time,” Mingyu says this, mostly to you. “___ was feeling cold so we came in here to warm her up.”

It takes about two seconds for Jungkook to realize what he means. And no, it’s not the big cup of peppermint tea that serves as warm up. It’s the sweater that falls loosely over your body, a couple of sizes too big for you that’s most certainly not part of your collection.

“Oh,” is all he says and you don’t miss the way his eyes fall from your face, down your body.

“She didn’t bring warm clothes for the night. Rookie mistake,” Mingyu laughs, pointing at you.

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I’m worried she’s gonna get cold during the night-”

Jungkook doesn’t let Mingyu finish his sentence, voice curt when he says, “there’s heating in her room.”

“What time is it,” you ask, to no one in particular.

“8”15,” they both say at the time.

“I should probably get Soori ready for bed.”

“Yeah, sure. It was nice talking to you, ___.” Mingyu looks at you and Jungkook can see something only he can recognize. Not only because he’s known him for years, or because he’s seen it before, but also because he’s pretty sure he’s looked at you in that same way. Mingyu having the hots for you isn’t his main problem, no. Mingyu likes you. Like, genuinely likes you. His gaze is soft but determined, his eyes read an unspoken promise of the next time he gets to have you alone, like this.

You simply nod at him as you start to make your way out the kitchen, eyes meeting Jungkook’s for a brief second before you’re out of sight.

“Hey, can you get Taehyung the salt? Gotta put Soori to bed,” he points at the cupboards, not waiting for him to reply before he, too, is turning around, making his way back outside. He hears the way he lets out a, “sure!”. Sees how he’s relaxed and oblivious as to what’d just happened from the corner of his eye.

Jungkook catches up with you, startling you a bit when he grabs the back of your arm.

“Hey,” he says, and when you look at him he’s at a loss for words. Doesn’t know what to say, where to go from here.

“Hi,” your voice is soft, distant.

“You met Mingyu.”

You don’t like the way his sentence is a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, he’s nice. He told me you guys went to school together.”

“Yeah, we did. I’ve known him since high school.”

You nod. “That’s nice.”

“He liked you,” his tone has a bit of an edge to it.

“We were just talking.”

“No, I know. He likes to take it slow.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Jungkook?”

“What? Should I not spoil his M.O. for you?”

It’s immediate. Instant. The way regret sinks in the second the words leave his mouth.

“Oh,” your voice breaks, breaking him in the process.

“___-”

“There you are!” Mai walks inside the living room with a teary eyed Soori in her arms. “She wants Daddy. I think she’s ready for bed, this one.”

“Hi, princess,” Jungkook says, bringing her to his arms. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s been a long day, huh?”

Soori cuddles into him for about a second before her eyes are on you. And almost as if she knew just how much of an asshole her dad had just been, she throws herself in your arms, head leaning on your shoulder. Jungkook takes the blow. He reckons he probably deserves it.

“I’ll take her to bed.”

“___,” he tries, again.

“You guys should start eating. It takes her a bit to fall asleep in new places.”

When you’re out of sight, Mai turns towards Jungkook. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, confronting him with her eyes.

“What did you do now?”

“I fucked up.”

You try the closet, the drawers and a basket full of plushies but you can’t find a book anywhere. Soori’s in her night gown, all ready for bed as her eyes grow heavy and you want to read her a book but it’s to no avail. Your search results are unsuccessful so you take her in your arms and sit on the rocking chair. You like the one at home better – it’s more comfortable, has more of a soft feel to it. This one is mostly for aesthetics, you suppose. You rock her in your arms, back and forth, deciding that you will be the one telling the story today. Your voice is soft, so as to not wind her up, gently stroking her hair as you begin to recount a ladybug’s story about her first day of school. Susy the ladybug is how you decide to name her. The ladybug goes through the trials and tribulations of something new, shedding some vulnerable tears before her fears are all gone and she’s learning and playing alongside her many animal friends. You don’t make it this far, though. Soori’s asleep before you can even send the little ladybug to school. Nonetheless, you stay like that. Rocking her in your arms as she sinks into deep, peaceful slumber.

You stare out the window, unable to make out the ocean in the darkness but well aware it’s there. You think about its sheer size, the many undiscovered depths it holds. You think about Jungkook’s words and how you weren’t quite sure anything could make the pit in your stomach sink any lower. You think about how he’d rebutted that theory in a matter of seconds, with just a couple of words and one cold stare right into your eyes. You almost want to blame yourself. You even want to blame Mingyu. But this time you know it’s on him. Anything you could’ve done, or how he could’ve perceived it, his words had been ten times worst.

This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like, your heart tells your head. Foolishly enough, as your head reminds it that yes, it isn’t, because Jungkook doesn’t love you and hey, at least that’s consistent. But even if that much is true, you still ponder on the statement. This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. You remember telling yourself that in the past, the first time being after getting your heart broken for the first time when you were fifteen and thought that you’d marry a boy that lived right next door, only to have him shatter your dreams in a matter of seconds the moment he’d decided to take his love elsewhere. You stayed, you tried. Until you softly told yourself those words. This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love isn’t tears that you shed alone, or words left unspoken. It isn’t spite, or greed, or vengeance. It isn’t jealousy. It isn’t pain that has nowhere to go.

So what is love, your head stubbornly asks your heart, growing tired of trying to figure it out. But you’re left with little to nothing when it comes to an answer. At least nothing that isn’t memories of all the little moments that made up a huge sum that translated into realizing you loved Jungkook. You think of the first time he smiled at you, of his eyes on you whilst on the plane. You think of the morning after that, of nonchalant coffee talk and your very first banter. You think of your first embrace, of your first kiss, of the sun setting and his stupid speedboat and your hair flowing in the wind and of how nothing had ever compared to the giddy, lightweight feeling in your heart. Him. Love feels like him. Love is supposed to feel like him but he’d become a memory of anger and heaviness and uncertainty that you could not bare anymore.

You look down at Soori and smile, only realizing you’re crying when a tear falls on top of her forehead. She doesn’t even flinch, but you hate that it happened. You hate that you’re crying with her in your arms, you hate that she’s inevitably in the middle of this, you hate that you two couldn’t be better for her. She didn’t deserve that, as much as you didn’t. Nobody did, you think. Jungkook didn’t deserve to go through what he went through with Ira. He didn’t deserve whatever was so vivid in his eyes when you’d first met him – that pain, that despair. He didn’t deserve it. It’s unfair for everyone and it’s probably what you hate the most about the situation. Not you and your feelings, or his spiteful words. No. Just the inability for things to… work. The bad cards dealt to you, the glitch on the fate you so badly prayed for. The events had turned and they didn’t favor any of you but all you could do in that moment was hope for the best. Even if the best sounded like the worse, most painful scenario.

You kiss Soori’s forehead, letting your lips linger against her soft skin. You bring her small body closer to you and feel the warmth she radiates and you hope that she can feel all of the love you have for her. You hope it stays with her forever.

Back in your room you don’t bother to turn on the lights. You head straight for the bathroom and get in the shower, letting the water run piping hot over your body, focusing your senses on the physical so you don’t have to think about the inevitability of it all. You brush your teeth, lather thick cream all over your face without much care and throw a big shirt on, putting socks on your feet and cursing the cold. You can’t sleep but you don’t do much other with your brain, letting yourself cry, and stop, and think, then cry again. Your tears run out sooner than expected but you almost wish they hadn’t. All you have left is emptiness, a hollow void that takes over you.

You don’t hear Lucy come in, only realize she has when you feel the other side of the mattress sink beside you. You turn around, looking at her and you don’t have to say anything for her to know something’s wrong.

“Oh, ___,” her voice is sweet, tender. You wonder how it got to this point. You wonder when it became almost telepathic, your way of communicating with each other.

“He doesn’t love me.” Your words are a whisper that you can’t quite bring to completion.

She brings her hands to your face, wiping the tears away before they can make it past your cheek. It promptly moves to your hair, fingers carding through it and the feeling is comforting.

“Why do you say that?” She hates that she has to ask.

“Because I told him,” you begin, “I told him I loved him and he didn’t say it back. And all this time I’ve been… trying to come up with reasons but tonight he just- it’s not love. It isn’t love.”

She nods her head softly, shushing you as your words begin to grow frantic and more tears threaten to fall out. She’s silent for a while, caressing your hair as she tries to thread carefully when choosing her next words.

“Love is- it’s all a complicated thing. For a while, at least. But,” she pauses, takes a breath. “It shouldn’t feel like this. You’re too good for anything that doesn’t make you feel elated and comforted and, loved. You don’t deserve any of this, ___. And I might not know the full story, and you don’t have to tell me just yet, but these tears are proof enough for me.”

You stare into her eyes in the darkness of the room, take her words in and once she’s done, you simply pull her towards you and turn around, letting her arm fall on top of yours as she holds you and brings you closer.

She doesn’t leave your side until you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.

You think you’re dreaming at first, abruptly waking up and reaching for Soori’s baby monitor that you’d placed on your night table after putting her to bed. You squint, adjusting your sight as you try to make up the images on the little camera that points at her crib. She was crying, tossing and turning on the mattress and reaching for her giraffe. You check the time. It was a couple of minutes past four a.m., way too early for her to be up. Shoving the duvet off your body, you step into the coolness of the room, then the coolness of the hallway as you make your way to her nursery. It’s dark and eerily quiet, the evening events having come to an end as the whole house slept.

It’s not surprising that you jump the second you hear the creak of the door as Jungkook, too, makes his way out into the hallway.

“You scared me,” you tell him, turning around and putting a hand to your chest as you try and steady your heartbeat. For a second, in your sleepy lack of consciousness, you forget. It’s blissful.

“She’s up,” he states, half asleep himself, eyes swollen and barely open.

“Yeah. I can go,” you say. He shakes his head, not fully grasping your words and simply walking next to you to her nursery.

Her cries get louder when the two of you enter the room and she sees Jungkook. He walks over to her crib as you close the door behind you and takes her in his arms, swaying her from side to side as he shushes her cries softly.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” he coos, bringing his lips to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You walk closer to them and her eyes make you up in the darkness, her chubby hand reaching out for you. You take her hand in yours and she squeezes, playing with your fingers as her cries subside.

“Shhh,” your voice is soft, caressing her silky hair with your free hand, encouraging her to go back to sleep. Her eyes grow heavy once again but she fights it.

“Do you think she’s hungry,” he asks you.

You shake your head. “I gave her a bottle before bed. I think she had a bad dream.”

She whines again, head coming up in a restless manner.

“It’s alright, princess. Daddy’s here. We’re here,” he turns around some, so she can see you better and he begins to rock her in his arms. You place a hand on her back, softly running your thumb over it, your front flushed to Jungkook’s back as you sway from side to side, mimicking his movements. It works, and in a matter of minutes, she’s asleep.

“I don’t want to put her down,” he says, looking at her.

“I know, but she’ll wake up again if you don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You kiss her cheek ever so gently and he kisses the top of her head before laying her back down on her crib. She flinches a bit, eyes opening for a second that has you and Jungkook freezing like statues and staring intently at her before she closes them again and resumes her sleep. You both chuckle, looking at each other as if it was a reflex that proved complicity. Both your smiles fade rather quickly, though.

“___,” he says and you shake your head, bringing your finger to your lips and making him go quiet as you look down at Soori. He motions at the door with his head and you nod, following him outside.

It’s cold in the hallway, your sock-clad feet against the wooden floors making you shift in place a bit. There’s something comforting about the quiet nature of the moment, though. Jungkook closes the door carefully, coming to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Shit, I’m so sorry. It was an asshole move and I can’t even wrap my head around what I said.”

You smile. Not because you forgive him, not because you understand. But because you find it ironic that he can’t wrap his head around the idea of you being his, even in the most childish of ways like a jealousy strike.

“It’s okay.” You don’t believe the words that pass your lips, but what is there to say? You look at him, at what you can make out of his face in the darkness and you can’t bare say anything else. His proximity, his eyes on yours, the way his hair falls on top of his forehead, messy from sleep. It all makes you… want him. It’s stupid, and you blame it on the odd time. On the silence. On the dark. On the fact that nobody’s looking right now, and that’s what your heart is accustomed to. That’s what your body understands as love. It’s what creates desire. You’re a creature of habit, after all.

“It’s not, I-,” he begins but you take his hand in yours and he stops mid-sentence, looking at the gesture and then looking back at you.

You can smell him and it makes you feel drunk. Soft and gentle, like his body wash. Clean linen sheets and something else you can’t find the words for other than him. It’s him. You think, for a second, that you should feel stupid, but in reality the touch alone makes you feel alive.

If you’re to wake up and make sane decisions, let yourself have at least one night to take with you, forever.

Your hand in his pulls him closer to you and it’s instinctive, the way he wraps his arms around you, holding you in place for a second, taking you in with his gaze before his lips are crashing against yours. There’s no starting rhythm to it, it’s familiar from the get go. Almost like he knows – like he could read your thoughts and was making it count. His hands travel down, sneaking inside the fabric of your t-shirt, squeezing your ass and pushing your hips to his in one swift movement. A moan passes your lips and he smiles, bringing his finger in between your mouths, the low shhh making his lips pout against yours, making you kiss him.

“Jungkook,” you say, mouth on his still.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Fuck me.” Your voice stands in plea and your words go straight to Jungkook’s cock, well aware of you by now.

“Fuck.” He sighs against your lips. “Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you.”

You nod, bringing your lips to him, tongue dancing with his as you move slow, fingers carding through his hair.

“Please.”

He hums against your mouth, bringing his hands back to your ass as he pulls you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. He crosses the hallway, hands finding the door knob intuitively as he focuses on the way your lips come down to his neck, his eyes closing in pleasure the second you begin to place open mouth kisses on the flesh. He manages, though. Stepping inside his room with your body snaked around his, walking towards his bed and letting out little grunts of pleasure when your lips begin to suck on his skin, mouth coming to his ear to let him know how much you want him. How you want him to have you. Telling him the things you want him to do to you, no inhibitions holding you back. His knee touches the mattress as he lays you against it carefully, admiring the way you seamlessly fall into his bed, arms outstretching over the soft covers, hips sinking into them as you roll them in a way that hypnotizes him. Your hair flairs out around you and you look heavenly in the dim light.

“Don’t just stare,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist enticingly.

“Watch me,” he says before leaning down and kissing you again.

You shake your head, a giggle passing your lips. “I want to.”

“Want what, baby?” Jungkook’s too distracted with his kiss, and with the way your hips roll into his, making him fall into you.

“To watch you.”

Your words are filthy and your panties are so fucking thin it makes Jungkook moan as he feels the way his dick falls perfectly between your folds. “Just watch?”

“Mhm. For a little bit. Please?”

“Yeah, okay,” he breathes out, deepening the kiss and rolling his hips into yours.

You take advantage of the way his body betrays his thinking and put your hands on his shoulders before you’re pushing him down on his back, your knees sinking on the mattress as you bring your body up, looking down at him.

“Lay down on the pillows.” Your voice is demanding and he can’t say he minds.

“‘Kay, boss.” His words make you giggle a bit and you watch the way he scoots over, following your instructions, getting comfortable as he leans his head on his hands. He pouts before he says, “why are you so far away?”

“Because I get to watch.”

“Yeah? What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

You rest your body against the soles of your feet, running your hands through your hair, getting comfortable yourself.

“I want you to touch yourself.” There’s no shyness in your voice, but it remains soft, drives him a bit mad – your duality.

“I can do that, baby. Will you give me a show, too?”

“Not right away. I want to watch you first.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment before he sends a smirk your way, sinking back into the pillows before his hand begins to make its descend.

“No.” He looks confused for a second at your words. “I want you to do it slowly. I want you to do it like you would if I wasn’t watching.”

“Okay,” is all he can respond with, because the little dynamic is already sending all his blood supply down to his cock, throbbing at your demands.

He closes his eyes, left hand coming behind his head, his fingers playing with his hair for a second. When he opens them again, he looks down at his bare torso, sighs as he palms his cock over his pyjama pants, feels the warmth it radiates, perceives the small signs of his arousal. He squeezes, feels the way he throbs as his hand applies more pressure, a low hiss leaving his lips that has you feeling delirious. He looks up at you then and you get so caught up in his eyes you almost miss the way his hand snakes inside, past his boxers, his eyes closing when he finally gets to wrap a hand around himself. His head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as he circles a thumb around his head, collecting the pre cum and spreading it down his shaft as he begins to jerk himself. You want to see him, you want to see it all, but you stop yourself from asking, from demanding it, when you realize you quite enjoy the sight before you. It feels primal, almost taboo – like you shouldn’t be watching. It makes your pussy throb.

“Fuck,” he sighs at how good he feels and how badly he needs to discard of his layers, giving himself one last tug before his hips are coming up and he’s getting rid of his pants, boxers following suit, falling into a small pile on the floor.

He sees the way your eyes fall on his naked form, slowly taking him in before they land on his cock, on the way he grasps a hand around it once more, firm at the base like he’s showing you.

“I love your cock.”

Your words make him let out a breathy chuckle. “I love your pussy. Wanna show me?”

You lean backwards, resting your weight on your hand, feet touching the mattress as you spread your legs for him. Your fingers bring your shirt up past your tummy, pink panties on full display. He pouts, not fully displeased, but not fully satisfied either.

“Let me see you, baby.”

“Keep going.” Is all you say.

He reckons his best bet is to shut up and do what you say, and so he does just that. Applying more pressure as he closes his hand around his cock once again, enjoying the slight friction for a moment before it grows into discomfort. His hand comes up to his mouth and he spits on it, making your breath hitch on your throat at the lewd act, eyes threatening to close in sheer pleasure. You’re reactive when it comes to him. With the added lubrication, he begins to pick his pace back up, jerking his hand up and down, a low moan leaving him when his thumb toys with his slit, forefinger joining as he squeezes the head. His eyes never leave you, going back and forth from your face, to your body, unable to decide which one brings him the most pleasure right now. He grunts when your hand sneaks inside your shirt, when he sees the way you palm at your tits, the act visible through your white shirt. He sees the way you pinch your nipples, making your hips roll involuntarily.

“Yeah, baby, fuck. Touch yourself for me.”

His pants grow heavier, hand begins to slow down before he squeezes at the base, halting the beginning of his orgasm.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” he says. “Too good.”

“Mm,” you hum, moaning when your thumb grazes your sensitive nipples.

“Wanna touch you so bad, baby.”

“Not yet, Kook.”

Before he can protest you straighten your back, removing your shirt in one swift movement, making him moan at the sight of your tits alone.

“Prettiest tits.” His voice is cocky, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

You smile, leaning back slightly, eyes back on his cock that leaks and throbs for you. You want to put it in your mouth so badly, you want to ride him, touch him. But not yet.

“What would you do now? Make yourself cum?”

He shakes his head, smiling. You follow the path his hands take, the free one toying with his nipple, making him hiss and let out a low grunt, tummy caving at the overstimulation. The hand that wraps around his cock pumps once, twice, before traveling down until he’s tugging at his balls. You watch the way he rolls them in his palm, making his cock jump against his stomach.

“Shit,” he breathes out, closing his eyes.

“Look at me, Jungkook.”

“I am.” He complies, a bit drunk on the pleasure he grants himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him. “I’m so wet, Kookie.”

It’s mostly endearing, whenever you use that nickname on him. But in particular moments, it’s a sign that you’re in it to play.

“Did I? Let me see.” He nods your way, encouraging you.

Your hand falls between your legs, fingers pulling at the side of your panties as you move the thin fabric to the side. Jungkook cocks his head to the side slightly, smiling when he can see how you glisten from where he stands.

“Take them off.”

“Who says you’re in charge now?”

“I never stopped being in charge, baby.”

“Doubtful,” you bite back, spreading your pussy lips with your index and middle finger, relishing in the way your actions throw him off a bit.

“I like to give you what you want. That’s all, baby.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, fingers drawing lazy circles over your clit. “You do.”

“Take them off, ___.”

Your mind doesn’t let you fight back. It’s the need that runs through your body the more you touch yourself, the way he did so good, looked so good. But most of all, it’s the way that it’s true. That he is in charge and he never stopped. And that you loved every second of it. So you give him what he wants now, raising your hips as you roll your panties off your legs, tossing them to the floor before your hands are finding your heat again.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good for me, yeah?” His hands resume their own pace, jerking his dick, his movements a bit lethargic, almost as if he was mimicking your speed.

“Nngh.” The little noises you make are dreamy, makes his eyes fall shut for a second so he can compose himself.

“Is this how you do it? When you’re all alone?”

“Yeah,” your words are a little strained, face contorted in pleasure.

“Mm,” he nods, feigning more control than he actually has right now. “And where does your mind go?”

“You.” Your words don’t falter, eyes landing straight on his.

“What about me?”

“Sucking you. Riding you,” your last words get caught up in a moan as you push your middle finger inside your entrance.

Jungkook hums, eyes fixated on your pussy. “What else?” His own voice fails him as his pleasure grows.

“Your mouth on me. On my pussy- everywhere. I think about you fucking me. Hard.”

“Come here, ___.” His words are firm, unable to take the distance your little kinky dynamic had put between the two of you, and you seem to be feeling the same because you don’t hesitate much as you crawl towards him with hazy eyes and weak limbs. He looks down, giving you a silent instruction you are more than willing to take as you lay down on your tummy, between his legs, looking up at him. He smiles, hand around his cock as he says, “open.”

And you do, moaning at the way his cock feels heavy on your tongue, tasting the precum and rejoicing in the way he sighs in relief the moment your mouth is on him. You roll his balls on your palm, not wasting any time as you sink down on him, head hitting the back of your throat, making him hiss and moan, a little louder than usual. It feels good to make him feel good – to make him get lost in his pleasure, to allow yourself to get lost in it, too.

“Oh my god,” his voice is a little whiny, his eyes closing in pleasure as his hand comes to your head and you nod, giving him the cue. He pushes down, eyes back on you, guiding your movements as you move on him skillfully, coming up just to sink back in, letting him press you against him until you’re gagging around his cock, making him groan in primal satisfaction. “Just like that, baby, you’re doing so- fuck, so good.”

He brings your head back up after using your mouth, smiling when you catch your breath, fucked out eyes looking straight into his as you smile, too. You place open mouth kisses against his tip, sucking on his frenulum as you travel down, letting your spit coat his cock before you’re sucking his balls into your mouth, one by one. Jungkook moans at the feeling, at the sight, before he can’t take it anymore and his head is drawing back against the pillows, tummy hiccuping at the threat of release.

“Stop.” His hands cup your jaw, halting your movements. “Don’t wanna cum yet.”

“Okay.” Your voice is sweet, smiling at him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, fingers lingering on your lips for a while as you come up, leaning over to crash your lips onto his. You kiss him, deep and full of passion, your tongue playing with his, teeth sinking on his bottom lip once, twice, and he gets so lost in the way you kiss him he succeeds at ignoring everything else. It’s not for long, though, moaning into your mouth as his dick jumps against his pelvis, bringing a hand down to allow it some much needed friction.

“Ride my cock, baby.”

“Yeah, I want that. Want that so bad.”

“Take it, then,” he says, kissing you one last time before he’s settling back down against the pillows, getting comfortable as he watches you get settled, straddling him, hands falling to his chest, pressing your tits together right on his face, a lazy smirk adorning his lips at the sight. You roll your eyes when you notice, but it’s lighthearted because you both know that there’s nothing you love more than getting those little reactions out of him. You sink down on him slowly, watching the smile fade into an almost pained expression as his face contorts in pleasure, the two of you sighing at the feeling of his cock filling you up.

You sit on him, head rolling back as you let the discomfort turn into pleasure. He holds your hips, fingers touching the soft skin gently, a little moan leaving his lips when you clench on him. Your hand comes down to your lower tummy as you press, legs reflexively trying to close around his waist, making him hiss as you both feel the pressure you apply to his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, squeezing at your hips. “That was so hot.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pee myself,” you say, making the both of you laugh.

“I think that’s another thing, baby.”

“It’s too much.” Your voice shakes.

“That’s okay. Just ride me.” His voice is soft, fingers tucking your hair behind your ears as you nod.

You set the pace together, fucking him slowly as he moves your hips, helping you move on him, letting you feel him fully as you sink yourself onto him before coming back up, not entirely, never not having him inside of you. Your eyes lock on his, taking in his features, how beautiful he looks when a particular roll of your lips has him moaning, eyes fighting to stay open. You take in the sounds he makes, the way they get lost in your own, the way his lip gets caught between his teeth right before he utters dirty little words your way, words of praise that let you know how good you make him feel, encouraging you as he tells you that you’re doing so, so well. You cry out in pleasure when he tells you your pussy was made for him, hands coming to rest at his thighs as you fuck yourself on him, the tip of his cock massaging that sweet spot inside of you with every push and pull.

“I’m so close,” you mewl, nails digging into his thighs.

“Come back to me,” he pleads, hands on your tits, thumbs caressing your nipples before he’s pulling you back down by the waist.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your words are airy, filled with lust as you begin to move faster on top of him. Jungkook removes his hands from your waist, letting you do as you please – letting you use him – and brings them to your face, making you look at him. He sees the way your mouth parts in a silent moan when you cum around his cock, moaning at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as your pussy contracts around him.

“Good girl. You did so good, baby,” he mutters soft praises against your lips soothingly, aiding your come down.

“Yeah?” You ask, feeling a little delirious.

“Yeah. Fuck, your pussy feels so good.”

“Make me cum again, Kookie. Fuck me hard this time.”

And that’s seemingly all you have to say for Jungkook to take back the reigns he carries so very well. He plants one last kiss on your lips before he’s holding you by the waist, pushing you off gently, letting himself get distracted by the mess you’ve left all over him. You bite your lip as you take it in, too, the sight before you definitely matching how wet you are between your legs. It makes you giggle a bit, a little fucked silly as your limbs feel weak and your body feels so, so good at the same time. You don’t linger in your little bliss for long, though. Jungkook grabs you by the hips, pulling you back up and positioning you in your hands and knees. Your legs give out a bit, feeling a little shaky but you relax once he stands behind you, finding a spot between your legs and running his hand down your spine. His touch is soft, the sheer act sending jolts of electricity down your body as he presses down some, making you arch your back for him, throwing your ass back at him slightly.

“So sexy,” he praises, palms coming to your ass before he squeezes at the soft flesh. “All mine.”

“Yeah- yeah, Jungkook. I’m all yours.” And you mean it. You mean it because in your state, you are. Because when he takes over your senses all you can think about is him, and how his you are. All you can think about is this moment and giving yourself to him completely. So you are all his, and he is all yours. When his fingers travel down, finding their place between your slit, you hiss, pulling away from him instinctively as the oversensitivity takes over. He feels how swollen you are, still dripping down his fingers.

“Shh, baby. Just focus on my touch.”

“Okay,” you breathe, pushing back into his touch, closing your eyes as you concentrate on him and him only.

“You’re so tight around my fingers. Can't wait to get my cock in here. You want that, ___?”

“Shit- yes,” your words are a whisper as he sinks his fingers into you, going straight for your g-spot.

“Can I play with you a little first?” His next actions find you mid-nod, making you gasp as you feel his thumb gently graze over your asshole, a moan leaving your mouth. “Need your words, baby.”

“Yes. Please, Kook- nngh.”

He draws his tongue inside his mouth, collecting saliva before he lets it fall straight into your ass, watching as it falls down your pussy. You whine, needy and a little desperately and he doesn’t prolong the anticipation, fingers buried inside of you as he brings his tongue to your ass, giving tentative little licks as if to measure your reactions. You moan, face crashing against the mattress as your arms give out, cries of pleasure leaving you as Jungkook lets his tongue play, fucking your ass as his middle and ring finger rub at your clit in tight little circles. It’s damn near overwhelming, your moans growing high pitched and probably a little too loud, but you can’t quite register anything other than the pleasure he gives.

Your second orgasm takes you by surprise, feeling the way your tummy tenses when Jungkook spits on your ass, closing his mouth around you as lewd little sounds fill the air, his fingers entering you once again, deeper and harder this time. You can’t even speak, your only way of letting him know is reaching behind you, taking hold of his thigh and digging your nails into them, a loud cry leaving you before you’re coming all around his mouth. All around his fingers. You come down on his tongue, falling into its languid little movements before you’re cringing back in overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he says, coming up and running a hand through his hair. You smile at him, cheek still pressed to the mattress, ass up. “You look pretty like this.”

“Are you buttering me up so you can hit it in back shots?”

He laughs. “Can you take it, baby?”

You nod your head, giving him a lazy smile. “I want it.”

“How do you want it?”

“Hard.”

He smirks, bringing an open palm to your ass cheek as he spanks it. You moan, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as the pleasure swims over your body. You gather your strength, mainly induced by adrenaline as you bring yourself back up on your hands, pushing your ass back, looking at him seductively as you do so. He runs two fingers down his tongue, wetting them before bringing them back down to his cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining himself on your entrance. You sigh when his tip teases your hole, moan when he pushes into you, bottoming out on the first stroke, driving you forward a bit.

“Fuck, you feel so warm.”

“You feel so big,” you breathe out, panting as you brace yourself for what your next words will ignite. “Fuck me, Kook. Please.”

He draws his hips back, eyes zeroing in on the way your juices coat his cock before he’s slamming right back into you. He groans and you gasp as his hands come down to your hips, holding you in place as he starts to fuck you. His pace grows slowly, steadily. He fucks you deep, lets you get used to him, measuring your reactions in the way you moan and arch your back, each of which ask for more. It feels so fucking good, your head falling between your arms as you let him use your body at his very desire, his cock hitting all your sweet spots with each drive of his hips, his breath and moans sounding so delicious, music to your ears, adding to the overall experience.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words are but a set of strangled breaths, a high pitch moan passing his lips that makes your entire body react to it as you clench around his fat cock. “I’m so close. Fuck.” He groans, spanking your ass again, growing feral. “Can you give me one more, baby?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“C’mon, angel. You can do it.”

“Fuck, Jungkook-” you cry out the minute his hips pick up the pace, angling you in the way only he knows how, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside of you and that’s all it takes for the pleasure to start building up in your lower stomach. “Shit- fuck. Just like that.”

He fucks you at that exact pace, chest rising and falling with the exertion of his actions but he can barely notice the way it spends his body, mind too focused on how good you feel – on how much he can feel you, almost as if your pussy was swallowing him back in with each pull. He slams his cock inside of you with force, balls slapping against your clit. He feels the way your body tenses, knows you’re close.

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You feel the way your tummy locks in, body drawing back into itself before you’re letting go, muscles relaxing as you cum around Jungkook’s cock, his pace never faltering. “I’m cumming, oh my God.”

The way your pussy contracts around his cock sends him into overdrive, mind growing hazy at the feeling, your moans the perfect sound to pair it all with. His hips begin slowing down and he stops altogether, letting you milk his cock with the last remains of your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, voice whiny, eyes closed, nails digging at your flesh.

“Cum in my mouth, baby, please.” Your voice is raspy, voice sore and body spent. You sound so sweet, so good.

He can’t find his words, simply pulling off of you and crashing back against his pillows, running his hands down his face, cock angry and leaking. You find your place back in between his legs, hand wrapping around his cock as you give him a couple of pumps before your tongue circles the head.

“Shit, baby,” he opens his eyes, looking down at you, moaning.

“Cum for me, Kookie. Want it so bad.”

He nods, hand cupping your chin as he lets himself get lost in the way your mouth feels around him. You sink down on him, sucking on your way up, playing with his balls as you feel him grow tense.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He sighs, head drawing back before he’s looking back down at you, hand working on him and the tip of his cock on your tongue as you shake your head from side to side. He cums inside your mouth, hot strips of his release coating your tongue, some falling down your chin. It’s a sight to behold and Jungkook doesn’t miss a single second. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” he says, a bit deliriously.

He sees the way you smile, swallowing before your eyes grow heavy, clouded with lust before you say, “thank you.”

Jungkook smiles, an airy laugh passing his lips before he’s bringing you back up, your body crashing against him as his crashes against the pillows. He kisses you, teeth clanking with yours and it makes the both of you giggle.

“I’ve never ran a marathon but I feel like I just did,” you say.

“I have and it feels just like this, yes.”

You chuckle and he swoons, finding you so sweet. You look at the window, see the tiny pockets of light that comes from the blinds. “The sun is coming out. What time is it?”

Jungkook looks at the clock on his nightstand. “6:23”

“Oh my God.”

“I’ve been fucking you for over two hours. What a life.” He sighs, closing his eyes and snuggling into the pillows.

You look down at him, take him in. Your smile fades the more the sight before you makes your heart feel tight in your chest. Tight with love, tight with heartbreak. Your fingers come up to his cheek, softly touching him there, making him sigh in sweet satisfaction, eyes still closed. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, his heartbeat in perfect sync with yours as it tries to steady itself.

“I wish we could stay like this.”

“Me too,” he says, but he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t register the full extent of your words. After all, only you know what you mean. “Soori’ll be up in like an hour or so, the others in maybe two, three hours. We should try to sleep while she still does.”

“Okay.” You kiss him, lips locked on his, trying to lock the memory in as best as you can. When you pull away you smile, endeared by the smile that forms on his own lips. You begin to pull your body away from his and he frowns, hand closing around your arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room, just in case-”

“No. Stay here. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He nods, pulling you closer. “Okay.”

“Good.” He kisses you again.

“I should pee. And you should, too.”

“My dick is broken,” he mocks sleep, shutting his eyes closed, making you laugh.

“Come on!” You pull him by the arms, dead weight that you carry halfway through his king size bed.

But once you get him out of the bed, he manages to get you inside the shower, quickly lathering your bodies in foamy soap, in a silence that you find comforting, powered by the exhaustion that runs through your bodies. But nonetheless, he’s gentle as he runs the sponge down your body, and you’re gentle as you lather him up, too, stealing kisses here and there.

When you finally get in bed, it takes him about ten seconds to fall into what you know is a deep slumber, the last thing he says to you is, “good night!” as tiny chuckles escape him through the irony of his words. You look at him, feel the way his breath grows heavy, hair wet against the pillows, lips full and plump and red from your kisses, looking so peaceful and so beautiful. A beauty you know comes once in a lifetime.

You smile.

“I love you,” you whisper at him, head falling to his chest before sleep begins to take over your mind and body, a smile on your face.

If you’re to wake up and make sane decisions, let yourself have at least one night to take with you, forever.

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