#also something of note is that i want to cut my hair again

[star-fandoms]

LADS REDESIGNS!! + notes

Note: These are solely for fun, nothing wrong with the original designs and I still plan on drawing their original designs!

I used the Linkon Chibi Report cover because I couldn't be bothered to actually draw them all, my bad LMAO Here's the link to the Love and Deepspace twitter where I got it: https://x.com/Love_Deepspace

THE ART IS NOT MINE, JUST THE REDESIGNS!!(Which even then were highly inspired by the new Valentines cards!)

XAVIER

(His hair is 100% inspired by his "Deluded Fiction card.)

Uh but yeah, as for WHY I decided to go with this design, it has a bit to do with his lore. Please correct me if I get anything wrong, I'm not super aware of everything lore related(Esp not with Xavi's, too focused on Zayne and Caleb :,< )

But Xavier has been traveling for a while, and I think over time he would stop really caring about his appearance, more focused on defeating wanderers and trying to protect the mc.

I also feel like he'd eventually cut his hair again and brush it! So his longer hair is more so an early game thing lol

I also just love the idea of chronic bed head Xavier. Like I imagine his to be a still sleeper, but I think it'd be funny that no matter how still he sleeps, his hair just gets messy again LOL

I just felt like eyebags fit Xavier a lot. I also gave him a mole! I thought his face felt empty without a mole and for some reason I just keep thinking he has one and then I look at him and I'm shocked he doesn't have one LOL But I also think the whole "Your moles are where your lover kissed you most in your past life" soulmate thingy. I think it'd be cute if Daye(one of my mc's. But I think it'd be cute to see moles on where other's mc's kiss Xavier the most!) was a cheek kisser in every timeline.

I think it's like...pretty impossible for Xavier NOT to have a single scar, no matter how good he is right now. I honestly feel that way about most the men(Other then Zayne since he has scars) but like Xavi's a hunter and ur telling me I can't find a single scar on his body?? So I gave him one on his jaw and one on the corner of his mouth! There's multiple more scattered around his body as well!

Speaking of his body, I think he'd have a sleeper build LOL!! Just for those who don't know, a sleeper build is when someone doesn't look strong and doesn't have obvious muscle, but they're strong and the muscle is hidden. I mainly chose this cause of the name LOL

I also gave him heterochromia, I just thought it would look nice LOL

RAFAYEL

I made the tips of his fingers blue, I did think about red and I might try that honestly, but it's because he's a Lemurian. I wanted something kinda subtle to show that(Its not that subtle with Raf though since he's an artist and uses his hands LOL)

I did also give him longer hair and I wanted to keep it fluffy! I might also mess around with a bit more wavy hair! I also made one of his little side bangs just a bit longer for some asymmetry, I wanted to add hair clips but decided against actually drawing it in the end!

I also added a teal streak to his hair. I already like Raf's design so I wasn't really sure what to change, so this just seemed a little fun. I think its like a little artistic streak.

Raf does NOT have muscles, don't even play with me. No matter what the game shows, Raf will always be a little stick that I can pick up.

I also think that Raf might have a few tattoos! Not too many, I think he'd cry getting every tattoo cause it all hurts him. But I also think he would like to see his own body as kind of a canvas(This is also something that I do to myself and others. I love painting on myself and other people) That said I think after a while Raf probably decided against getting anymore tattoos and just doodles and paints on his body, he also likes that he gets to change it up more.

ZAYNE

okay...I prommy I wasn't going to originally give Zayne longer hair. I think the short and clean look suits Zayne and his personality well. But also...I think it's really fun to kind of imagine liking having long hair(A little throwback to "Master of Fate")

Anyways, Zayne with some of his hair tied back is WOOOOO MAMA!! I do wanna play around with a little ponytail too, which is what I think he'd actually do while performing surgeries.

I did give him eyebags as well. Bro works super late sometimes and struggles with nightmares and insomnia, yeah he has eyebags.

I didn't change too much about Zayne honestly. I was thinking about adding glasses permanently but also decided against that. Though I do really like Zayne in glasses so I wanna draw him in them more, I just also hate drawing glasses.

SYLUS

okay...most notably, Sylus has the longest hair! I don't know why but for some reason I always remembered his dragon form having long hair, which it literally doesn't. Anyways, long fluffy mullet Sylus supremacy idk. LOL

^ his hair also has a bit of a red gradient. I didn't want it to be too obvious, but his hair felt a little lacking without it!

Also I gave his arms a dark red gradient, I also think he'd have claws I just didn't draw them. These are also because...half dragon. I know they aren't the hands he had as a dragon, but I wanted them to be more human.

It's so subtle, but I gave him fangs.

I didn't even think about it but I might mess around with slightly pointed ears. a more subtle touch to show he's not human.

I did also think about giving him little horns and wings, but decided against that. I also decided again red streaks on his hair and landed on the gradient instead.

CALEB

Caleb is one of them I'm STICKING with long hair for. He looks so good with a mullet I feel like I belong in a psyche ward.

I gave him little white streaks in his hair, It's supposed to be heat damage but aesthetic from the ✨explosion✨ once again, not really meant to be realistic at all.

Its also so subtle, but I traced one of his pupils with red because I think it'd be even more tragic is Caleb had lost an eye and it got replaced with a mechanic one, like his arm. I think it'd be useful for scanning people and recording their actions too. And I think it'd also be tragic if his vision was warped from this eye, like it doesn't really view properly. I'd have to draw out what I mean eventually cause I don't think I'm making any sense.

i didn't do it but god, him having a little slit in his brow would be so good too, with like a little scar there.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my silly little redesigns! Once again the art I edited belongs to Love and Deepspace!

[mapsareforbraindeads]

big feelings spiking part two because i hit tag limit

[ourceliumnetwork]

tomorrow pakige

[pearlymel]

My lady—

Synopsis. Sometimes zayne thinks of you as his owner, well, as a cat at least.

Warnings. NSFW, no plot, fem reader, kinda subby zayne, oral (f and m receiving.) 1.6k words.

Notes. A little something to get ready for the upcoming bang bang cards. Also happy holiday's and new year!!

"Well aren't you being a good butler kitty for me?" You grin, enjoying every bit of this. It was rare to see Zayne like this or for him to act this way.

"I aim to please." And you shudder at his words, his other hand smoothly glides up from your ankle to your calf, the fabric of your dress riding up, up...

For a moment he's silent, content to take in the view while gently caressing your leg. But he can only be patient for so long. "Come here." he murmurs, hand tightening around your ankle once again.

Such a demanding cat, he's satisfied only once you're sitting right on the edge of the armrest, his body pressed in between your legs. By still holding your ankle, he pushes, encouraging you to rest your calf on his shoulder and to wrap the other leg around him. One of his hands rests on the armrest to support his weight, while the free hand traces a light path down your bared inner-thigh.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," he murmurs. "Your butler, your pet, your— "

He cuts himself off, swallows hard. Careful. He doesn't want to scare you off with the intensity of his feelings. Instead he settles for a simple, "Your Zayne.”

“ah… you're a bold kitty too.” You half chuckle when he starts nuzzling his nose into the bend of your knee, "you smell good." Literally drunk on your scent.

The hand on your thigh moves higher, pushing your dress up further and you instinctively tug at his hair, “hey—”

Zayne lets out a groan when the hand in his hair grips tighter, "Pull harder, my lady."

“i don't want to hurt you.”

"You won't."

He nips at the skin of your inner thighs just a bit harder, licking the spot when your hand jerks in his hair again.

Zayne nuzzles against your clothed pussy, his nose brushing and bumping through the cloth. Another inhale, another low, rumbling sound of contentment.

You grit through your teeth, this was enough to actually turn you on and make the fabric a little damp from your arousal.. How embarrassing.

His fingers hook in the band of your panties, this time pulling harder. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room, and you gasp. The rest of them parting easily under his hands.

“Zayne—!” he doesn't give you a chance to react before he's leaning in and dragging the flat of his tongue along your slit. He starts slow, licking and sucking at your clit before teasing your hole with the tip of his tongue. His hands smoothly slide up your thighs, fingers digging in slightly as he holds you open for his ministrations.

Zayne loves it when you tug at his hair. He loves to tease you with his mouth, but he also loves this, the reaction.

The little twinges of pleasure-pain, the gentle scratches over his scalp and ears. The feel of your thighs, trembling just barely against his ears.

He can tell you're struggling. You're holding your breath to keep quiet, your squinting unfocused eyes. His head turns, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh to let his tongue curl over your skin in a soft swipe.

He wants to hear you, but he won't force you—not when you're so sweetly silent for him, "breathe, sweetheart.”

One glance down at him, and you part your lips to ‘breathe’ only for it to come out as a whine when he slides his middle finger in, slipping into your cunt easily.

His free hand slides under your knee when you start squirming, holding it up to keep you still, "don't move.” a whisper before he presses in further, curling inside your deepest most sensitive repeatedly that you forget you were supposed to be in ‘control’.

Not like this, a moaning, whining mess from one finger and his lips closing around your bundle of nerves. You don't even notice it happening next, when you're almost crying as you suddenly cum—

“Mmh, Zayne i can't—can't—” and you're gushing out embarrassingly fast, eyes rolling back with the back of your hand covering your quivering mouth.

Meanwhile Zayne was lapping and slurping on your release without hesitation to help you ride out from your high. Only when your tremors subside does he pull back, licking his lips. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, face flushed, hair messed up and lips swollen.

“Am i good enough for you, my lady?” that sweet breathless voice, one dangerous move that would bring you to your knees.

“my good boy,” you hum, cupping his cheeks while gently pulling him up with you on the couch, your hand ever so soft caressing his cheek that he blinks slowly when you peck his glistening lips.

Zayne's breath catches next when you push him down, eyes widening slightly. But he doesn't protest, doesn't try to stop you. Instead he watches as you undo his belt and zipper.

"What are you—" His words cut off with a gasp as you free his cock, wrapping your hand around the hard length. He's already leaking, the tip slick when your thumb circles it for a bit.

As much as he wants to be a gentleman, wants to put your pleasure first, he's desperate for your touch. He watches you through hooded eyes as you stroke him, hand gliding along his shaft. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving with each inhale.

“There, there,” you whisper while squeezing the base of his cock before you wrap your precious lips around the sensitive tip.

He's gone.

���M-my lady—haah—”, His head tips, his hips involuntarily jerking upward. His hands tighten on the sofa, the fabric creaking under his grip. But he doesn't do it again, and his hips fall back down onto the couch with a low moan, his chest heaving.

One hand drops from the side, brushing over your hair to comb through it as he rocks his hips slightly, just enough to slide a little deeper into your mouth. your tongue swirls around him, it feels all tight, warm, and wet at the same time.

He watches you struggle, sees your throat bulge around him. The sight is obscene, erotic, and it makes his cock throb in your mouth. He can feel your throat fluttering around his length, and it's almost too much.

He can't help it, at that point, holding back like that.

With a low groan, his whole bodyconvulses, and his back arch sharply under you. The grip on your hair tightens, but the sound he makes still manages to stay quiet; you can tell he's still holding back.

Trying to be good. For you. Even while he's practically shaking, while you can feel his body shivering against you.

He rocks his hips slightly, shallow thrusts that allow you to adjust. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he can't resist the urge to move, to feel you around him.

“My lady, i-im about to come, you can pull away if you dont like it,” he breathes out, but you decide against it, sucking harder even when tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“A-ah, i… I—” His orgasm hits him like a freight train, back arching as he comes hard down your throat, spilling into you, pulse after pulse of hot, thick cum. “My lady, my lady—” he chants, hips jerking with each spurt.

He looks down at you, eyes hazy with post-orgasmic bliss. You look up at him, lips swollen with remnants of his release at the corner of your lips that you lick away.

“you taste almost sweet, ate too much sugar?” you tease, your voice hoarse. Yet he's still shaking, barely coherent. You can tell he likes it, by the way his mouth curves into a small, dazed smile.

Zayne is barely conscious, his words slurring together. His hand brushes your hair again, pushing it away from your face. "Come here...”

He pulls you up to curl close to his chest, the hand in your hair drawing you against him, he pulls you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"My lady… " he whispers softly, “hm?” you hum back.

"my everything." The words are slurred together again, muffled in a low, half-whisper, but they're clear enough that you understand them. He draws you in closer, his arms wrapping around your torso, pressing you close to him. He doesn't care if it's too intimate or if he's being too clingy. At this point he just needs to hold you, to be close to you, and to savor your presence.

He's... so clingy now.

“is my kitty all high? Seems like I've spoiled him too much.”

"M'fine," he murmurs into your hair, lips brushing over it in a gentle caress. His head tilts forward, nestling into you like a cat seeking warmth. His hand strokes gently over your back, fingertips tracing down the curve of your spine as he presses closer to you. “it's alright, I'm here.”

He mumbles something else that gets muffled in your hair, though he's also still exhausted and coming down from the high of his orgasm, so he'll probably sleep soon, but he won't sleep until he knows that you're comfortable. He just wants you, that's all. Just having you in his arms is enough.

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[thevillainswhore]

“Good girl,” he mumbles, running his fingers through your hair while looking at you.

So We Meet Again

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A reunion between two old friends quickly turns heated.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, blowjob, mouth fucking, ball sucking, praise, pet names, cum eating.

Author’s Note: This is part of The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️ beta’d by the lovely @buck-star thank you my love 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics.

You didn’t know what to expect once your old friend opened the door to his cabin. It had been years — too many of them since you had last seen him and to say you were nervous was an understatement. 

The logs that had been carefully wound together to uphold the structure were beautifully cut, a deep mahogany that was rich in pigment. But you couldn’t help but quirk your lips at the beigeness of it all. 

A little splash of colour would do the trick. 

You had no time to internally decide what kind of palette you could imagine for the rustic cabin before the wooden door creaked open and a vaguely familiar face came into your view. 

“Bucky?” You gasped, the air knocked out of your lungs. “Is that—Is that really you?”

Far from the scrawny boy you had attended school with, your old friend stood before you transformed into a man. 

The stubble that graced his cheeks was new. The once long hair that he had chopped down into a short fluffy cut was also new. The muscle he had packed on that made the woolly coat he was wearing strain against his arms was definitely new.

All new territory that you had no idea what to do with. 

“Hey, Dolly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that pretty, little face.” 

Oh, the deep voice was a welcome surprise too. 

“I—” You didn’t know what to say, shell shocked by the sight in front of you. “You’ve gotten taller.” 

Bucky laughed abruptly. “Well, damn. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff of laughter for your own awkwardness. “What I meant to say was you look good.” 

Though a lot had changed since you last saw Bucky, one thing that had stayed the same was how bashful he got over the slightest compliments. 

Rubbing the back of his neck as a hue of red blossomed on his cheeks, he smiled. “You know how to make a man blush, don’t ya?” 

Just as you were about to reply, a gush of frosted wind made you stumble. Bucky shot his arms out and grabbed you before you could fall. “Shit, let’s get you inside before it gets nasty out there. Come on, you.” 

With his arms still keeping you balanced, Bucky brought you over the threshold and into the warmth of his home. He shut the door with his foot and continued to smooth his hands down your coat covered arms. 

“This place is beautiful, Buck. I can’t believe you made this by yourself,” you said in awe. 

“I’m glad you like it. You helped me design it after all.” 

You spun around with your mouth open. “You did not keep those sketches after all these years!” 

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder and slid his palms into his pockets. “I did. I neatened them up a little here and there when I got the planning permission. But I kept them.” He pointed towards the fireplace with his head, a fond smile curving his lips. “Look.” 

After tapping the excess snow off your boots on the doormat, you made your way towards the mantelpiece that hung above a roaring fire. Low and behold, there were the drawings the two of you had made together years ago in college. Ripped out of your notebook and framed. 

“You believed in me when not many people did.” Bucky’s voice was closer as he came up behind you. “You didn’t laugh when I told you I wanted to build my own company. It's because of you that people took interest in this house and now I get regular contracts to keep me steady.” 

Unexpected tears began to bubble to the surface. You couldn’t believe your old friend had kept something so sentimental and created something so beautiful out of it. Sniffling, you faced Bucky and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, Buck.” 

Instantly, his arms curled around you, holding you with just as much vigour. “I missed you more, Dolly.” 

The two of you kept huddled in your embrace for a while, savouring the feeling of each other after lost time. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up. You pulled back, though Bucky’s arms held firm around you. “Wait. Does this mean what I think it does?” 

Your excitment began to grow at the grin on your friend’s face. “Why don’t you go and find out?” 

With a squeal, you quickly toed off your boots — not wanting to dirty the cabin — and ran down the hallway. If Bucky hadn’t changed anything about the floor plan, you were sure to find what you were looking for. 

And to your delight, once you had ripped open the door, you found your most prized possession — the library. 

You spun around, unable to contain the emotion in your voice. “You really built it.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, sweetheart. I told you I would.” Bucky leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an unknown look in eye. 

“But—“ you tried to reason. 

Though Bucky quickly shook you down, already knowing what you were trying to say. “But nothing. You’re still my best friend no matter where in the world you are. No matter if we haven’t spoken in a while. This is for you, Dolly.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “It's beautiful, Bucky. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” By the earnest look in his eyes you knew he meant it too. 

After you had explored the house some more, Bucky had ushered you to the table to get some food down you. His concern for your wellbeing hadn’t changed at all since school. He was always mothering you, making sure you were taking care of yourself. 

It was like the two of you had never been apart. Conversation came easily over his homemade meal. Laughter bounced off the walls of his kitchen. It was easy to fall back into your friendship. 

But there was something else brewing that you couldn’t explain. An added supplement to your relationship. 

There were lingering looks over the candles scattered across the dining table. There were flirtations that made you squirm in your seat. 

If Bucky wasn’t your friend, you’d have thought that you were on a date. 

But Bucky was your friend. And every time your eyes caught each other and his hand brushed over yours, you found yourself thinking of him differently. 

Snow pelted harshly against the windows and you looked outside to find the storm predicted by the weather forecast was raging in full force. You wiped your mouth with a napkin and sighed. “That’s just going to be great to drive in.” 

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to you in aghast. “You’re not actually thinking about going out in that, are you?” 

“What other choice do I have? I’ve got to get to my hotel.” 

“Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head in finality. “You’ll stay here.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “I can’t just stay here, Bucky. This is your home!” 

You knew you sounded stupid, especially when he raised his eyebrow at you. “My home is your home. You’re not riskin’ your safety just to stay at some deadbeat motel where the doors don’t even lock. Not a chance.” 

Bucky’s reasoning was sound. The room you had booked was kind of cheap and you shivered when you thought of the possibilities why. But after a night filled with inexplicable tension, you found yourself still weighing the options.

Bucky must have seen the indecision in your features. The groan of his chair pushing out caught your attention and you had to bite your tongue when he crouched before you to hold your hand.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t go back out there tonight. Stay with me.” 

You would always argue it was his eyes that persuaded you. Bucky always had a way to make you give in to him with his steel blues. It was the same as college kids and you realised it was the same now. Only more dangerous. 

“Okay,” you whispered around a gulp. Squeezing his hand, you confirmed, “I’ll stay with you.” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Pulling you out your seat, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tight. He nuzzled his nose into your hair and let go of a deep breath. “That’s my girl.” 

Your body shouldn’t have reacted the way it did. You were just glad that Bucky was too enthralled in your hug to notice anything amiss. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and smoothed your clothes. “Let me help you put all this away.” 

Immediately, Bucky took the plate you were about to grab. “Not a chance, Dolly. Go sit down and wait until I’m finished and then I’ll show you to your room.” With his free hand, he patted your lower back, enough for his fingers to skim the top of your ass and shooed you away. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned, Bucky lifted you off the sofa with his hand and guided you towards the hallway where the bedrooms resided. You weren’t quite sure why you faltered upon the first step, but you tried to control your breathing enough to push yourself to keep walking. 

The night wasn’t what you expected when you decided to visit Bucky. Maybe it was silly to have any sort of expectations after so many years apart from your friend. 

However, this new element came at you with no time to prepare. 

Especially not when he let you lead so he could place his hand on the small of your back. Not when you felt the movement of it gliding further down to rest on the curve of your ass. And not when he grabbed your hand to pull you back once you surpassed the open door to his bedroom. 

“So—um—the guest room is just next to mine.” Bucky looked down at you with what you could only call desire in his irises. 

“I know,” you breathed airily. “I helped you design the layout, remember?”

Bucky swallowed. “I guess I’ll say goodnight then.” 

“That would be best.” Though you made no way to retract yourself from his proximity. 

“Goodnight, Dolly.” 

“Night, Bucky.” 

The air became stifling hot, even as the cold crept in from the open windows around the house. 

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Bucky slowly moved forward with what you supposed would be a friendly kiss on the cheek. You kept deathly still as his stubble scratched against your skin, even though a shudder clawed its way down your back. But your attempts were useless when his lips hovered a little too close to the corner of your mouth. 

Bucky let himself linger before he pulled back. Though he could only manage to draw himself away from you slightly, allowing the two of you to breathe each other’s air. His eyes were blown, like he’d taken a hit and his hand squeezed your waist like it was painful for him to move. 

Who made the next move would continue to be debated for years to come. What you could both agree on with certainty was the instant connection the two of you felt when your lips finally connected. How perfect the two of you intertwined your bodies in a dance of fiery passion.

The nagging voice that had tormented you throughout the night vanished and you finally let yourself go, losing yourself into Bucky. 

“Fuck,” he murmured around your kiss. “I’ve been wantin’ to taste those damn lips all night, Dolly.”

You tangled your fingers into his fluffy hair, pulling harshly as his hands sneaked up your shirt to feel your bare skin. “Then shut up and stop wasting your breath.” 

His responding growl sent a shot of electricity between your legs and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue against his to hear it again. 

The two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the hallway, unable to keep your hands off each other. It was as though Bucky was the oxygen you craved after being starved of air. You’d die if he let go of you. 

Bucky began to step back into his bedroom and the door crashed against the wall. You broke away when your feet recognised the soft carpet furnishing, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths together. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky whined while his chest heaved and his eyes were hooded in pure lust. 

Ignoring him, you dropped down onto your knees with a thud. His eyes shot open and you graced him with a sultry smile, licking your lips while you slid your palms up the denim covering his thick thighs.

“Oh, shit. You’re really gonna—”

You didn’t give him the time to finish his sentence. Adrenaline was sparking your momentum in that moment and any doubts about how fast you were moving were pushed out of your mind as soon as you tore his jeans and underwear down in one go.

Bucky’s heavy cock bounced out of its confines. He was all girth and length, a true testament to the rest of his bear-like physique. Although his dick was intimidating and you had to take at least a whole minute to stare at it in wonder, you got to work quickly.

There were no teasing licks, no hesitant strokes of your hand. You went all in, hollowing your cheeks while you began to feed yourself his cock. You held the base with one hand and slid your other further down towards his balls, beginning to massage them just as you felt the head of his length hit the back of your throat.

“Holy—D-Dolly, you gotta—fuck that’s so good—Slow down, baby. You’re g-gonna choke.”

Lifting your eyes to settle them on Bucky’s, you winked and hummed around him, watching in delight as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he chuckled before biting his bottom lip, beginning to gently meet the rhythm of your mouth with his own thrusts. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice, baby.”

Spit drooled from your mouth, pooling onto the hardwood floor, while your eyes began to water. Any decorum had gone out the window and all that was left in its place was raw, shameful mouth fucking. Bucky couldn’t keep his jaw shut as he towered above you, watching how his proportions bullied the tightness of your throat.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, running his fingers through your hair while looking down at you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Gettin’ all messy for me.”

His hands tightened their grip, tugging enough for a sharp pain to sting your scalp. But it only served to rile you up more. Letting his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, you reached further down to suck his balls. 

Bucky choked on his own spit at the sensation of your tongue flicking against the thin, delicate skin and the warm wetness your saliva provided him. “Sh-Shit, Dolly! Uh-huh, baby—Just like that.” 

Cradling the back of your head with one hand, Bucky used the other to hold his cock. He wanted to see the tears glistening over your waterline. You hummed as you made eye contact with him and the vibrations ran through his whole body and lit his nerves on fire. 

“That’s right, suck my fuckin’ balls. Look so pretty on your knees for me and your own damn spit covering your face.” With a grunt, Bucky pulled back, almost regretting leaving your hot mouth, and grabbed your chin, spitting on your awaiting tongue and shoving his dick back down your throat before you could blink. “Show me how much you missed me, baby.” 

Your body was like a live wire, sparks shocking your nerves and leaving you pent up and on edge. The pure animal had come out of your best friend — a side to him you had never had the pleasure of seeing before — and it only made you crave your own stimulation. 

Your jaw ached and your throat cinched in pain every time the fat tip of Bucky’s cock hit the back of it. But none of that mattered when you watched the harmony of pleasure across his face. How he looked at you like you were an angel on your knees, serving your god. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and pulled him out of your mouth. “Paint my tongue, Bucky.” There was a hoarse rasp to your voice but you swallowed and began pumping his length. “I wanna know what you taste like.” 

Bucky’s eyes gained a new gleam, one that frightened and excited you. 

“Fuck my life. What the fuck have we been doin’ all this time?” Grabbing the length of your hair and twisting it around his hand, he pulled, forcing you eye to eye with his crotch. “Come here, Dolly. Lemme feed you my load if you wan’ it so damn bad.”

Bucky fed you his cock and widened the stance of his legs, his free hand framed your chin — smothered in a combination of saliva and pre cum — and began to thrust. 

Spit flew out of your mouth, each squelch and gag leaving no room for anything but Bucky’s thick length to take ownership of you. Your cries fell on deaf ears as Bucky became a man possessed. 

“Gonna take it, sweetheart? Gonna swallow my cum and fill up your tummy?” 

You nodded as best as you could, moaning around his girth and trying to convey with your eyes how badly you wanted him to use you. 

Bucky licked his lips, panting viciously. “You’re mine now, Dolly. Do you understand?” 

When you didn’t answer, too drunk off his cock, he harshly tapped your protruding cheek. “Answer me, sweetheart. Do you fuckin’ understand?” 

You gargled around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screamed your muffled agreement. 

Bucky swiped his tongue across his teeth and grinned. “Good. Cos’ I ain’t letting you go.” 

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs, trying to steady yourself from the cruel thrusts. Bucky began to grind his cock down your throat, leaving you depleted of oxygen and struggling to form a single coherent thought. 

“‘M gonna cum, baby. C-Can’t hold it any longer.” Bucky’s legs started to shake with his impending orgasm, his words slurring the closer to his end he got. 

So with a sudden bout of eagerness, you slid your hands around to his ass, gripped each cheek and pulled him impossibly further down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. 

Bucky didn’t even have a chance to warn you before his cock began to pulse, not a second later shooting pearls of thick, white cum from his tip to coat your tongue. 

“D-Dolly—baby—I can’t. F-Fuck, I’m cummin’ so much. All this fuckin’ cum for you, sweetheart—” he rambled. Stumbling over his own words until his dick finally began to settle and his load had all been released. 

You struggled to hold the vast amount of cum in your mouth, some of it sneaking out from the corner of your lip and joining your tears as they rolled down your chin. Your bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red speckled veins looked up to Bucky, watching the pure elation on his face while his fingers started to carefully unfurl from your hair. 

Slowly, once Bucky’s length began to soften, he retracted his hips, letting his cock fall from your mouth. His thumb rested on the dimple of your chin, rubbing back and forth as he caught his breath, a new hunger in his eyes. “You still got my load in that pretty little mouth, baby?” 

Tightening your lips, you nodded, chest heaving and nostrils flaring with an adrenaline that hadn’t been sated. 

Bucky smirked wolf-like and kneeled down on one knee to match your height. “Wanna show me?” 

Caught up in the boundaries the two of you had surpassed, that threatened to untangle the very purpose of your being, you held your friend’s eye and leisurely stuck your tongue out. White cream, thick and musty, balanced on your tongue, exposed and vulnerable. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened and you barely had time to anticipate his intentions before he threw himself forward and kissed you. 

You squealed, panic surging through your limbs and stiffening your body. But Bucky grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto his lap, manipulating your legs to wrap around him. 

The shock of him tasting his own cum left you paralysed, unable to reciprocate his kiss properly. However, the deep groan that rumbled from his chest at the motion of your tongues colliding and his load falling onto his own kick started your body. You kissed him back with reverence, a fire rekindling in your lower stomach. 

Your faces were a mess of spit and cum, though the two of you were more concentrated on each other, content in getting lost in the new development of your relationship. 

The kiss eventually died down, Bucky leaving a couple of intricate, slow pecks to your lips before seperating. He kept close, noses teasing each other while you caught your breath. 

Tenderly, he swiped the gooey liquid lingering around your mouth with his thumb and tapped your cupid's bow twice, a plea to open up. You complied, allowing him to enter and you were quick to enclose your lips around him and suck. 

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, watching you with wide eyes. “You’re such a good girl for me.” 

Before you could reply, he lifted the two of you up with ease, keeping a firm grip around your midriff, and laid you down on his bed. 

“Let me see what else you’ll do for me, Dolly.” Bucky’s eyes bore into your own gaped ones, still trying to wrap your head around the events of the night. “Please.” 

There was no other answer. Not when he caged you with his thick arms and not when he delicately trailed his nose along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Okay, Bucky.” 

You couldn’t have imagined where that night could have taken you. Nor could you have conjured up how the hell the two of you ended up fucking until the early hours, singing songs of praise to each other and experiencing a pleasure that you thought would forever be a myth. 

And when you awoke in the morning, scared and worried of the consequences of your actions, you were sure you would regret it. 

But as Bucky tore your clothes off, pouring his adoration and devotion into every crevice of your body with more skin that was revealed as your heart beat as one, you couldn’t even try to muster up any feelings of remorse or anguish. 

You just wanted your best friend to fuck you until the sun came up. 

[boyfhee]

박성훈 ���PRETTY FACE

all the trouble sunghoon gets himself in lands him in your arms.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader

contents ⋆ kissing, mentions of cuts, injuries and blood, just a whole lot of fluff i miss writing cute stuff, insecurities perhaps ( 1370 )

notes ⋆ rich boy sunghoon....save me from him. also this was not meant to be above a thousand words and was supposed to be funny. and this one's for saint @hoonvrs hi bae

one thing you’ve learnt while dating sunghoon, it’s always an adventure. so unforeseen, like when he showed up at your balcony, again, last night with a few bruises and cuts on his face. you had let him in and he avoids your attempt at cupping his face just as swiftly. and dating sunghoon is exhilarating, with the way you let him stay for the night, again, knowing your parents are home.

“good morning,” you smile and brush your thumb over the cut on the corner of his lips. it’s red, his lips are dry, and yet they’re soft when you lean down for a quick peck. 

“morning, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “how creepy of you to watch me sleep,”

“guess i’ll be a creep if it means i get to look at your handsome face,” you hum, fighting back a smile.

“is that a compliment i hear?” and he’s almost turning away to sleep, but your words catch him off, and he smirks drowsily with a soft and sleepy gaze adorning you. “what’s the occasion?”

“i’m serious, hoon. you’re handsome,” you insist with a frown, cupping his face again, thumb brushing over his cheeks as you lean in and whisper ever so tenderly. “so handsome, it’s crazy,”

“well, aren’t you sweet, my love,” and he can’t help but wrap his arms around you, pulling you on top of him. it’s quiet, you lay with your head on his chest. it’s barely six, you look out through the huge glass window panes installed in your room by your request to fit the aesthetic, but now it’s how sunghoon climbs up your room every other night. 

it’s not usual for him to get compliments. usually, you’re trying to play it cool, as if his words don’t affect you as much as he thinks they do. on other days, you’re busy rolling your eyes every time he flirts. you make him work for compliments, it’s funny, and he enjoys it. a little bit of challenge in his way too easy lifestyle keeps him going. but today— as you’re quietly listening to his heartbeat while he’s caressing your back— you want to stay like this. 

he brushes his fingers through your hair, planting soft kisses on your head every few seconds. it’s rare for you two to be this quiet. with sunghoon, every minute spent on bed leads to something else, most of the time. but this time it’s silent, it’s risky, he’s in your room and as much as he jokes about it, the idea of being caught by your parents isn’t something either of you fancy.

“i think i should get up and leave before your—” it lands upon you to worry about keeping everything a secret, today it’s his job to make sure the secret is safe.

“it stings, doesn’t it?” you cut him off immediately, pinning him down as he tries to get up. he can see the concern in your eyes, worries trickling through your finger tips and seeping through his skin when you lace your fingers over his scratches. 

“i told you, they’re not that bad,” he shrugs, too careless, carefree. he doesn’t know why you worry yourself over something so minor. “they don’t even hurt,” 

“it hurts me to see you like this,” and his thoughts are put to halt when the words leave your mouth. 

it was half past one when sunghoon knocked at the glass doors of your balcony. you were getting ready for bed after movies, and he was avoiding your gaze as you were running your eyes over his state— messy, hurt, and so were you.  

‘did you get into another fight with heeseung?’ you had asked and he avoided, again, dodging all your questions and attempts to check on him. you let him in, and he goes straight to your bathroom. his gaze doesn’t meet your eyes, he avoids all the eye contact and conversation. he turns away to take off his shirt covered in dirt. it’s worse this time. ‘come here,’ 

you grabbed his arm to pull him towards you, but he refused to face you. he’s ashamed, like every time he is when you see him like this. the pretty face you’ve always been so fond of no longer fits the definition. you tried to make him look at you, but he grabbed your hands, kissing your palms and pulled you to bed. 

“is that a new way of telling me to not get into fights?” he asks, feigning a yawn, a faint chuckle following by. you’re still on top of him, pinning him down, and if he didn’t know any better, you would’ve ended up under him already. 

“is it working?”

“a bit,” he mumbles quietly and pulls you closer by your waist, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. he keeps planting tender kisses on your cheeks, and then down on your neck, as if telling you to let go of all the concerns that plague your mind. “you worry too much,”

“i know, i will continue to do that,” you pull back again, much to his disappointment. nothing could compare to the feeling of having you in his arms. “if not for your dad and for the sake of your reputation then at least for me, you need to stop,”

sunghoon knows.

if not for anything— it isn’t for anything else. not for his mother’s million dollars fashion brand, not for his sister’s business ventures, nor his father’s political career. it’s for you, every scratch, every nip and every cut, every drop of blood that had trickled down the corner of his lips when heeseung landed a punch on his face. how could he not? sunghoon can stand anything but people talking down on you as if they know you. it makes him fight for you and funnily enough, he’s happy to bleed to death for you.

“you always ruin the mood, bringing that old man up,” he’s deflecting— just as you had expected and you’re not backing down. one leg swinging to the other side, arms by his head. he’s down, caged, a position where he can’t avoid you. it’s about time you two had this conversation.

“i’m serious,” you’re trying your best to keep up the stern face, eyes locked into his. 

“i love it when you get all serious, angel,” he grins suggestively, arms around your waist again. he’s slipping them under your top, you slap it away and it only makes him laugh in amusement. “i suppose it is a bit too early for that,”

you don’t say anything, just looking at his pretty face. you stroke softly over the cut on his cheekbone and he flinches ever so slightly. it’s new, it stings, adorned by a bit of dried up blood just like the one on his lips. there’s one near his jaw from a while ago, it’s healing. each and every part an ugly reminder of how much trouble he gets in.

“you’re such a pretty face,” you whisper quietly and lean down to kiss him, trying to be so gentle to not hurt him even more. you take your sweet time, tracing your lips over those wounds, new or old, and then speaking with a voice impossibly loving. “even with these,”

“i love it when you call me that,” he takes your hand, kissing your palms. it’s not everyday that he’s spoiled like this.

and you pull your hand back, speaking with frown as if giving him a warning. “i won’t anymore if you get into another fight,”

“guess we’re making truce with heeseung,” he chuckles quietly, shaking his head, pretending to be annoyed. he finally pulls you down next to him and wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “things i do for my girl,”

you let out a muffled laughter while your face is buried in his chest before looking up at him with love pouring out of your eyes. “for me?”

“for you,” you hand rests on his cheeks as he leans down for a kiss, and his hands wrap over them gently, holding them in place. when you kiss him so deeply yet delicately, like it’s a stellar reunion, he pulls away just for a brief second, whispering against your lips. “everything,”

[logansdoll]

thinking about logan x reader who’s literally the most introverted but bluntest person he’s ever met. that meet-cute (if it could be called that…?) would be entertaining as hell

cottontail

wolverines are known to prey on rabbits... which would explain why Logan was looking at you like that.

CW: fluffy fluff, heavily suggestive, profanity, i kinda changed it up a bit, takes place after X-Men (2000), reader is a bit of a personality, reader also has a bunny mutation, again kinda iffy on how this turned out, etc. (@OstarwomenO for the inspiration)

"And, finally, the gym," Ororo finished, motioning toward the door. "Much like the Danger Room, we use it to train or spar, but strictly without powers."

Logan cocked a brow, ears perking at the faint sound of music coming from the other side of the door, along with the rhythmic thuds of limbs slamming against a mat.

'Huh...'

Ororo insisted on giving him the official tour of the mansion now that he was back from his trip to Alkali, seeing as she never got the chance to when he first arrived.

And, of course—Logan being Logan—he waved her off, insisting he'd be able to figure it out.

But the woman did not take no for an answer.

"Someone in there?" he asked, shifting his cigar to the side of his mouth as his thumb jutted toward the door.

"Just (y/n)," she shrugged, an amused smile rising her to lips. "It's actually kinda ironic, she rolled in about an hour before you did yesterday."

That was the new smell he picked up on.

It was the same one the hallway was currently drowning in—not that he was complaining.

It was sweet and musky, with faint, floral notes and a smidgen bit of earth—like taking a breath of fresh air in the middle of a meadow.

"And I didn't run into her?" Logan raised a brow, feigning indifference.

Ororo let out a dry chuckle, as if she was in on a joke he wasn't, "(y/n)'s a... character. She kinda does her own thing around here."

Character?

Forget indifference, the man was intrigued.

"I can introduce you if you'd like," she nodded, her eyes widening slightly, remembering something. "Fair warning, she says whatever she wants. So just... don't be shocked when she says something appalling. She's a sweetheart once you get to know her."

'Jesus...'

She made it sound like he was about to meet some sort of feral grizzly bear.

Logan shrugged, and she let out a sigh, pressing the keypad and opening up the door to reveal you.

Grizzly?

No.

Feral?

Entirely possible.

With a wide grin, you weaved around, dodging jabs from the automated dummy before back-flipping onto the wall and pushing off like a spring.

Tackling the robot, you slammed its head into the ground, winding for a second blow when it suddenly bucked you off.

You recovered quickly, shifting in mid-air so you landed on your feet, before launching another attack.

Jumping high, you landed right on the dummy's shoulders, locking your thighs around its neck before effortlessly throwing around your body weight, sending it crashing to the ground

But that wasn't it.

With a soft grunt, and a small twist of your legs, you popped its head right off in a flourish of sparks and circuits—the action sending a warm tingle through Logan's stomach.

'Damn...'

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a laugh, grabbing the robot's body and tossing it in a pile in the corner—which consisted of at least twenty others.

"Finally," you sighed, jokingly, as the two entered further.

You sauntered over to your boombox and cut the music, dusting off your hands.

"This is a disgrace. How the hell are the kids supposed to learn from these things, 'Roro? They barely last two minutes."

She playfully rolled her eyes, fighting off her smile as she pulled you into a hug, "I hope you know you're paying for those."

You chuckled, giving her a loving pat on the back, "Put 'em on my tab."

Logan was still transfixed.

In all his years, he had never seen a mutant like you before.

(h/l), (h/c) hair, plump lips, heavenly curves, made evident by your workout clothes, or slight lack thereof, stark white bunny ears, equally white tail, paired with alluring (e/c) eyes.

You were dripping in beauty and confidence.

Logan, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front him.

"I take it you're Logan," you smiled, shamelessly staring at him. "If I knew you were this handsome, I woulda introduced myself sooner."

"(n/n)," Ororo scolded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'Here we go...'

"Is that so?" Logan smirked, amused by your blunt start to the conversation.

"Hell yeah," you nodded, shifting you weight on your hips

You weren't stupid.

You saw the way he was staring at you, and you heard the way his heart frenzied when you walked over.

So what's to say you couldn't have a little fun?

After all, it wasn't every day you'd meet someone as sexy as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding.

"Of course, I could always do that over a few rounds."

His brow quirked with interest, eyes slowly flitting over your body at the proposition.

"On the mat, that is..." you chuckled, reading him loud and clear as you turned to walk toward the sparring area, stretching out your arms.

"That works, too," he grinned, tugging off his leather jacket.

"You two are doing this? Really?" Ororo groaned, resting a hand on her hip.

"Yup."

"She asked for it."

Ororo sighed, deciding to check herself out for the day and head for the door.

"Y'know what? Knock yourselves out. I'm gonna take a nap," she waved, turning the corner. "Don't break anything."

Logan scoffed, cracking his neck as he stepped onto his side of the circle, "No promises..."

You grinned, pleasantly surprised by his seriousness.

Many assume that because of your mutation, you're just some helpless little rabbit—as kids, you and Scott got into a huge argument when you caught him pulling his punches.

But Logan seemed ready to throw down, a fact that not only excited you, but made the man move up a great many rungs in your respect ladder.

"You sure you want this?" you smirked, lowering yourself into a split, stretching your legs. "I don't go easy."

'Goddamn, how flexible is she—'

"Neither do I," he snapped himself back, playing it off with a chuckle. "Let's see how long you last."

You scoffed, tongue in cheek as you stood up, shifting into a defensive stance.

'I'm gonna kick your ass, mutton chops."

"I'd like to see ya try, cottontail."

[saintobio]

the perfect boyfriend, feat. l&ds xavier.

pairings. xavier, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. petnames (bunny), jealousy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slight dom/sub play, same timeline!xavier notes. he’s still my l&ds main until july 15th just kidding :’D i love xav sm he’s literally so bf material to me

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who had a hard time expressing his feelings the first time he met you. he used to be a man of a few words—or, as you liked to put it, a very nonchalant guy. it’s not that he’s disinterested. in fact, every small interaction he’d had with you lingered on his mind all night. you’re all he can think about until he finally had the courage to confess to you one day, after saving you from a bunch of wanderers, and thinking he’d almost lost you. again. he just couldn’t let that happen.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who always responds to your texts and calls right after you press send or hit the ring button. he values your time and doesn’t want you to feel ignored after that one particular incident… when he fell asleep the entire afternoon and his phone conveniently died, only to see a number of missed calls and text messages from you the moment he woke up. he felt really bad at how worried you got, so he made a promise to always keep himself available for you.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who enjoys hotpot, and has made it a habit to suggest dining at his favorite hotpot place after a successful mission. it’s not just the spicy broth that he loves about that place; it’s also your care in serving him and arranging ingredients in his bowl. you were such a dream girl to look at.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who gets very jealous whenever you’d talk about another male colleague of yours. he wouldn’t say it out loud, but the signs are there when he starts showing that cute, grumpy face. he becomes very competitive too, asking questions like, “so, did you enjoy your time with him?” or “do you usually talk to him a lot?” and you figured that the best way to cut him off during his fits of jealousy, is to squeeze his cheeks and give him a soft, tender kiss, swearing to him that you are his and his only.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who makes it a routine to take note of the way other couples interact. and he’s specifically observing the man more than the woman. he has a journal called, ‘how to make my girlfriend happy’ where he writes about what he would notice guys typically do to make their girlfriends smile and laugh. one time, while he was walking downtown, he passed by an arcade place that had a row of new claw machines. the guy managed to get his girlfriend a stuffed toy, and in seeing how much the girl liked it, xavier invites you the next day for a claw machine date, promising that he won’t stop until he gets you the bunny plushie you wanted.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you call him ‘xavi’, both casually and… sensually. there’s something so sexy about hearing you say “xavi~” into his ear, especially when you’re leaning way too close to him that he can smell that sweet scent of yours.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier whose mind is as vast as the known universe. he enjoys talking about the cosmos, the galaxy, and the stars alike—sometimes, he’d even be poetic about it. and that’s why he got the nickname ‘galaxy kid’ from you. there are nights where you two would go to the rooftop, watching the stars while lying next to each other. for xavier, there’s nothing more peaceful than stargazing with the girl he adores.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who was extremely nervous on your first night, because you were his first the same way he was yours. he doesn’t want to seem inexperienced in the sex department, so he tried gathering learning resources prior to you spending the night over at his apartment. in his head, he had mental notes, a very explicit and detailed one, of the things he had to do to please you: 1) kiss you, stroke your hair, and lay you in bed 2) slowly undress you, continue kissing down your body, cup your breast, and trace your curves 3) spread your legs open, place his fingers on your clit, then play with your sensitive bud, gently insert a finger or two 4) deepen the kiss when you moan, guide your hand and make you stroke his length, while he pulls his fingers out and sucks his digits to taste you 5) make sure you’re all wet and aroused, place his swollen tip on your entrance carefully, bury his cock inch-by-inch and stop whenever it hurts you, then wait until you’ve adjusted before he starts rocking his hips back and forth. was it a success? of course! he had followed every step diligently.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who ended up asking for two more rounds after your first session. he thought he didn’t perform well the first time because he felt like you made him cum too fast. he just didn’t expect you to be that tight, like your pussy was swallowing his member, your velvet walls wrapping around his girth as if milking him of his cum. missionary was the perfect position to start, but for the second round, he insisted on letting you ride him so you’d find the rhythm you want. and boy, did he go crazy as he watched you move your hips so goddamn sensually. he couldn’t stop his hands from touching your body, kneading your tits, and squeezing your buttocks. “my beautiful girl,” he’d moan, half-lidded eyes staring straight into yours, “you’re so good at this, y/n.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who finally learned what fetish means after personally experiencing one of his own. it was waking up with his cock still buried deep inside your cunt, his arms protectively wrapped around your frame as you slept soundly. or were you already awake by then? he wasn’t sure, but he could feel your pussy clenching around his shaft and he couldn’t tell if you were doing it on purpose. but damn, isn’t that hot? he’d think to himself, with his member growing harder the more he thought about it. “my bunny’s so naughty.”

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who loves it when you pet his hair like a good boy. your hands are magical! he’d fall asleep in a blink of an eye when he’s laying on your lap and you’re running your fingers through his hair. during nighttime though, he’s an absolutely sucker for the more dominant version of you. the way you’d pull his hair, grab his chin, and even as far as playing with his aching member using the tip of your tongue. agh! you’re making him sin.

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who has a knack for giving you small gifts and trinkets, like that pretty little ribbon he saw at a store. or that moon-shaped desk lamp. or that pearl bracelet with a bunny charm. his girlfriend isn’t just sexy, she’s also cute. so she needs to have cute things!

⋆｡˚ ୨ৎ bf!xavier who treats you like a princess and makes sure you’re always warm and comfortable around him. too cold? he’d be sure to bring his hoodie for you. too hot? he’d buy you the best ice cream in town. whatever you wanted, he would get it. and he never, ever lets go of your hand whenever you two are walking around. he just can’t let you wander too far off, afraid that he won’t be able to protect you if he can’t see you. he adores you so much, and his heart swells at the mere thought of you. because there’s nothing more precious to him than the first and only girl he’ll ever love in this world. you.

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No��” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[awrkive]

Idk I must have some problems I need to talk about with my therapist, but I NEED the #3 lmao

summary: jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.

w/c: 3.5k

note: aurkayyyy general consensus says write # 3 and that post got 40 likes idk so here it is ig.. unedited cos its 3am but also i tried my very best awrkive nation 😞💔 under the cut cos its long asf for a drabble crying

People always gravitate to you. You have this sort of unbreakable and contagious energy around you that just pulls people right into your orb – your classmates in middle school through college, your cousins, even the cashiers at the cafes you like visiting downtown every here and there. 

And it is why Jeon Jungkook from your Environmental Science class baffles you. Because while everybody in the lecture hall – even prof Nam – likes to give you a smile or even just a nod of acknowledgement when you walk in, he does the total opposite and will just do about anything to avoid you. 

It had been during the first week of the term when you realized this fact. When Jungkook seemed to have abhorred the idea of sitting next to you because somebody had “stolen” his seat. 

Of course he knew the fact that you technically could not “steal” a seat in college – there are no such things as assigned seats in college, after all – so you had kindly offered the empty chair beside you, then, but he just looked at you with his knitted brows, like he couldn’t believe you had asked him that in the first place. 

In the end, he chose the free seat at the back of the hall – even though as far as you know him, he’s the type to like sitting in the front rows to engage with the class better. 

However, that did not deter you from trying to befriend him. In fact, it just made you want to get closer to him more. 

You like Jeon Jungkook. Not romantically, of course! You just like the fact that he is extremely smart and listen, he seems nice. The girls always have something good to say about him, and he’s friends with one of your closest friends, Namjoon – whose judgment you trust most of all. He’s acquainted with most of the people you know and you’ve seen him interact with others – he’s charming and doesn’t exactly look broody and uninterested when he’s with them. 

So when Prof Nam partnered you both in a presentation for your final requirement for the term, you were over the moon to have been given the opportunity. 

“__,” Jungkook calls, but you’re way too busy admiring the strands of his hair that had now been dyed to gold – a contrast to his previously dark brown locks. It’s mostly hidden from the beanie he’s wearing. Something you’ve noticed he’s been wearing a lot these days even though it’s not that cold. 

You think it’s because he’s not too keen on getting attention for his newly dyed hair.

Jungkook calls your name one more time, and this time it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Hm?” You look up, blinking at him – only to be met with his knitted brows again. At that all too familiar look by now, you frown slightly, knowing the tell-tale signs of his annoyance. 

“I’ve been asking you about biofuels for the past two minutes.” 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen for a bit, quickly looking at your iPad. “Uhm… it’s here…” you slide your device over to his direction and he’s quick to read over your work. With him seated beside you, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and you don’t even think it’s cologne in the first place. It just seems like his natural smell – like fresh laundry. Downy or something. 

Ever since you started working on the project, you’ve been going to cafes and the library to work on it – for at least an hour – and you’re starting to get accustomed to everything Jeon Jungkook. He’s smart – and that’s a given – but he also smells really good; that’s what you noted specifically.

But most importantly, he’s dyed his mid-length hair blonde. And he looks different but somehow… really handsome. With his prescription glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, you just can’t help but to look. 

“Where is your citation for this?” He says, pointing to a certain part of your work. 

At that, you grow anxious. Jungkook’s really serious about his academics. And even though he looks distracting with his blonde hair right now, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. 

You’re not dumb or something! You’ve survived three years of college just fine – you’re just not the likes of him, or Namjoon, for that matter. But you do well for yourself. 

But Jungkook, reading over your work with furrowed brows, you can’t help but second-guess yourself.

Especially when the next thing you can say is just, “Oh, uhm… I thought citations would only be after every four sentences?” 

“Did you not read the instructions?” Jungkook says. It’s not harsh but there’s a certain lilt to it. A bit pointed that you visibly recoil. As if noticing you do that, Jungkook clears his throat and looks right back to your iPad. With a tone that considerably sounds gentler to you this time, he says, “You should put a citation every three sentences.” 

“Okay…” You say. You look at Jungkook and you give him a tight-lipped smile when he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

His gaze lasts longer than necessary – he almost always doesn’t really look at you but this time he does, and just when you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he peels his eyes away from you and turns to his computer, not saying anything. 

You sulk in your seat, revising your paper while Jungkook acts like a stranger beside you again. 

“Kook…” you say after awhile. You watch as Jungkook visibly stills at the nickname. Nonetheless, he hums, but he doesn’t stray his eyes from his laptop. “I really like your hair.” 

Nothing. 

“Kookie…” This time, you poke at the material of his purple hoodie. “I said I like your hair.” 

He doesn’t budge. 

When you make a move to poke him again, he finally says, “I heard that.” 

You turn back to your google doc with a pout. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting from him. A thank you, maybe? But that would be unlikely for him to say to you. He’s just always so quiet around you. Annoyed, irritated—

“Thank you.” 

At first you don’t quite catch it, but you kind of got the gist. Unbelieving, you turn to him with a confused look. “What?” 

“Isaidthankyou.” 

But it was spoken so fast that you just grew more puzzled. 

“What…?” 

“Nevermind.” He says, hacking away on his laptop again. 

You pout the whole time writing your paper. 

———

You’re just about to approach Jungkook to talk about your recent development for your project when somebody beats you to it first. 

It’s Han Hyorin from the same class. You made friends with her from another minor you’ve had in the previous semester and she was a really nice woman – sort of similar to you. A big ball of sunshine, all smiles and cheerful and full of energy. It’s why you clicked instantly a few months ago. 

But that’s also why it surprises you when you see her talking animatedly with Jungkook and him listening to her attentively – smiling and laughing. 

Certainly not his vibe when you’re the one in conversation with him. 

Listen, you’ve been so accustomed to his behavior to you all this time that you just don’t mind it now. But for the record, you just thought that maybe – he just can’t quite level up to your energy. You’re too bubbly and he’s too… calm. And you get that! You certainly don’t hold it against him. 

But as he catches a glimpse of you his mood turns completely different, no longer smiling ear to ear. It makes Hyorin stop speaking, turning her body to look at your direction as well. 

“Oh, hi __!” She greets, grinning. “I was just talking to Jungkook here.” 

“Hi, Hyorin.” You wave at her, mirroring her smile. You walk towards them, hugging your iPad tight to your chest. “Hi, Jungkook.” 

He just sends you a timid smile. 

Weirdly enough, it makes your heart twinge. 

“Anyway, are you two gonna work on your project? Sorry for keeping him up, if that’s the case. I’ll be off then.” Hyorin says as she picks up her bag. She looks at Jungkook once again, saying, “I’ll send the link to you later, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook only nods before Hyorin walks out of the lecture hall.

You watch her disappearing back before you turn to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

He shrugs. “We talk sometimes.” 

“Ah.” You nod. 

“Anyway, you got my text, right? Hoseok said it’s too crowded at 556 right now. And my laptop’s dead so I can’t use it either. Left my charger at my place,” he says, starting to put his stuff in his backpack. 

“Yeah, I got it,” you say, stepping out a bit to let him out of his row. You follow beside him when he begins to walk. “Well, where should we do the project?” 

You see Jungkook wince. “I have no choice but do you mind if I just suggest my place? I have a roommate but he’s not around this time. Or we can just call it off for today and resched.” 

You blink at him. “Your place?” 

He arches a brow. “Yeah. Is it okay? Do you have something else in mind?” 

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s just a three minute walk from the campus. Do you mind?” 

“Nope.” 

“Alright, then.” 

——— 

Jungkook thinks you’re strange today. 

You’re usually so full of stories. Never ran out of things to say. His silence never deterred you from sharing something and even though Jungkook would deny it to you and to all his friends – he actually secretly enjoys your blabbering. Finds most of them funny.

But right now, you’re all quiet on your iPad and notes, focused on doing your work. The last thing he’s heard you say something was when you commented earlier, “This is a nice place,” when you stepped inside the threshold of his and Taehyung’s apartment.

No comment about his hair. Or his hoodie. Or the stupid occasional, “You look handsome today.” that makes his heart perform backflips against his ribcage and makes him all nervous that he can’t really look straight into your eyes for the rest of your interaction.

He finds it strange that he finds you strange today. He should be… happy about this right? He always tells his friends that you’re too… loud when they ask why he doesn’t seem to like you. For the record, he does not not like you. Jungkook just thinks you’re too much. 

Or that you make him feel too much it drives him insane.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the ice after a few minutes. He couldn’t help it. This isn’t like you at all. At this point, you should have already told him twenty different stories that includes your breakfast and the bird that keeps knocking on your window every 5am. By this time, you should have already asked him if he likes your outfit or some stupid shit like if he likes your nails. 

For the record, he likes all of them. Your blush pink nails and your pink skirt that stops above your thigh, exposing your smooth thighs that Jungkook always berates himself not to look at. You always wear skirts. He hates them. 

He hates that he doesn't really hate them. At all. 

“Huh?” You turn to look at him, blinking. Meek and pouty and puzzled. You look so cute it confuses the hell out of him. 

“I asked if you’re okay.” Jungkook says, leveling his voice. Lest he gives himself away. What would he give away, though? That he’s weirdly worried about your silence? That he’s starting to think maybe you’re getting fed up with his constant avoidance of you and you’re starting to realize he’s a shit person and he doesn’t deserve any of your time? 

That he’s putting way too much meaning into this? 

And what for? 

“Oh,” you utter. A bit taken aback. You nibble on your bottom lip and Jungkook tries hard not to focus too much on the way your gloss makes them look so plump. You had pretty lips. Jungkook’s not that prideful to admit that. Just to himself, though. “Yeah. I am fine. Why do you ask?” 

He clears his throat. “Nothing.” 

You look at him with furrowed brows but don’t really say anything further. “Okay.” 

When you go back to working in silence simultaneously again, Jungkook finds himself not being able to focus on the words of the journal article he’s reading. There’s a sentence to it he’s been going right over and over again. Everytime he reads it, it’s like the point just crosses right over his head and his efficacy in the language degrades every single time he repeats it internally.

All the while, you’re still quiet. 

And Jungkook’s had enough. 

Why weren't you saying anything? 

“__.” 

“Hm?” When you tilt your head to look at him, Jungkook nearly falls over his bed. You’re across the room on his computer desk while he’s on the mattress. 

God, you are so unbelievably beautiful without trying it makes his head ache. 

“Are you –uh. What’s with you today?” He finally asks. He watches as your face contorts into an expression of confusion once again, which he can’t really blame you for feeling the way. 

“What’s with me today?” 

“You’re just…” he tries to find the right words. “Quiet.” 

You don’t say anything for a while that Jungkook was about to take his words back. 

“Oh… I’m just not feeling well today, I think.” 

His brows furrowed. You looked perfectly fine today. You were your usual sunshine shelf when you stepped in class – all big grins and pretty laugh Seo Jihyun as usual was trying too hard to get your attention beside you all day. 

“Really?” He asks. “Do you need something?” 

It takes you by surprise. But you recover fast. “No, it’s fine.” 

“We don’t have to do this today if you’re feeling under the weather.” 

You laugh. And Jungkook thinks that’s a win. He thought he wasn’t getting any of that for today. 

“It’s fine, thank you, Jeon.”

Jeon?! Jeon, like his surname? 

He chooses to ignore that. But then a few minutes passed and he spoke again. God, he couldn’t stand any of this.

“How’s the bird?” 

“The bird?” You parrot back. 

“The bird at your window.” 

“Oh!” A flash of recognition goes through your face. “That. Well – as usual it knocked on my window again.” you giggle and it’s the first time Jungkook feels a little light ever since you entered his place. 

Good. This is good. 

“I didn’t know you’d remember that.” You say, giving him a small smile. 

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning so he had to look away. “You tell me about it everyday.” 

There’s a pout he can feel you’re sporting when you say, “But I thought you don’t care.” 

Jungkook frowns at that. 

But he realizes… he gets it. He doesn’t exactly show the opposite.

When he looks at you, your eyes are solemn and your downturned lips look so sad that it makes him feel like shit. 

See. This is why he’s always confused when he’s with you. You make him feel so much all at once and he can’t quite put it. 

“You tell me a lot of stuff everyday.” Is what he settles with. 

“Fair.” You say after awhile. “But uhm…” 

“Yes?” Jungkook immediately says, intrigued. You’re about to speak when his phone rings. You both look at the small device lying on his bed. When Jungkook picks it up, the caller ID says Han Hyorin. “Sorry, I’ll just pick this up.” 

Pressing on the green icon, he hears Hyorin’s voice at the end of the line. 

“Hey, Kook,” 

“Hi, Hyorin. What is it?” 

“What was your student email again? I can’t really find it on the roster.”

Jungkook recites it and then that’s the end of the conversation. He finds it strange because she could’ve just texted him but anyway, he turns to you again after the call ends. 

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. 

“Hyorin.” 

You still in your seat. Then nod. 

You don’t say anything again. 

And that stretches into another few minutes that Jungkook is once again confused. When he looks right over to you, you’re all up in your device. 

He stands up from the bed, leaves his laptop on the mattress, and then walks right over to your direction to stand behind the chair you’re seated on. Ducking down a bit, he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. 

“You’re almost done?” 

When you turn back, your faces are so close to each other that his swivel chair creaks a little when you get taken aback. Jungkook steps back. 

“Yeah. I think so. You?” You say, looking up at him. 

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, inserting his hand on his pockets as he looks straight ahead on your screen. 

“I’ll finish up later.” 

You nod then turn back to your iPad. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows meet once again and he sighs. 

“__,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You turn to him so quickly. “What?” 

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks because he can’t take any of this anymore. You’re so… distant. And it makes him feel like he’s on edge. “You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I want to apologize if I did something wrong. But even if I didn’t, then I’m still sorry.”

Jungkook watches as your lips part, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s not the one to shy away from apologies – if he’s done something wrong, then he makes sure to take accountability. 

It’s different when it’s with you, though. He knows he isn’t exactly his nicest and his best to you… but it’s his complicated feelings that get in the way. He doesn’t know how to handle them. He doesn’t know how to handle you. 

“N-no!” You say. “You didn’t do anything.” 

He sends an arched brow your way. 

You shake your head vigorously. “It’s just… uhm… I thought…” 

“You thought…?” 

You look away, and it’s the first time Jungkook sees you seemingly shy. 

“I thought you’d like my company more if I didn’t talk much.” 

Now Jungkook’s just perplexed. 

You. ibble on your bottom lip before you say your next words. “I know you don’t exactly like me that much – that you’re just putting up with me because of this project and all that, but I really like you. Uhm. As a friend. I’d like to be your friend but I’m realizing now that I’m probably just annoying you with all of my blabbering and it’s unfair to you that I just keep on imposing myself on you even though you make it very clear that you’re not keen on befriend—” 

“__?” 

“— hm?” 

“Stop that.” Jungkook says because he can’t bear to hear you say things that aren’t the least bit true at all. “It’s not true.” 

“Which part?” you pout.

Jungkook would like to wipe that off your face with something. Like his lips. And that thought sends him into overdrive. He needs to get a grip of himself, seriously. 

“Everything.” 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to just frown. 

“You’re a liar.” 

“What?” 

You burst. “Well, for one– you always avoid me! You don’t even greet me in the hallways. And even in the same class you don’t smile at me or anything and the only time you ever acknowledge me is when we do this stupid project and okay I get it, you only like bubbly girls when they’re Han Hyorin, but why not me?”

Jungkook, puzzled, asks, “How’d Hyorin get into this?” 

Your shoulders deflate. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you—” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. He closes his eyes before opening them back again. “Can you listen to me?” 

You plop back down on the chair with an indignant huff. Jungkook lets out a low chuckles but you only glare at him. 

So goddarn cute, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re just… you’re just too much okay?” He sees the way your face falls and he nearly punches himself for how he worded it. “Wait no– that’s not right. I meant, you’re just – you make me feel a lot of things, __.” 

“Things?” 

“Yeah. You confuse me.” 

“Why?” You look so confused it melts Jungkook. 

“I don’t know how to explain it either. Just that… you need to know I don’t not like you. I like your little blabbering. I look forward to your breakfast stories. I like your nails. I like your skirt. And I like your new apple pencil case.” 

Jungkook watches as your face turns soft. And suddenly, you have that million dollar grin again on your face. 

“Really?” 

“Hm.” 

You squeal and the next thing he knows you’re onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, locking him into a hug. 

“We’re friends now?” 

Jungkook takes the opportunity to encircle your waist around his arms, noting the size difference. And how easy it was for him to snuggle his nose subtly into your hair to smell your sweet shampoo and perfume in that position. 

You always smell so good. 

“Friends.” 

Jungkook doesn’t really think he can take both of you as just being friends, though.

[gracieheartspedro]

Cotton Mouth

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

description: you need a new dealer and you know a guy through the unfortunate grapevine you used to be wrapped up in. but I mean... the banter is great, and you cannot help but fall for him. but don't fret, he feels the same way.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, marijuana use is a huge theme, reader smokes, reader is 19/20 and so is eddie, eddie is a drug dealer, major flirting and banter, mentions of cults, mentions of human sacrifice and blood/sex rituals, eddie and reader jokingly call him 'leader', pet names (sweetheart, baby), reader gets cotton mouth, unprotected p-in-v, eddie cums inside, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, oral (m!receiving), choking (m!receiving)

author’s note: what the fuck am i doin' here you ask? good question. I don't know. but I'm glad this is not rotting my brain. i like writing for eddie!!! he makes me blush!!! shut up!!! okay, anyway, thank you @amanitacowboy like always for helping me beta this and also being so encouraging every time i get obsessed with writing something. bitches really be moaning for this one.

also happy birthday, joe. ha ha ha.....

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

You never expected to contact Eddie Munson for your drug needs. 

When your dealer skips town because of suspicion of drug smuggling over state lines, you call up your former best friend’s ex boyfriend to give you your usual. 4 grams to last you through your stressful work week and to make sure your tolerance does not drastically fall to the lowest of lows. 

You had not been in school for two years and you knew that Eddie had successfully dropped out the year prior. After a chaotic last year, he was basically a recluse, only dealing to his usual clients. Luckily, you were still friends with Gareth, who in turn, put you in contact with Eddie again. 

After a humiliating senior year, you had practically become a recluse as well. You found a job at the Sheriff’s office where you sat at a desk all day and filed paper work, hardly talking to anyone. You would go back to your parent’s house and smoke weed until the sun set and then you would do it all over again. 

You hated this stupid life you fell into since you neglected to go to college, so you numbed the anxieties with marijuana. 

That’s where Eddie comes in. 

You meet him by Lover’s Lake. A picnic table that you used to sit at as a small child and play in the lake with your cousins and friends. The air is crisp, the leaves falling all around you. He pulls up in his rickety old van and stumbles out with his usual smirk. 

“Fancy seein’ you here,” He practically giggles as he settles across from you at the table. He was the same Eddie you remembered from senior year. His hair is a bit longer, but still cut in the same way. Long frizzy curls with long bangs across his forehead. His style is the same, as well. Ripped black jeans and random torn up metal band t-shirt. The rings were a bit excessive now, but the silver jewelry matched the chain on his pants. He was coordinated at the very least. “Hey, Munson,” You smirk, finally relaxing your shoulders. “Been awhile.” “Yeah, last I saw you was the night Lori dumped my ass,��� He says it so blase, not really noting your tonal shift, “Good times.” Your heart sinks hearing your former best friend’s name fall from his lips. You glance down at the carvings on the wooden table, trying to disguise your disgust. He notices your demeanor shift. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring her up. Gareth told me about-” You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear about how she fucked up your life, your plans, your former relationship, anything. Rehashing it led nowhere for you. You put your hand in the air, signaling him to stop speaking. “She fucked my boyfriend, yep,” You state bluntly, finally glancing up at him. “You’re selling me weed, right?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your rush to change the subject, instantly going back to the reason he was actually sitting in front of you. As much as he wanted to chat with his long time secret crush, he knew that you were only here for one thing. He could tell the personal topic was not on the table. 

“Right, this is not therapy,” He practically whispers to himself. He pulls out a baggie of weed, more than 4 grams for sure. “Got this much. How much do you want?”

You scope out the baggie. The bud looked good, the same color as the last stuff you used to get from the random guy down the street from you. It’s not that you did not trust Eddie, you just were hesitant towards most guys in Hawkins. You had been screwed so many times. “I usually got 4 grams from my last dealer.” He nods, pulling open the bag and pulling out a couple pieces of the bud. He seems to be just eyeballing, which worries you. You know how much 4 grams looks like, so you watch him with a careful eye. “You know how much that is?” “Yes, I can usually eyeball it. Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” The nickname sends butterflies shooting through your tummy. You look up from his fingers, up to his neck, where you spot a couple hickies. You smirk, shaking your head at the idea Eddie’s getting girls. It was such a shift from his early high school days, when you knew him. Back then, he was such a nervous loser that he could hardly land your friend. You always thought she dated him because she pitied him. You had no clue he was only acting like that because he secretly wanted you, not her. 

You watch him put the distributed bud in a baggie for you. “I’ll do $8 per gram, for you. Dealer’s discount.”

You raise your eyebrows, looking at the overstuffed bag. “$32?”

He looks up at you, a goofy smile on his face. “She’s a math whiz, how cute.”

If your eyes could roll out of your head, they would in that moment. He was always snarky. You enjoyed it though. You always loved bickering with him because it would usually end with you two in a fit of giggles. He never took you seriously, and you vice versa. You pull your wallet out of your black leather purse and pull out two twenty dollar bills. “Here’s $40.”

He hands you the baggie as you hand him the cash. You hand pulls away a bit, but his lingers on the bag, keeping your hand close to his. The action is dragged out, a bit too long for comfort. You glance at him, noticing his dropping smile. 

“You haven’t changed a bit.” You do not know if it’s a jab or a compliment. You tilt your head at him, trying to see if his face changes at all at your discontent. But he still has a half-smirk painted across his stupidly cute face. You yank your hand away with the plastic bag, slamming it on the wooden tabletop. “God, I hope I have. I used to be flat chested and annoying.” He throws his head back in laughter, enjoying the slight fun you poke at yourself. You never noticed how loud and booming his laugh is until you two are outside, alone in the quiet woods. “Still funny,” He chuckles, shutting his metal lunch box of goodies, “Never annoying.” You bite your lip, trying to refrain from entertaining the conversation further, but you cannot help yourself. “But still flat chested?”

More giggles, this time more toned down, due to the fact that he’s now looking down at your chest. “Jury’s out on that one.”

You smile, trying not to let on that you are actually enjoying this interaction even when it started off a bit rocky. You tuck your baggie of weed into your purse, making sure it’s buried underneath all your random necessities. You look back at him and he’s still eyeing you with a cocky grin. 

“Well, it was nice doin’ business with you, Munson. Do you mind if I,” You lick your lips, contemplating if you should refrain the question. You stick to your original formulated word vomit, “call you again if I need a reup?” His eyes twinkle at the idea of you calling him. “Sure thing. As long as I get to call you if I’m in need of some conversation.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, completely taken aback from his up front suggestion. You did not mind the idea of talking to him more. Frankly, you needed a friend that was not your high school aged sister. You hadn’t been successful making any new friends. This was your way to do so. 

“I’ll talk to you tonight, then?” His smirk drifts, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

-

You are smoking a bowl when your landline in your phone starts ringing loudly. You haphazardly stand up and rush to it, picking it up in 5 seconds flat. 

“Hello?” When he clears his throat, you know who it is immediately. “Evenin’, princess.”

You smirk, letting some of the smoke out of your lungs. “Who’s this?”

You can imagine the grin plastered across his face as he responds. He had a very good smile. 

“The boogeyman.” You play into the antics. You do not know any better, “Eddie Munson! What are you doin’ callin’ me at this hour?”

“Just callin’ to see if you smoked the stuff yet?”

You breathe out and inhale to clear your lungs before you start coughing directly in his ear.

“Sure am, right this very second.”

His dry chuckle sends shockwaves through your body. “Is it good enough for you?” You wrap your phone’s cord around your finger as you start pacing your bedroom. You used to do this type of thing when you were on the phone with a boy you liked as a teen. Was this not the same thing?

“So far, so good. I will report back if there’s anything awry.”

He’s quiet for a moment which makes your stomach a bit uneasy. “Well… I’m about to start lighting up myself, you mind keeping me company?”

-

Eddie calls you every time he smokes. For four days straight. 

You two talk about everything. The way you hated your job. The way he hates living with his uncle still. You both vent your frustrations about the state of the world while smoking a bong or a bowl, giggling from time to time when one of you chokes on the smoke. It was usually always him. 

By day four, you were on your last pack in your bowl that morning. You smoked before work, hoping the bloodshot eyes would not raise any eyebrows. 

When Eddie calls that night and you are not smoking with him, he gets worried. “Taking a break, sweetheart?” “I smoked my last bit this morning.” The confession rattles him. You told him before that you would let him know when you needed more. He feels like he’s neglected your needs. And Eddie hates feeling like a failure, especially for you. 

“Do you need me to drop by with more?” 

You have not had a boy in your room since your stupid cheating ex. The idea of having Eddie coming over makes your stomach twist. And while you were a grown woman and graduated, you still lived with your parents. Having him in your childhood bedroom felt childish, embarrassing. You glance around your room, thinking of all the judgments he would pass looking at the posters on your wall. 

But this was Eddie. The nerd, Dungeons and Dragons playing, drug dealing, metal head. 

Your Rob Lowe poster would be the last of his concerns, you think.

“Do you even remember where I live?” Was the dumbest question to follow up with, but it’s the one you chose to go with. 

“Yeah, right off Sanders. I drove you home when I first got my car, remember? You and Lori-” You cut him off, already jogging your own memory. You did not need to think about her again. “Right! Yeah… if you want to stop by and… hang out, I could use a reup. My p-parents aren’t home tonight.”

He’s silent on the other end for a brief beat. “Are you inviting me over for a sleepover? Should I bring my jammies, princess?”

He was always such a sarcastic asshole. But you could not help but laugh. “Yeah, bring yourself your own pillow and blanket, too. Don’t want you laying on mine.” “So we aren’t sharing your bed?”

You groan, acting annoyed with his comments and questions. “Just get your ass over here, Munson.” “I’ll be there in 10.”

-

He’s sat across the room in your giant red bean bag chair. He seems so at ease out of his usual environment. You watch him use the wooden stool you have had since you were a child as a way to prep his bong for you to hit it. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, your hands wedged between your legs nervously. He finally looks up at you, noting your odd positioning. “You good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head back and forth, “I’m good. Just… need to smoke.”

He gestures out a black lighter for you, bowing his head. “Come hither.”

You stand up, grabbing the lighter and sitting criss cross in front of the stool where he has set up shop. The glassware looks surprisingly clean. You pick it up slowly, not wanting to mess up the pack or drop it due to your nerves. Eddie watches you, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“You’re psyching me out.” He mutters, dusting his bangs away from his forehead a bit. Before he set up, you made sure to open your window right above him so the smoke would escape and not stink up your entire house. Your parents did not care all that much, but you did it out of respect. You did not need to rock the boat. 

“Sorry,” You bring the mouthpiece up to your lips, holding the neck. You had made the mistake of holding the base before and burnt the fuck out of yourself. You light the bowl piece, burning the weed as you suck in. When it bubbles enough, you pick up the piece to inhale. Once the smoke hits your throat and lungs, you try to not cough. But the burn hurts and you let loose. You put the bong down on the stool, lurching forward to cough until your lungs could recoup. 

“Jesus, princess. Never heard you cough so much,” He grabs the bong, inhaling the remaining smoke from your hit. You try not to laugh, mostly due to the fact that your throat feels like it’s on fire. “I don’t use bongs.”

He giggles at that before he puts the mouthpiece up to his lips and finishes off the bowl. 

He makes it look so easy, his Adam's apple bobbing as he inhales and slowly exhales the smoke. Once he does the one hit, he sits back in the bean bag, making a loud swoosh sound. 

“That’s gonna get me high quick, damn,” You say, already feeling the lightness behind your eyes. Your high usually started in your head, moving slowly down to your limbs, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. You were also always sporting bloodshot eyes and cottonmouth. Eddie grins as he relaxes into the chair. “We can smoke some more if need be. I have prerolls, too.” You walk to the opposite side of the room, pulling on the other random bean bag that you have stored in your room. You are almost positive this is the one your sister tore a hole in, but you needed something to sit on. You prop it right next to Eddie and the stool, settling in and staring at the ceiling.

“What do you do after you smoke?” You pose, trying to start light conversation so you did not spiral in front of him. You were not used to smoking with another person, so you had some unnecessary nerves. “You want honesty?” His voice breaks a bit before he clears his throat. As he says this, you realize the room is uncharacteristically quiet. To hide further conversation, you stand up and head to your record player. The resting record on the turntable is Fleetwood Mac, so that would just have to do. You turn it on, resting the needle on the edge of the record. The music flows through the room as you turn your head towards him. He has this shit-eating grin that could only hint that he does something mischievous or inappropriate.

“Yeah, go on.”

He first acts like he is thinking for a moment, but he knows his exact next words. They are on the very tip of his tongue, but he just wants to see if you pester him forward. The cat and mouse game seemed to be you two’s specialty at this point. He clears his throat, “I usually just jerk off.” You give him a disdainful glance, trying not to feel the knots tying themselves in the base of your stomach. “You’re gross.” “You asked!” You move the chair closer to him as you sit and lay back, “And hey, that’s not gross. Everyone does it.” You snort, turning your nose away from him. “You could have lied.” “What’s the fun in lying? I don’t lie to my friends.”

You would be lying if you said you did not like to hear that he considers you a friend. But teasing Eddie was your favorite hobby. “Oh, so we are friends?”

He shrugs, his face a bit twisted. “I’d like to think so.”

“Oh, okay.”

It is such a bland comment, you can tell he is squirming in his chair. He leans forward, pulling a baggie out of his pocket. You watch him place three pre rolls on the stool next to the bong. 

“What, you think I’m a freak like everyone else does?” As he says it, you watch him put a pre roll between his lips and fumble with the lighter, “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

Eddie’s reputation was a pivotal part of why you liked him more than everyone else at school. He liked what he liked and did not bend to anyone’s rules. He liked Dungeons and Dragons and the darker undertones of it. He dressed in all black and enjoyed the heavy metal. He was born and bred to be an outcast. 

And you loved it. 

You had to hide a good part of yourself from the outside world because your Bible Belt town would reprimand you if you dressed how you actually wanted to. You would have been ostracized by your friends you had known your whole life. 

So you put on the stupid act of being normal and wore what was in fashion. You only liked the things you did in private. 

“People think you are weird because of that Satanic shit they think you believe in,” You state, watching him take a drag from the joint. You pay attention to one of his rings specifically. A silver pig head, wrapped around his left middle finger. When your eyes flicker back to his, he takes note of you staring at his hands. “Oh, so you don’t think I’m a crazy satanist that deals drugs and is starting a blood drinking cult?” “If you were, I think we would have been way closer friends.”

The way you say it so matter-of-factly piques Eddie’s interest. He knew all along you were different. That’s why he liked you so much. Why he chose to mess around your best friend instead is forever a mystery. But he had now to make up for it. “Oh, so you’d be in my cult, that I’m actually starting?” He rasps, offering you the joint. You gladly accept it, bringing it to your lips before you respond. 

“For sure,” You exhale some smoke, eyes roaming all over his face. “What does this cult entail?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His face is inches from yours and he tones down his voice, like you two are passing secrets. You extend the joint back to him, letting his fingertips grace yours as he grabs it. “Bunch of outcast freaks that wear robes and do insane rituals.” You scoff, thinking out the hypotheticals of this cult, “Human sacrifice, type shit?”

“No cult has ever been successful without some human sacrifice, princess,” His grin grows across his face as he scans you up and down. ”So, are you in?”

The weed only makes you bolder, bringing your body even closer, “Sounds like a great time to me.”

“Oh, it will be. You, me, some fuckin’ weirdos I find off the streets. Maybe you can be my right-hand woman. May need someone else to keep them all in check.”

His head shifts to look between your eyes and lips. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You not capable of doin’ that all by yourself?”

“Maybe,” He drags out the last syllable, ticking his tongue, “Just thought you’d wanna help is all.”

The thought sends shivers down your spine. But you try to act like his words have no effect on you, so you swallow shallowly and glance away. You want to say something that will drive him crazy, just to get one up on him. “I mean… I guess. As long as I get paid with a mass amount of drugs and ritualistic sex.” The last part of the sentence has him in a tizzy.

“Oh, that’s a given. You’ll be set for life.”

You clear your throat, the taste of weed reentering your mouth, “I’m hoping you have some good ideas for these rituals. I’m pretty useless.”

But you had plenty of ideas for him. And while you were truly into Eddie, you do not know if you would ever be bold enough to share those ideas out loud. You have read plenty of books, seen enough films, but you could never just outwardly say such obscene things to another person. Eddie’s lips quirk up, “I’ve got plenty of ideas, baby.”

The boldness he shows you gives you a rise. Your heart starts to beat fast, and before you can even really debate your next words, they spill out of your mouth.

“Enlighten me, leader.”

Eddie’s demeanor shifts completely. His brown eyes grow darker as he leans forward towards you, placing his large hand on your thigh. The touch sends goosebumps throughout your entire body, all the way up to your neck. His smirk changes into a mischievous grin.

“Enlighten you? You want me to show you all the things that are rattling around in my brain, sweetheart?”

The song stops and there’s a stillness that fills the room. The tension is thick like the marijuana smoke that radiates around your bedroom’s four walls. You place your hand delicately on top of Eddie’s. 

“Please.” You rasp, your eyes flickering all around his face. His nose, his slightly ajar lips, his doe eyes that show lust instead of innocence.

His hand slips behind the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and closer. Instead of meeting in the middle, you jump the gun pressing yourself closer and closing the gap. You could not stop yourself, you had to feel him against you. When your lips press against him, the sound from your throat brings him to be urgent with his movements.

When his tongue lips past your lips, you start to realize how dry your mouth really was. You always experienced cottonmouth, but with the way you were practically drooling for Eddie’s attention, you are surprised to offer your mouth and tongue to him and find them sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

You pull away, your hand still on his, squeezing it reassuringly, “My mouth is-” “I don’t care,” And he’s pulling you back into his lips. He could not care less if your mouth was dry or if your hair is sticking up weird because of where his hand is placed. He just needed to feel you against him. And you wanted the same.

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you across his lap. With the new position, you rest your hips on top of him and cradle his jaw with your hands. The kiss turns into him just giving you all of the saliva in his mouth, which you gladly take. His lips move at a perfect drawn-out pace. His hand adds more encouragement to your frenching, traveling all around your sides and hips. You retreat, pulling back for some air.

His eyes never leave yours as you settle onto his thighs as you catch your breath, your shorts riding up to your hips as you slide across him. 

“Tell me if I’m misinterpreting signs, sweetheart.”

You shake your head ‘no’, your arms slowly moving up from his chest to his shoulders. “Nothing to misinterpret, Munson.”

He gives you a smug grin, leaning his back further into the chair. His eyes trace down the curvature of your body, admiring you mounting his lap. 

“Do you need some water? Sorry, I just… you stopped kissing me so suddenly-” You shake your head, cutting him off. “Right above you on the windowsill…that water bottle. Just give me that.”

He steadies you on his lap by resting a firm grip on your waist as he extends his body upward to grab the plastic water bottle. While he shifts, you can feel his hardness against your thighs. Your lips purse in a half grin.

He grabs it, opens it for you, and gestures for you to lean your head back. “I can do it myself, dear,” You retort, trying to reach out for the bottle. He pulls it away, chuckling slyly to himself. “Let me do it.” It is the stupid banter like this that is making you fall so hard for him. Whether it’s the two of you on the phone, or hanging out in person, he always found a way to tease you or pick at you. 

You lean your head back slightly as he pours the perfect amount in your mouth. You swish it around, already feeling a lot better. The dryness will probably come back, but at least you had your own personal water fountain to supply you with more. You watch him screw the cap back on and put it next to him on the floor. His other hand returns to your waist, his touch lowering a bit more to your ass.

“So… you like this, right?” The question is so dumb and forward, you have to give him credit. For crying out loud, you are mounting his lap and wildly making out with him. You cannot help but laugh. “Yeah, dumbass.”

“Okay, good. I like this, too…”

“So…Is this just the sneak preview?” You jab, thinking back to the conversation you two were just having about starting a cult. You are slightly hinting that you would like more, but you do not know how to word it without sounding desperate.

Eddie is so in his own head, he looks at you confused. “What?”

“The ritualistic sex or whatever.”

He lifts you up swiftly, his palms raising you up by your asscheeks. You yelp, holding onto him for dear life. He chuckles as he walks you about 7 steps towards your bed. When he drops you, your arms flail backward to catch yourself landing with a bounce. He does not give you any time to recover, his hands running up the sides of your body, while his hips align with yours. His face breaks into something more mischievous. “Nah, this is just something I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time. The ritualistic sex will involve way more blood.”

You lace your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to your lips. You completely disregard the blood comment. That is a conversation for another time.  “You’ve wanted to do this for a while?” “Longer than I care to admit.” He captures your lips in another bruising kiss, his hand leaving your hip to cup your face. You eagerly offer your newly wet tongue to his accepting mouth. You are kissing each other like you are trying to suck the life out of him. You both tasted like weed which only added to the intoxication of the exchange. 

Your hands were roaming every part of his upper chest, your hand wrapping so perfectly around his neck and jaw. When he tilts your head back with his thumb to push your face upward so he can access your neck, you release him. He tuts, kissing your neck, “You wanna have your hands around my throat, baby?”

You can feel the wetness rush out of you, soaking your panties at the huskiness of his voice. “If you’re into that.”

He can feel his smile against you, lifting his face up to meet your eyes. 

“Very into that.”

The disposal of clothes happens in rapid succession. You watch him plop down in his boxers, while you have already removed your underwear. His eyes fly open at the realization that you are laying it all out there immediately. You are too high to give a fuck, watching his eyes scan you as you undo your bra in the back. 

“Are you fucking with your underwear on?” He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing at the question. “Uh, no. I just…” You lower yourself in front of him, feigning innocence as you rub his bare thighs. The tent in his boxers is fully apparent, waiting for you to take it in your hands. “You what? You want me to take them off for you?” His cocky smirk returns in full force. “If you’re into that.”

You notice his teasing tone, repeating your previous statement from moments before. You pull at the waistband of his boxers as he shifts himself so you can release him out of his confides. “Very into that.”

When his cock springs free, you practically gasp. The surprise on your face is all apparent and Eddie loves it. He looks at you through hooded lids, enjoying the sight of you taking him in your hands. You wrap around him so perfectly, jerking him off with slow methodical movements. You tilt forward, pressing your wet lips to his shaft. His lips form into an ‘o’ as you wrap your lips around his dick, taking him gradually into your mouth. He cannot stop staring at your actions. You are quick to switch it up on him when he gets too quiet for your comfort. You speed up your movements, the saliva you are finally making, starts dripping around his cock as you take him further into your throat. 

He slides so easily into your mouth, your high brain keeps thinking ‘God, he’s made for me’. It sounds so insane and a bit delusional, but you loved hearing him whimper as you continued to slurp up and down on his cock. “Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ good at that,” His voice is dripping with lust, “You keep goin’ and I’m cumming in that mouth.” You do one last slow up and down on him, releasing him from your mouth. “Need you inside me before you cum.”

You give him one last long, lingering lick up his shaft before pressing a tender kiss on the tip. He rolls his eyes back, his lips twisted up in a smile. “Dirty girl.” You stand up on your heels, stepping forward and mounting his lap again. His hands settle on your sides immediately, dragging you closer to him as you side further towards his knees. “You want a condom?” His dilated pupils cannot look away from your core hovering so close to his spit covered cock. “Do we need one?” You tilt his head up with your fingers. “You safe?” “Always.” “Good, then. I take a pill every morning. So unless you’re weird about fuckin’ raw-” He shakes his head, pressing his lips into yours to quiet your ramblings. You return the kiss, moaning into him as you draw your cunt closer to his erection. When you nudge him, he hisses.

“Fuck me how you want, princess.”

You give him a smug expression, lifting yourself up on your knees and reaching between your own legs. You feel for his cockhead, tilting it towards where your entrance is. You lower yourself slowly, eyes catching Eddie’s as he looks up at you. He looks so hot in this light, his jaw clenched, his gaze burning through you, his hair swept back over his shoulders. When his tip graces your core, you practically squeeze him without any penetration.

Once he’s right where you need him, you sink all the way down. The moans you both let out in unison is like music to your ears. You can practically hear your heartbeat in your ears as you lift up again and slam down, his watchful eye observing your actions. When you realize the intrusion will not hurt if you speed up, you push him onto his back. 

He grabs one of your pillows from the top of the bed, his wingspan somehow long enough to do such things. You enjoy watching him prop his head up to observe you, a devious smile on his face. He keeps his hands under his head, like he’s just enjoying the show. You settle your one hand on his stomach, the other on his chest, right below a tattoo of what appears to be a demon head. 

“Your tattoos are so random,” You babble, spreading your fingers over the art.

He tilts his head, still just appreciating the way your tits sit over him. “You are not very good at dirty talk, sweetheart.”

You grimace at his comment, dragging your hips forward which allows your clit some stimulation while he’s inside you. “My apologies. I’ll stick to the normal buzzer words.”

He rolls his eyes initially but once you raise your hips up to bounce on him, he forces his eyes closed. 

You grin, your hands resting a bit further up his chest, slowly creeping your way up to his pretty little neck. His guitar pick necklace is a staple in his appearance, but right now it was just in your way. You continue your movements, finally resting your hand right below his Adam’s apple. He reveals his brown eyes again when you tighten your grip, his expression indicating that he is enjoying you like this.

You are starting to feel weak in your knees as you fuck yourself on him, but you are not a quitter and it feels too good to stop. You balance one hand on his chest, the other one constricting more of his airways. The way he heaves under you sends a shockwave right to your clit. The stimulation is becoming almost too much, but you clench your pelvic muscles, edging yourself.

“Oh my god,” You whine, finally returning to just sliding yourself back and forth on his pelvis, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie.”

You release his throat, allowing him to catch his breath. “I can feel you gripping me so good, baby.”

Eddie moves his hands up your legs, clutching onto the sides of your hips first, before massaging the flesh right below your boobs. When they travel to toy with your nipples, you can feel the urgent flood of your orgasm hit the pit of your stomach. You roll your eyes back, lulling your head back as your hips stutter against his. As you jerk your body across him, you can feel his dick twitching inside you. Your vision is a bit clouded as you fix your gaze back on the man below you. 

You feel his hands roughly grab your hips, practically rag dolling you to the spot next to him. He fixes himself between your legs, slotting his cock back into your cunt. “I’m so close but I need to go at my pace.”

“Eddie, I’m so sensitive,” You mewl, your hands rubbing your eyes to regain some of your normal function back. The endorphins from the sex is intertwining weirdly with the high you already have, which makes your body feel like it’s only a matter of time before you are cumming all over him again. 

“I know, baby, but I know you got more in you. One more? You think you can do that for your leader?”

You gasp when he grinds himself into you. You cannot even say anything back to the horniest thing he has said all night because the feeling of him fully sheathed inside you again has your head spinning. He starts with a slower pace that only speeds up when you are moaning his name over and over again. You then realize, he will, in fact, have you cumming again. 

He reaches up under your knee, slotting it right in the bend of his arm. He slowly starts to raise it up in the air to plow into you from a different angle, stretching you further and further to your limit. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead, as he continues to chase his release. He opens you up some more by spreading your leg out more. You watch as he licks his thumb and stares down at your swollen clit. You know what he’s about to do and you may just lose your mind. He slots his finger right on top of your sensitive bud and presses, rubbing methodical circles. 

“Cum, baby, I know you wanna.”

You gasp, letting the orgasm take over every nerve ending in your body. The way you clench down on him sends him into overdrive. His grunts fill the room, while you are silently writhe under him, unable to catch your breath from the explosion of your climax. The feeling of you seizing around his cock makes him drop your leg lazily and drop on top of your naked body. 

He holds onto you like you are the only thing anchoring him in reality as he fucks his seed deep inside you. 

Your sweaty bodies lace around each other as you both regain your composure. His weight is pressing you deeply into the mattress, so you languidly pat his shoulder. 

“Squishing me, Munson.”

He presses up into a push up to look at you, his hair falling over your face. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He rolls onto his side, his half hard cock slipping out of your pussy, dragging some of his cum out with it. You can feel him dripping out of you, which is an absolutely surreal experience. He settles beside you, still huffing a bit. “Well… That was…”

You did not really have the right adjective to explain your feelings about the entire ordeal. You were definitely satisfied. More than you ever had been before. 

Eddie smacks his lips, pushing some hair away from his eyes. “Incomparable. On my part, at least.”

You sneer, trying your best to clear out the rasp you feel in your throat. Your mouth is starting to feel dry all over again. You think for a moment, wondering if you should give in and share that it was the best sex you have ever had or just act nonchalant. 

“Yeah, definitely something,” You remark dryly. You wanted banter with him, it was only fitting after such sacrilege.

He looks at you with a half-grin, his eyes scanning down your body for a beat. When he gets to your chest, he just stares at your tits while he speaks. 

“Not annoying. And not flat-chested. Just perfect,” He taunts, reaching out to tweak one of your nipples, “I was right, you were wrong.”

He always has to one up you. You lean forward, resting your palm on your bed as you get in his sphere. “I’m not joining your cult. You are too cocky and I think you will get too power hungry.”

His finger still toys with your chest as you speak, the words just sliding right off his shoulders. 

“Power hungry? No, no, no,” He places his hand right in the center of your chest, the coldness of his rings sending shockwaves up your arms, “The only thing I’m ever gonna be hungry for is you, my dear.”

You shake your head, propping yourself on your elbow as you stare down at him. “Apparently you have been for a while… According to what you said earlier.”

That comment tickles him. He finally chuckles, leaning up so he’s millimeters from your lips. 

“Guilty as charged.”

His mouth presses back onto yours, tongue and all. It finally brings back some moisture back into your mouth. Maybe you didn’t need the damn water bottle. Maybe you just needed him to keep kissing you.

tags of ppl i love and who may wanna read, idk:

@hauntedhowlett @pedgito @hockeyhughes @chaotic-mystery

[chrattho1]

“stay,please”

summary: something shifts for you that night when chris picked you up from the bar.

warnings: alcohol consumption,wet dream(?),fluff

more of this au here

chris walks through the crowd of dazed people,unconsciously pushing them to get a better sight of what it is that he wants to see.

he is praying and wishing he finds you sitting somewhere,on the floor,on bench,on the counter just-anywhere because he’s been searching for 20 minutes and this particular bar is especially tiny,not alot he could’ve missed.

he pushes the door that reads “exit”,looking around the sidewalk hoping he’d find you somewhere here,the thought of you being alone on a random sidewalk-drunk out of your mind,made his heart race and his vision blurry.

he runs his hands through his hair,grabbing onto some before he turns back around to peak through the glass window of the same bar.

he keeps your location on his phone in front of his sight at all times,only to bring him inside that same bar again and again.

“hey,have you seen a girl?-long brunette hair,about 5’5 was wearing jeans and a crop-” chris was cut off while talking to a bartender.

“oh my god! chris?” he hears a familiar voice from behind his torso.

chris turns around to see you,standing in front of him now. a long sigh of relief passes through his lips

“where the fuck were you?” chris whisper shouts in your face,quite literally. some of his spit landing on your face.

“in the ladies room? also say it dont spray it?” you reply not able to sense his tone through your intoxication. chris lets out a sigh again,calming down.

“lets get you home okay?” he says softly,placing a hand on your wrist and slowly pulling at it.

you follow along lazily,your legs almost giving up with each step you take,making you wobble behind chris.

chris takes note of your unstable stride and pulls you closer to him,wrapping a tight arm around your waist,almost lifting your weight off of you.

eyes half lidded,your head rested on chris’ chest as he makes you walk to his car.

he finally reaches to the vehicle and opens up the passenger seat before strapping you in.

he quickly gets in the drivers seat,buckles his seat belt and looks at you,getting a good look at your condition.

“you good?” chris speaks with a frown.

a chuckle leaves your mouth,hinting at the rhetorical question.

“here have some water” chris pulls out a water bottle from the side compartment of his seat,undoing the cap for you.

“thank you” you have a sheepish grin on your face when you grab the bottle from his hand,wrapping both your hands around it and drinking big gulps of water,spilling alot of it out of your mouth.

chris chuckles at your behaviour mainly because he’s always found your hands tiny

after a few more big gulps,chris was quick to grab the bottle from you, preventing you from choking,he runs his thumb on the sides of your mouth wiping down the spilled water.

“lets get going” chris smiles at you before he starts driving home.

“where are we going?” you ask,voice laced with every drink that was being served at the bar.

“home”

“mine?”

“yes who else’s?” chris’ brows furrow

“yours?” you drop your head in front of him to get his attention.

“its better if you stayed at yours” chris explains,taking his eyes off of the road for a split second to land his gaze on your face that is very close to him. the smell of alcohol mixed with your perfume doing something to him.

“but i dont wanna be alone” you whined softly,tracing patterns on chris’ bicep-that his sleeveless tank gave you full access to. his skin feeling soft against your fingertips,maybe it was the alcohol in your system but chris started looking very attractive from that moment forward.

“i’ll pick you up first thing in the morning yeah?” chris says with a soft chuckle following right after,his eyes landing on you for a split second and you unconsciously bit your lips from smiling at him too fondly.

you whine at his words but when he pulled up in your driveway you didn’t seem to have much of a problem.

chris gets out of the car and opens the passenger seat to see you struggling with the buckle on the seat belt,your eyes barely opening.

“i got you” chris says before getting the seat belt out of your way and using both his arms to hold you upright.

your arms draped around his torso as he leans back a little,the close proximity of your faces feeling unfair to him.

you reach the pavement of your house and chris pulls out the spare key he owns and unlocks the main door.

you wobble your way to the couch the moment you enter,and plop down it.

“where do you keep the aderall?” chris asked looking around for the medi-kit.

“chris” you spoke,your eyes shut and your body spread on the couch.

“yeah?” chris walked to the foot of the couch waiting for you to continue

“why do you care about me so much?” you spoke through your teeth,voice almost inaudible but chris heard you. he heard you well. and his heart dropped to his ass.

“uh…” chris started speaking before he took a seat next your laid figure.

“is it because we’re friends?” you spoke again,this time widening your eyes to try and have a proper look at him.

“uh-yeah,because we’re friends” chris nods through his words,knowing very well he would never actually do any of this for only a friend.

“i love you” you said reaching your arms out to grab chris by the waist and pulling him in.

“i love you too but i gotta go okay?” chris said,both of you so close-you could feel his words vibrate through your chest.

“stay,please” your words warming chris’ insides,he sighs before pulling you in closer.

chris’ hands roam through your hair and your fingers find a way under his tank,wanting to feel the warmth of his skin as his tongue explored your mouth.

your noses crashing and rubbing each other,wanting to bring your faces closer than they already were.

chris pulls away and starts laying small kisses on your exposed shoulder.

the sound of soft breathing with heavy intentions is the only thing that can be heard until…there is some kind of beeping..ringing…?

you can feel your face frowning,not wanting to pay attention to the sound that can be heard in the background,wanting nothing but to stay where you are,but with every passing moment the ringing just keeps getting louder,and louder.

before you open your eyes.

“fuck.” was your first word that morning.

sun shining in your eyes through the big windows in your living room, you get rid of the blanket wrapped around you-feeling suffocated.

no sign of chris beside you on the couch but the faint smell of his cologne still lingering,until you look at the caller id displaying on your phone.

“pinkman 🧂”

you sigh before hitting the side button on your phone that’ll stop the ringing that woke you up,you cannot talk to him right now. not when your heart is beating at the rate of 500 miles/hour,not when you’re breathing this heavy and not when you could feel your panties being wet from the dream you just woke up from.

you’re scared. scared being an understatement.do you like chris? what does this mean? you did have a crush on him during the early stages of your friendship but..this feeling sitting on your chest feels too heavy to be anything thats not…

no.. no you can’t,this cant happen,you’re spiralling right now feeling lost and yet…content? something telling you this isn’t so wrong.

your hands are clammy,and you can feel sweat dripping on the sides of your face.

“what the fuck..” you whisper to yourself not knowing what to feel right now.

~

a/n this is why reader has been acting weird btw

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrisslittleslut @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @chrissturnsss @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

[puckstories]

Forever ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Reader is mentioned having curly hair/wearing glasses. Fluff. Kinda cringe but it’s a proposal so I’d consider that acceptable (: Established relationship. Not edited.

Summary; Quinn proposes

Word Count; 2k

Author’s note; Didn’t realize this is my second fic that takes place on the living room sofa, but it’s written so I’ll just dump it here. Would love to hear your thoughts if you have any + reblogs are appreciated. -Honey

Quinn had been captivated by you from the very first time you said his name. There was something about the way it fell from your lips—soft and velvety, with a subtle rasp that sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t just the sound of your voice; it was the way you spoke to him, with a warmth that wrapped around his heart like a favorite song. Every time you said his name, it made his chest tighten, his pulse quicken. And you said it often.

You didn’t rely on the usual pet names his past girlfriends had favored—sweet nothings like "baby" or "babe." No, you chose his name, always. When you called for him, it was, “Quinn, can you grab this?” or “Quinn, come here.” When you told him you loved him, you didn’t let the words hang abstract in the air. You made them personal: “I love you, Quinn.” Each syllable was deliberate, an anchor tying you to him.

It wasn’t long before he realized he couldn’t get enough of it. Just six months into your relationship, his mind began wandering toward something far bigger. He found himself daydreaming about the future—your shared future. He pictured you standing across from him, framed by flowers and sunlight, saying his name again, but this time in wedding vows that would bind you together forever. The thought of hearing you say, “I do,” in front of your friends and family was enough to leave him breathless.

You hadn’t just made him feel loved—you’d made him feel seen, known, and completely yours.

“Quinn.” Your voice cuts through his wandering thoughts, pulling him sharply back into the present. It’s not loud, but it carries—a perfect mix of warmth and clarity that only you could manage. He blinks, momentarily disoriented, before his gaze finds you.

There you are, a vision that steals his breath all over again. He can hardly believe his luck—that he gets to see you like this, so at ease, so unencumbered, and utterly captivating. You’re seated at the kitchen table, papers scattered around you in a casual chaos as you focus on grading. The soft, golden hue from the overhead light bathes you in a warm glow, making you look almost otherworldly.

His lips twist into a small smile, like he hasn’t already seen your outfit today—though, of course, he has. Worn sweatpants, and his old UMICH shirt, the one you stole and now practically live in while at home. Your curly hair is piled into a loose bun, and your glasses sit low on your nose.

It had been two months since he’d first thought about proposing—two months of tucking that desire away, hiding it behind everyday moments and careful smiles. He’d never been in this deep with a woman before. The idea of marriage had always felt like something distant, meant for other people. But now? Now it sat in the back of his mind like a quiet ache, present in every thought, in every small moment with you. Eight months together. Was that long enough? Was it too soon? He wasn’t sure. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off, to move faster than you were ready for, and somehow ruin this thing between you. It terrified him, the possibility of misstepping, of losing you. But it also terrified him to wait, to let too much time pass and risk you thinking he didn’t see forever with you.

These thoughts came and went, like tides he couldn’t stop. But it was moments like this—simple, domestic, and probably boring to anyone else—that hit him hardest.

"Earth to Quinn." Your voice rings out again, light and teasing, amusement flickering between your brows.

Quinn blinks, startled back to the moment, and clears his throat as though shaking off the thoughts had stolen him away once more. His gaze refocuses on you, a small, sheepish smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, baby. What is it?"

"You okay?" You ask, tilting your head. "I can hear your brain working all the way over here."

"Just zoned out." He says, with a dismissing shake of his head. He leans back against the armrest, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. "Yeah, just zoned out," he confirms, his voice low and a little distracted. "Sorry. Just... thinking about a few things."

You study him for a moment, noticing the way his teeth graze his bottom lip, and the way his hand lingers in his hair, like it’s searching for something to hold onto. You nod. "Wanna talk about it?"

His expression softens, the quiet earnestness of the question reaching into the place where that familiar ache still lingers. Almost instinctively, his hand stretches toward you—palm open, a silent invitation. He hesitates for just a breath, his fingers curling slightly as though unsure if he should follow through, before he nods. "C'mere a sec?"

You slide your glasses off and set them on the table, the quiet clink barely audible in the stillness of the room. Pushing back your chair, you cross the small space to Quinn. He’s waiting, his arms already lifting to pull you close the second you’re within reach. He tugs you down into his lap with an ease that feels like second nature, his thighs shifting apart instinctively to make room for you.

The moment you settle against him, his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and he buries his face against the curve of your neck. You feel the faint warmth of his breath on your skin as he exhales a deep sigh. The soft, sweet scent of you—the one he’s come to think of as home—floods his senses, easing some of the tension in his chest.

He pulls away, and leans his head back against the couch. For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze lingering as though trying to memorize every detail, even though he knows he already has. The soft slope of your nose. The curve of your mouth. That small, almost invisible freckle just beneath your bottom lip—the one he always kisses when the warmth in his chest gets the better of him. His throat tightens, and he swallows hard, a nervous flutter building in his chest.

“What is it, Quinn?”

He takes a deep breath, his fingers brushing over your hips in gentle, absent strokes, the movement more reflex than thought. The rhythm steadies him, but only just. His mind churns, the weight of what he wants to say pressing hard against his chest. This is it, he thinks. He can’t hold it in any longer—the waiting, the second-guessing, the holding back. It’s all become unbearable. Whatever happens next, he has to let this out.

“Just thinking about us,” he begins, his voice quiet but steady. “Our relationship. How much I care about you. How lucky I feel to have you like this.” He pauses for a moment, like testing the ground beneath him before taking another step forward. “It’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

Your lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that makes him feel like gravity tilts toward you. "Yeah?" you say, your voice gentle, encouraging.

“Yeah,” he replies, barely above a murmur. His throat feels tight, his pulse hammering beneath his ribs, but he keeps his gaze locked on you. There’s something grounding about the way you look at him—like you’re holding the door open for him, not rushing him, just waiting. It gives him enough courage to keep going. “It’s just…” He exhales, his breath light and shallow. “You mean so much to me. More than I think I’ve been able to say out loud. And I keep thinking about what it would be like to make this permanent. To have this—us—be something that lasts forever.”

Your breathing hitches, the words catching you off guard, your chest tightening as his meaning begins to settle over you. Your eyes widen slightly, searching his face, and you can see it there—devotion, hope, and just the faintest hint of nerves. Your heart skips, and it feels like the entire room is holding its breath alongside you.

Quinn’s hands shift from your waist, moving up with slow, deliberate care. His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, brushing softly along your skin, his thumbs lingering just below your cheekbones. “Marry me?” he asks, the words soft, almost reverent, yet steady and sure in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not a question tossed lightly into the air; it’s a truth he’s been holding onto, waiting for the right moment to share.

Your lips part, but for a second, no sound comes out. “M-Marry you?” The words tumble out unevenly, caught between shock and something else—something overwhelming and impossibly warm blooming in your chest.

“I want forever with you, baby,” he says, pausing for a moment before speaking again. "I know this is a shitty proposal, we're both at home in our pajamas, and I don't even have a ring yet, I just...I don't want to wait anymore. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving and taking care of you."

You swallow hard, your heart racing. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a tremulous smile starts to curve your lips. “You… you want me forever?” The words are quiet, as though testing them out, wrapping your mind around the enormity of what he’s offering.

His lips twitch into a soft, almost shy smile, his forehead resting against yours now. “Forever and then some,” he murmurs. “If you’ll have me.”

A sudden, uncontrollable squeal escapes your lips, the kind you might have been embarrassed about in any other moment. But here, it feels perfect—pure, unfiltered joy. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in, your lips crashing against his in a burst of energy and love. The kiss is messy, hurried, but it’s full of all the things you can’t quite put into words.

Quinn smiles against your lips, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he leans back against the sofa, taking you with him. The movement is unhurried this time, deliberate, as though he’s savoring every second. His hands settle firmly at your back, holding you close, like he never wants to let go. The kiss deepens briefly, his lips moving softly against yours, before the two of you finally break apart, breathless but smiling.

Your forehead comes to rest against his, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and his thumbs brush tenderly along your sides as though grounding himself in the moment. You press your hands to his chest, feeling the rhythmic pounding of his heart, and it feels like it matches the erratic beat of your own.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word spilling out of you before you even realize it. Then it comes again, louder, stronger. “Yes, yes, Quinn. Yes!” The words are wrapped in laughter, your voice trembling with happiness.

Quinn exhales a shaky breath, relief and joy flooding his expression. His hands slide to your waist, his grip firm and steady, as his eyes meet yours. They’re shining now, soft but full of something deeper, something that makes your chest feel impossibly full. “Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice low and quiet, as though still needing confirmation, still needing to hear the word from you one more time.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning so wide your cheeks ache. “Forever, Quinn. I want forever with you, too.”

His lips curve into a broad, radiant smile—the kind that makes him look younger, freer, like every weight he’s been carrying has fallen away. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he says softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek now. “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, you know that?”

Tears prick your eyes, your laughter softening into something quieter, more emotional. You reach for his face, your fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. “I think we just made each other the happiest people alive.”

[hoshifighting]

i love your college fling writings sm aaaa (*≧∀≦*)!! begging on hands and knees for college fling jun 🙏 esp if he’s a bit more on the dom side

college fling!jun

WARNINGS: smut, bio!genius jun, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, a little dom!jun, non-established relationship.

it’s a thursday afternoon, the sort of day where the mood smells like cheap cafeteria food and half-assed desperation, ‘cause exams are coming and no one knows shit. you’re slouched over your bio notes in the library, chewing the end of your pen like it owes you some kind of lamp genie, and then boom—in struts college fling!jun.

college fling!jun, who hates the college lockers so much he straight-up just carries all his books around like some kind of over-prepared, slightly chaotic mule. deadass, his backpack looks ready to burst, and you’re already side-eyeing it, wondering how many goddamn textbooks one man could possibly need.

“you okay there?” he plops down across from you, hair slightly messy, and there’s this little grin playing at his lips. why’s he gotta look so cute when you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown?

“nah, i’m actually about to file for emotional bankruptcy,” you mutter, flipping through your notes like the answers are gonna manifest themselves through sheer panic. “you done with the bio assignment?”

college fling!jun, shy-but-funny, lowkey-genius college fling!jun, tilts his head and smirks. “you need help?”

you blink. “you know bio?”

“do i know bio?” he scoffs, dragging your notebook closer like you personally insulted him. “sit back, y/n.”

next thing you know, he’s rattling off answers about cell division and DNA replication like he’s reading straight outta the textbook, except better, ‘cause he’s throwing in jokes about mitochondria being the “bad bitch” of the cell world. who even is this man?

college fling!jun, who spent half the semester cracking dumb jokes about your prof’s comb-over, suddenly explaining concepts better than the professor himself? unreal.

“wait, wait,” you interrupt, pointing at a diagram. “so, like, the nucleus is just… chilling in the middle, bossing everyone around?”

he grins, leaning in closer, and damn, his perfume smells too good for a guy who looks like he only owns three hoodies. “exactly. it’s like me at a group project—doesn’t do much, but still gets credit.”

“i hate you,” you snort, but you’re laughing anyway, and somehow your brain is actually clicking with the material.

college fling!jun, who makes studying feel like less of a slow, painful death.

later, as you’re packing up, he scratches the back of his neck, looking all shy again, and it’s such a whiplash from confident bio-genius jun that you almost laugh. “uh, so… you wanna grab coffee or something? you know, as a reward for surviving bio?”

you raise an eyebrow. “this isn’t you trying to weasel into my project group again, is it?”

“what? no,” he says, but he’s grinning, and you already know he’s lying.

college fling!jun, who probably would try to scam his way into your group, but makes it so damn endearing you’d let him anyway.

it’s late—like, stupid late. the kinda late where your brain feels like it’s melting into a puddle of useless mush. you and jun are on the floor of your dorm, the carpet rough under your knees, surrounded by markers, cut-out letters, and one very sad excuse for a poster board. everyone else dipped like two hours ago, muttering something about “early classes” and “not wanting to lose brain cells”—like, rude much? but jun stayed.

college fling!jun, who’s now sitting cross-legged with his sleeves pushed up, forearms all veiny as he’s meticulously lining up the title letters.

“you’re actually kinda good at this,” you say, crawling closer on your knees, one hand pushing your hair back as it flops into your face. you’re half-joking, but also… not? like, his focus is insane.

he glances up, smirking. “you doubted me?”

“uh, yeah?” you deadpan, sitting back on your heels. “you’re the guy who brought a backpack full of biology books to a history lecture. forgive me for not immediately trusting your poster skills.”

he snorts, shaking his head as he smooths down a corner of the title. “at least I came prepared.”

“prepared for what? a different class?”

“y/n,” he says, tone mock-serious as he leans back on his hands, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

that shuts you up for a second. the compliment—casual, like he didn’t just drop it in the middle of a roast session—has you blinking. you recover quick, though, because if college fling!jun is good at anything, it’s teasing, and you’re not about to let him have the upper hand.

“yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off as you grab a marker and doodle a little star in the corner of the poster. “you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you make a move yet. scared?”

his eyes flick to yours, and there’s this little glint in them that makes your stomach flip. “scared? of you?”

“yes, actually.”

he laughs, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s considering something, weighing it. you’re close—closer than you realized, kneeling in front of him while he’s still sitting, one hand resting casually on his thigh.

“come here,” he says.

you tilt your head. “why?”

he leans forward, just a little, until you’re close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. “because I said so.”

there’s a challenge in his tone, and you’re not one to back down. so, you shuffle closer, knees brushing against his as you sit back on your heels again. “happy now?”

he hums, eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “getting there.”

“jun,” you start joking, half-something-else-entirely, but before you can finish, his hand slides up to cup your jaw, fingers warm against your skin as he leans in and kisses you.

he’s waiting for you to push him away. but you don’t. instead, you kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.

and then… well, the guy’s got skills. his lips move against yours with this easy credit, and when his tongue flicks out to trace the seam of your mouth, you can’t help the little noise that escapes you. he takes that as encouragement, deepening the kiss until you’re dizzy, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently really, really good with his mouth.

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his as you both try to steady yourselves. “okay,” you say, voice a little breathless, “so you’re not scared.”

he laughs, low and soft, his hand still cradling your jaw. “nope. but you might be.”

before you can ask what he means, he’s kissing you again, harder this time, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing easier than that. you go willingly, settling against him as your hands find their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

you’re both a little frantic now, hands wandering as the kiss turns messy, desperate. his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, skimming over your skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. you shiver, pressing closer, and he takes the opportunity to mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“jun,” you moan, and it’s enough to make him pause, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“umm... so do you…”

you nod before he can even finish the question, your hands tugging at his shirt in answer. he grins, and then he’s helping you pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

college fling!jun, who’s skinny but stupidly cut, all lean muscle and sharp lines that you can’t help but trace with your fingers as he kisses you again.

“your turn,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. you lift your arms, letting him pull it off.

“you’re so…” he starts, but then he shakes his head, like words aren’t enough. instead, he leans in, kissing you again as his hands explore, mapping out your chest, by pinching your nipples

things blur after that—when he finally settles between your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, you think you might actually lose your marbles.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently a goddamn expert when it comes to going down on you. his tongue swinging your clit to the sides just to suck it all right after. your fingers are tangled in his hair, and you even feel pity about his scalp. he doesn’t stop until you’re cumming inside his mouth—you last minutes by the way—, your back arching off the floor as you cry out, your other hand holding a highlighter that you've found on the floor and decided that would be your stress ball.

and then he’s kissing his way back up your body, touching your hand to release the poor highlighter before it explodes in your hand. as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “still think I’m scared?” he teases and you don’t even have the energy to come up with a clever reply.

college fling!jun, who’s cocky as hell but more than backs it up.

you pull him down for another kiss, your hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants as you shift your hips, sinking down onto his lap. the stretch is dizzying. u hear your blood flow through your ears with the immediate sink, making your head spin as he grips your hips,.

college fling!jun who twitches every time you circle your clit as you ride him. the little gasps he lets out are addictive, this stuttered rhythm of groans and whines that have you clenching around him just to see how he’ll react.

“uhm—hands to yourself.” he chokes out, his head tilting back, exposing the long line of his neck, his adam apple bobbing up and down. you take advantage, leaning forward to press kisses there, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat against your lips. his hands tighten on your waist, his thighs flexing under you as he buck his hips up into you as a warning.

“j-jun,” you stammer, breath hitching as you shift, grinding down, making wet shots reach his ears, his head snaps up, eyes dark and glassy as they lock onto yours.

“you like that?” he rasps, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself together. “‘cause i… i love watching you like this, pretty.”

college fling!jun, who moans loud enough to embarrass himself but is too lost in the feeling of you to care. his grip on you tightens as you find a rhythm. his noises grow louder, needier, every time you roll your hips, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer, he always punishing you a little for teasing him, a pinch on your clit, a bite on your neck, a slap on your ass.

“y/n,” he groans, his voice shaking, and you’re right there with him, your own climax building as you reach down between your bodies, your fingers brushing against your clit again. the added sensation has you gasping, and he twitches inside you, his hands pulling you down hard against him as he lets out a broken moan.

“you’re so… gorgeous, fuck!” he mutters, his words slurred, and that’s all it takes for you to cum, your body fluttering as you cry out his name. the sound of it seems to tip him over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he follows, his body shaking beneath you as he spills inside you.

college fling!jun who collapses back onto the carpet, dragging you down with him, his arms wrapping around your ass, letting his hands lazily squeeze the meat there.

it’s like nothing happened when you two go to the college hallways to finish the project. when actually, everything happened all at once. jun’s sitting at the edge of your desk, eating one of your granola bars like he didn’t have you trembling in his lap just hours ago. you’re pretending to focus on your laptop, but your mind’s stuck on how his hair’s still a little messy and his shirt’s on inside out—your fault, obviously.

“what’s with the face?” he asks, mouth half-full, grinning like he knows exactly what’s with the face.

“you didn’t even ask before raiding my snacks,” you say, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere near flustered.

“c’mon, you owe me,” he teases, leaning closer. “all that… effort? you’re lucky i’m still standing.”

you glare at him, but your face burns. “junhui, shut up.”

college fling!jun, who bites his lip to stop himself from laughing but ends up chuckling anyway, stupidly cute as he swings his legs. you’re about to throw a pen at him when he leans over and kisses your temple.

and that’s how it is now. he’s still jun—still the guy who hoards biology notes and carries all his books like the lockers are his mortal enemy—but there’s this… nerves now, this implicit thing hanging between you. like, when he’s explaining something in class, leaning over your desk, his voice low in your ear, and you’re trying not to think about how those same lips were on your pussy just a few nights ago. or when he slides into the seat next to you during study group, his knee brushing yours, and you glance at him, only to catch him already looking at you with that knowing smirk.

college fling!jun, who’s casual as hell in public but pulls you into empty classrooms when no one’s around, his hands already under your shirt as he kisses you like he’s been dying to all day.

it’s worse at night, though. he texts you at random hours, shit like, “you awake?” and “missed you today” with a dick pic coming right after, hard and dripping for you—like always. like he’s not gonna be in your bed an hour later, his hands sliding over your skin as he whispers your name.

“we’re so bad at this,” you tell him one night, lying tangled in his sheets, his arm thrown over your waist as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder.

“bad at what?” he murmurs sleepy.

“keeping it casual,” you say, glancing back at him. “you’re always here, jun.”

he shrugs, pulling you closer. “maybe i like being here.”

college fling!jun, who’s starting to feel like more than a fling, but neither of you’s ready to say it out loud just yet. instead, you let it keep happening—the late-night visits, the stolen kisses between classes, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

and maybe you’re not ready to say it, but you’re definitely feeling it. especially when he shows up at your door with takeout and that stupid grin, saying, “figured you’d be hungry,” like he hasn’t already fed you twice today.

college fling!jun, who’s not so casual after all.

[miraclewoozi]

SPECTACLE. -j.ww

in which your new boyfriend, wonwoo, doesn't give a crap about his expensive eyewear.

pairing : wonwoo x fem!reader. content : smut. pwp. tags under the cut. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. w/c : 2.7k. notes : yeah i kinda. went insane over this idea. so. bon appetite to you, and also to wonwoo ? i guess.

content + smut tags : established - but new - relationship. making out. FACE SITTING. impact play? (one gentle butt slap). the shenanigans are on a couch if that matters, i don't know. reader is a little shy about doing it. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything.

Wonwoo looks flushed when he pulls away from where he’s been kissing and nipping at the side of your neck, hair stuck up in every direction thanks to your tugging fingers and your gentle guidance to help him find your sweet spots. His lips are pink and a little plumped. His glasses are steaming up, sitting halfway down the bridge of his nose, and every slightly heavier breath he takes makes his broad chest rise and fall where it’s pressed wholly against yours.

You can’t help yourself from leaning forward into another kiss; he’s completely irresistible. Maybe the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And while this isn’t really news to you, the dynamic of your relationship with him shifted a month or so ago and you’re still getting used to the privilege of seeing him this close up. 

He’s still adjusting too, if the way he groans directly into your mouth, hands groping harder at the curve of your ass as you shuffle in his lap is anything to judge by. Still learning, still figuring you out. But – and this is how you know what you’re building here might be the real deal – even when it’s clumsy, and when you knock teeth while you’re kissing and burst into slightly pained giggles, or when things accidentally slip out of place while you’re getting steamy… everything Wonwoo does makes your spine tingle. Makes your stomach flip. Makes your core throb. 

Even when it doesn’t always work? It makes sense, and it’s perfect, and losing yourself in the way his lips caress and worship yours is so damn easy when he murmurs your praises just for letting him do this in the first place.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks after a small forever, pulling back just far enough that he's not breathing up your nose. His hands have made their way under your – his – hoodie now and he’s grazing his fingers over your ribs, tickling enough to make you whimper, not enough for you to want to swat him away.

You think you’d give him the world if he asked for it in that deep, rough voice he adopts when things start heading in this direction. The moon too. Shit, if you could get a lasso around the sun and bring it closer to keep him warm, you’d do that as well. So, whatever his little request is now, you know you’re going to agree; resting your hands on his shoulders (finally leaving his gorgeous hair alone), you lean back from him and nod your head.

“Anything,” you say. You’re certain that you feel his cock twitch in his sweatpants where it’s pressed against the inside of your thigh, but you’re not quite sure why. 

It makes you feel hot, though. More-so when he bites back a grin, lips curling in that adorable way. It feels greatly unfair that you can’t swoop down right this second to kiss him again, and again, and again; as painful as it is though, you do exercise enough grace to wait for him to come out with it.

“Get up,” he says softly, dropping his hands down your sides and squeezing at your hips once. 

You do as he asks and move off his lap, sitting on the other side of the couch; he doesn’t say anything else as he stands up himself, pulls his hoodie off over his head and tosses it to one side before sinking all the way down to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t see you. He shuffles into place with his back against the edge of the seat and only once he’s comfortable does he turn to look at you over one shoulder, grinning brilliantly.

“Okay,” he says, bending his knees and planting his heels into the floor. “Come here.”

You stand up off the cushions now and look down at him for a second, wondering what on Earth is going through his mind, but you know better than to start questioning his strange ideas. Especially when he’s in this sort of a mood. You step over him, one foot either side of his hips, and start to drop down too, but he puts a hand on each of your knees and stops you before you’re in his lap once again.

“No,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. His hands then make their way to the backs of your thighs and he pushes forwards, trying to guide you where he wants you. Your knees bend of their own accord and press against the couch on both sides of his head. “Like this.”

You don’t exactly freeze up, but it is as if you forget how to control all of your muscles for a second. The ones in your legs seem to turn to jelly and you know it’s only because the sofa is currently taking a portion of your weight that you don’t buckle completely and fall onto the top of his head. The ones in your face give you a slack-jawed, wide-eyed, unblinking expression. 

Your abdominal muscles tighten and your cunt flutters at what you’re sure he’s trying to suggest, the rush of wetness you feel only worsened by the intensity in his eyes as he tips his head back and looks at you.

“Please?” He asks, all sweet but deep and rough at the same time. 

“Are you s–?” You start to ask. 

Wonwoo clicks his tongue at you and tries to encourage you further onto the couch to prove his point. “Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. 

And then, just so you really can’t mistake what he's asking for–

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your entire body heats up at how bluntly he says it. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek so that you don’t accidentally laugh with the nerves already trying to burst out of your tummy. 

It’s not that you don’t want to. If you had a penny for every time you’d thought about him giving himself up for your pleasure this way, you’d be rich. You do. You’re going a little crazy just imagining how good it’s going to feel. 

It’s just that him being so bold about it has you feeling shy, and that’s never happened to you before. You’re at a loss. You’re totally stumped.

When you open your eyes again and look down at him, Wonwoo is just as earnest and hungry for you as he was a few seconds ago. If anything, it’s as if he wants it more. It’s without a doubt the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re nodding at him; his fingers start to drag up and down the backs of your thighs happily, before they hook under the waistband of your shorts and gently make that first little pull.

“If you don’t like it, we can stop,” he says to you, only pulling them all the way down when you start to help him. They get tossed over to the side to join his hoodie after you step out of them. His eyes glance to the panties you’re wearing – the last barrier, the final thing keeping him from what he’s so desperate for – before he looks back at your face and flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay?”

“It’s not that,” you laugh softly, taking off your own jumper and throwing it onto the pile. Wonwoo groans at the sight of you; you roll your eyes at him. “You just… took me by surprise.”

“Good,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around one of your legs and letting you settle onto your knees in position over his mouth, pressing his fingers into the top of your thigh. 

The first soft press of his lips over your panties makes you gasp and you hold a little tighter onto the back cushions as you look down at him. His eyes are closed already as he breathes your heady scent in, deep enough to hopefully stain his lungs, enough that he’ll never get rid of it, that he’ll be able to carry you everywhere he goes. 

But Wonwoo’s closed eyes aren’t the only thing you notice between your thighs and a soft laugh replaces the pleased sounds already spilling from your lips. One hand drops down to where he's settled and your fingers brush against his temple as they try to pinch at one side of his glasses. He looks affronted when he catches your gaze.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, gently moving your hand away. 

You tilt your head at him. “Your glasses,” you prompt, moving to reach for them again. His fingers curl around your wrist and he shoves your hand into his hair instead, rubbing the tip of his nose against the inside of your thigh.

“I want to keep them on,” he tells you.

“What if they break?”

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing his way back towards your covered pussy. “I’ll buy a new pair. I just wanna see you.”

You swallow at this and decide that you’re definitely not going to try and change his mind, instead choosing to tilt your head back and let his skilled tongue work you up through your underwear. It’s a mess of arousal and spit and they’re soaked, translucent, clinging to you by the time he’s frustrated with them; frankly, so are you, and it's a relief when he concludes that enough is enough.

“Baby,” he groans as he pulls your underwear to one side and has to crane his neck up to lick the flat of his tongue in a stripe up your slit. You whine, the cool air and his hot breaths a menacing mix of sensations, but you don’t have the sense to respond; one soft slap of his hand against your ass makes you look back down at him, though, and you’re met with dark eyes, flushed cheeks and a practically frenzied Wonwoo in the space between your hips. Your sweet, softly spoken boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“I said, sit.”

His strong arm tugs you down and your knees slide against the cushions, bringing your pussy even closer to his face, literally forcing you to rest against his lips. He chuckles triumphantly and buries his tongue between your folds, tasting you so much more legitimately than before. The way he loves – straight from the source, the spring. You feel him prod at your hole and your walls clench around what he gives you – barely just the tip, but it’s enough to have you reeling already, and when his other arm hooks around your other thigh, when he starts to move you back and forth, you take very little convincing to start to rock your hips down against him on your own.

“Oh,” you whimper as his lips seal around your clit and he sucks at it once, giving a few experimental flicks of his tongue at the same time. The hand in his hair tightens immediately and Wonwoo groans with you still in his mouth, sending delicious vibrations through your sensitive nerves and making you gush onto his chin. 

“So fucking pretty like this,” he tells you, stroking his thumb over your waist. “Might be my new favourite view.”

He keeps lapping at you teasingly, testing circles and sideways motions, precise swipes, long drags; every subtle change as he tries to find what makes you scream in this position draws a different sound from your throat. He tenses the muscle and fucks your dribbling hole with it while encouraging you to move enough forward that his nose bumps against your clit with every jerky rock of your hips. You’re grinding faster, now, pressing down against his mouth harder, caring less by the second about whether his glasses are actually going to break in two. Besides, the way he drinks you down tells you that he could do this for a week straight without getting tired; he doesn’t want you to stop, or slow down, or ease up. He wants more. And if you’re too shy to give it to him, he’ll just take, take, take.

“Just– oh, fuck,” you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again and he laps at it with so much zeal that he could rival your favourite vibrator. “Just like that–”

Both of his hands grasp you tighter, squeezing and massaging and kneading at your soft skin as you chase your high on his pretty face. His eyes are tightly closed in his own rapture, and you hope that he won’t blame you for wanting him to open them; your hand pulls harshly at his hair again, hard enough to make him cringe, enough to make him stop for just a second before he sees how wound-up you look. You try to pull off from him a little, at least enough for him to catch a couple of breaths, but Wonwoo captures your pussy between his lips before you even hear him inhale.

“You– you wanted to s—see me,” you stutter out as the fire starts to catch and you feel warmth and ecstasy start to build at your core. “Fuck– ah–”

So he does. With big, hungry eyes, Wonwoo watches as you hurtle towards oblivion, as you writhe and squirm and grind down against his ardent mouth.

He sends you crashing over the edge with a wet sob, your own eyes closing now as you see stars in the darkness and ride your high out on his still-moving tongue. There are tears on your cheeks before you can do anything about it. Your walls spasm around nothing. He barely slows, taking back enough pressure so that your pleasure doesn’t turn to pain. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even blink until you’re out the other side of your climax, though.

When your pants start to die down and you’re twitching to get away from him, so sensitive that even his tiny kisses make you shudder, Wonwoo drops his head back down to the pillows and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. You don’t have the strength to move yet, still reeling, still too floaty to try for any level of coordination, but he doesn’t mind. Your swollen, glistening pussy right over his face is something he'd pay millions to see.

“Didn’t even break the glasses,” you laugh weakly once your voice decides to come back to you. 

“Mm,” Wonwoo hums, sliding them off his nose and inspecting them. He ‘tsk’s before putting them back on. They’re steamed at the edges and a little smeary now, and he surely can’t actually see that clearly through them. He obviously doesn’t care. “That’s not good enough.”

“Huh?” you ask, moving carefully so as not to plant your knee into his jaw but still trying to bring your legs together so that you can sit to one side. He isn't having it, though, and slowly shuffles up onto his knees, turns around to face you and lays his fingers on one of your ankles, wasting no time in trying to pry your legs apart again.

“That’s. Not. Good. Enough,” he repeats, using his other hand to palm himself over the fabric of his sweatpants. The tent in them would be comical if it weren’t for the animalistic look in his eyes; there’s nothing laughable about the way he’s looking at you right now, though.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” You ask, opening back up for him and not hiding how you stare as he rips his shirt off over his head. Then, he slides his fingertips up the inside of your calf, to your knee, down your thigh… he drags them over the lips of your pussy and collects a little of your slick on them before bringing his hand to his lips and sucking it clean.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he tells you, groaning at your sweet taste as if he wasn’t just drowning in it a minute and a half ago. He lowers himself until he's once more level with your cunt and guides both of your legs over his shoulders, smirking up at your expectant face. “Maybe try to squeeze your thighs a little more this time. See if that does the trick.”

thank you so much for reading!! i hope u enjoyed this hehe. as always, likes, reblogs, replies, feedback and asks are always super appreciated.<3