#and I looked his name up just to confirm that those were in fact The Eyebrows

[bleue-flora]

Now that we have more info and access, let's talk about Quackity's tools shall we...

On day one, Quackity brings a pair of unenchanted shears and Sam gives him WARDENS WILL and WARDENS HAMMER as well as some item frames (which as an aside I’ve always thought is such an unhinged inclusion…).

Thus completing the trifecta of torture tools that we see in the montage later [clip]. :]

But we also know that it doesn’t end there, because in the other 2 visits we get to see he actually doesn’t even use Sam weapons (besides WARDENS TORMENT), so we know there are other undefined tools, which is why it’s so exciting to now be able to see inside chests and inventories because now we can analyze and speculate to kinda determine what those tools might have been and their enchantments (and perhaps the implications of their enchantments)…

So, for starters, in that same montage it also shows Quackity grabbing tools from a room and throwing them on the floor [seen below], which ends up being what looks like 3 neitherite axes, 3 netherite swords, and 1 pair of shears, likely implying that multiple weapons of the same type were also used (further supported by the fact that we see him use both WARDENS HAMMER and a netherite axe with low durability). Tragically, this storage room stocked with netherite weapons doesn’t exist on the map [post] :( so instead I’m gonna determine what I think are the most likely candidates from the chests in the prison, Las Nevdas, Quackity’s inventory and Sam’s inventory.

Now I’m gonna assume that 1 of the 3 axes thrown on the ground and 1 of the 3 swords are WARDENS HAMMER and WARDENS WILL, because there are not enough reasonable or qualifying sword or axe options in the locations we have to look at (this of course all based on the assumption that they aren’t in this storage room on the other map they filmed it on or didn’t have Mending and broke).

The second axe dropped I’m gonna say is the one with low durability seen in both the streams where he tries to get Dream to write the letter and the one with Techno later, which matches the one in Quackity’s ender chest with Efficiency V and mending. This axe is pretty interesting for the fact that is does not have sharpness on it, perhaps that is because that does too much damage. It’s low durability makes a lot of sense based on the lack of Unbreaking, and the Mending actually confirms what I had already theorized based off of the bottles of enchanting in his inventory when he visits rivals duo, which certainly has some implications about how much he used this axe to the point he needed to mend it mid session…

After the 2 axes, we see a sword and again I’m gonna just say this is WARDENS WILL. The last axe I’m gonna say is most likely the one in Quackity’s inventory with Efficiency V, Fortune III, Mending, Sharpness V, Unbreaking III. This one have much more durability, perhaps because of the Unbreaking or because we don’t see it in the visits we get, maybe because it has Sharpness V he doesn’t use it as much.

The second sword I’m gonna say is also one from his inventory called SPIDER MASTER 2000 with Bane of Arthropods V, Fire Aspect, Unbreaking III, and Mending. Based on the name and Arthropods, this sword was likely made for the purpose of farming xp in the spider farm, but I’d say it’s not unreasonable to think Quackity used it for other things too. Makes me wonder if that enchantment has any strange effect on a person. And don’t even get me started on the Fire Aspect. :]

The third sword I’m gonna say is this one in a chest in the prison with Knockback II, Looting III, Mending, Sharpness V, Sweeping Edge III, and Unbreaking III, for 2 reasons 1) the chest it is in includes building items such as Quartz and Smooth Stone [highlighted in yellow] which are not present in the prison but are in multiple areas of Las Nevadas and 2) It has full durability, but has Mending to explain that unlike the other nethrite swords in the prison (minus the Guard Sword, which I doubt he let Q use) and Sam’s inventory, all with high durability. Perhaps we could make up some reason like perhaps using the Sweeping Edge or Knockback to explain the full durability and why it’s in a chest in the prison. Perhaps it is Sam’s sword but Quackity was miss using it or the enchantments on it made it too dangerous or something, so Sam made him heal it and return it. Maybe that’s why he stops giving Quackity his Warden weapons too… who knows.

Then we see a pair of unenchanted shears, which we see him with in his first visit and the one with rivals duo. Give that shears durability doesn’t last long in general and that these are unenchanted, it’s probably reasonable to say that he perhaps broke and brought multiple pairs of unenchanted shears so to pin down the specific pair isn’t great, but we do see a pair in a hidden chest under the Needle in Las Nevadas (like irl wise it’s not like they did 80 scenes of torture this is could technically be the pair from the rivals duo stream (and maybe even the first visit)). Especially since it also has a pair of iron pants and an enchanted diamond sword like we see in his inventory during that stream. An enchanted diamond sword also appears in the letter visit and I’m gonna say they are both this sword with Sharpness I. It has higher durability than the one seen in the rivals visit, but perhaps he healed it with a diamond or something. This diamond sword is pretty interesting in the fact that it isn’t netherite like the ones shown in the montage, so it also than does less damage, even more so due to the minimum enchantments. Perhaps that’s what makes it such a good option for torture as it doesn’t do too much damage and kill Dream on accident.

During the rivals duo visit, we also see Warden’s torment which to my suprise only has Unbreaking III not Mending. We also see an unenchanted diamond pickaxe. Now we could say he only brought the pickaxe with the purpose of getting his revenge or we could take it as a sign that he used pickaxes too outside of just shears, swords and axes. After all, WARDENS WILL BREAKER is the name of Sam’s pickaxe, so surely it was used when trying to break Dream’s will (and if that then perhaps the netherite pickaxe in Quackity’s inventory as well).

Furthermore, when Quackity runs into George outside the prison, we see him carrying an enchanted diamond pickaxe likely the same one in his inventory with Fortune II and Unbreaking III, which I’d say can be reasonably assumed to have been used inside the prison (perhaps just for convenience sake). Especially because, also in his inventory at the time is a stack of seeds, which appears in the chest with the enchanted diamond sword and shears which we already determined were likely used.

So, those are all the things we can more reasonably conclude with some reasonings and conclusions definitely stronger than others. Even further though if we wanted to really start to theorize, there is an also an argument to be made (that I’ve actually highlighted before [posts - <> <>]) that if he uses pickaxes why not also shovels? And hoes? And maybe even one of Sam tridents, perhaps WARDENS MERCY with Channeling [post]? [potential weapons used highlighted in red] I don’t know, it’s really mostly all theoretical but fun to think about anyways, I mean we do have Quackity’s comment in the letter visit, “I’ll show you which one I’ll use this time around.” [clip] and Dream’s comment to Foolish, “Sam, you know, let him in the prison, let him bring in tools—and shears, and they tried to torture the revive book out of me…” [clip] which does somewhat support the reasoning for more variety of tools. After all, why doesn’t Dream say weapons and shears? Seems to me like you’d use tools to include the shears, cuz swords and axes are just weapons. (We can obviously explain this away for many reason but that’s besides the point). Plus I mean based off of what Dream said in Daedalus as noted we tend to like to reasonably assume a knife and chair was involved (further supported by ccSam if we chose to believe his unhinged comments lol XD), and that certainly opens the door for other things…

[jtownraindancer]

um excuse me doctor but why are you in my torchwood

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[noxcheshire]

Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.

Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.

The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.

In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.

Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.

Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.

Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.

Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.

There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.

On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.

Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.

Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.

Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.

Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.

Jason had baby siblings.

He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.

Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.

It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.

And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.

It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Familiar Faces and Factions

The trailer for Dragon Age: The Veilguard has dropped, and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s like a new breath of life has entered my lungs!

Within the trailer, we now have confirmation of who our seven companions are going to be, and among them are a few familiar faces from the book Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights. We also have some name-droppings of a couple factions featured in the same book and the comics, Dragon Age: The Missing. So, here is what knowledge is established about these faces sand factions.

Neve Gallus & The Shadow Dragons

Neve Gallus was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Streets of Minrathous”. She comes off as a no-nonsense and a little intense kind of person. Neve is a Tevinter mage who works as a private investigator. For example, if someone wants some detective work done but doesn’t want the public to know, they would hire Neve. On occasion, she’s even been hired by the templars, who act like just regular cops in Tevinter – and yes, that includes their corruption and primary goal of simply protecting the elite – but Neve prefers to work alone because of that corruption, and has a personal grudge against the order for taking bribes to cover up crimes.

Neve has a prosthetic leg below the knee, made of dwarven-crafted metal.

In The Missing, Neve says she is friends with the Shadow Dragons. In the article shared by EA, as of The Veilguard, she is officially a member. The Shadow Dragons are a group of concerned Tevinter citizens who help those in need. This includes supporting escaped slaves, for example.

Emmrich Volkahrin

Emmrich Volkahrin was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “Down Among the Dead Men”. He is a necromancer from Nevarra, and therefore naturally a member of the Mortalitasi – specifically, a professor in the Mourn Watch. The Watchers serve as elite guardians of the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich is on the eccentric side, personality-wise, but kindly and informal.

Emmrich has a skeleton assistant name of Manfred, who helps him with different office tasks. He also has friends in Myrna, a fellow Watcher, and Audric, a dead guardsmen who looks after the library.

Lucanis Dellamorte

Lucanis Dellamorte was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Wigmaker Job”. He is the favourite grandson of Caterina Dellamorte, First Talon (leader) of the Antivan Crows. As such, he was raised from birth to be the perfect assassin in a ruthless and torturous environment, knowing only cruelty from his family. This has led to him feeling less like a person and more like a living weapon – and he is treated like one by everyone who knows of him. He has “the Demon” as a nickname.

I know a few people are curious about the “mage killer” title in the trailer. Rest assured that Lucanis specifically kills evil blood mages. In his own words: “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.”

Where his cousin Illario has a “silver tongue” as Lucanis puts it, he himself is a lot blunter. His reputation of a killer is spotless, except for one small problem: He has a heart under all that black leather.

Lucanis and Illario get along quite well, except for the fact that Lucanis is destined to be the next First Talon, after Caterina dies. Illario wants the job far more than Lucanis, but Lucanis isn’t sure he’s capable of making a decision for himself that goes against the wishes of the Crows.

The Veil Jumpers

The Veil Jumpers were first introduced in The Missing #3. They are a group made up of primarily Dalish elves, though also inclusive of other folks of any walks of life willing to help, working to try and control the new threats within Arlathan Forest. The forest has become a ground of chaotic magic, with the Veil so thin that time and place is jumbled together. Thus, the Veil Jumpers move in and out of the spots that bleed into one another.

The Veil Jumpers do have a headquarters called “The Sanctum”, but we know nothing else about it.

The Lords of Fortune

Despite the Lords of Fortune being mentioned in more than one Tevinter Nights story, as well as the show Dragon Age: Absolution, we don’t know a lot about them. The only concrete information provided is that they are a loose group of people who collect trinkets and glory. They come out of Rivain. They typically wear a lot of their collected trinkets like badges of honour. That’s really all there is, so I can’t wait to learn more.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Lies Like Liquid [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's typical antics at a party hit different. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Loki x Female reader. Snippy Loki/ enemies to lovers. Mild jealousy. Mild angst.

The crowd blurred as you wobbled on your heels towards the bar, trying to look casual. Rogers, Natasha, Clint—all of them with their heads thrown back at some perfectly timed joke while music thumped in your ears.

Loki leant against the polished marble counter—the soft amber bulbs around the mirror making his watchful eyes shine; immaculately tousled hair drifting down his shoulders.

He lifted a martini to his lips and sipped gently, the smoulder fixed on you.

One elbow rested on the bar, his ankles crossed, his body impossibly long and lean and wrapped in an expensive suit that was just the right side of tight. No tie tonight, just an open collar with a triangle of milky skin that you wanted to graze your teeth against as his eyes rolled back and a gurgle of your name choked from his throat—

Don’t talk to him. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t look at him; that’s what he wants. But your heart rattled faster as his cologne prickled deep inside your nostrils: warm, spiced, filthy.

“You look particularly agreeable tonight, Agent,” Loki said as you propped your elbows on the bar, eyeing your cleavage carefully in the mirror. The god’s stare traced your profile as intricately as though it were his fingers. “Did you do something with your hair? Wash it, perhaps?” “You’re one to talk, Agent,” you said, tongue lingering on the T.

Out of the corner of your eye, the god stiffened. He hated all that Agent stuff. Resented it. Except when he was curling the word around his own tongue, ready to spit in your directing with his dumb, mind-numbingly sexy voice—

“Nevertheless,” he said, strained, ‘that colour suits you.” “Black?” “Mmm.” “Everyone suits black.” Loki chuckled softly, sliding the base of his martini glass closer across the bar. His body followed. “Not so, Agent. In fact, my brother looks particularly ghastly. Deceased, in fact. You look rather…” “Yes?” Your breath hitched as Loki bent ever-so-slightly to your ear, heat skating down your cheek. “Hot,” he whispered, making one syllable stretch to two. A tingle rushed over your body. You turned fractionally just as the shit-eating, devastatingly attractive smirk spread across Loki’s lips. The one Stark used in the ad reels. The one that the public loved; and the one that you loathed—even if you did have a screenshot of it on your phone for masturbation purposes. Needs must. He might be a dickhead, but you had eyes.

“What do you want, Loki?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “Want? Darling, you came to me.”

“I came for a drink—you were in the way. It’s the only way to numb you out.” His jaw dropped a touch, affronted, but those eyes sparkled. Crystal sang as he swirled the fancy glass against marble and leant back, the buttons of his shirt straining as he let out a small, harassed sigh. “You really must try one of these, they’re quite terrible.” The tightness in your chest loosened. “The Starktini?” “The Starktini,” he confirmed sombrely. “Sherry instead of vermouth, can you believe it? What is he thinking. All the money in the realm, and no class.”

He took another sip, draining the glass, observing you through narrowed eyes. “Another one, Mr Laufeyson?” Fresh lipstick, ruffled hair, apron tied too tight, shirt unbuttoned to the tip of fancy lingerie. You rolled your eyes as Loki swivelled to face the waitress. “Please,” he said, low and unbearably smooth. “And one for my friend here, too. Particularly dirty, if you don’t mind.” “Of course Sir; I know the way you like it,” she said huskily, sliding her eyes to yours. You cocked an eyebrow as she sashayed to the liquor bottles further down the bar. “Particularly dirty?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me?” “Are you jealous?” Anger scorched up your spine. How dare he—standing there with his stupid, devastating cheekbones and muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he plucked the stem of a fresh glass from the waitress’s hand. Your eyes flickered to a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom, several looping numbers visible. Loki winked lightly at her as she moved to a pissed off looking Barton, peeling the paper off. “I’ll leave the two of you to…” You gestured in the air.

Loki straightened, swallowing hastily. He raised a finger, his brows rising. But you were already several steps deep into the crowd, pushing past a tipsy Rogers dancing the Macarena to a Scissor Sisters song. The bodice of your dress felt unbearably tight, party smoke clinging to the back of your throat like ash and making your eyes sting. A hand cupped your bicep. “You alright?” Wanda dipped, catching your eyes. You waved a hand, plastering on a smile. “Fine. I’m fine, just Loki being a—” “A delight, I’m sure,” Loki drawled. Even over the music, his voice was clear as glass. Wanda’s face scrunched, her gaze shifting over your shoulder. You whipped around, hoping your tits hadn’t shifted from the impeccable cleavage you’d assembled earlier. “Let me guess, this is the part of the dancefloor you want? Planning on standing here yourself, glowering at everyone having fun?”

Loki frowned, and for a moment, just one, you felt a sharp stab of guilt. He placed the martini glass on a small, round table to his left.

“Actually,” he said, unbuttoning a cuff and folding it up to the elbow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to dance.” Behind you, Wanda gasped. Loki Laufeyson did not dance. And certainly not with you.

There were many things you could say at this moment, do, in this moment while Loki Laufeyson folded the second sleeve up his muscled forearm up with skilful ease. Tell him to fuck off, give him the middle finger, laugh at him before he could laugh at you. Seconds shifted as you waited for the familiar smirk, but it didn’t come. He extended his hand.

Loki’s chin lowered, his eyes glimmering in light refracted from the disco ball, the hand cupped outward unmoving. And so, you took it. Wanda gasped again.

Loki’s thumb slid up your palm, pressing into the soft skin before guiding you gently across the dancefloor. Bodies moved, the room blurred for the second time that evening, but this time, a flutter rose in your belly as Loki turned and pulled you flush to his chest. Your cheek brushed his, hands knotted at his shoulder as the opening beats of Rosenfeld thumped through the speakers. Eyes sliding to Loki’s, you tried to stifle the urge to suck against his neck; absorb the deep scent of him that wafted from beneath his collar.

He began to sway. And then, his lips brushed your ear. “Move, Agent,” he said, deep and utterly filthy. Loki’s knuckles trailed down your spine, palm settling on your lower back and shifting in time with the grind of your hips. His hair grazed against your cheek as your bodies slid together, the satin of your dress water against his shirt. The world slid beneath you feet as Loki pushed you outwards, spinning on your heels, stars bursting in your mind. He pulled you to his chest with a soft thump and the muscle beneath your breasts shook under his chuckle. “I thought you couldn't dance—” “I can do anything, Agent,” he murmured, hands resting on your hips. His eyes narrowed lightly. “Anything.” You snorted, blowing a strand of his hair with it. It floated back, sticking to your mouth. Loki’s fingers slipped between you, pinching it away. His thumb grazed over the plump of your lower lip. “Do you believe me?” It struck you in this moment how inconceivable it was that Loki was grinding against your stomach; that you were shifting in time with it, your hips swaying against the hard expanse of his hips. That you hadn’t punched him in the face yet.

“I believe that you’re full of shit? Does that count?” You half-hoped he couldn’t hear you, but the twitch of Loki’s lips proved he did. God, you wanted to slam your pussy down on the meat of the thigh sliding against your leg. You wanted to yank his hair down and kiss him right on his poisonous mouth as he pushed his femur against your clit; edging you into a shuddering mess hanging in his arms like a doll. A warm flush slid between your legs.

Loki spun to the side, and the world upended. He’d swept you into a dip, his face inches from yours, and his eyes rising slowly from your lips to your eyes. Somewhere, Rogers whooped.

And there it was…the shit eating smirk.

You snapped to reality, pushing against Loki’s shoulder. He brought you upright with a deep crease slicing through his forehead and mumbled something as you pushed through the crowd, Do It For Me ringing in your ears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grabbed a Starktini from the bar, necking it and ignoring Barton’s yelling before making your way to the fire exit. The balcony was too crowded. Cold air hit like a slap, rippling over your bare shoulders and up the flounce of skirt. Your fingers curled against the fire escape, forehead resting against your hands. Fuck. You’d let him get under your skin. You’d promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“I lied.” Your ankle gave way, heel snapping through the grate and sending you wavering to the guard rail. Suddenly Loki’s arms were around you, but you flapped him away. “Piss off, Loki,” you gasped, gripping the rail. “I’m fine. Jesus…you scared the shit out of me.” The angles of Loki’s face were illuminated in moonlight: brows lowered; mouth drawn tight. You sighed. “What do you want?” “I lied,” he said again. Now you remembered. “Well, what’s new? It’s your thing.” He frowned. “Well, it is,” you said, exasperated. “Never with you.” His eyes were a storm of wretched midnights, but his jaw trembled. You noted the strain of his shirt buttons, the creases forming with each deep, measured breath. A tremor passed through his features as he said. “Before, when I said I could do anything—I lied.” “Oh?” “I couldn’t hold on to you.” Your heart dropped somewhere around your knees. “Well, yeah, I guess. It was about more than just the dancing though, you know that, right?” “Mmm.”

In the time it took to look up, Loki was standing in front of you; the heat from his chest radiating the space between your bodies. He licked his lips, and they shaped words you never thought you’d hear. “Is it too late for us?” he asked softly.

“Loki…” “A month is a long time to spend with only one’s thoughts for company.” “Hardly. You were on a mission with Barton and Lang.” “Mentally alone, if not physically. You should hear the things they consider stimulating conversation. Do you know what a blumpkin entails?” He waited, a shadow flitting across his face. “Because I do.” You bit your lip, chest shaking with ill-advised laughter, and when you looked up, Loki’s smile was waiting. The real one. And then, your throat tightened. “You took the waitress’s number.” “Did I?” Loki’s voice went up an octave. “How strange,” he mused as a long finger tapped at his chin. “I distinctly remember not taking her number. In fact, I believe it might still be on the bar. Perhaps Lang will find it—perhaps he’ll finally experience the blumpkin he seeks.” “You winked at her.”

Something shifted inside you as the words shaped your tongue; thin threads of hope winding snug around your insides, the lie of your indifference circling like liquid down a drain. Loki shrugged lightly. “I had to give her something. What was I to do? The woman was clearly smitten—and I’m nothing if not benevolent.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t…” he said, stepping closer.

One arm rose against the wall behind you, his skin silver in moonlight. “You know how that drives me to the brink of sanity.” “Maybe that’s what I want.” “Is it?” His eyes flashed, gaze dropping to your lips. “Well, it’s working.” Your chest ached with the effort of holding in the need to hyperventilate. This was everything you’d wanted as you lay in bed alone, everything you hadn’t dared hope for. That he would fight for you. And yet…With Loki, there was always an ‘And yet’.

But tonight, you didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

Like a dream, you fingered the open collar of Loki’s shirt, grazing a nail across the exposed skin. He shivered. “Darling,” he whispered, and then, your lips were on his. One kiss slipped into the next like words, the groans deep in his throat and the fingers winding in your hair like blazing starlight. “Up, up,” you gasped between kisses.

Loki obliged, large hands dipping to your thighs and hoisting you against the polished outer walls of Stark Tower with a squeak. He fumbled with the line of your underwear, a mumbled fuck it preceding the warm fizz of his magic against your skin. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his suit trousers, delving for the unbearably hard cock pressing against your cunt. Every vein, every velvet ridge, every inch that made him whimper when you traced it with your tongue. Loki’s breath was heavy, misting against your cheek as he breached with a broken chant of your name. Your head fell back against the wall, his mouth working down the valley of your throat as his hips rolled, filling you. “Loki, god…yes,” you panted to the darkened sky. He mumbled something unintelligible against your skin as your fingers twisted in his hair and the part of yourself that hoped this could be real burned brighter. There was nothing but here—nothing but the press of his flat stomach, the feel of his fingertips curling into your thighs and the seal of his cock unwinding your doubts with every thrust.

“Gods, I never meant to—” You silenced him with a kiss, delving into him with insatiable hunger. I never meant to push you away. I never meant to break your heart. It could wait. Orgasm sparked deep in your belly, rippling like a lit match from gasoline. Your legs tightened around his hips, forcing his cock deeper with an obscene squelch. “Faen, kvinne,” Loki grunted, one palm flying to the wall behind you and squeaking down metal. He bucked up, bottoming out a final, shattering time. Climax ripped through your body like a knife through leather, arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His belt buckle was ice against your heated thighs, the grind of his hips flattening you to the wall. The god’s groans grew tight; urgent, something new stringing along his back muscles shifting under the drag of your fingernails. “Forgive me,” he sighed. You wondered if he’d stop himself tumbling over the edge if you didn’t. But the time for lies was over. “I forgive you,” you whispered, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Loki’s guttural groan as he filled you with his cum was the world sliding beneath your feet, breaking apart and starting anew.

Tags in comments ❤️

[mariasont]

Tie a Tie - S.R

a/n: i'm a slut for a good tie

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: you ask spencer to teach you how to tie a tie

warnings: cuties being cute!

wc: 1.2k

"How do you tie a tie?" 

The question and the voice attached to it made Spencer do a double take, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. He directed he gaze upward, and there you were. Beside his desk. Looking angelic as ever.

Today, your hair was embellished with ribbons, pretty pink bows tied neatly above your two braids. It was cute.

You hardly visited at his desk, in fact, this might be the first time. He had always been the one to seek you out at your receptionist desk.

He realized the lapse in conversation had gone on longer than what social norms dictate. He cleared his throat and reached up to rub his neck, offering you sheepish yet attentive look. 

"Do I have something on my face?" The question came with an uncharacteristic frown that didn't suit you. A shimmering nail reached up, brushing your cheek as he fought the urge to replace your hand with his.

"No, no sorry," he assured quickly, a sense of equilibrium returning as your mouth flipped into a bright smile. "Just--, you want to know how to tie a tie?"

His intention wasn't to question you, but he was curious. What did you need to know how to tie a tie for? The answer seemed clear, yet unwelcome, as he begrudgingly considered the possibility of a significant other in your life, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding like one of those dashboard bobbleheads, sending your ribbons dancing. "There's this outfit on Pinterest that I wanted to recreate, but it needs a tie, and well, I immediately thought of you, Dr. Reid. You're the tie expert, after all. I know you're super busy, so it's totally okay if now isn't a good time, but maybe you could text me? Or write it down, or--" 

The tension dissipated from his frame, and he interjected with a soft smile. "Yeah, no problem at all. I'll teach you," he said, rising to grab an empty chair. He placed it opposite his, motioning for you to take a seat. "And please, It's Spencer."

He doesn't know how many times he's told you that Dr. Reid sounded too formal coming from you. 

"Oh, right, Spencer." They way his name rolled off your tongue sent a wave of warmth through him. You bit your lip, crossing one leg over the other, the tip of your kitten heel brushing his calve in the process. "Thank you so much. I tried to watch YouTube tutorials, but it wasn't really working out."

"It's no problem," he said, trying to keep his cool as his surveyed the vacant office, immensely grateful the team was out on a case, and he was left behind to work on documents. 

It wasn't that he was embarrassed by you, he would be an idiot to feel that way. He was embarrassed by how utterly out of control he felt around you. "Uh, here--"

His hands moved with practiced ease, a brief hesitation passing before he placed it around your neck. Your smile was disarming, compelling him to avert his gaze to prevent any impulsive actions. Gently, he swept your hair aside at the nape of your neck, careful not to entangle it with the fabric.

Spencer's fingers stalled, suspended over the smooth silk encircling you. The awareness of your focused gaze was palpable, almost tangible.

"Okay," he started, his tone even despite the butterflies attacking at his stomach. "The first thing you need to do is cross the long end over the short end, like this."

He illustrated the motion, his hands lightly skimming over your collarbone, eliciting a soft giggle from the unexpected tickle.

"Like this?" you repeated, your tongue making a brief appearance against your pink stained lips, trying to follow his lead.

"Exactly," he confirmed with a nod, smile inching across his face. "Now you bring the long end up through the loop around your neck."

His touch was light on the fabric, his fingertips just grazing the skin below your ear, a reaction visible in the slight shiver that traveled over you, goosebumps taking over. 

You watched his every move, your head tilting to the side, a lock of hair falling into your face. "And then?"

"Now, you fold it down through the knot you've just made." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he focused on the task at hand. "Pull it all the way though, and then adjust the tightness by holding the short end and sliding the knot up."

With his guidance, you managed to complete the knot. "I did it!"

The excitement in your eyes was infectious, and he felt the rosy hue take over his face, a blush he couldn't contain at the sight of you. His laughter spilled out in response.

"You're a quick learner." His hands remained on the tie, a touch too long, maybe. 

The intrusive ring of his phone fractured the moment, like a glass dropping on hard ground. He glanced at the caller ID--Hotch, of course--and sighed.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

"It's okay. Thank you for the help, Spencer."

--

Spencer almost died the moment you entered the bullpen the next morning, almost toppling over and dying of asphyxiation because of how easily you took his breath away.

There you were, in what he could only deduce was the Pinterest inspired outfit, a pink tie neatly arranged around your neck, its tail slipped into the waistband of your skirt.

"Spencer, you forgot your tie yesterday," you called out, extending the forgotten piece of fabric with a smile.

A red akin to a ripe strawberry bloomed across Spencer's face as he watched Morgan and Prentiss freeze mid-step, exchanging knowing looks as they glanced between you two.

"Reid, what's this about a tie?" 

Of course, Morgan was butting in, because it just wouldn't be a normal day of work if he wasn't.

"It's not--We didn't--," he faltered, his eyes meeting yours, finding an innocent cluelessness to the implications around them. Opting to dismiss the others, he focused on you, taking the tie with hands that weren't quite steady. "I mean, thank you."

You simply beamed at him.

"Do you like my outfit?" you asked, doing a little twirl that made the hem of your skirt flare out. He had to avert his eyes, knowing that the way he was looking you over would certainly not be perceived as innocent. "I got your text with the instructions. It was so sweet because I definitely did not remember everything you said yesterday. It gets kind of confusing with all the steps."

He was momentarily lost for words. "It's... you look... amazing."

Spencer was still fumbling for words when you stepped closer, the soft scent of your perfume wrapping around him.

"Well, it's all thanks to you."

Before he could respond, your rose onto the balls of your feet and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was quick, innocent, but it left his knees feeling like they might buckle

As you pulled away, his skin tingled where your lips had been, and he stood there, utterly dumbstruck, his face a canvas painted with various shades of pink.

Morgan stared at him, his eyebrows raised in silent question, but Spencer didn't care. For a short moment, he didn't care about anything else--not the case files, not the teasing of his colleagues, not the world outside. There was only the warmth on his cheek and the sudden lightness in his chest. 

He decided this was his new lucky tie. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[solbaby7]

Calypso

pairing: azriel x reader

warning: swearing, mentions of being beaten, violence, murder, probably typos, based off a tiktok i saw (pretty sure this is based off a play or something along those lines)

summary: The sweetest member of the Inner Circle shows the Autumn Court the true extent of feminine rage.

—

“Something is wrong,” Azriel couldn’t stop pacing, heart thumping so hard in his chest he was sure there was an imprint beginning to etch its way onto his skin. A hand absently rubs at his chest, clothes feeling too tight and his brothers don’t miss the rigid raise of his wings. Shadows cloak his form, curling around his ears and tugging on his clothes in their own way of communicating the same thing he had. “Something is very, very wrong. She should be back by now.”

Rhysand try’s to remain reasonable—to regain control of the rapidly escalating situation but you were supposed to have been back nearly four hours ago.

At first, the High Lord had thought it was a good idea; that you’d be a pleasant change from Az’s domineering brood or Cassian’s incessant need to mouth off but the longer they waited the more Rhys considered that maybe he made the wrong call. “She’s gone on missions to Autumn alone many times before, Az.”

The shadowsinger nods in agreement but his stance doesn’t relax even a bit. “Sure but she’s never once been late getting back home. Never.” Saying the words seem to be confirmation enough, waiting one second—two before he’s retreating from Rhysand’s office and saying fuck it to any of the consequences that he would surely face if he got there and something had happened to you.

“Az,” Cass shouts from down the hall, bounding steps sounding against the polished floors as he falls in stride with him. “Just wait for one second.”

“If it was your mate, would you wait?”

“Of course not but we just need two minutes to assess the situation before just barging inside—this is Autumn we are talking about here.”

“I don’t care.”

Fingers rake through shoulder length hair, honey eyes clocking Azriel’s determined stride, the hard brow and strong set of his mouth. “I understand that but if it gets her killed—”

“Us waiting might get her killed,” Azriel snaps, nearly growling the words free; shadows stiffening at his shoulders in agitation. “I won’t risk it. I won’t lose her.”

There’s no room for fighting; not when Rhys and Cassian were too busy trying to keep up with Azriel’s brutal pace to cross the wards. Winnowing in a rush never did well on the stomach but the unease that churns in Azriel’s gut the moment they arrive at Autumns borders is anything but normal.

“This isn’t right,” Cassian insists, following behind with a watchful eye; every muscle in his body tense as awareness prickles to life. “Where are the guards? The hounds?” It’s too quiet, the sky too dark and yet Azriel continues on a path of his own making; following the pure string within to draw him back to his other half.

The spymaster rips through the trees, shoving aside offending branches with little regard for the noise being made. It works in his favor, stumbling at the right place at the wrong time judging by the frazzled guards and a High Lord soaked from the waist down. Complete silence fills the space; not even a bird chirps, no rustling of woodland creatures, no crackling cadence of crawling cicadas. “Where is she?” Azriel demands, voice dangerously low as he searched deeper within the bond; scrambling for further direction, desperate for the confirmation of your safety.

Beron Vanserra looks too smug, a devilish smirk crafting in the corner of his mouth. Auburn hair falls from its neat styling, clothes ruffled and Azriel knows he can’t be the only one who notices the petrified expressions plastered on the guards faces—the fact that none of them make a move to comment on Night Court breaching another’s borders without permission. “Where’s who?”

“You know who,” Rhysand says your name carefully, casually pressing forward until he stood before Azriel, serving as a barrier between a male withholding answers and another male willing to carve the world to pieces in order to obtain them. “Your meeting with her should’ve ended hours ago.”

“It never started,” Beron waves a hand dismissively, his clothes drying with the motion. Guards surround him, leaving a gap for visibility but their security is subdued; trembling with fear and eyes glistening with guilt. “She never arrived.”

Azriel’s grip tightens around the hilt of Truthteller, golden irises narrow to slits and his voice is but a hiss. “You’re lying.”

A brow raises, the overwhelming scent of whiskey and cinnamon muddled by sea salt and ocean spray; a confusing combination laced with a distress that did not belong to the High Lord of Autumn. “Do you have proof?”

Shadows creep up Azriel’s form, silently reminding its master of their presence and willingness to eliminate the threat no matter the outcome but before his lips can form words—an unnatural noise cuts through the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stands at attention, golden eyes surveilling every inch of dense foliage. “What was that?”

Its eerie and drawn out, almost like song but the melody held no comfort, no warmth.

“What did you do?” Azriel swallows thickly, shoulders uncomfortably tense as the humming continues, layered feminine voices piercing their ears like the sirens Cass always talked about around a crackling fire after too much to drink.

“I did nothing.” Beron shrugs, voice even and sure but the fear that settles behind his eyes isn’t equally well hidden. His body language betrays him, subconsciously shuffling closer to the readied guards that flank every side of their High Lord.

“Vanserra.” Your silhouette is barely noticeable when cloaked in the night and Azriel’s brow raises at the tears in your gown, the healing split of your lip—and where were your shoes?

Rhys calls your name, taking only a single step before Cassian’s iron grip curls around his arms, swiftly tugging him back and behind him. A general protecting the leader of his court as the scene before them became horribly apparent. “Impossible,” Beron whispers, not bothering to hide the disbelief—the horror. “You died.”

Azriel’s stance faulters, the stony expression unable to hide the unbridled pain that etches its way onto his features at the words.

But, you don’t seem phased.

In fact, you don’t seem much like yourself at all.

The soft glow of your light is replaced with a murky darkness; soiled by anger and the bubbling desire for vengeance and all of it is directed towards the copper haired male with a heart like coal and a soul filled to the brim with ash. “Get in the water.” You command.

“I am immune to your witchcraft, demon.” Beron scoffs your way, attempting to deflect the shake of his voice with the accusatory finger pointed to the High Lord of Night tucked safely behind his brothers. “Control your bitch or I will.”

Azriel pushes back the need to retaliate, golden eyes sliding from the male to the woman he loved; a woman who exuded unbridled feminine rage the longer you allowed such power to flow through you—power you always kept so bottled up, so contained. Soothed into submission by your kindness and grace, the love you shared with friend and stranger alike; all unleashed from the conclaves of their confinement. Az’s grip on Truthteller tightens and it’s a true test of will to tear his gaze away long enough to address Beron once more. “What did you do?”

The Autumn Courts High Lord goes still. The air seems to thin, the water bristling against the rocky shore; howling, shouting, demanding to rise—to bend at your will and follow out the revenge you seeked. “Tell them,” Your voice ebbs through the space between you, unnaturally controlled, unusually low and unbearably empty. “Tell them what you did to me and maybe I’ll show mercy.”

“I did nothing.”

A guard sucks in a shaky breath, sweat lacing his brow and it takes no more than a second before he’s released hold of his weapon and drops to the ground on his knees. “Forgive me.” He begs, hands pressed together as if he were praying. “I-I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” Cassian regards Azriel with a sharp look, crimson Syphons brewing with power as every cell in his body screamed that something terrible was going to happen—that something terrible had happened and they were too late. Forced to stand by, frozen as you were molded into a woman they could hardly recognize. The pretty blue dress you’d left in is torn, ruined fabric sagging in ribbons, showing off collarbones covered in bruises shaped like fingerprints, in cuts that healed before their very eyes. Soaked hair hangs past your shoulders, dripping down your back as the wind whipped through what remained of your clothes. “I beg of you, please, have mercy.”

The apology does no good and before Cassian can work up a plan to get Rhysand as far away as possible, you’re already wrapping them in a dome of water so crystal clear it’s like glass; shielding them from your rage while providing a front row seat to the events long since forged in stone. “Rhys, can you get in her head?”

“I don’t have to,” Rhysand responds barely above a whisper, violet eyes so pale, pupils so pinpricked as the events were shoved at him at an upresendented speed. You, arriving as planned, joining the High Lord privately for dinner when the two sips of wine began to have your body feeling like a whole night of binging at Rita’s with the girls. The images project onto the other, Cass and Az watching with bated breath as they looked through your eyes, felt your disorientation, the fear, the disgust when hands roamed over your body. It took everything for Azriel not to break, to unleash horrors upon Beron Vanserra and every male involved as he watched you beg for them to let you go. Your shoes left in a hallway in your struggle, soft skin and prettily painted toes marred by the rough tugging, the crude remarks and sick promises to kill you quick.

Cassian’s stomach churns, food curdling from within when he feels you strain against the water, as they held you down and left you there long after your hands went limp.

They could feel the power within you, pumping back life into the tiny sliver of hope left, expelling the water from your lungs and replacing that beacon of light with something the High Lord of Autumn better understood. “Get in the water,” You say once more, stepping closer and the crashing waves seem to move with you, lapping at your bare feet, salving over aches and bruises.

“Or what?” He spits, struggling to grapple into whatever control he had left but his vile tone holds no weight in comparison to you and cold expression settling into your eyes.

“Or I’ll raise the tides so high, all of Autumn Court will die.” There’s no bite in your words, only pure promise; steps strong and filled with an uncapped power so strong it seemed to throb. The bustling waves behind you climb higher and higher, so high the skyline is blocked; so high that nothing else existed behind you but such torrential oceans filled with its creatures that thrashed and snapped their jaws to do as you pleased. “Say the words, Beron. Tell them what you did to me.” Azriel’s feels it before he sees it; the bubbling emotions, the swelling power inside of you coming to a head and begging to explode. “Say it!” You demand so furiously the same guard on his knees visibly flinches, thick streams of tears trailing down his aged face as his back bows in submission before their very eyes.

He sings like a canary, confessing to following their High Lords orders of sending the Night Court a message for foolishly in believing in peace. The male professes how one of the cooks were told to lace the wine to subdue her. He musters up the decency to spare the shadowsinger a pleading glance, spilling out useless apologies and promises to never do it again—how disgusted he felt harming a female; one who was so sweet and gentle but orders were orders.

No one speaks, the other guards eyes are as wide as saucers, mouths parted in utter shock as they await the repercussions of the confession; trembling like branches in the wind under the suffocating pressure of your power.

Beron doesn’t pay the sobbing male swathed in armor any mind. Instead, he’s trained on the fellow High Lord—borderline desperate in his command. “Control her. Please.”

“It’s all about control with you, isn’t it, Beron?” Each step closer has your nose curling in disgust, lip quirking in a snarl. “I should fix that.” Wind whistles around furiously, snatching through auburn hair and ripping the overly expensive cloak right from his shoulders. True terror sets root in cruel eyes and the hairs on the back of Beron’s neck raises; primal instincts warning him of impending danger—of inevitable doom. “I’ll make tidal waves so profound that both your wife and your sons will drown.”

“Seize her,” Beron spits, snapping out the words so fiercely that spittle shoots free but even his own protection detail realizes who’s really in control here and not one of them moves to appease the order. “Threatening a High Lord and his family is punishable by death.”

Birds screech their caws of great displeasure, wings fluttering furiously against the trees in such a frenzy that leaves fall free; taunting the end of one reign and the beginnings of another. You don’t feed into his poor attempts of deflecting, his words entering one ear and flying out the other. “You mistake my threats for bluff,” Swords clatter to the ground, Autumn soldiers sharply turning on the balls of their feet with full intent to run—to rush back to their wives and children for the false feeling of safety. You allow them a few strides as a kindness before unleashing the torrential downpour upon them; sweeping each one clean off their feet in their fancy armor. “You have lived more than enough.” Shades of deep red and burnt orange fight uselessly against the angry seas, rough tides swallowing up the soldiers garbled screams and washing them away.

Beron chokes on the salty water, legs pumping furiously against the current, his eyes burning and lungs filling with the catastrophic affects of your anger. “Stop!” His cheeks turn red, the veins in his neck straining against tanned skin and you find yourself fixating on the way his hands claw at his throat—fighting for the slightest gasp of oxygen.

“Did you stop when I begged?” The oceans cover land with ease, seeping past the borders with full intent to make good on your promises on destroying every inch of Autumn territory. “When I screamed for you to just please let me go?” Deep red shifts to an unusual shade of purple, water seeps from his nose and his eyes all but bulge out of the socket.

Choked noises sputter from Beron’s lips, an arm desperately clutching around the base of a tree to keep from being washed up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” The water parts for you, allowing you a perfect path to the High Lord and you take your sweet time watching his struggle—his disarray. He looks so utterly boyish this way, his hair soaked over his forehead, lashes dark and clustered together under the force of ocean spray smacking at his cheeks like a million microscopic needles. “But, you will be.”

Eerie voices sing their song, layering over the other in a plethora of different pitches until Beron’s head snaps from side to side, eyes searching frantically for the source but he realizes too late.

Water wraiths and their siren sisters cut through the cool waters like a sword through the wind, their webbed fingers eager to grab at the deviant of a man responsible for savagely murdering countless of their brothers and sisters in cold blood just for sport. One of them pause, the features of her face rippling with the tide but there’s no mistaking the respectful nod of her head—one that you return.

You don’t linger to watch the rest, your anger fizzling out and all that’s left is the desire to go home and spend a whole week hidden in the sheets with your mate. If he’d still have you after all this. Bare feet trudge against the ground until you stand before your family, the barrier lowered. You can’t meet their eyes, the wounds too raw and their pity too palpable but the familiar comfort of cool shadows drape over you, evaluating and assessing before relaying their findings back to their master. “I—“

Azriel’s body collides with yours before the whole sentence can even form, strong arms wrapping you up and tugging you as close as he could. His hands go over every inch of you, muttering under his breath about how he’d never let you out of his sight again. “You’re okay,” His shoulders visibly relax, when he can’t find a hint of damage on you—not even a bruise. “Thank gods you’re okay.”

Your eyes slide past him, lips pursing as you prepared yourself for whatever came next. You’d killed a High Lord—there’s no chance anyone would just let that go. “Rhysand, I—“

“You didn’t do anything,” He swiftly cuts in, regarding you fondly even if his stomach swells with guilt at the thought of being the one who put you in harms way in the first place. “You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

For now.

[flickering-chandelier]

I Heard Your Voice in a Dream

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader’s village in the Spring Court is destroyed by Hybern (F U Tampon), and she is on her own until Azriel finds her. She feels instantly connected to him, but is not sure why, until one morning when he tells her everything.

(Also my first attempt at duel POV)

Warnings: a smutty ending

Word Count: 6.4k

You were running for your life when Azriel found you. 

After the High Lord of the Spring Court made a deal with the devil to bring back his love that fled from him, life looked much different for you. 

Hybern had attacked your village, destroyed your home and everything you had ever known. Your High Lord was nowhere to be found. Most of the people you knew didn’t make it out. Somehow, you had, but you couldn’t help but wonder… at what cost?

You spent your time wandering the endless green spring, not sure what to do. You had missed the evacuation. Nobody knew you were injured or where you were. By the time you were well enough to walk, you were alone. 

The panic was made worse by the fact that you knew what was in these lands -- monsters that you had no hope of beating should they target you. 

And eventually, they did target you. 

You weren’t sure what kind of creature it was -- just knew that those teeth could rip you to shreds and you wouldn’t be able to outrun it for long. 

But you did run, because what other choice did you have? You ran and ran, not daring to look back. You could hear it gaining on you with every step, until you felt, more than heard, the ground shaking beneath you. 

Suddenly, it was silent, the terrible feet of the monster no longer sounding behind you. You risked a glance back, and saw who must have been a warrior, with enormous black wings spread behind him, wiping off his bloody blade on the grass next to the carcass of the beast.

You stopped running, turning around slowly, studying him as he looked up at you. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen, with dark black hair and a completely stoic face, giving away absolutely nothing about what he was thinking. The hard lines of that face terrified you as much as they intrigued you. You realized you were shaking as he walked toward you slowly, as if approaching an injured animal. He was wearing some kind of armor -- all black, with gleaming, glowing circles attached to several points of his body. There were dark tendrils of what looked like smoke circling his arms, his hands. He sheathed his gleaming black blade as he approached you. 

He held his hands out, severely scarred, you noticed, palms facing you as he got closer. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” His deep, commanding voice seemed to echo through the now quiet woods.

You couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t bring your voice to speak.

“What’s your name?” he said softly when he stopped a few feet from you.

You told him, your voice barely above a whisper.

The warrior repeated your name quietly, his hazel eyes softening, then said “I’m Azriel. Are you hurt?”

“I-- I don’t think so.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes scanning your body, as if to confirm it. “What are you doing out here alone?”

You couldn’t help but think that the soft, gentle voice he was now using with you was such a juxtaposition to the fierceness of his armor, his no doubt rock solid body, his massive wings. “I have nowhere to go,” you finally choked out.

His brow furrowed, his eyes swimming with emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Your family?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The expression on your face seemed to say enough. His jaw tightened as he swallowed.

“Your home?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Destroyed,” you whispered.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, his expression softening as he studied your face. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head, but you couldn’t imagine what he was contemplating. 

“Thank you,” you croaked out eventually. “For saving my life.”

You turned to go, not wanting to inconvenience him further, but his hand grasped your wrist. As you turned around, you noticed his demeanor had completely changed. He staggered back a step, still holding onto you, pulling you forward a bit. Where before he was confident and calming, his eyes were now wide, his mouth open in what could only be shock.

“What is it?” you asked.

Azriel shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it. “Come with me.”

You didn’t try to hide your surprise. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll manage.”

He moved his grip from your wrist to your hand, holding it carefully in his, as he gazed at your face, his eyes pleading. “You won’t survive out here. My home -- it’s safe. You’ll be safe.”

Contemplating this, you tried to weigh your options. You knew he was right, that you wouldn’t make it for much longer alone out here. You could try to make it to another court, but how long would that take? And what would happen to you if you got there? But, his home, the one he claimed was safe… you had never seen anyone like him before. Never seen anyone as intimidating. Finally, you asked. “Who… are you?”

His cheeks dusted red as he seemed to grapple for the right words. “I work for the High Lord of the Night Court,” he said carefully.

Unconsciously, you took a step back, pulling your hand from his grasp.

Azriel’s eyes flared. If you didn’t know better you would think it was panic. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice steady despite his body language.

“The Night Court?” you felt your heart beating faster. Why did your savior have to be from there, of all places? The only thing worse than these woods would be the Court of Nightmares, where not just the High Lord, but the people were brutal and malicious.

“If you just saw it, you would understand,” he said, taking a careful step towards you again. “I will keep you safe, I swear it.” His eyes remained pleading in a way that you couldn’t comprehend.

“Why?” you asked, trying to make sense of this warrior before you. “Why do you care so much?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he said with all the sincerity in the world, “I couldn’t live with myself if I just left you here.”

You sighed, trying to think. As if reading your thoughts he said, “You either trust me or be eaten by something out here.”

He was right. You knew he was. Still, you couldn’t stop the fear that lodged in your throat as you turned back to him and said resignedly, “Okay. Take me with you.”

---

Azriel tried to keep his breathing steady as the two of you made it to the townhouse in Velaris. He knew he would have a lot of explaining to do. 

He watched your eyes widen as you took in the sight around you. Children laughing, people walking and talking, seemingly without a care in the world. A bustling city nestled between the mountains of the Night Court. 

“Where… are we?” you asked. Your voice had not yet risen to a normal volume in the short time that he had known you.

Azriel didn’t know how much to tell you. He would likely already be in hot water just for bringing you here. “The Night Court,” he said, trying to keep his voice bland. “Sort of.”

You gaped at him. 

Azriel winced as you neared the front door. “I hate to do this. But, I need you to wait out here.”

Your eyes only widened. “You’re going to leave me?” 

His heart cracked a bit at your words. “It should only be a few minutes. I told you, it’s safe here.”

You scowled, crossing your arms, but finally said, “Okay.”

Azriel nodded once, took a deep breath, and walked inside. Cassian, Feyre, and Rhysand were all in the living room. Rhys was laughing at something Feyre said. All eyes looked to you as you stepped into the threshold. 

“You’re back early,” Rhys said.

“I need to talk to you,” Azriel said to Rhysand, his voice sounding off, even to his own ears. “Alone.”

The others looked between the two of you curiously. Rhysand rose, masking his surprise, and gestured to his study.

When they were alone, Azriel didn’t know what to say, how to start. Finally, Rhysand had to say “What’s going on, Az?”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “When I got to the Spring Court, there was a woman. Running through the woods, from a bogge.”

“Okay,” Rhys drawled.

“I saved her, obviously. But, Rhys, you should have seen her. She was terrified and alone. I think she’s from the village that Hybern attacked.” 

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Azriel held his gaze. “She’s my mate, Rhys.”

The High Lord swore. “You brought her here, didn’t you?”

“What was I supposed to do? She would’ve died out there.”

Rhysand nodded, processing the information. “It was a risk, bringing her here.”

“I know it was,” Azriel said, unwilling to apologize, not for saving his mate’s life.

Despite the danger Azriel had put them in, Rhysand smiled at his brother. “You found your mate.”

Azriel nodded. He hadn’t really processed the information yet.

“Does she know?” Rhys asked.

“No. She’s going through enough right now.”

Rhysand nodded again. “Just be careful. You know how it went when Feyre found out before I told her.”

“I know.” 

“So,” Rhys said, leaning against his desk. “I guess we let her stay in the House of Wind. She can find her own place later, if she wants.”

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Really.” 

---

True to his word, Azriel was back a few minutes later. You were still shocked, trying to make sense of the day. How could this place be a part of the Night Court?

“I can take you to your room now, if you’re ready,” he said by way of greeting. 

“My room?” What, in his house? 

“Unless you want a tour of the city first? I figured you’d be tired,” he said naturally, as if he were speaking about the weather. 

You couldn’t help but gawk at him. “I get a room?”

“Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Okay,” you said cautiously. “Sure, let’s go to… my room.”

He cleared his throat, taking a tentative step toward you. “We’ll have to fly.”

You just blinked at him. Surely, he didn’t mean…?

He motioned toward you. “May I?”

Resolved, you said, “At this point, why not?” 

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before carefully, he swept you up in his arms, glancing at your face before flapping his mighty wings, taking the two of you up over the city, toward a large mountain.

You clung to him, your stomach twisting in knots, until he landed gently on a balcony on the top of the mountain.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he set you on the ground.

You nodded, looking past him into the formal dining room inside. “Where are we?”

“This is one of the High Lord’s residences in the city. He doesn’t really stay here with us,” he said, opening the door and leading you inside. 

“Us?”

“Me and a few others that you’ll meet. His inner circle.”

Again, you felt that fear spike through your body. The High Lord of the Night Court. His inner circle. What had you gotten yourself into?

As if sensing your fear, he stopped and faced you, looking at you intently. “The stories you’ve heard… they’re not real. At least, not in the context that you think.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to form a response. But, surprisingly, you wanted to trust him, this man who saved your life. 

When he realized that you weren’t going to say anything, he cocked his head, motioning for you to follow him through the house. You silently obeyed, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty hallways. 

Finally, he stopped before a room, shouldering the door open and gesturing for you to step inside first. It was more lavish than any room you’d seen in your village in the Spring Court. The four poster bed was huge in the center of the room. To the right was a sitting area with two chairs and a couch, cozy looking rugs, and through an open door you could see a washroom. It was more inviting than you had expected. 

“Will this be alright?” Azriel asked as you surveyed the room.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, this should be just fine.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m just a few doors down, if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, for the second time that day.

Hesitating by the door, he said, “I thought you’d like some time to unwind. I imagine it’s been quite a day for you.”

You nodded, but couldn’t help the pang you felt at being left alone again. Azriel was starting to feel like all you had in the world. 

After studying you for a beat, he said, “I can come back in an hour? Give you some time to settle in?”

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Okay.”

---

An hour later, Azriel was knocking on your door, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. This morning, he was leaving for the Spring Court to check on how Tamlin had been handling things, and now his mate was staying a few doors down, with no idea where she was or anything about him. 

The breath was knocked right out of him as you opened the door. You had changed into leggings and a sweater, the shape of your legs on full display, your hair, slightly damp, was falling loose in ringlets over your shoulders. 

An angel, he thought. You looked like an angel. 

“I’m glad you gave me that hour,” you admitted, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel felt faint. “I haven’t had a real bath in ages.”

Clarity struck his brain again at the reminder of what you had been through, how you had been living since the attack on your home. His heart ached for you. He wanted to rip Hybern apart with his bare hands.

“Do you want the tour?” he asked, dumbly, trying to stomp down his emotions,

You agreed, and he led you through the halls, the tug in his chest dazing him. He ached to reach for your hand, to bring your body into his. How had Rhys endured all that time with Feyre, feeling like this?

As you walked through the house, you started asking questions, and Azriel answered to the best of his ability. He told you about Velaris, how secret it was, why it had been kept a secret. The Court of Nightmares, the lies they had to spin. He explained that he was the Night Court’s spymaster, explained his shadows, his shadowsinger abilities, his wings. He didn’t give a ton of details, not wanting to overwhelm you, but not wanting to lie either.

You told him of your past, too. Of your life with your family before Hybern, your cottage, your friends. None of them had survived the attack. Azriel clenched his fists as you spoke, marveling at how kind and reserved you were, despite the horrors that you had been through.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the direction of the dining room and he winced. He would have to bring you to dinner, to face the entire group. Azriel knew that Rhys had relayed the information by now about his… guest. That was why they had all insisted on coming to dinner, to scope you out.

He felt guilty about keeping you out of the loop, that everyone would know that you were his mate. But you knew how much pressure could be put on females to give into their mates. He would never do that to you, he wanted you to have a choice. 

He would just have to wait until you were settled, until you knew that you were safe with him. 

You looked at him questioningly, and he simply said, “Are you hungry? It’s almost time for dinner.” 

“Dinner…” you trailed off, a question in your eyes.

“With everyone. Yeah.”

Your eyes widened and he couldn’t help himself. He took your hand in his like he did in the woods, what had made the bond snap into place. “It’ll be okay. They’re good people.”

You looked skeptical, but nodded, moving a bit closer to him. He swore he felt his heart miss a beat. 

Azriel led you to the dining room, still holding your hand. At the threshold of the room, you dropped his hand and stood behind him, peaking around his shoulder at the loud group. He could tell you were frightened, and wanted desperately to hold you, to take the fear away.

He cleared his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked at his friends sternly, willing them to behave, at least for tonight, before he introduced you to them. 

You remained behind him, creeping out the littlest bit, placing your hand gently on his bicep. He looked back at you, trying to calm you down like he had in the woods. 

“Come on,” he murmured, lightly placing his hand on your arm and guiding you to your seat. You followed, your body taut. 

Azriel introduced you to Cassian, Mor, Elain, Nesta, and Amren. You stayed silent, wide eyed, no doubt realizing the power in the people around you. Finally, he gestured to Rhys and Feyre. “And this is the High Lord and Lady.”

Your eyes widened further then, taking in Feyre. “High Lady,” you murmured, in awe. 

Right. The High Lady. Feyre was the one who had tore the Spring Court apart from the inside out. Azriel hadn’t even thought of that, and watched your reaction. 

Feyre smiled at you kindly and Rhys looked extremely proud. “Honestly, that… that’s amazing. A High Lady,” you repeated. Azriel let out the breath he was holding.

“We sure think so,” Rhys smirked, his eyes sliding warmly to Feyre.

Azriel could feel some of the tension leave your body, and he nearly slumped with relief. 

Your reaction seemed to please his friends, too. Azriel couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. 

Throughout the course of dinner, you had remained silent, your doe eyes taking in everything before you. Azriel was hyper aware of you beside him, trying to sense your every reaction. 

After dinner, Azriel walked you back to your room, pausing at the door. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “It’s not what I expected.”

Azriel nodded. “In a good way?”

You smiled lightly up at him. He nearly fell over. “Everyone seems… normal. Like a family.”

Azriel smiled faintly. “They are. We are a family.”

Studying his face, you stayed silent for a moment. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He squeezed your shoulder gently, feeling his heart constrict at your vulnerability. “Sleep well. Come get me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, still smiling slightly as you went inside and gently closed the door behind you.

---

Despite your exhaustion, you lay awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, your mind spinning. A family. That’s what this was, all of these powerful fae in one room, the mightiest warriors, the most fearsome High Lord… talking and teasing and laughing at dinner. 

You had felt Azriel’s eyes on you, gauging your reactions. 

Azriel. He was what was truly keeping you up, you thought. The most beautiful man with the scarred hands and the siphons, you had learned, that helped him harness his unbelievable power, the apparently legendary blade at his side. And yet, the way he watched you, the way his voice changed when he spoke to you…

You couldn’t help but trust him, feeling safe next to him. He had saved your life, after all. It was that thought that was wisping through your mind as you finally drifted off to sleep. 

---

The first night in your new bed, you had slept through the night once you were finally able to sleep, too exhausted from the events of the day to be chased by monsters in your dreams. 

The second night was a different story. 

You didn’t even realize you had been screaming until scarred hands were shaking you awake, hazel eyes so close to yours, full of worry and protectiveness, saying your name over and over until your eyes cleared. 

Azriel’s fingers were rubbing soothing circles on your shoulders. “It’s okay, you’re safe. It was just a dream,” he said softly, cupping your cheek in his rough hand when you had stopped trembling.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked, tears springing to your eyes. 

He gently wiped the tears away with his thumb, not taking his eyes off you for a second. “For what?” his voice was husky from sleep.

“Waking you,” you whispered, captivated by his hands on you, his eyes swimming with emotion. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he said gently, his thumb still absently stroking your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice to be audible enough for him to hear.

“Do you want -- I can stay. If you want. Until you fall back to sleep,” he said hesitantly. You hadn’t known him long, but you imagined it was rare for him to stumble over his words like this.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quietly, though you felt your heart swell at the offer. “I appreciate it, but… I’m sure the spymaster needs sleep.”

The corner of his mouth turned up into a faint smile as he pulled back from you, settling in the armchair against the wall. “I’m used to staying up because I’m the spymaster,” he said, humor lining his voice.

“You’ve already done so much for me--”

His voice was still soft, but added a commanding edge as he cut you off. “Sleep, my lady. I don’t mind.”

You considered protesting again, but knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere. And honestly… it did make you feel better to have his comforting presence in the room, chasing away all of your invisible demons.

---

It didn’t take long for your breathing to go steady, lost in a deep sleep. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to leave you yet, though. 

The sound of your terrified shrieks ran over and over in his mind. He had been protective of people before, of course, but this. The terror he could feel radiating off of you, the tears streaming down your face, the look in your eyes before you realized where you were… his hands gripped the armrests so tightly that he worried you might not have a chair in your room tomorrow. 

He focused on you now: your peaceful face, your hair draped across the pillow, your breathing even. It calmed him down slightly, but not enough.

Azriel wanted to stay. Just to be sure that you were alright, to ensure that he would be able to stop the nightmares before they escalated this time, but he did not want to invade your privacy. He knew that you probably wouldn’t be happy to find him still sitting there in the morning. 

So, after you had been sleeping peacefully for quite some time, he dragged himself out of the chair and silently went to his own room, where he could not sleep at all, those screams rattling around in his mind.

---

Azriel stayed by your side for weeks after you arrived in the Night Court, only leaving, seemingly, when he absolutely had to. The two of you would relax in the library, raid the kitchen, wander around the streets in Velaris that seemed endless to you, in the best way. Despite everything that you had heard of the Night Court and its inhabitants, you were starting to feel at home there. Though you still were extremely intimidated by everyone except Azriel, and couldn’t imagine spending time with any one of them if he wasn’t present. 

Though you were starting to adjust to your new life, you continued to wake Azriel so consistently with your nightmares that you wondered if you should just offer to let him sleep next to you. Of course, you knew you couldn’t possibly do that. Your cheeks flushed at just the thought. Guilt gnawed at you though, for being the reason for his lack of sleep, so much so that you offered to switch rooms, somewhere further from him, but he would hear none of it. Nearly every night he came into your room, shaking you awake, then soothing you back to sleep. You couldn’t imagine how he was functioning on so little rest.

One night was particularly bad. You dreamt of the attack on your village, the bloodshed you saw, the terror you felt. You knew Azriel could sense that it was worse than usual, as he wouldn’t take his soothing hands from your arms until you had stopped trembling, which took significantly longer than it normally did. His eyes were filled with more worry than you had seen before, and when he pulled away from you, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and gently grabbing his wrist. 

His eyes widened a bit in surprise as he turned back to face you, but he said nothing. 

“Can you come here?” Your quiet voice cracked on the last word and his jaw ticked at the sound. 

He approached you slowly, like he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “What can I do?” he murmured. 

“Can you -- I mean, would it be too weird…” you flushed, unable to get the words out.

Comprehension flooded his expression and you were so embarrassed that you wanted to take it all back, but then his eyes softened with so much warmth that you wanted to cry. “You want me to lay with you for a bit?”

You bit your lip. “Would you?”

The ghost of a smile. Your heart melted.

You scooched over to the far side of the bed before he settled into next to you, agonizingly slowly. He faced you, propping his cheek on his fist. “Is this okay?”

You could only nod, concealing half your face with your sheets in an attempt to hide how red your cheeks had no doubt become. The heat radiated off his body, his shadows nowhere to be found in the dim light. 

He smiled faintly as you looked at him. He murmured, “you have to close your eyes to sleep, you know.”

More heat rose to your cheeks. “You could sleep too. You don’t have to stay up and guard me.”

His smile grew. “Isn’t that literally what I’m here for?”

“You’re here for…” you contemplated how much you should tell him. “Your comforting presence,” you finally said. 

“You find my presence comforting?” he said, his voice losing that teasing note he had been using moments before.

“Of course I do,” you said, slightly mesmerized by those hazel eyes that rarely left yours.

His expression was unreadable as he studied you for another moment before laying down and murmuring, “Go to sleep.”

So, you did.

---

Azriel could not sleep.

His mate. His mate, who flooded his thoughts day in and day out, whose tug on him drove him mad every waking moment, was in bed with him. And she had no idea what she was. Or what he desperately wanted to do to her.

Your comforting presence. 

The words drifted around his mind ceaselessly. He was willing to bet that his mate was one of the only people who would ever feel that way. Most people feared him, or were at least wary of the near-silent shadowsinger.

But, his mate… 

Azriel’s eyes whipped to you as your breathing changed, ready to wake you up again if need be. He watched the rise and fall of your chest carefully, before it evened out again and he relaxed back against the mattress. 

He would have to tell you. Soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this, without having any idea how you felt about him. 

He thought of you, as he always did lately, when he finally drifted off to sleep. 

---

Strong arms were holding you when you awoke. Before you were fully conscious, you snuggled further into the warmth. Mother only knew how long it had been since you had felt that safe. 

It wasn’t until you heard the grumble of a sleepy male behind you that your eyes sprung open and you realized where you were. You were in your bed, faint sunlight shining through the curtains. And the shadowsinger was behind you, his arms wrapped around your middle, your bodies flush together, his breath tickling your neck. 

You were spooning. Azriel was spooning you. 

And he wasn’t awake yet.

Mother above and Cauldron save me.

Should you pull away? You didn’t exactly want to. And it had been so long since he had gotten a good night’s rest, thanks to you. 

Selfishly, you couldn’t bear to leave those arms. So, you did what any rational person would do. You pretended you were still asleep and savored the feeling of the strong warrior’s body pressed against yours.

It was a little while later when he shifted and stiffened. He was awake. 

Carefully, he untangled himself from you, backing up to where he had started the night. After a moment, you turned around, to face him, feigning grogginess. 

He was gazing at you, his expression more open than you had ever seen it. His eyes swimmed with something that looked like longing. Or maybe that’s just what you hoped it was.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. It made your toes curl beneath the sheets.

“I slept really well, actually,” you said, honestly. “Did you get to sleep?”

He nodded, his expression smoothing back to that unreadable blankness. 

“Thank you for staying,” you said softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I don’t know what I would do without you, either.”

You sat up a bit, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Me? What do you mean?”

He furrowed his brow, as if he were contemplating whether to tell you something or not. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked. 

He swallowed, his jaw clenched slightly. “There’s something I should tell you.”

You just waited, gazing at that beautiful face.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes not wavering from yours, he said, “That day, when I touched you in the woods, I realized that you’re my mate.”

If you weren’t in your bed, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Your heart started pounding and you sat up fully, now very aware of the thin night clothes you were wearing. 

Azriel sat up too, studying, trying to gauge your reaction. 

“That’s why you were so adamant about bringing me with you,” you said quietly, your mind reeling. 

He nodded. “To be fair, I might have done that anyway, but… yes. I couldn’t leave you there.”

You watched his hazel eyes looking back at you. You had been right before, you could see that now. He wanted you. Longed to be close to you. 

“That’s why I feel so connected to you,” you whispered, noting that tug in your chest that is always leading you to him. “Why you always make me feel so safe.”

His expression flooded with emotion. “You really feel that way around me?”

“Of course I do. Since the very beginning,” you said, inching closer to him, so your legs were almost touching. You couldn’t quite believe it. 

Azriel was your mate. The sweet, mysterious, strong spymaster from the Night Court who saved your life. Who had given you a home.

He was your home, you realized with a start. 

“Are you…happy?” Azriel asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. 

He had been worried, you realized. Worried that you would be upset, or wouldn’t return his feelings. 

Without a word, you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him.

You felt the relief rush through his body as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. You settled on his lap, straddling him, deepening the kiss. 

He moaned quietly into your mouth as he slipped his tongue inside and you tightened your grip on him, raking your nails down his back. You felt his hardness pressing against your leg, and flushed at that feeling of being wanted.

His rough hands trailed up your bare thighs, toying with the hem of your nightdress. He stopped kissing you long enough to pull back, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded, smiling, and kissed him fiercely before he slowly pulled the dress up and over your head, his eyes raking your body, now completely bare save for your underwear.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling, before he kissed sensually down your neck. Then lower and lower…

You gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth, biting gently before soothing over the peak with his tongue. 

“Azriel,” you moaned, and he growled in response, tightening an arm around your waist and flipping you onto your back, pressing your body into the mattress with his.

“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice husky, desperate. He toyed with one of your breasts while he devoured your neck, biting and licking and kissing.

“What… what was the question?” you panted, your mind spinning. 

He laughed into your skin, low and sensual, making your back arch. “Are you happy?”

You took your face in his hands, guiding him to look at you. His fingers stopped, his eyes open and yearning. “I’m home, Az. You’re my home. I’ve never been happier.”

His smile lit up his entire face, and he kissed you sweetly. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he murmured. 

He continued kissing you slowly and lovingly before the two of you got heated again. You tugged at his shirt and he helped you peel it off. He leaned against you, and you reveled in the feeling of his skin against yours, the feel of his muscled back under your fingers.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as he kissed down your body while sliding your panties down your legs, eventually settling his face in between your legs, his mouth hovering an inch from where you needed him. 

“Az,” you groaned, twining your fingers in his hair. 

You could’ve sworn you heard a soft grunt before his mouth connected with your center and you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. 

“We’re the only ones here, you know,” he said, eyeing you mischievously, sliding a finger into you while his mouth was occupied.

“Meaning?” you panted.

He smirked, sliding another finger into you. You gasped, your back arching off the mattress. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he said, his voice velvet. 

Before you could react, he ducked his head back down, sucking hard on your clit, while pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

You couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from you, tugging at his hair, pulling him further into you.

Laughing into your skin, he splayed his free hand over your stomach to stop your squirming and continued devouring you.

Eventually, you needed more. “Azriel?” 

“Hmm?” he hummed against you, his mouth still working.

“If you don’t take your pants off right now, I might die,” you said, your voice breathy.

He finally took his mouth off you, leaning his head back and laughing louder than you’d ever seen from him. The sound was deep, filling the room. It made your heart swell.

Sliding off the bed, his eyes laser focused on you, he said “I suppose I can’t allow that, can I?” 

He held your gaze as he slowly slid his pants off. When he was naked before you, he stalked towards you, his eyes predatory. 

You gulped, trying not to show how surprised you were at the size of him.

Azriel was smirking, more smug than you’d ever seen him. He placed his elbows on either side of your head, hovering over you. “Was there something you wanted?” he teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge.

You scowled at him and he grinned. “You know what I want,” you groaned.

He cocked his head, feigning ignorance. 

“You were so much nicer before,” you mumbled, still trying and failing to pull his muscled body on top of yours. 

Leaning his lips down so they were hovering just over yours, he whispered, “I want you to say it.”

Your mouth fell open. “I can’t,” you squeaked.

He smirked. “I’m your mate. You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you looked to the ceiling, unable to look him in the eyes. “I want you.”

“You already have me,” he said, lightly nipping at your throat. “What do you want me to do?”

“Azriel.”

He laughed lightly. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to take a guess then.” 

Before you could respond, he slid into you, groaning as he did so. 

He leaned his forehead against yours, forcing you to look up at him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him, saying “Did I guess correctly?”

Biting your lip, you nodded and he grinned. 

“Ready for more?”

You groaned in response, unable to speak.

Slowly, he started moving in and out of you. The two of you moaned in unison.

He groaned, “You feel --”

“So good,” you finished, and he let out a breathy laugh, moving his hips faster. 

Azriel was gazing at you with so much love and affection as he was thrusting into you, you could barely breathe. You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against your mouth, his breathing ragged. 

You couldn’t believe you had eternity to do this with your mate. 

---

Azriel did not leave your bedroom that day. Frankly, he never wanted to leave it again.

He knew he probably could’ve kept going long into the night, but he could tell that you needed a break, so the two of you had settled against the pillows. You were now asleep, your head on his chest, your fingers lightly gripping his waist. 

His heart swelled as he lightly ran his fingers through your hair, savoring the feeling of being in love and having you close to him. 

He never wanted to let go.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

famous last words, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mention of namjoon x reader

summary: Words that should be written in your obituary but probably won't be: “How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?” Clever, right? No? Neither is fucking a stranger who bursts into tears within the first ten minutes of meeting each other. Ah. Well. Guess those will be your famous last words.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; what should be a simple task ends with fucking no one saw that coming, hehe, get it?; mentions of infidelity / recent break-up / JK crying Q_Q; angst + comfort; smut (fem reader, dom!reader x sub!JK, nipple play, scratching, hair-pulling kink, cock-and-ball torture (dick slapping, ball slapping / squeezing, etc), m-receiving oral, handjob, spit kink, edging / orgasm denial, 69); non-idol!AU, ft next-door neighbor!Kim Namjoon

--

Somebody much wiser than you once said, don’t speak into existence the truth, for it will inevitably prove you right sooner rather than later, or something equally as pompous-sounding, but clearly you never got the memo as you rotted away on your sofa, staring at the red bubble of your unread messages, muttering under your breath, “Surely not every social interaction I have will end in sex,” and yet you still did not open the application. You were saying this to absolutely no one, by the way. You were the only occupant in your apartment.

Some would say by choice.

You would agree wholeheartedly.

What?

Before you could get on that mental hamster wheel, your phone started vibrating in your hand. For a split second, you debated on not answering it, however, the caller was listed under his full name in your phone. That meant it was either your boss or someone of equal importance. Or someone who would not be calling unless it was rather serious. Thus, with a sigh, you pressed the green button to accept the call with a bland, noncommittal, “Hello?”

Depending on the nature of the call, you would decide on how currently busy you were.

“Ah, hello! I’m so sorry to be calling right now,” came the slightly frantic and strangely relieved voice of Kim Namjoon, you next-door neighbor. He fumbled with the words and asked if it was, in fact, you, to which you confirmed, “Unfortunately, still alive and kicking.” This made him laugh for some reason. Perhaps it was your dry delivery. Or because he was nervous, which was a hilarious thought, as Namjoon was over one-hundred eighty centimeters tall with imposing broad shoulders and the chest of an ox. He had said something before about how he used physical exercise as a coping mechanism. For what? Impeding existential crisis from being highly educated? A question of another time.

You snapped out of your sidetracking as Namjoon said, “I was going to text you but then I remembered you said if it was important to call instead.”

You recalled the angry red bubble of unread messages. “Yes, the call was the right move,” you agreed. “Is something wrong? Have you locked yourself out of your apartment again?”

Indeed, there was a reason you had Kim Namjoon’s number. Because despite his towering frame and heavy canvas bags full of self-help books, you had previously found him sitting outside his apartment, looking like a dejected puppy, said canvas bags tucked around him, his pockets inside-out. At first, you weren’t going to ask – quite frankly you weren’t about the people-person life – but it would be a bit weird to just ignore the giant dejected puppy slouched against the unit next to yours. So, you inwardly sighed and walked up to him, asking why he was camping out at his front door.

He had locked himself out.

You nearly facepalmed. This late at night? Of course, the leasing office wasn’t open at this hour. Security didn’t have keys to the tenants’ apartments for safety reasons. You had debated on leaving him there, but it was too late, you had already asked what was wrong and now Kim Namjoon was doing that polite thing of saying he didn’t want to be any trouble, that he would be fine, and before you could remember to be rude, you had invited a stranger into your apartment to rot on your sofa, at least until the next morning when someone could let him into his apartment. Foolishly brave on your part. He could have been a serial killer. Could have bludgeoned you to death with those bags of books, which, considering the current trajectory of the world…

Never mind.

In any case, you didn’t feel threatened. Namjoon had those soulful eyes and double cheek dimples when he smiled, so the probability of homicidal psychosis was pretty low. And you were right. He was just forgetful. How he stayed alive this long was beyond you. Namjoon was the most incapable capable person you had ever met. He was a whiz with public transportation, bus and train. Had a bicycle when he needed it. He didn’t own a car for the good of the people (his words). The second time he had locked himself out, you had joked to Namjoon that he fuckin’ owed you. The third time, you had forced him to make you an extra key and gave him your number so he could call you to let him into his own apartment. He had felt like he owed you and, even though you told him that it would be more than enough if he simply learned to remember his damn apartment key for once, he had taken you out to dinner to make up for it, which surely explained how you ended up in bed with him the next morning.

Listen.

It wasn’t that serious. Really. There was nothing brewing here except wine-induced impulse and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. But all that might explain the awkward laughing. Not because anyone was harboring any secret feelings, just mostly because he was about to ask you for a weirder favor. Sucking his dick again would probably be a more expected ask than what he was about to say next.

“Ahaha, no, um…”

You could hear loud thump-thump noises on the other side of the line. No, not familiar thump-thump noises. You frowned. Was that the boom-boom of bass?

“Actually, I’m by the coast right now. I’m at a welcome party for a wedding of one of my closest friends. Er, what I mean to say is that I’m not close to my apartment right now,” Namjoon rambled, making you stretch your ears to understand. “I’m a couple hours away by train, it’s late, I thought about maybe trying to make it to and back, but I–”

“With all due respect,” you interrupted, realizing he was tipsy, over-polite, and overexplaining. “Can you tell me what you need me to do?”

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” his deep voice quickly apologized. “Could you open the door for my friend when he drops by?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, I guess.”

Before you could ask what said friend looked like, Namjoon let out a whoosh of relief. “Oh, thank you. Thanks a lot. Um, if you could…? Please be nice to him.”

“Have you known me to be a rude person?” you inquired impassively.

He glossed over your question like a champ. “It’s… Complicated. He found out tonight his longtime girlfriend was cheating on him. I wish I could be there. He might not seem like it, but I know he’s very emotional right now. I told him to crash at my place, but if something seems amiss, please let me know, okay? I’m worried about him. I thought about going back, but I’m in the wedding party and…”

Despite everything within you being completely and utterly disinterested in babysitting a grown man with hurt feelings and probably a temporary poor perspective of women, your mouth was saying, “I’ll take care of it, Namjoon. And I will call you if I think it is necessary. You know I won’t let anything get out of hand. What’s his name? What does he look like?”

Twenty minutes later of you standing in Kim Namjoon’s beige apartment inspecting his rather impressive bonsai collection – something you had sadly missed the last time you were here as the living room was not the focus of the night – you heard the panicked smashing of the doorbell, indicating your visitor. You put a little more perk in your step and hurried to the door, opening it to the blubbering mess that was Jeon Jungkook.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

From your side, you were looking at a rather disheveled man with wide bloodshot eyes, puffy cheeks, and windswept ear-length black hair clutching two big silver suitcases and a huge black duffel bag that looked like he had stuffed every skeleton of his closet into it. He was wearing a big white t-shirt with a big wet spot down the collar, torn-up slate blue jeans that appeared to have come that way, and untied white sneakers that had seen the streets of Seoul way too many times. As Namjoon had informed you earlier, his right arm was covered in dark and colorful tattoos, all the way to his hand, including a crown on his index finger. His big, dark brown eyes were pools of hurt and sadness that quickly twisted into confusion as he saw you. You suddenly realized how this looked to him. From his side, the door of one his best male friends had opened to a woman wearing flared black pajama shorts and a loose white tank top with a single red chili pepper embroidered in the center of the chest.

Which could mean a lot of things.

Or nothing.

“Jeon Jungkook?” you asked as a greeting.

“Uh… Y-Yeah…”

His voice cracked and he shook like a shaken leaf in the last days of autumn.

You waved him in. “Namjoon-ah let me know to expect you. Come in.”

He hesitated. Reasonably so. His ears were red, maybe from running, but a deep flush was developing on his cheeks. You could tell he was feeling somewhat embarrassed about it all. He had a youth about him, both in naïveté and in the anxiety of being ashamed at his emotional state. You softened. You didn’t comment on it. Instead, you said, “I’ll make you some tea. The bathroom is around the corner if you would like to freshen up. Don’t stand out here.”

There was a flash of defiance in his gaze, but it died when you didn’t react in a hostile manner. You simply moved out of the way, holding the door open for him. After an awkward shuffle and dance, Jeon Jungkook and his excessive amount of luggage was in the apartment. You closed the front door behind him, locking it.

“Did…”

His voice cracked. Distraught, he looked away and you politely stared vacantly in the other direction. A little part of you had wondered if Namjoon had put you in an unsafe situation – after all, you knew him but not his friends – yet upon seeing Jungkook, you were getting domestic pet vibes again. Puppy, or perhaps the big-eyed, trembling upper lip expression was giving bunny. He didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe you were being too trusting. Eh. Only one way to found out.

“Did Namjoon-hyung tell you…?”

Your eyes flickered to him. He was staring down at the floor. Damn. You could tell he was trying to put on a brave front as if his face wasn’t splotchy and his t-shirt wasn’t soaked in tears, but it was weak. Broken. He might be a stranger, but his current state was familiar enough to anyone who had experienced crushing disappointment. That was a lot of people, including you.

“That you were staying a while? Yup. Although he didn’t tell me where the spare towels were,” you added distractedly, crossing your arms. “He just told me you could use anything. But now that I think about it, you wouldn’t want to use his bath towel, no matter how close you two are. Hmmmm. I’ll go looking while you get settled then.”

“Are you… his girlfriend?”

You stiffened. You glanced at Jungkook, who was giving you a scrutinizing and halfway-jealous glare. You grimaced, shaking your head.

“No, I’m not. I’m the next-door neighbor. Which, contrary to what bad porn storylines might lead you to believe, does not equate to relationship material. Just a convenient person to ask to keep your spare house key when you constantly forget it,” you lightheartedly replied. “Which is a lot of the time, when you’re Kim Namjoon.”

Jungkook relaxed a bit, but he was still giving you that guarded expression. You realized he must have noticed that you were using rather familiar terms for Namjoon, which was the natural progression after the whole getting naked and sixty-nine-ing incident that he was very likely unaware of. Uh. You sort of hoped he would accept the neighbor explanation, because there was truly not much more to it. You probably wouldn’t have even done it if Namjoon hadn’t spoken so miserably about his last breakup, how he had felt so unloved and like he never mattered, and maybe you had been trying to convince him he did matter, even if only for a fleeting moment, which said a lot about your preferred coping mechanism versus his.

But.

Anyway. Haha. This wasn’t going to become a pattern. Surely.

Ahem.

“I’m sorry…”

You blinked. “Pardon?”

The not-so-strange stranger clutched his duffel bag, fidgeting, his face scrunching up, unable to look directly at you. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Jungkook shuddered, tensing up. His shaking voice struggled to hold itself together. “I… It’s late… I couldn’t… I drove, my parents live in Busan, dunno if I could… I didn’t want to trouble… I’m so worthless…”

“You drove in this state?” you cut in sharply. You snapped your jaw shut, not wanting to scold him. His face looked stricken. Well, you’d been called heartless before, but you didn’t claim the title yourself. You calmed your tone. “Hey, I’m not here to judge you. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. This is a safe place. I’m just here to prepare you a cup of hot tea. Maybe heat up some hotteok if I can find any in the freezer. Or I can leave you alone, right now, if you promise not to do anything stupid before your friend comes back.”

For a moment, Jungkook didn’t say anything. He was taller, bigger, more muscular than you, but he seemed small right now. The world stilled.

“Be honest… Do I seem like a pathetic man?” he asked in a broken whisper.

You looked at his frail form and answered rather confidently.

“Do pathetic men have the self-awareness to call themselves pathetic?”

Those big bloodshot eyes rose to meet your wry smile.

“Just be sad in peace. Emotions are not an attack on your masculinity.”

You spotted the flash of defiance once again. “What would you know?” Jungkook snapped. Then you could tell he instantly regretted it, shrinking back slightly. He didn’t apologize though. You waited. Minutes passed. The timing became awkward. His eyes shifted, lips quivering, trying to get the words out. You thought about forcing it out of him, but you let him have this one.

“I’m not against you,” you reminded him quietly.

“S… Sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “It’s… My girlfriend… um, ex… ex-girlfriend. Cheated on me.”

You could tell it hurt him to even say it out loud. His voice was thick and on the brink of tears.

“I… I was going to ask her to…”

He fell apart before your eyes.

“…To m-marry me.”

Jungkook sank to the floor and cried.

You didn’t know what to do.

Well, you did know what to do. It was a matter of whether or not to do it. You had only known Jeon Jungkook for less than ten minutes after all. You hadn’t even known he existed until barely thirty minutes ago. And you didn’t know if he wanted to be consoled by an almost stranger, as he had been holding back this entire time, albeit poorly and without experienced restraint, but who could blame him, his world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.

Yeah.

His world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.

It was entirely possible that Jungkook would recoil from you, and validly so. You knelt anyway, not yet saying anything. It was pointless to tell him not to cry, for he was already crying. Hell, you would cry too if your innocence was still intact. Deep down, you were glad that he was. It showed that he still believed enough to shed tears over a moment called love. Besides, sadness was better than misplaced anger.

You reached towards him and experimentally placed your hand on his shoulder.

What should have felt solid felt so very breakable under your palm.

“You don’t have to say any more,” you reminded him quietly.

His face was buried in his duffel bag, covered by his arms. A sob ravaged his entire body, possessing him with emotion. Frustration and sadness and regret and shame and self-blame, maybe warranted, maybe not. He was saying something, wetly, something about being not enough, not deserving, unable to make anyone stay. It was a jumbled, anguished mess. You didn’t refute any of his cries, because they were more for him than they were for you to respond to, and because you weren’t even sure he meant to be this vulnerable. You were sure that, at some point in the future, he would no longer relate to any of the statements he was declaring now, but he just didn’t know and couldn’t believe that yet so there was no point in saying it now.

You weren’t good at this kind of stuff, but you simply said what you told yourself when you were in a similar low point.

“These might be your consequences, but these consequences don’t have to define who you are.”

It was several more minutes of sniffing and clutching his duffel bag. You could tell the tears were subsiding though. It could have been what you said. Or it could have been him remembering you were there next to him. A woman he didn’t know was witnessing his breakdown. You almost pulled your hand away, but you sensed a ripple of discomfort in his demeanor, as if to ask, are you ashamed of me? The thought stayed in your mind. You shifted your hand and gently rubbed his upper back.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” you suggested softly, not leaning too close but close enough to be there as a physical presence. “Get into some fresh clothes. I’ll find a towel for you. Take your time. If you still want that cup of tea, I’ll be here to get that ready too.”

It was not your nature to give s single shit about a stranger.

It didn’t seem to be Jeon Jungkook’s nature to accept help either, and yet you felt those strong shoulders slump under your palm, giving up.

“O… Okay….”

-

You rapped your knuckle against the bathroom door.

“Hey, I’m going to put the towel by the sink and leave,” you called, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the falling water. “Take your ti–”

Everything happened very quickly.

You turned the knob with one hand as the other was holding the fluffy white bath towel you had found in the linen closet. Steam poured from the crack through the door, and you felt the heat before you felt the dampness of it. You heard the water shut off. You froze. And then, all of a sudden, the door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a dripping, wide-eyed, unquestionably naked Jeon Jungkook.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

Was it something about doors or was it something about your poor timing? Perhaps he hadn’t heard you. You were looking up, at his face, by instinct. Droplets clung to his cheekbone and jaw. His black hair was flat against his head and did absolutely nothing in blocking those big dark brown pools of shock who really should not be shocked since he had opened the door on you. Unless he hadn’t known. But then why would he open the door trailing water everywhere butt-ass-naked knowing full well a stranger was somewhere on the other side?

Your eyes narrowed.

His ears were turning red.

The more you looked at his expression, the less you felt that he was inclined to move, hide himself, or literally anything else that would obviously provide the perception that he didn’t orchestrate this moment to some extent. Which is a lot of words to say – he had known you were there. He had opened the door on purpose. As this epiphany dawned on you, you saw his eyes dart. Flutter. He might have known but he hadn’t planned much else after that. You wondered what kind of reaction he had been trying to illicit by this, but the more time that elapsed and the more you thought about it, the more you understood that he was trying to do something reckless on purpose or worse.

Which would make you unintentional – or intentional – collateral to his current skewed judgement.

You didn’t like that.

You unfurled the towel and held it up lengthwise, pinching it by the two upper corners and continued directly staring into Jungkook’s face. With this action, he clearly caught on that you were catching on.

You saw him hold his breath.

You did not look down.

Oh, there were definitely things to look at. Even the hint of his defined shoulders and the toned upper half of his pecs was enough to give anyone a reason to look. But you didn’t, because that was basically the same as taking advantage of a drunk person. Although you didn’t really have qualms about giving the middle finger to other faux pas, questionable consent wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t thinking straight right now or, rather, you had no reason to believe that he was thinking straight because who the fuck is trying to sex up their friend’s next-door neighbor that they just met? He had just been cheated on.

So.

For revenge?

You pressed the corners of the towel to Jungkook’s wet shoulders and curled your fingers around them, touching his skin.

His inhale caught.

He stared into your eyes.

You dummy bunny, you thought.

His body was warm, and he was trembling. You still didn’t look down. You probably would have seen some things. Or one very obvious tent. In any case, you leaned in, not breaking eye contact. Jungkook seemed to realize that your approach was not giving what he thought he was going to be getting. Strangely, you could see a mixture of relief and disappointment in his expression. As if he was glad that you weren’t that kind of person, but also upset that the mere sight of his bare-and-available body couldn’t break your demeanor, somehow making him less in his own eyes.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, though. You’d seen all this shit before.

Maybe even been on his side of it.

Teenagers, right? No? Oh. Anyway.

He smelled clean. Herbal. A hint of yuzu. You synchronized your breathing to his. He didn’t seem to notice, but the shallowness waned. Dampness seeped to your palms. You felt him relax slightly, realizing you weren’t about to have an angry outburst at his appearance or his choice of, ahem, confrontation.

You stared into his eyes.

“You look better when you’re not crying,” you commented.

Jungkook flushed a little. There was good-naturedness in his awkward laugh though. “Uh… Thanks? I’d… I’d hope so…”

Your face was close to his. He seemed to notice it now. You let him have this suspended moment of heated wonder. You smiled at him.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” you asked.

A borrowed towel hung between his wet, naked body and your dry, clothed one.

His eyes held more life to them than before. “Ah… Yeah. Yes. If… If it’s not too much trouble,” he trailed off, embarrassment creeping into the timbre of his voice. “I don’t know… I dunno if there’s any hotteok.”

You held the edges of the towel. “I’ll look,” you reassured him.

He wasn’t looking away.

Your hair was messy from laying around all evening. You weren’t wearing any makeup because, again, it was evening and you weren’t expecting to leave your home. Your face might have been puffy from the salty soup of your dinner earlier in the night but, then again, there was always a little roundness to your cheeks. But Jungkook was observing your face very closely, and you were starting to think it wasn’t because of your appearance.

Or maybe it was.

You cut into his personal space just a little bit more.

“You need to hold onto the towel,” you advised.

Realization lit his ears bright red. You sensed his hands flying up, splaying over the soft white towel and pinning it to his chest, but you weren’t focused on that. You barely noticed. Instead, you were raising your eyebrows at the sound that came out of him.

Almost.

A whimper?

The moment hung into the air.

He knew you heard. You were still holding onto his shoulders. It wasn’t weird. You caught the look in his eyes. Well. You breathed out silently, backing away so he couldn’t feel the weight of your exhale. You had a task. Right. Your eyes connected for a split second. He saw something in yours that you didn’t conceal fast enough. You turned quickly, walking out of the hallway. Here you were, going out of your way for someone you barely knew. Make the tea, find a snack, get out, you told yourself, creating the mental checklist. He probably wanted to be alone to brood and all that. Yeah.

You made your way to the kitchen. Raised your hand to open the cupboards to begin your search for consumable comfort and noticed you were trembling. You frowned.

You smacked the back of your hand.

The shakes disappeared with the sting.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, and prepared the damn cup of tea.

-

Thankfully, the following encounter with Jeon Jungkook didn’t involve a door and an awkward stare-down. You were beginning to think it was going to become a pattern, but thankfully it was only correlation, not causation.

Instead, now the two of you were awkwardly at Kim Namjoon’s kitchen counter. Him sitting. You standing. He was staring at the cup of tea and two circles of pan-warmed hotteok with tears in his eyes.

Improvement.

You cleaned up after yourself quietly, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable by you watching him eating, but you noticed he wasn’t touching the food or drink. After what seemed like an eternity of gazing into the abyss, he gulped down a lungful of air and closed his eyes. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt and a pair of loose blue plaid cotton pants. His hair was still a little damp. As you washed the frying pan, you saw Jungkook scoot closer to the counter and nibble on the hotteok.

Whew.

He jolted a bit at the temperature of the tea but didn’t complain. You wiped down the counters and busied yourself in making sure everything was how you found it. Acquainting yourself with Namjoon’s kitchen was easier than acknowledging the heaviness in the room right now. Not quite between you and Jungkook, but, well, the circumstances in him being here in the first place.

You turned around, washcloth in hand.

Jungkook turned slightly, reached down, and pulled his hand up.

Your eyes immediately followed the movement, even before your registered the emotion in his eyes.

With a sharp snap, a small jewelry box now sat on the grey granite.

Namjoon’s kitchen was set in a C-shape. The refrigerator and stove on one wall, sink and cabinets on another, and an extension entering the living space that doubled as more countertop area that could accommodate two barstools. You had been a little surprised at how little there was in the kitchen, as there had been no special kitchen gadgets or appliances. Just the basics. Still, it was a small space. So, there you were, boxed in the kitchen, looking down at an emerald velvet jewelry box, and Jungkook was on the other side of the counter, chewing on his sweet snack, and looking down at it with you.

You glanced at him.

Emotionless, he reached over. The snake tattoo on his right wrist was what you fixated on, dark and winding and coiled, and you watched his forearm muscle underneath ripple as he cracked open the box, revealing a ring.

An engagement ring, you guessed.

He sat back, hollow.

You looked down at it.

The focal point was a round, clear stone. It didn’t quite hold the intense, prismatic sparkle of diamond, but it was large. Several carats mounted on a shining yellow gold band. Expensive, yet not extravagant or gaudy. Classic. You searched Jungkook’s body language to see if he wanted some type of reaction out of you, but he simply looked deflated. Out of it. Chewing and swallowing and taking another bite until all of the hotteok was gone. He drank the tea as the engagement ring glittered between you and him, now in Namjoon’s apartment, oblivious that it would never grace the hand of its intended owner.

“I hid it in the pocket of the pajama pants I’m wearing now.”

You almost didn’t register that Jungkook was talking because he sounded nearly robotic. Dissociated.

“I didn’t have to worry about her finding it. I always did the laundry. She hated doing laundry.”

You lived alone, so whether or not you hated doing laundry was irrelevant. You still had to do it. Hating it only made the chore worse. Hating doing the dishes was allowed because the dishwasher could do all the hard work for you. Not that any of this mattered. You were trying to mentally distract yourself to avoid interrupting him or forming any opinion.

“I didn’t mind though,” he continued, looking somewhere only he knew. “I like cleaning. I’m good at it.”

You weren’t sure if you liked this version of Jeon Jungkook speaking in complete sentences. His detached tone was becoming disconcerting. He looked somewhere between falling apart at any given moment and hurling the mug in his hand with a torn scream.

“She told me something once. About how my birthstone and her birthstone are the same. Sapphire.” You did the math. September children. Christmas-to-New-Years boinking for their parents. You tried not to grimace so Jungkook wouldn’t notice, although he was rambling to himself and had probably forgotten that you were right there. “I don’t know about that stuff but she showed me and I guess it’s true. I didn’t know they had white sapphires. The jeweler told me they were associated to new beginnings. Perfect for the start of a martial journey, he said. I thought that would be nice, and I could afford a bigger stone too. Girls like that, right? I don’t know. Once I got it, I thought, wow. It would look perfect on her hand. She could show it to all her friends every time she goes out. She loved going out and doing stuff. I stopped going because I felt like I was invading on her special time with friends. Or something. I trusted her, anyway. Right? I should. She…”

His head moved, his dark eyes shifting.

You raised your head, and he breathed out, gazing at you from far away.

“It was my fault,” he said, his voice cracking.

You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about the situation but I kinda doubt it.”

He looked down. “It must have been. I was too suffocating, she said. Too clingy. Her friends thought I acted too childish. She told me not to care… I could tell she cared. Two years. What was it for?”

You wished you had a good answer for him, if only to ease his misery. The best you could do was continue listening.

“I found out by accident,” Jungkook whispered. Small but enough for you to hear. “She didn’t mind if I touched her phone. She was sleeping, and it kept ringing. I took it to another room and turned off the sound, but someone kept calling. Wouldn’t stop. I knew the guy’s name. I remembered her talking about him before. She had a couple guy friends. She always talked about them just as much as her female friends. I never liked it, but I have to be a grown up about it, right? And then her KaokaoTalk started popping off. She didn’t have an existing thread with the guy. Weird. I didn’t mean to read the messages, but they kept coming one after another, it was just…”

His eyes hollowed again. He was reliving it. Second by second. Minute by minute. Pain clouded his expression. His voice became tight. His hand on the mug clutched hard, knuckles tense.

“He kept warning her he would tell me. Tell everyone. I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t believe it. Then my phone started going off. Screenshot after screenshot. Messages. Photos. Videos. And she was asking him in all of them. Initiating. Begging. Then her phone was going off again, all the other chats she had. Like a fucking bomb went off.” He seethed, dark brows furrowing, jaw tightening. But then a strange look superseded all of the anger, replacing it with emptiness. “And all at once I felt it.”

He raised his head and looked…

Guilty?

“Empty.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“Nothing,” Jungkook repeated, exhaling hard. “Just nothing. I didn’t feel anything for her. How fucking scary is that? Did I even love her at all? One moment I felt anger, betrayal, hatred. And the next, I felt nothing. I wish I could delete it all. Everything. She had moved into my place, but I don’t even want to look at that apartment anymore. I don’t want the furniture. I don’t want to walk down that street. I’ll pay until the lease is up but I just don’t want to be there. I packed my clothes, my game consoles, my equipment, but anything we shared I left because I don’t want to fucking see any of it. She woke up while I was packing. Trying to act all sweet and surprised. I just shoved her phone in her face and let her deal with that. She was yelling at me, saying all kinds of bullshit, trying to take stuff from my hands, and I told her not to fucking touch me and not to fucking speak to me ever again.”

Well.

Shit.

He glanced at you again. Apologetic.

“Sorry. I’m a bad person. I’m sorry you had to help me…”

You blinked at him.

He couldn’t raise his head.

“You sure about that?” you asked the silence.

His eyes shifted but didn’t rise. “What?”

“You sure I don’t help bad people on the regular?”

He lifted his head and frowned at you, searching your face. You didn’t elaborate. Your hands were on the edge of the counter, away from the sparkly trinket at the center, a symbol of something shattered still so pristine, then it was an empty plate, empty cup, and finally Jungkook, his features contorted, trying to understand what you were saying.

Good luck, because you mostly said it to break him out of his self-pity party. Although, all things considered, it wasn’t a lie. How many good people were there on this forsaken planet, truly? Meh.

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “I don’t know anything about you.”

You shrugged and figured that was it.

“So, tell me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His brow furrowed defiantly. “Yeah. Tell me.” He repeated himself, sharper this time. You made a face at him. He remained stubborn. “I told you about my life. What about yours?”

You weren’t impressed by his delusions. “Uh, unsolicited, by the way. I didn’t ask. You’re the one who started yapping.”

Jungkook blinked at you, startled by your dismissive tone or perhaps your word choice. You folded the washcloth primly and scrutinized him back. He faltered under your gaze, looking down at the empty light blue plate. There were a few tiny crumbs left, but its purpose had already been served.

“R… Right. Sorry.”

A little thought in the back of your mind nagged you. Please be nice to him. Namjoon’s words rang in your ear. You winced, and Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, too busy being ashamed for himself. There was a brief mental tug of war within yourself before you finally said, “I’m not currently dating anyone.”

His form ruffled a bit but it wasn’t much.

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ve had a couple of serious boyfriends,” you admitted. “But they didn’t work out for one reason or another. Nothing dramatic. For example, one of them we simply broke up because his parents hated me.”

“Why?” He perked up and was looking at you now.

You twisted your lip. “Because I’m a whore,” you sneered.

Jungkook blinked at you, taken aback.

“Anyway,” you continued, glossing over it. “It’s not for me.”

“What isn’t?”

“Romance.”

“Why?”

You narrowed your eyes and then sighed. What an exchange. “Because what I want is not something other people want.”

“What do you want?” Jungkook followed up, curious, sitting up in his chair now. “What’s different?”

You rubbed the back of your head. “Different…” You mulled over the word. You looked down at the ring between you and him. “What is this ring to you?”

His eyes followed, downcast. “Uh… well… it means I want to be married…?”

“That you want other people to know, hey, that’s my future wife?”

Something flashed over his expression but disappeared just as quickly. “Yeah. I guess.”

The ring shone, its many facets silvery and sparkling.

“Well, I want to have sex,” you professed.

On cue, Jungkook tore his eyes away from the counter to gawk, startled at your forwardness. You made eye contact. Half-smiled. What? He had a cute face.

“Most people have sex because of what sex means. Then there are people like me who have sex because of what sex is.”

He was staring at you like a fish out of water.

“This ring is an example of the things humans do to create an image for others.” Your finger circled around the ring, toying with light and shadow above the shine. “Which is not a bad thing, to want your bond to be acknowledged by others. It can be empowering. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s something we do to protect ourselves. Something we do to strengthen the walls of the house that is slowly revealed to be made of cards.” You pulled your hand back. Jungkook’s face fell, gradually understanding what you meant. “Me, I don’t care what the outside of the house looks like. Sure, it would be cool for the outside to be perfected just the way I like it, but ultimately I don’t care. I only care about what’s inside. I find most actions connected to the word ‘romance’ are things we do to be acknowledged by others. There is an unnecessary pressure to fit your story into an ideal that other people need to approve of. And I hate that. So, I don’t pursue it.”

There was a pause.

Through a filtered gaze of his messy bangs, Jungkook asked, “What did you mean?”

“About what?”

“About having sex… for what it is.”

That’s what he got out of that? Still, you raised a hand to ask him a question. “Why do you have sex?”

The tips of his cheeks blushed red. “Uh.”

You started ticking down fingers.

“To express your love to your partner. To feel connection with someone else. To do something for someone that, supposing you both agreed, is an act of service you can’t get anywhere else. To make up for your mistakes to them. To show your worth and value to them.”

Your hand a fist.

“To get off.”

Jungkook’s big eyes shifted from your fist to your face. You hadn’t raised or lowered your hand for the last one.

“Selfishness is usually last on the list,” you said, uncurling your hand. “And the first and main reason why people break relationships. So, it’s bad. Supposedly.” You placed your hand on the cool stone. “And maybe I am selfish, which would theoretically put me at the bottom of the list, since I don’t have sex for other people. I have sex for the act itself. To explore the complexity of physical and mental interacting. To satiate my curiosity in that unique type of pleasure and all the things that contribute to it. To me, sex is pure. You cannot hide. You cannot lie. People try to do both, and I find that type of dishonesty exhausting and ugly.”

You looked back to Jungkook to see if he was following. His eyes were glazing over a little bit, but he seemed to understand the general sentiment. That was okay. It would be better not to spend too long on the soapbox.

“Anyway, it never feels like anyone is fully committed to the act. They are trapped in the reasons of what sex means to them. Or their relationship with sex is more deteriorated than they like to admit. The sex sucks. I can taste that it is tainted, and not in a good way.” You cocked your head. “People tend to seek to replicate what they felt before. Or they want something better than what they currently have. The past and future constantly compete with the present. Achieving orgasm has become more important than anything else. In search of meaning, the fundamentals have become an afterthought. I’m not saying love isn’t important, but I can’t accept that sex plays second fiddle to everything else. That sex needs some other reason than itself to be valid. We’ve lost the damn plot, I fear,” you chuckled, giving him a moment to absorb that.

Jungkook frowned. He didn’t look wholly lost though. “So… Romance isn’t for you because, uh.” He paused. “The purity of sex? Or something?”

You half-laughed. “That and because no one wants to put up with my bullshit.”

A beat before a soft, “Oh.”

His pensive face was rather charming. You continued to smile.

“I kinda agree though,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

Discomfort invaded his thoughtful demeanor. “Uh… Whenever we had sex… It was on her terms. Because she had to give her consent first. Since I wanted it more than her.” He wasn’t looking at you nor speaking that clearly. Still, you stayed attentive. “I’d… uh. I’d get hard and then put it in her and then finish and… yeah. Yeah. That was it.”

You blinked.

And blinked again, more rapidly this time. “Sorry, what?”

Jungkook grimaced, cowering a bit at your tone. “It felt good. And stuff,” he said defensively.

You felt offended for him. “You’re joking.”

He gave you a sidelong glance and sighed. “It wasn’t good. But I figured it wouldn’t be like the pornos.”

“Well, it’s not,” you agreed. “But sex sure as hell isn’t… whatever fuckery you just described.”

His spine was emulating a shrimp at the moment. “Yeah.”

You looked down at the ring.

“You wanted to marry this woman?”

His eyes followed yours. “The parts of it that were good were good.”

You doubted it but you bit that lackluster lure anyway. “Like what?”

Something in his eyes broke. “Like… We watched the same shows. She loved to dance. Had a great smile, loved to laugh… I used to make her laugh all the time.” His lashes lowered. “In the beginning, she’d surprise me by signing us up for random classes around the city. Pottery, painting, cooking, flower arrangement, making traditional Korean alcohol. We learned a lot of stuff together. It was good,” he breathed out, his hands clasped around each other. “And then… One time, she signed us up for some activity but I already had plans. I didn’t want to cancel them. We argued. I remember she was so uncharacteristically angry about it. She was almost never like that. So, I must have been the wrong one, right? She never enrolled us for another class again. We had fun, until…” He trailed off.

Leaving the empty calendar as his constant reminder, you thought. It was a clever tactic. Even now, he was questioning himself. You narrowed your eyes. Poked the bear a bit. “Sounds more like she dragged you around without even asking you first. Did you actually have fun at any of these things?”

His gaze shifted. “I… I did…”

It didn’t even sound like he believed himself.

You sighed, defeated. “A ring wasn’t gonna save that house of cards.”

His eyes went to the almost-engagement ring. You tried to imagine it. Something so alive becoming so catatonic over time. Trying to do everything you could to resurrect what was lost, only to learn it had been alive after all.

Just not with you.

“No. It wouldn’t,” he agreed hollowly.

Silence.

Back to square one.

You reached over and took the plate and mug. Washed them, lathering up with the dish soap, rinsing it off. Dried them, because you were unsure if Namjoon’s dishwasher was a frequently used appliance or a drying rack. It was empty so it was hard to tell. You squeezed out the sponge and set it back into its niche. Placed the dishes back into their respective places. Dried off your hands. Turned around.

Jungkook was still staring at the ring.

“Life only gets harder,” you said softly.

He raised his head, confronting you with a devastating desolation in his eyes. Part of you wanted to lie. Lie, and say it got easier. Lie, and say he would find someone better. Lie, but what would be the point to lie to someone that had already been lied to so deeply, so cruelly, still bleeding from a wound that would become a scar someday? You couldn’t assure anything. You couldn’t lie. It got harder the more you cared. It got harder the more hurt you had time to witness. It got harder as time slipped away. You just had to hope that random chance and a bit of luck was on your side.

“Could I put it on your finger?” Jungkook asked.

You set down the washcloth. The comprehension of his question sank in. “What?”

He reached down.

Wrapped his shaking fingers around the box, and tilted it towards you. The white sapphire glistened, foreign, beautiful, and not yours. Not for your eyes. Not for your hand. Not meaning anything to you, to that relationship, to anything anymore.

It was another shiny thing that had become dull without meaning.

“Could I put this ring on your hand, please?” he pleaded again. “Just once. Just once since… Since I don’t know if I… If I will ever get the chance to do it.”

You wanted to tell him, of course you will. Of course, being that handsome and naïve and innocent and, goddamn, he has such big wistful eyes, fuck, you thought, taking one step. Two. Three. That was all it took. You looked down at the ring. You saw his tattooed fingers fumble a little with the thin band. It was almost comical. You were in your house clothes. Jungkook was in his pajamas. Namjoon’s kitchen counter was not a place for a not-proposal. Your left hand came forward. Your fingers spread out a little, and Jungkook’s left hand gently slid under, lifting your wrist, warm and careful, and your eyes found his.

A complex maze of emotions met you.

You lifted your ring finger.

Jungkook said your name, very quietly. It appeared that he had finally read those tests Namjoon had sent him ages ago. Probably before or after his shower. You nodded, not really knowing what to say. This wasn’t in the life handbook, per se. And the way he said your name, delicately and with such breakability, made you not want to dispute it.

He looked down and slid the engagement ring on your finger.

Stared.

Pulled his hands away, letting out a tense exhale.

The large stone gleamed.

You moved your fingers ever-so-slightly, and the ring flipped, the stone dropping down to the inside of your hand.

Awkward.

“Oh…”

You used your right to adjust it. “It’s… Sorry. It’s slightly too big for my ring finger,” you muttered, trying to jam the gold band down a bit to help. “Welp.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook chuckled and, to your surprise, he sounded almost amused. “I just wanted to see what it would look like on you.”

“It’s very shiny,” you admitted. Namjoon’s previous words gave you another swift kick to the pants. “I mean, it’s nice. It’s a lovely ring. You made a good choice.” You held the band delicately and switched it to your middle finger. It fit perfectly, without moving. “Ah, there we go.” You held your left hand up, palm towards you and showed it off to him. “Now you can see it without it slipping and sliding anywhere.”

You stilled once you saw his expression.

A longing for something no longer possible.

And yet there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He noticed your focus on him and Jungkook smiled for real, the action not reaching his eyes at all.

“It looks good on you. Pretty hands.”

It was a compliment but he said it with all the joy of one getting their heart ripped from their chest.

A strange surge of protectiveness overcame you.

You had never met Jungkook’s would-be fiancé, but in this moment, if you did, she sure as hell would not want to meet you. You couldn’t keep it in your damn pants, woman? Bitch. You scowled even at the thought. Jungkook was too transfixed on his engagement ring on your middle finger to give a fuck. This whole situation was infuriating. Sure, you were too clinically cynical for a mushy-gushy fairytale but, fuck, couldn’t we bend life’s rules just once for this sucker? You lowered your hands. His eyes followed, dulled in the presence of the sparkle. You moved to take it off.

His gaze snapped to yours.

You stopped.

It was like seeing someone alive and dead at the same time. He seemed to be in the midst of a daydream and a nightmare, thoughts crossed between what could have been and what was lost. You wanted to say something movie-script worthy, something to make it all better, and yet you held back once more, not quite believing in them yourself. The ring seemed unusually heavy now.

“It doesn’t match you though,” Jungkook suddenly muttered.

You looked down at the ring. “No. Not really.”

“White gold would look better.”

He was correct. Maybe he could tell from the small hoops in your ears. “Ah, yeah. I’m more of a white gold girl.”

“You deserve a diamond.”

You scoffed. He caught your eye. For once, you were the one to look away, breaking that contact.

“Hah… No, I don’t.”

Not like you did anything to deserve a diamond. You went to work. Went home, puttered around. Passed out. Sometimes you went out in search of a fuck. Sometimes you traveled a bit to cut through the mundane. But there was no charity work here. For what? To end up like Jungkook? To have your trust broken, shattered by someone you thought would keep it safe? And you couldn’t blame them and take revenge, because the high road had no room for low blows. Supposedly heaven was only for the most righteous, which already excluded you. Might as well live to the bare minimum instead of chasing an ideal knowing you could never be forgiven.

And all that shit.

Somehow your space-out had resulted in you completely losing track of Jungkook. One second, he was sitting in the tan leather barstool in front of you. The next, it was empty. You started, and then turned.

Face-to-face.

Jungkook took your left hand in his right.

Held it.

The conversation had gone on so long that his hair was dry now. A little frizzy from being air-dried. It covered his forehead, but not his eyes. His warmth and yours connected. From palm to palm. Under those big eyes was heavy darkness, hinting at sleepless nights. You paused, unsure of his motive. He seemed to be searching for something.

You caught his wrist.

Jungkook froze in mid-movement, about to lean his head down.

You shook yours.

“Don’t.”

He didn’t advance but also didn’t back off. “… Don’t what?”

You squeezed his wrist. His expression rippled. A sound muted in his throat.

“Don’t do it,” you warned again. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Contemplation flitted over his face. His eyes went from his ring on your middle finger to you. Tense, elongated seconds passed. You could tell Jungkook hadn’t quite expected that answer from you. He had expected the rejection, and yet. There was a mixture of defiance and innocence in his gaze. You could smell his scent under the body wash he had used. Masculine and earthy.

You inhaled deeply.

Don’t, you thought, but this time it was to scold yourself.

“It won’t make you feel better,” you assured him.

He was more focused on your hand gripping his wrist than your words. You did not let go. In fact, you tightened your hold, your fingers pressing into his tattoos, the ring digging into you and into him. His dark eyes raised.

“You sure about that?” he whispered.

Uh oh.

Jungkook reached up with his left hand and brought your joined hands to his body. For a brief suspended moment, the round cut white sapphire cut into his clothed chest, close enough for you to feel the racing beat of his heart. You let go of his wrist, giving way to the pressure, and immediately he turned your hand, placing your palm to fabric.

Grazed your touch over his quivering pecs.

He sucked in a breath, his expression hazing over.

You stared at him.

He stared back, his lips forming your name.

Your right hand shot up and covered his mouth. You were trembling. You seized up immediately, wondering if he noticed, but at this point what did it matter? His left hand was still keeping yours on his body, pressing your fingers to the contours of his muscle. “What… What are you doing?” You sharpened your tone, trying to drag him back into reality. You almost expected a cliché answer at this point, but Jungkook only replied breathlessly, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know.

For someone that had been practically disintegrating before your eyes minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook was feeling very solid right now. But it was obvious what he was doing. Right? You looked into his eyes but couldn’t hold it. He just wanted comfort. He just wanted a feeling more than anything. He just wanted to prove that he was worthy of some kind of intimacy, any kind of intimacy, and he was using you, but it didn’t have to be you, it could be anyone.

You clenched your jaw, curling your fingernails inward.

Jungkook’s low moan cut through your venom.

You raised your head, turning your head to him. It didn’t have to be you. But he was looking at you like that. It doesn’t have to be you, and you kept telling yourself that, you kept thinking that but Jungkook kept looking at you like you could save him, from the first meeting at the front door to the standoff at the door of the bathroom to the gaze over empty dishes and a sparkling stone, save you, shit, I can’t even save myself, and you were still wearing his almost engagement ring for another woman on your middle finger, a big fuck-you to that shattered martial life, and before you knew it there was a collision of your lips to his. Your right hand had shot up, hooking around his head, and you dragged Jungkook down to your level.

Low, because the high road had already fucked him over.

He let out a startled squeak that you swallowed, consumed, devoured, and you stole every breath he took in lips and tongue, clawing your fingers through his hair. Then your mind caught up with your body still electrified with craving, asking yourself if you should stop, but then you noticed Jungkook’s hands were grasping for your upper arms, dragging you to him. There was a brief thought of how this was not the kind of intimacy he had received in a long time, and so perhaps his hunger was justified.

Truthfully, hunger was putting it mildly.

You bit his lower lip and sucked hard, opening your eyes.

Jungkook was looking back, and he was falling.

You released him, your tongue snaking out, and simultaneous shivers sprang forth from the fork in the road. Your nails raked over clothes and skin, drawing out his gasps like droplets during a thunderstorm, and you gleefully drowned in his sound. Your tongue pressed to his throat, teeth soon after, leaving bruises in your wake, dying for that taste of flushed skin. Bodies close but pain even closer, and there was no good reason that this should feel good which was precisely why it felt heavenly.

You dragged your hands up to his head, caged into his hair possessively, feeling the unrelenting trap of the ring still on your bent fingers.

Your right eye and his left locked as your tingling lips moved against his cheek.

“I’m still wearing your ring.”

His hot, heavy breath radiated against your neck.

“The ring,” he corrected.

The rebellion in his eyes gleamed.

The ring.

Your left hand trailed down, onto his chest, turning your nails inward, and you watched him follow it, fixated on the ring, replacing any former thoughts he had of it with right now, with the way you slipped your fingers under the hem of his shirt, deliberately catching it onto the large stone, all those expensive carats brought for someone else and now worn by a deviant, creeping up his torso, pushing away the fabric between his nakedness and your carnal intent.

Your eyes connected.

You licked the side of your lip, slowly smirking. “Your plan was for me to fuck you wearing it?”

His cheeks turned pink at your teasing.

“N-No, I d-didn’t… I…”

Jungkook sucked in a tight breath as the pad of your finger brushed over his nipple. You did it again. He looked embarrassed. You weren’t. You pressed your other hand against his abdomen and felt him tense, exposing muscle that was surely crafted from long hours at the gym. You dug your nails in. He moaned, and you hissed his name like a fond prayer, mesmerized by the way his hair fell over his eyes, his body bowing towards you. You gripped his shirt in one hand, his pants in the other, and pulled them away from his body, up and down respectively, exposing skin and desperation.

He grabbed the sides of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head.

Your tongue touched his chest, sliding upwards.

His head fell back, black hair flaring, dark eyes half-moons of lust, his mouth open and depraved sound escaping, all the way up his throat until you reached his chin, rising to tiptoes, and then Jungkook returned, catching your lips with a persistent kiss, possessed by instinct.

You thrust your tongue into his mouth and felt his hands slide under your tank top, wrapping around your waist. You weren’t wearing a bra. After all, you had originally intended on not spending much time here. That hadn’t worked out. The looseness of the top had prevented you from revealing any obvious shape and until now you hadn’t given it much thought. You felt Jungkook pinch the edges of the fabric and tug back, shaping the white jersey into the soft curve of your breasts and the peaks of your hard nipples. He was looking too, even with your tongue in his mouth.

He let out a muffled, “Fuck…” in between gasps.

You pulled back with a nick of his lower lip. Entranced, he leaned down, his hands pressing into the small of your back, and you bent into it, arching your spine as you felt warm wetness rub against one of your nipples.

You watched him.

He watched you back, circling the tip of his pink tongue around the nub, soaking the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Sucking on it, sending a flare of pleasure up your torso, his palms solidly in the bend of your waist. Your pulse snaked upwards, catching in your throat, reducing all thoughts to white noise, and you lost yourself in the way his tongue moved, licked, trailing from one nipple to the other, saliva soaking through your shirt and clinging to your skin, painting you in clear lust.

You hooked a leg around his hip and you could feel him.

You reached between your bodies and dragged the hem up your chest, baring your breasts to his eyes and searching mouth. Jungkook didn’t need to be asked twice. It was as if everything he had seen, longed for, dreamed of, all that he had repressed and tried to forget burst up to the surface, uninhibited any longer, and the feeling of his eager tongue on your wet, hard nipples was intoxicatingly electric. Your grip dug into his hair, pressing his head into your chest. Heat rising from your bodies, sparks igniting in your blood at his frantic licks, rolling your hips into his growing erection.

There really was very littler separating his hard cock and your dampening pussy.

Your nails raked over his back.

“Harder,” he groaned, clutching your waist so hard that it was impossible to get away.

You growled and delivered.

His eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering, and you had a fistful of his hair, pulling hard. You wondered if this was actually his kink or a product of circumstance. The glazed-over look in his eyes and violent twitching of his hardness between your thighs was hinting towards the former, which wasn’t a good thing.

Mostly because being on the other side of masochism was your kink.

Fuck.

You shoved his face into your chest and muffled his desperate moan as you yanked on his hair again, striking your hips into his hard-on, putting more force in it than necessary. He held your waist and grinded into the dip of your upper thigh. You closed your legs around him. The friction was sending him over the edge, even to the point of you being able to hear and feel the squish of drenched fabrics between you and him. Your breathing was rapid, shallow, thinning.

You shoved him off you.

Jungkook had a moment of disoriented breathlessness.

Your shirt flew off, over the counter and somewhere into the living room. You immediately dropped with such speed that he had no time to react when you snagged your fingers over the two waistbands of his pants and underwear, and yanked them down to the floor. Those big eyes widened, but you fixated on his thick, hard cock that sprang out, the tip dark red and angry. Slick with pre-cum. You would smell him. Heady and needy. He had nice balls, you observed. Supple and full.

Not for long.

You slid your right hand up. Covering his balls with your palm, anchoring his shaft between your middle and ring finger. Raised your left hand, and looked up at him.

Jungkook looked back, mouth open, eyes widening.

You slapped his erection.

Hard.

His entire body jolted and his gasp morphed into a strangled moan. You watched flashes of reaction overtake his expression. Shame. Desire. Regret. Then regret at that regret. Then need, want, starvation, his hands curling into fists, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and you took his breath away by smacking the shaft again, hard. His cock snapped back into place instantly, twitching, harder than before. He sucked in a tight breath, shaking his head with his lips whispering, “P… Please…”

You tipped your head back and slapped his dick, the ring on your hand visible every time you smacked it down.

Ecstasy rippled through his body. You could tell Jungkook could see the whisper of the sapphire too, maybe even feel the gold band, and it was turning him on even more. Due to the placement of your other hand, you could keep him still and increase the force, even pressing your palm into his balls to add further pressure. He fell apart in real time, but in pain superimposed with pleasure, each strike a spike to your core, thundering heartbeat roaring in your ears.

You stopped mid-slap.

Jungkook nearly protested.

Until you swallowed his cock.

You felt him swell and shudder at the contact of your tongue and throat closing in around his girth, and you pushed up, swirling wet muscle around him, covering him in saliva, drunk at the taste and fullness trapped between your lips. Up, down, vibrating the low point of your throat before drawing back, grazing your lips around the head, slow-fucking the tip.

You raised your eyes to stare into his face.

He was looking back, in awe and intoxication. He had fallen over a bit, draping you in shadow, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, and you sucked lightly, arcing your spine to delight him with the perkiness of your breasts.

“Oh… fuck… O-Oh, god…”

You tilted your head back and took him in deep, circling your tongue around the length before closing in at the back of your mouth and gently stroking the throbbing head with the contraction of your inner muscles. A low groan drifted from his lips, astonished at the precision of your control. You reached up and kneaded his balls, applying even pressure throughout before pulsing tighter. His reaction was immediate, yelping as his eyelids fluttered, letting out a weak and desperate, “A-Again…” You squeezed again, sucking hard in unison. “F-Fuck, again, p-please…”

But you did him one better.

You smacked his balls with the pads of your fingers.

Jungkook threw his head back and bit back an intense moan, his shoulders shaking.

“Holy… w-what…?”

The trick to it was to apply force but immediately cease all movement after contact with skin. His nerves would immediately register the power of the hit while the recoil repercussions would be minimal. His nuts couldn’t handle being a springboard, after all. It took a lot of control, and was easier to do if you angled upwards, as it would prevent your fingernails from getting caught on his balls while also allowing his body to absorb the shock. You didn’t hit him that hard. It was very likely that he didn’t have much experience in this – unless he was smacking his own balls while jacking himself off. Unlikely, though. And this was confirmed by the way he froze up and simply allowed you to choke with dick with your mouth as you smacked his balls. No part of him resisted. He left himself be at your mercy, even asking for more, nonsensical pleas above your head, and you could feel that he was nearing the end, mostly because he was biting hard on his lower lip, his obscene noises even louder despite being stifled in his throat, and so for the very end you switched to keeping his balls in a locked grip, maintaining constant pressure as you focused on his cock, up, down, repeat, over and over, feeling him twitch against your tongue.

His thick cum flooded the back of your mouth.

His head snapped back and Jungkook screamed behind closed lips, orgasming in your punishing mouth in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen, his pants and underwear at his ankles, his chest beaded with sweat, and his cock jolted again, streaming more down your throat. You swallowed shallowly, and Jungkook’s pitch hitched to pathetic. His right hand flew to his chest and he dug his blunt nails into his skin, scratching down his chest roughly, moaning to the ceiling as your tongue ghosted around his still-hard cock.

You swallowed again.

Jungkook cried out and thrust his hips into your face.

His chin tipped down and you caught his surprised cry, “I… I’m still hard?” As if he wasn’t trying to end your life right here on foreign tile. You grabbed his hips, easing him back a little, then resumed a deliberate, leisurely back-and-forth, watching his every move.

His arm lowered, his dark tattoos glimmering with sweat. Panting. You raised your left hand and spread your fingers along his v-line. Traced his abs with your middle finger, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes chased your actions with wanton fervor. As if he almost forgot you were still wearing the ring, but then remembered once you put it in his vision again. It aroused him. You felt his cock shiver as you touched him. The wrongness of it all turned him on.

A very expensive turn-on, but a rare silver lining of the day.

His gaze shifted to your face, shame clouding his eyes.

You pulled back, resting the head of his cock on the flat of your tongue.

“Tell me you like it,” you ordered, talking around his dick.

“Uh… W-What?”

Your eye-line went from the ring to his face. You pinched your lips around the base of the head, causing him to gasp sharply, before opening your mouth again to speak.

“Tell me you like watching me get you off while wearing the ring.”

His eyes widened.

You slipped your left thumb along the underside of his drenched length and sucked on the head, closing your fingers around the shaft. His breath caught. You pulled your head back, perfected your grip, and started jacking him off.

With that very expensive rock completing the obscene image.

The whine Jungkook made was in between raw shock and intense bliss, gawking at your audacity. Or depravity. Whichever. He was going to need a good jewelry cleaner before selling this ring back, but you wouldn’t mind paying for that. The gold band was slippery with spit and a hint of cum, but you kept your fingers together, preventing the stone from moving, dispersing tight and firm pressure throughout his pulsing hardness, feeling a grin creep onto your lips, relishing in his whimper and panic, betrayed by his body leaning into the punishment.

“I… oh, f-fuck… Fuck…”

You lifted an eyebrow and slowed down just a tad.

“N-No, please...! I… I like it,” he whispered, his normally deep voice strained.

You smacked the front of his balls with the backs of two fingers from your free hand.

Jungkook moaned and crumpled, almost into a ninety-degree bow, clasping the edge of the counter. “A-Ah, g-god… I l-like it…” His eyes swam with desire, ensnaring you in his immoral feelings. “I need it… It’s so fucking hot… You getting me off while wearing the ring I brought for a-another woman…” His voice wavered. He clenched his jaw, tightening his core, giving you more room to continue. “Spit on it. Let me cum on it. Fuck. Fuck, ruin me.”

Your hand was rapidly moving on its own while your lips parted, locked in the twisted passion of this fucked-up context.

“Ruin me.”

Jungkook was staring right at you, an order and a plea in the same breath, his eyes so dark in this shadow that they seemed black. A bolt of sinful pleasure slid down your spine. You gripped his cock, tighter, imprisoning him. Somehow he had become even harder, his rapid pulse against the palm of your hand. You could feel his greed for pain, his appetite for your power, his directed attention locked on you, just you, you and everything you were right now, fighting the burn in your bicep but not stopping, fueled by feral willpower and corrupt adrenaline that was better than any runner’s high.

You smiled, unable to hide your enjoyment any longer.

He saw it, acknowledged it, and shuddered.

“I-I’m gonna cum, oh fuck–!”

You opened your mouth and Jungkook shot onto your tongue. Thick, hot, viscous streaks, the bittersweet taste coating your tongue. Devilishly divine. You pressed the tip to your wet muscle and he whined, forcing his eyes open to watch himself dump his load into your mouth. You rubbed it back and forth, making him flinch all over, and so you subsided in seeing him reach his limit even though his eyes were devouring every second of this wickedness.

You drew back a little.

Closed your knees inward, which lifted up your torso.

And spat onto your hand.

Onto the ring. Coating it in an unholy mixture of cum and saliva over a still glimmering white sapphire and shining yellow gold. Jungkook gasped your name in amazement, speechless at the depravity. You tucked your head back, watching the silky fluids sink in between your fingers, smirking, your skin tingling as you witnessed it.

You looked up at him.

He looked back at you. Jaw slack. Eyes wide. Half-hard in your hand and getting harder as you slowly, deliberately, stroked his cock with the slick, milky, makeshift lubricant. You felt it stick to his balls, run down your wrist, making a mess, the heady scent of his release saturating the air and this memory.

“You’re persistent,” you remarked, ticking your chin to his dick.

A whimper bubbled from his chest. “That’s… That’s n-not me.”

You shot him an oh-really look.

“That’s all him,” Jungkook protested, gesturing wildly to his lower half. “I don’t even… I’m not normally like this!”

“Uh huh,” you agreed dismissively.

“It’s true!”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” you pointed out.

“I… Oh, f-fuck…”

-

You opened the front door to your apartment to a shirtless Jeon Jungkook with his blue plaid pajama pants so hastily yanked on that you wondered if half a butt cheek was hanging out. Then you wondered what the fuck he was doing here.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

Out of breath, clutching one side of the doorframe, relief crushing through the panic in his eyes. His hair was sticking up halfway, as if he had attempted do it something about it but ultimately decided he didn’t care. He stood in the dark hallway, the light from your apartment washing over him. You had a good reason for being in your home at the moment. Ultimately the idea of using Namjoon’s dishes to clean off Jungkook’s bodily fluids on a very expensive ring was, uh, too much. Overstepping an unspoken boundary, mayhap. As if having sex with his friend in his kitchen wasn’t. Anyway, you had jewelry cleaner under your kitchen sink. The plan was simple. Get in your apartment, put the ring in one of the shallow metal saucers you had, rinse off your hands while heating up a bit of hot water, wash off the ring with said hot water in the safety of the saucer, polish it up with jewelry cleaner. It was dying on a paper towel in your kitchen right now. Nowhere close to the sink because you weren’t about to lose millions of won that didn’t belong to you to the sewer.

So, yeah. That was why you were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you loudly whispered.

Jungkook exhaled hard, his dark brows knitting together. “What? You have the ring,” he hiss-whispered back.

You bristled. “I told you I was cleaning it off.”

His eyes darted up and down, as if disapproving that you had put your tank top back on. Of course you had put your shirt back on. What were you going to do, slink back into your apartment with your tits out and one of your hands covered in his cum? Yes, that happened. After spitting on him, you had put his hard cock back into your mouth, sucked him until about halfway to the high, and finished him off with your right hand, all so you could make him orgasm onto the ring on your left, onto your middle finger, cum sliding down your forearm. It hadn’t taken long. You had pointed that out to Jungkook too. He had told you to shut up, his ears bright red as he did so.

Naturally, you took that moment to hightail it out of there so he could fix himself up in peace and relative dignity.

“How would I know you weren’t stealing it?” he snapped.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m totally going to drive to the pawn shop with a cum-covered ring and get extra for your excellent sperm sample. It’s time sensitive, after all,” you added sarcastically, not backing down despite his irritated demeanor. 

He flapped his jaw, likely not knowing how to respond to that, and then collected himself. “Well, just because you’re washing it off doesn’t mean you would come back!”

You were personally offended. “I was coming back,” you retorted.

A darkness laced into his gaze.

“I have no reason to believe that,” Jungkook muttered.

Any anger you had dissipated upon hearing his words. Your shoulders slumped and you lowered your eyes. Right. Yeah, obviously. The fight seemed to deflate out of him too, as if you both suddenly remembered why he was here at all, why you even knew who he was, why an almost-engagement ring was sparkling in your kitchen right now. You raised your head, and yet you hesitated at his hunched-up form before you, because in this equation the most probable outcome was you being nothing more than temporary comfort for a temporary wound.

Right?

Yeah, obviously.

Jungkook looked up, meeting your eyes, and, despite your best self-deprecation, something in his expression told you that he didn’t run over here half-naked for the stupid ring.

Your lips parted.

Somewhere down the hall, a bubble of laughter and conversation began to rise.

Panic shot through your chest. He caught on just as quickly, his big eyes widening, half-turning, as if there was time to gauge how much time he had to make his getaway, but your hands moved on their own, snatching him by the shoulders and pulling hard, throwing both of you into the confines of your apartment. His arms flew about like a rag doll. Jungkook stumbled in with a wheezing, “Wah!” You twisted, clearing the curve of the closing door, and pinned his back to it, slamming it shut.

Sudden quiet.

Except for the heightened awareness of your own rapid breathing. You closed your eyes, mentally counting, one two three four, two two three four, taking stock of each inhale and exhale. Shit. Shit, what the fuck were people doing out at this hour? Having fun?! With friends?!? Goddamnit, you thought, hoping nobody saw the shirtless man standing outside your door bickering with you, and suddenly you remembered said shirtless man was in your hands.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook gawking at you with those innocent-looking big eyes of his.

He didn’t say anything.

You wondered if he would believe you.

“I was coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing it with a nod.

A complicated set of emotions flashed through the shadows of his expression. He nodded back, and you could tell he was doing it only to appease you. You shook him against the door and smacked your hands down on his shoulders, glaring back at him.

“I was coming back,” you growled.

Jungkook looked pained, as if he wanted to believe you more than anything, but just couldn’t.

You sucked on the inside of your cheek and flung yourself from him, spinning around sharply so he couldn’t see your face. You couldn’t blame him. Oh, you had lied before, lied with a straight face and no remorse, but for some reason the idea of Jungkook thinking that you were doing so made you terribly upset. Fuck, yeah, it pissed you off. And it wasn’t his fault, Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that shit, yet some part of you wanted to scream, believe me, please believe me, and you couldn’t for the life of you make heads or tails of why that was, walking in a circle, wringing your hands, rubbing your temples with a grimace, not wanting to take your outburst out on him.

It was such a small thing.

You were coming back, he didn’t believe you, and that was that, you would have to accept it.

But you couldn’t.

You just needed a second to accept it. Right?

“How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?”

You muttered under your breath, abruptly ceasing your pacing and turning around, intending to march over to the ring, drop it in Jungkook’s palm, and shove him out of your apartment. Shove him and his stupid sexy butt into Namjoon’s place to neatly compartmentalize that, so long and goodnight, and promptly flop onto your bed to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.

Except, when you faced him, Jungkook caught you.

You started, not realizing he had followed. One second his hands were on your upper arms, and the next they were wrapped around your back, pulling you to him and trapping you in a tight, encompassing embrace that was not for you.

Your hands instinctively came up to cradle his waist.

He buried his face into your hair and inhaled deeply, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. Almost crushing. You thought he was trembling but perhaps it was just your imagination as you felt each shuddering breath steady against your chest. Honestly, you weren’t the hugging type, but this night was proving to be a night of exceptions. You closed your arms around him, not saying anything, letting him have this. Probably the most normal interaction of the night, truly. Jungkook wasn’t crying. He might have, if you had rejected him, but your instinct didn’t have the heart to. You caressed his back, running your fingers over his soft skin.

You didn’t know him.

He could be a serial killer.

Well, if he was, you were considering to offer to bury the bodies.

“Hey… You shouldn’t…”

Even so, you trailed off. You weren’t sure you quite believed what you were trying to say.

“I don’t care.”

His warm breath haloed the crown of your head. He pressed his lips to your hair.

“I don’t care,” he said again, softer this time.

A small, sweet, wrong happiness fluttered at those words.

“Okay,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his neck. You kissed him lightly. Felt him shiver. You smiled. Truth was, you didn’t care either. That was pretty selfish of you. But he was here of his own volition. And Jungkook held you first. And who the fuck were you justifying this to? I’ve lost it, you told yourself for the umpteenth time as he was turned his head and suddenly his lips were a centimeter from yours.

In shadows, your eyes met his.

“I turned your whole world upside down,” you confessed, warning him that this was a one-way highway and he was breaking the speed limit.

You felt Jungkook smile.

“Thank fuck for that,” and then he put pedal to the metal.

Upon reflection, what the fuck was Jungkook thinking, bursting into your apartment with only pajama pants and a dream? Oh, and some sandals borrowed from Namjoon, which quickly flew off as you both stumbled into your living room, abandoning your clothes at an alarming rate. Your top over your head, your hands down his sides, and he hadn’t even bothered with his underwear, this would be my luck, I would want a lunatic, you thought as his thumbs hooked onto the edge of your shorts, pulling down. All the while with your tongue in his mouth.

Normally you would have a conversation about limits and intent and what this was all supposed to mean afterwards but under normal circumstances you would also never imagine having sex with someone you barely met after watching him cry within the first ten minutes.

So.

There was that.

You felt your panties slide down your ass and you grabbed his wrists, yanking them back up as your shorts and underwear slowly migrated down to the floor.

“Wha… W-What?” Jungkook sputtered, breaking out of the kiss and looking like a startled deer confronted by the headlights of your abrupt shift in body language. You sucked in a breath, your lips tingling.

Taking notes.

He immediately stopped even without you explicitly saying stop. He was not trying to overpower you to coerce you for more, even if he was now explicitly staring at your naked body with a bug-eyed expression. You pushed your hands forward and Jungkook stepped back, not quite understanding and blindly trusting you, which was not indicative of a sane headspace.

“You’ve done this before,” you breathed out, glaring up at him from below.

He shook his head very quickly. “No. Well… I mean… it is n-normally what I search for when I wanna get off, so you’re kinda a dream come true for me…”

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

A flutter of confusion.

“Uh… Being dominated by a hot woman?”

You stared at him.

Jungkook tilted his head.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you said while gripping his wrists and in command of the situation.

His eyes shifted from side to side. “A… Aren’t you?”

A chill crept up your back. “What did you think I was going to do?” you pressed.

He looked back at you, blinking. “I don’t know,” Jungkook answered, sounding truthful.

You squeezed tighter. He gasped a little, his inhale hitching. You relaxed. He seemed disappointed.

“What’s wrong with you?” you snapped.

He paused for a moment and then replied with, “Trauma?”

Well, he wasn't wrong.

“Get on the sofa.”

“What?”

“Now.”

You had one of those viral extra-comfy modular sofas that could be placed in various orientations. Currently, it was as it always was – all linked together, turning the couch into more of a bed than anything else. Hey, there was a reason you enjoyed rotting on your sofa. Maybe you should have taken him to your bed, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care, reacting immediately when you shoved him. Actually, he seemed to approve of your furniture choices. He sat. You planted your hands on his chest and pushed him down, straddling his waist. He yelped, which you immediately silenced with a hand over his mouth and one on his dick, sliding down the underside and squeezing his balls.

His big eyes got bigger.

You slid up his torso, realizing you where dripping pussy juice everywhere. His hands ended up on your breasts. You raised your eyebrows. Those big eyes pleaded with you. You didn’t say anything, instead tilting your head back and toying with his balls, testing the waters. It was a little distracting with the pinching and rubbing of your nipples, but you took a second to test how much pressure he liked, if he enjoyed scratches (he did), if he enjoyed a tug (he did), and if he was fine with your weight on top of him (he was and he seemed to be trying to get you to move up a little higher for personal reasons). His dick was definitely into it. His stiff length was smacking your wrist. Pre-cum was smearing onto your forearm.

Without much warning, you sat back up, climbed over him, and turned around.

Your knees hit his shoulders. There was a gasping, “Wow, oh my god,” when Jungkook came face-to-face with your pussy. You leaned down to your elbows, hovered your hands over his inner thighs, his erection centimeters from your face, and slapped him extremely close to his balls.

Jungkook let out an inhuman noise and muffled him with your ass.

Hot, wet muscle slid against soaked skin. His arms wrapped around your thighs, his hands on your hips, sending a wave of sparks up your core as you descended, wrapping your tongue around his cock, running your fingernails over his balls, relishing in the sensation of tightened skin, tense muscle, and his taste, oh, fuck, his taste, your tongue running over the swollen tip. You kissed downwards. Your teeth braced around one of his balls, licking the curve while pressing the warm shaft against your cheek, using your palm to stroke up and down. Your hair was getting in the way, annoyingly, so you switched sides and swept it aside in the same movement, practically laying on his hard thigh and your upper arm as you kept a hand around his cock and sucked on one of his balls roughly while pinching the other between your knuckles as you jacked him off.

With your pussy rocking against his hungry mouth, of course.

You felt his tongue hit your clit and your body stiffened from the unexpected burst of concentrated pleasure, but that was soon replaced by his lips sealed around it, desperately sucking. He lacked technique, but then again it probably wasn’t that easy to concentrate either. A perverse sense of accomplishment simmered through you as you realized his blunt nails were digging into your ass, aiding you in the pace and his own suffocation. So, instead of actually getting him off, you edged him.

And continued edging him.

Until he made you cum.

You knew exactly when he was going to orgasm because he would pause, gasping, breaking the seal for a breath, and then at the very last second you would release his cock, making him whine and cry out before planting your pussy onto his mouth again. You did it again, and somewhere in Jungkook’s lizard brain he got the hint, gripping you harder and licking faster with his stifled groans vibrating against your thighs, building heat, the muscles in your back tightening, sucking harder as you felt the coil within tighten, so close, throbbing in your palm, close, the thinning thread almost at breaking point, and you lifted your head, tugging, his wet ball popping out of your mouth, and replaced your hand with your lips as something inside you snapped.

For a fleeting, desperate moment, you were plummeting through euphoric freefall.

The next, your contracted muscles suddenly relaxed with a pins-and-needles sensation shooting all throughout your nerves, overwhelming euphoria almost unbearable, barely registering that it was slippery and sticky between your thighs, realizing that you haven’t moved your head, but Jungkook was gasping, clutching your legs and arching his back so his chest pressed against your stomach. Aggressive flinches shot through his entire body, ricocheting from his core. His cock jerked in your mouth, beginning to soften. You didn’t taste any bitterness. Ah. He orgasmed without delivering any unpleasant package. In the back of your mind, you were relieved. This would have been the fourth nut of the night. It probably would have tasted quite bitter and you weren’t a quitter; you were lucky to be spared this time.

He couldn’t control it but you patted his thigh with gratitude anyway.

When you unpeeled yourself from him, Jungkook looked like he badly needed another shower.

“You okay?” you asked, poking his shoulder.

His chest was glistening with sweat. His hair was a mess. He looked like he was discovering oxygen for the first time. His eyes were unfocused. He didn’t even try to lift his arms, or move at all for that matter.

“Y… Yeah…” Jungkook wheezed.

You sat on your sofa and wondered how you ended up in the same place that you started this night.

-

Well.

As it was with life, things didn’t go as intended and now you were stuck in the usual fuckery. But that was fine. You could go back to your regular life of existing in what would most call a frivolous manner quite easily as long as you could somehow get rid of Jeon Jungkook. Which wasn’t happening. Oh. Great. You nodded at yourself in the bathroom mirror after washing up. Everything is going to be fine, you reminded yourself.

You turned around and Jungkook was standing behind you.

In the doorframe of your bathroom. Of course. You and Jeon Jungkook and doors. You blinked quickly, a little disoriented at how quickly he cleaned himself up in your kitchen. Such was the way of men that you would never understand. His hair was still unbrushed and wild, and he was rubbing his shoulder slightly with a grunt of discomfort, jolting to attention when he realized you were done. He was sans pajama pants. Your clothes were somewhere on the floor too.

“Um.”

You really thought at some moment Jungkook would have this internal revelation and shrink away from you, the burden of the past twenty-four hours finally hitting him, but instead he was in la-la land of following you around. A hair’s breath short of a musical number, probably. Delulu was the solulu. And while you wouldn’t advise the avoidance tactic yourself, you weren’t ready to break his reverie just yet.

But.

Sooner was better than later.

“Do you feel better?” you asked.

The dark cloud poisoned his eyes a little but not as much as before. “Uh… I don’t know.”

You hadn’t expected much of an answer. There was still a little sting of disappointment, though. “Pain is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” you said. “And a complicated emotion at that.”

His shoulder leaned against the doorframe but not in the stance of blocking your way out. It was more like he needed something else to hold him up. He still put on a brave face though. “I… I just feel like I wasted my time more than anything else,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and making it worse. “Shit, even fucking around like this was a million times better than whatever the fuck I was doing for the last two years.” He started, realizing how that sounded. “Not that – Not that this was fucking around, I mean…!”

You laughed.

Jungkook stared at you, his panic frozen.

You shook your head. “It was fucking around,” you said with a smirk.

“No, I don’t–”

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the only way I know how to cope myself.”

The conversation died.

The words from your mouth finally caught up to your brain. You stiffened, shooting Jungkook a flustered look and seeing a reflection of your emotion in his expression. “I mean… Comfort others. No. Well. I… It sounds worse than it is…” You trailed off, making it indeed sound worse than it was. “You’re… You wanted it?” It was supposed to be a statement but it came out as a question.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I did,” he stuttered, his eyes darted away swiftly, embarrassment evident. “S-Sorry.”

“No, I did too,” you added, and then abruptly cleared your throat. You sighed, annoyed at yourself for making this more difficult than it should be. “I… I really didn’t want you to do anything stupid. You seemed so… so sad. It bothered me. I wanted to do something for you,” you confessed after a pause. You chewed on the side of your lower lip. “Not that anything I’ve done mattered, I don’t think I’m a god or anything, I can’t control your feelings, so…”

“You are… You are probably the closest thing to a god I know.”

You raised your head and Jungkook was trying not to look at you and failing. He was picking at the paint on your doorframe, or at least pretending like he was.

“In the flesh. ‘Cause I guess we can’t really see gods and stuff…”

He was rambling a bunch of nonsense.

And you didn’t know why, but there was this feeling. It wasn’t about if you found him physically appealing. It wasn’t even about how endearing you found his habits, or about how he told you everything while pretending like he wasn’t, or about how you had an affinity for doing things that were not really the hallmarks of a good person. There was just this feeling. This awkwardness that somehow didn’t feel negative. This state of high that wasn’t going away even though you weren’t really thinking about screwing him again. You might never see him after this. You might see him for a little bit and part. These were all probable outcomes. Forever only existed in the afterlife which was why you lived on a false prayer and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. You knew all this.

And yet, the feeling persisted.

“I must say,” you mused, staring at him, this feeling bubbling up your ribcage. “I haven’t done a stupid thing like this since I was in university.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

“Which was years ago,” you clarified. “I thought I was over that phase.”

Your eyes went to his tattoos. Then back to his face. He had a bunch of ear piercings you noticed right now. To be fair, you weren’t exactly ogling his earlobes while he was sobbing into his duffel bag. That would be weird. He noticed you looking. Consciously but trying to play it cool, he shifted his right arm to show off a little more. You pretended that you didn’t notice while totally noticing. This close to an eyebrow wiggle. And then you suddenly remembered something.

“Erm… Where are you gonna live?”

He frowned as if he, too, hadn’t thought that far. “Uh. I dunno. I was gonna stay with Namjoon-hyung a couple days and then look up apartments…” He looked pained. “I might have to rent a room… I can’t go back to Busan. My work is here. Man…”

“Ah,” you timidly agreed. “Yeah. Good call.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“But the leasing office only gives out two keys,” you thought out loud. “And I have his other one. So… I could give it to you. But then you would have to be the one that comes to rescue him every time he’s locked himself out. I guess I could let him stay my place until you arrive. Or maybe you have a flexible schedule, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Jungkook rubbed his chest, wincing. “Oh… I’m a videographer. I have a schedule every two weeks, but there are odd call times, especially when we are filming outside… depends on the client and what they need. Uh…”

You coughed awkwardly. “Hm. I work from home. So. I’m always here, basically.”

Both of you were avoiding each other’s eyes. There was another, heavily pregnant silence.

You cast him a sidelong glance.

He gave you a similar hesitant but hopeful look.

“You don’t know me,” you reminded him. “I could be really horrible to live with.”

Jungkook peered over your head to observe the state of your bathroom. He glanced back to you. “Looks clean to me.” His eyes were shining. So bright. So adorable. It was over for you.

“I spend all of my free time rotting on my couch and watching YouTube,” you admitted, weakly trying to dissuade him.

“Me too!” He chimed in, a little too excitedly. He coughed and straightened a bit. “Uh… I cook too. And do laundry. I’m really good at household chores. I can show you. I can clean right now!”

You grabbed his arm before he could shoot away and top-down scrub your apartment at three in the morning butt naked. “Er, we could… Do a trial run. Of you…” You noticed that you had yanked him hard enough so that you were now staring at his chest as you spoke. With each word, you raised your line of vision. From his clavicle, to his neck, to his dark pink lips clearly indicative of shared kisses, to his soulful eyes gazing down at you.

Yearning.

“Living with me,” you finished, loosening your hold a bit. Trailing down to his wrist. “If you want.”

His eyes shifted but he was doing anything but resisting. “You sure… About that?”

You weren’t and at the same time you were.

“It’s only until you get back on your feet.” You tried to sound firm about it but somehow you were holding his hand now, clutching it tightly. “I’m sure you want… More space. Or there will be something you don’t like about this apartment. For example, I only have one bed. And it’s a full-sized bed.”

Jungkook was staring into your eyes and his face was getting closer.

“Sounds nice,” he murmured, his breath against your nose.

“It’s not,” you assured him, and you tilted your head up to kiss him.

--

masterpost

[chososluv]

P L U G T O J I !

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: i just got the thinking about toji fucking you with a chain on and how drastically different he would be from plug!choso and well... she came out!

🏷 tags/warnings: smut. fem!reader, reader has vagina, black coded, big dick toji, pet names (ma, mamas, daddy) daddy is used as "hey zaddy" not in a ddlg kind of way, slight size kink bc toji is huge squirting, fingering, some degradation, toji being a meanie its why we love him. dom!toji, cervix touching, deepthroating, weed smoking, mentions of criminal activity, toji is as toxic ass mf, reader is a fly ass bitch, toji fucking you w the chain on cuz duhhhh! Also subject to be edited

✎₊˚ word count: 6.5k sorry i had a lot to say about plug!toji yall!

Plug!Toji who is drastically different than plug!choso from personalities and down to how you meet.

You were college girl and Plug!Toji is the king of the city you moved to. You two lived in separate worlds until you decided further education was not for you and dropped out. It wasn't the fact that you weren't making grades — you were on the dean's list the entire time you were there — but you suddenly felt bored. Destined for more, you submitted those drop out papers and felt instant relief knowing that was the right decision. Now that you had time to pursue something other than college, you started bouncing around jobs. Retail job here, customer service agent there, eventually you tried out being a bottle girl at a local luxurious nightclub after being referred through a friend of a friend. That decision led you to be tangled with the notorious Toji Fushiguro.

Plug!Toji flew back to the city on this particular day. He touched down and decided immediately he need to be fucked up with a pretty woman in his lap. He went to his penthouse condominium, ridding himself of his clothes to start a hot shower before he got ready to go to one of his favorite clubs.

The same one you happened to work at full time now

Plug!Toji waited for the shower to get hot when one of his trusted men, Gojo Satoru, sent him the details of the section booked, followed with a selfie of him and an unknown's stripper's ass, grinning really hard. Toji could only grunt out a small laugh, tossing his phone onto the counter and climbing into the shower.

Originally not scheduled, you picked up a shift that fateful night Plug!Toji arrived back in town. You wanted the extra cash — and needed to justify spending money on getting your hair done into a smooth silk press. Your hair was long and straight down your back, and you looked absolutely divine. You garnered more attention that night from both clients and coworkers. You only laugh off each compliment, saying thank you, before tossing the strands over your shoulder. You had time for nothing more. You were here to get your bag and go.

Absorbed in your bag chasing, you failed to notice Plug!Toji watching you from his section. Satoru had the section packed with a plethora of strippers and bottle girls but you were all he could find himself focused on. Strippers kept trying to get his attention but he shooed him away every time as he watched you bring a bottle to a table. He saw your gorgeous smile all the way from his section. He continued to watch you and he took a generous swig from the Hennessy bottle. He doesn't flinch as the dark brown liquid raced its way bitterly down his throat. He still didn't care. His only focus was on the pretty woman with the exuberant personality he saw from across the way. You.

"Wait, I think the Toji is staring at you." One of your coworkers peeped as you were walking to the bar to prepare another drop on a table. The other one looked over and saw the big brooding man staring shamelessly in your direction. She quickly looked back to the rest of you before joining in the confirmation.

"He's definitely looking this way, but could he really be staring at y/n?" The other asked, clearly not attempting to hide her jealousy and you laughed. You only shook your head, not even bothering to look at who they were talking about because again, you were here to get your bag and not fawn over men. Money was the only thing on your mind and these men had to prove they were worthy of your attention. The three of you approach the bar before you replied.

"Girl not you sounding like a damn hater," you checked her, "we'll revisit that comment later, but either way I have no idea who that man is." You continued as you watch the bartenders finish up the last touches on the bottles you were delivering. The girl only rolled her eyes.

"Even more reason why I hope he's not looking at you. You're too new around here and you getting all the high end clients-" You looked directly at your coworker.

"You worry about the wrong damn things. Focus on ya bag and maybe you won't be so hurt when someone new comes in and takes up your clients." You snapped, not bothered — or concerned — if customers heard. This coworker in particular had been testing you since you got here and were sick of the unwarranted attitude. The witnessing coworker whistled.

"Y/N got a point. Step ya pussy up and maybe you'll party with Fushiguro one day." She said, defending you and that was all you needed to hear. You heard her fix to say something else, but then your manager popped up next to you three. A big grin was on his face

"Ladies, Yuki is going to fill in for Y/N. Toji Fushiguro just bought Y/N for the rest of the night." You raised your eyebrow and turned to face your manager. You didn't even bother to sneak a glance at your hater coworker. You knew she was fuming but that wasn't your focus. You had a smile stretched across your lips.

"How much?"

"Shit, probably enough to pay off the remainder of your loans from school. I know I could go out and buy a car with the money he just offered off tip alone." He said honestly and that was all you needed.

Plug!Toji who watched your manager fill you in from a distance. He immediately got up from the section, not wanting to share you with anyone. He descended from the stairs with suave arrogance as if he owned the place. Shit, he pretty much did one way or another with the way he ran this city. Everyone ate out of his hand whether they knew it or not. He continued his descension and that's when you finally looked in his direction. You unknowingly clenched your fist when you settled on his face, the look of an adonis but eyes of something so evil and sinister. You felt the tides change in that moment and knew your world was about to shift tremendously.

Plug!Toji stalks up on you, towering over you and your manager. He offers his free hand that wasn't holding the Hennessy bottle. His hands are cold. . .

so why was your palm so hot when he held it?

"You're y/n?" you nodded, "you ever fucked with someone who could buy you fucking the world, pretty girl?" Toji asked, quickly inspecting your empty wrist and empty ring finger. Perfect. That meant it would easier for him to snatch you up if you didn't have anyone at home waiting for you.

"Nah, but I assume you're about to change that, Toji?" Your mouth moved before you could stop yourself. He could only smirk and he bit his lip as he looked at you up and down. Your manager sensed he was no longer needed and walked himself away as he felt the wad of cash in his pocket - courtesy of Toji bribing for your time.

"Had a feeling you had a mouth on you," he brought his lips close to your ear, "glad to know I was right." A shiver skated down your spine and you felt goosebumps prickle on your arms. You brought your face back to look at him, shooting him a mischievous grin and Toji felt something adjacent to love in that moment. A desire to have you to himself had grew even more. You leaned close to him and he brought his ear back down to you so you could speak clear into it.

"I'd love to know what else you suspect about me, Toji." You challenged, voice something sensual and thick with sultry honey. He traced a thumb over your knuckle and replied back.

"Careful with me, baby. I just might snatch you up and never bring you back." Toji warned. You probably should have took some time to think about what he was saying, but you felt high off this banter alone and wanted to do anything to keep it going. So, you licked your lips, stepped close to him and placed a testy hand on his stomach and spoke.

"What if I been waiting for you to come do that, Fushiguro?" You said. You removed your lips from his ear to capture the look in his eyes. Sensual darkness passed over and he grinned sinfully, that scar lifted at the corner of his mouth. You had only just fully realized how eerie he looked with it, but for some reason you wondered what it would be like if he let you licked it. . .

"Then," he broke your thoughts, "lets go ahead and get acquainted, baby. Whatcha say?" He questioned and you nodded. He smirked again and took a final swig of the Hennessy bottle. He looked to his left to see your coworker from earlier gawking at you two. He motioned her over, excitement came across her face as she thought she was joining in on you. However, Toji placed the empty bottle in her hand, patted her cheek, and shooed her away. He focused his attention back on you before witnessing the crestfallen look on her face. You couldn't even attempt to shoot her a fake sympathetic look because you started squealing.Toji literally snatches you up and takes you out of main room and to the lounge he faithfully rents out.

Plug!Toji who had you squeezing your legs tight as he carried you to keep your cunt from fluttering. The brute exhibit of his strength had you swoon as he balanced you with one arm. He took you to his favorite lounge where drinks and pre-rolled blunts were already waiting. He took a seat on the plush couch and you slid down next to him. He stared at you all over, not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. He stared at you for a few moments before he spoke.

"You smoke?"

Plug!Toji who offers you a blunt - to which you gladly take. Smoking on the shift with this handsome man? That's a dream come true. You take a couple puffs, barely coughing and Toji is impressed as you passed it back. He takes a hit before passing it back to you.

"You be smoking, huh baby?" He asked you. You chuckled, nodding as you take another generous hit. This time you stifle a small cough and he laughed at you.

"Yeah. It's how I decompress." You admitted, coughing again and he chuckled at you once again. He rubbed your back jokingly to help you through your fit.

"Can't smoke my shit like its regular baby this shit pressure." He said, taking another hit to hold the blunt for you. You rolled your eyes, looking at him to see he scooted closer to you. You felt the heat from his body waft off his and onto yours, words dissolved from your brain as you looked at his appearance appropriately. His all black outfit with a black tee, jeans, and shoes - a simple yet sexy monochrome moment. A thick gold herringbone chain draped around his neck to provide a pop of color and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering how the weight would feel on your face while he fu-

"What you looking at, y/n?" Toji asked, smirking at you once again as he caught you staring at him in deep thought. You subconsciously licked your lips as while staring at his chain and he felt compelled to call you out on it. You snapped from your gaze, trance lifted and your eyes shifted back to his. You only smiled.

“Your chain, daddy.” You teased and he shifted at the pet name that rolled off your tongue. He didn't even try to hide his sleazy ass grin.

“What about my chain, ma?” He took a final hit of the blunt, ashed the rest in the tray. Leaning back into the couch, he stretched out his legs and patted a broad hand on his lap. You knew this signal, and usually you ignore it but with Toji? You obeyed and got up to slide into his lap. You placed an arm around his shoulders to steady yourself against his frame. His broad arms circled around you and caged you in possessively. You sunk into his hold and then you spoke.

“It's pretty.” You reached up and your fresh manicure set brushed against the herringbone. He swallowed when he felt your nails scratch against his neck and he only stared at your face in the lounge lighting. He’s allowed to see your pretty complexion in this space, gorgeous set of pump lips, and lashes extended for days. Your eyes looked from the chain to see him staring at you. You smiled and tossed your hair over your shoulder.

“Want one?” He asked you, eyes flickering to your naked neck and picturing how a matching one would look on you. He thought about adding a T charm to it so people know you were his. A smile on his face when he thought about it but it looked like he was mirroring yours because you had also smiled.

“Maybe. What I gotta do for one?” You teased and played a dangerous game consciously. You played dumb, but you knew the whispers about Toji Fushiguro. He was the top boss of the city and he did highly illegal things. Too many of the people he was affiliated with were fighting charges and RICOS. And you had sat in the most dangerous man in the city’s lap, and flirted with him as if it were nothing.

When you look back on your behavior that night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you always knew you were secretly made for this kind of life with Toji.

“Let me take you out of here and I’ll show you everything you can do for me, pretty girl.”

Plug!Toji didn't need to ask you twice. You immediately left without telling any of the girls and your manager. You texted your roommate you would be out late and shared your location with a trusted best friend and that was as much as you did.

Plug!Toji met you out front. He grabbed your hand and led you to a vehicle, opening the door for you to the backseat of a sleek, black suv. The leather interior had you wondering how much it cost as Toji slid in the backseat with you. The driver greeted Toji and he responded with grunted instructions to go home.

“Ayo you know the rules. Don’t look back here. And shit with this one,” Toji looked at you, licked his lips, and wondered how yours would taste, “if you even think about looking back here i’ll cut those eyes out.” You didn't have time to register how serious Toji’s threat sounded because he placed his rough lips against yours. You immediately shut your eyes, melting into his lips and you felt immediately brazen enough to grab onto his t-shirt to bring him closer. Toji could only smirk against your lips, seeing how you were bold and never terrified to be in close quarters with him regardless of his criminal status. He only wanted you more that night.

Plug!Toji who didn't give a fuck his driver was less than a foot away and he pulled down the raunchy work top you wore. You gasped when his calloused fingers pinched at your hardened nipple. The action earned a twitch between your thighs.

"I been wondering how pretty these tits were since i saw you and i'm not disappointed. They real aint they?" Toji said against your lips, he paused kissing you to cast a gaze down at your breast. He saw the perky bunch prickle with goosebumps as your nipples stood at the cold air and stimulation. You only moaned at his compliment before you snaked your hand that was on his shirt to the back of his head to bring him closer, aching to devour his taste of mint and hennessey again. You're stuck your tongue out lewdly as you drew him closer and he smirked sinisterly before you two kissed yet again. This time was sloppy and spit swapping with teeth bumping against one another as tongues traced one another. The taste of your strawberry gloss and tongue left Plug!Toji feeling greedy and he needed more.

Plug!Toji and you only managed to kiss on the car ride. When Toji was about to place you in his lap the driver alerted you two that you had arrived to his apartment. He grunted, pulling away from you to see your gloss smeared around your lips and pupils blown sexually. He took a thumb and rubbed the gloss off your chin as you tuck your breast back into your shirt. Toji reached into his pocket, took out a wad of wash, and threw it into the lap of the driver.

"Good job not looking. Y/N, baby come on."

Plug!Toji who wasted no time and fucked you crazy in his apartment that night. He brought you up to his apartment and was nice enough to let the door close before he had began tearing your clothes off. You can't recall who took off what, but what you do remember is the first thing he made you do was lay face down ass up on the edge of the bed. His hands caressed your ass as his tongue lapped up and down your cunt ravenously. Salvia and dripping cream dribbled down his chin and lips but he didn’t care. Your angelic wails melodic to him and each time you went an higher octave he felt his cock swell another inch.

“Sexy as fuck when you moan,” Toji complimented you, “pussy pretty and soaked too think you ready for this dick?” You were so delirious you agreed. Your cunt lusted for something inside it and you felt him tap on your ass. You got up from your position, turning around to face him as you sat on the edge. You looked up at him, his massive frame towered over you as he slowly undid his jeans, his shirt long gone but that damn gold chain still sitting grandly on his chest.

He settled onto the middle of his bed, free from his clothes and he gave you a look. You didn’t need to be told, and you crawled towards him, swift hands at the band of his boxers and you languidly pull down . . .

you gawked at his immense cock that flopped against his stomach, stiff and flushed at the tip. You attempted miserably to hide your overwhelmed countenance but Toji saw the way your eyes widened and snickered. You don't notice him laughing at you because you were still so mesmerized by how huge it was. The veins are engorged around his shaft and even though it’s so brawny and intimidating it’s so pretty.

"Never seen a dick this big before huh?" Toji teased you, a playful thumb coming to caress your cheek as you continued to stare at his cock. You shook your head, just astonished. His enticing mauve shaft with a pink tip had you licking your lips at his color. The tip bubbled with precum and you leaned forward and kitten licked his slit. Toji hissed, but then grumbled as you took his tip in your mouth. He moved his hand to your hair and held it back, his brawny fingers fisting it into a ponytail. His thighs jerked when you kept trying to take as much as him as you could. What you couldn’t take you caressed with two delicate hands.

"Y/N." Toji hissed your name again and gripped tightly onto your hair. You answered with obscene noises coming from your throat and mouth as you performed the best oral of your life. You were so determined as you were determined to claim him with your mouth. Toji noticed your stubborn nature and one of your hands snuck away to fondle at his balls. He cursed and bucked his hips up in your mouth.

His tip bullied its way down your throat and it caused you to gag, but you took it obediently. He carnally bucked his hips into your awaiting throat, more obscene noises tumbled before you pulled your mouth off of him to breathe. You gasped as spit and a little bit of precum slid lewdly down your chin from the excess on your lips. You only smiled, giggled, and then continued to massage his balls with your hands.

"Dick so fucking big, Ji." You said, fucked out just from sucking his cock and Toji could only smirk. He saw that look in your eye and could not believe you were drunk off sucking his cock alone. He almost replied but then you tucked him back into your mouth. Toji groaned as he watched you hungrily slide his dick past where you stopped last time, deep throating him.

"Fuck— mouth so fucking good let me fuck that throat again." Toji said desperately. You barely gave his thigh a gentle caress as a go before he bucked inside your mouth again. You released a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gag and Toji felt his dick jump in your mouth. He bit his lip, relishing in the feeling of your wet and hot mouth and pictured what your cunt felt like. He casted a gaze down at your legs to see you grinding your poor thighs together. He smirked.

"Rubbing your thighs while sucking my dick is crazy. Get cho ass up here and fucking ride it."

You pulled your mouth off his cock, lungs gasping for air as you let oxygen fill them once more. You got up to your knees, quickly placing a few fingers at your entrance to feel the slickness. You're beyond drenched and your glossy fingers were indisputable proof. Toji snatched your hand as you straddled his waist and stuck your fingers in his mouth. Your taste danced on his taste buds and he sighed with pleasure.

"How I taste, daddy?" You inquired, finding your voice now because when he ate you out earlier words were scarce.

"Fucking delicious now sit on this dick."

Plug!Toji had a feeling he was going to fall damn near in love with you the moment you deepthroat his cock, but the way you rode him with something serious he felt in heaven. His arms were crossed behind his head as he enjoyed the way you slapped your hips against his pelvis erotically. His groomed hairs sticky and soaked with your nectar. You huffed, tits bouncing as you ignored the burn that plagued your inner thighs.

"To-ji!" You moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock. You strived to ignore the fact that his girth was literally splitting you in half. You could feel him in the depths of your soul each time you managed to bottom him out completely. Your cunt quivered each time and you panted out pathetic gasps between moans. Toji only continued to smirk at you, drinking in and loving the way you moaned his name. Why was everything about you so perfect?

"You're so fucking sexy taking my cock like a pro, mama." Toji grinned and the scar at the corner of his mouth lifted. He decided he can't take not feeling you against his skin anymore and removed a hand from behind him, bringing it to your waist to steady your body. You mewled when he touched you, not realizing you missed his touch until he placed his hand on your hip. You take one of your hands that was at your breast and move it to hold onto Toji's hand.

"Cock so fucking big." You sighed as you continued to feel his tip deep in your cervix. His cock pulsed inside you this time, twitching when your tepid walls embraced him. Your cunt throbbed, hugging him tightly to beg for his seed. Toji groaned at the feeling, moving the hand from your hip to your ass. He caressed the fat before spanking it ruthlessly. You shout and threw your head back as the sting echoes throughout the surface.

"Biggest cock you ever fucking had, huh mama?" Toji asked of you. He witnessed your face contort in pleasure as you nodded shamelessly.

"MMmmm, yes Ji." You're drunk off the thickness, feeling your cunt tightening up and that thread deep in your belly become taut. You felt it coming and you were biting your lip to brace yourself for the messy spout about to erupt from between your legs.

"You a squirter, y/n?" Toji already had an inkling what was fixing to take place. You nodded, hurling your hips down faster as you felt it coming promptly. The feeling knocked into you when Toji's cruel thumb traced circles on your nub. You wailed, screeching as your cunt sprayed all over Toji, soaking his pelvis and hairs once more.

"Toji!" You panted while you rutted your hips greedily to let the last few spurts of squirt leave your cunt. He grunted and sat up before throwing you off of him and to the side on the bed. You weren't given a chance to register anything before his raven locks dove between your legs.

Plug!Toji has one of your legs thrown over his shoulder as his tongue assaulted your folds the second time tonight. His tongue reveled in every last drop as it oozed out of you. Arousal coated his lips and he doesn't mind. He licked his lips before he suckikg at your trembling hole. You whimpered, wanting to run away because of how good his hot muscle felt against you. Toji only gripped your thighs roughly, surely to leave violet reminders that following morning.

"Fuck you think you doing running from me, y/n?" He swore, slapping your thigh and you whimpered.

"Sorry, Toji—" You attempted to apologize but he cut you off.

"Nah, don't "Toji" me now wheres all that daddy shit from earlier huh?" He taunted you, bringing a finger to your awaiting hole and you sighed at the intrusion. You completely forgot he asked you a question when he sunk a second finger inside. A loud squelch sounded out and your eyes rolled back and you moaned. He slapped at your thigh again.

"Fucking answer me, y/n."

"I'm sorry, daddy. Please—” You tried to speak but his fingers curling deep in that one spot left you winded..

"Please what, pretty girl?" He teased, fucking your hole with his fingers and he earned a nasty squelch. His tongue circled your clit and you cry out. Toji’s fat tongue was so mean and overpowering your poor little clit as he fucked it. He earned another gush to coat his fingers and on the sheets.

"Want that dick, daddy." You finished your thought finally. Your pussy finished its second round of squirting and Toji licked at your clit one last time. He traveled down and sucked the arousal from around your folds before he came back up to you. He grabbed onto your face and you opened your eyes, seeing him stare down at you with that precarious darkness in his eyes.

"Open, and I just might give it to you." He said and you obeyed without question. Mouth open, you stuck your tongue out as he gathered the spit and arousal left in his mouth. The liquid is on your tongue and before you can swallow it Toji's mouth chased after you. You moaned in the kiss as your tongues swirled together in a salacious dance. You were so distracted by the kiss you fail to notice he was prepping to slide in until he eased in you.

"Toji—fuck—feels ssssogood!" You slurred underneath the brute man as he fucked you into his mattress. You couldn't keep up, pathetic gasps and whimpers fell from your lips each time he pistoned into you. He only smirked, drunk off the sounds that left your lips. He knew you ain't ever had dick like this before.

"Could say the same about you baby," he looked down at you, his chain bumped into your nose but you don't care, you're in heaven at the feeling, "pussy so pretty, leaky, and creamy can't have no one else fucking my shit." He spoke about you filthily but you don't care — again. You only get enraptured off his words and nodded frantically.

"It's all yours, daddy," you're drunk off his cock as it continued to send you in a lustful spiral, "i promise." You approached your orgasm and threw your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Toji only grunted and continued to fuck deeper into you as you squeezed him tighter.

"All mine huh," you nodded as your eyebrows scrunched up, face contorting into a euphoric expression once more, "that's what i like to fucking hear." He fucked into you faster, his thumb coming to rub on your clit again and you cried. You threw your head back, screaming as you felt your body succumbing to the orgasm.

"To—ji!" You're choking, pussy tight and leaky on Toji's thick cock as you came. You creamed, sucking him in and gushing hard around him. Toji only kept fucking you through your orgasm, his cold chain continuing to dust lightly against your face. You became a whimpering mess underneath him, unable to comprehend anything as overstimulation took over.

"Fucking tight pussy tryna get me to cum in it the first night," Toji chuckles, "shit should I, baby?" You nod your head so fast you should have felt shame for it.

"Want it all, Ji." You tell him and Toji didn't need to be told twice.

You're cumming again when he finally spills himself inside. He grunted and groaned, the sounds melodic to your ears and your cunt twitched around him more. He felt it, continuing to milk his cock with your silky walls and coming down from his high. He looked down at you and saw the roots had turned curly and a light smirk came to his face. A moment passed when you opened your eyes and looked up at him.

You mewled, coming back to Earth and you studied the man who lingered above still. His chain is still swinging against your face but you don't flinch. Dark eyes peered down and you hold his stare for a moment. The scar caught your attention, and the fingers that were on his back found themselves sliding forward to trace along the abrasion.

Plug!Toji tried to ignore the electricity he felt when your manicured finger traced along his skin. The moment felt slightly tender as he held a gaze with you. Something short of vulnerability flashed briefly until he snapped out of it. He hooked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you up from laying on your back and into his lap.

Plug!Toji who sparked a blunt before speaking,

"Once you with me there's no backing out." A subtle warning that once you were tangled with him and his lifestyle that was it. There would be no take backs. You only held his stare and took the blunt from him. You spoke.

"Long as you don't play me for no goofy bitch we good." A subtle warning from your side and you took a hit from the blunt. Toji could only smile sinisterly at your attitude.

"Yes ma'am." He chuckled darkly, taking the blunt back from you before he thinks to himself.

yeah, she'll fit right in.

flash forward a few years later and your life has changed drastically.

You're no longer a bottle girl. Why would you need a job when you had Plug!Toji to take care of you and spoil you to death?

The same went with your apartment. Why did you need to continue to pay expensive ass rent with a mediocre roommate when you had Plug!Toji who was ready to move you into his two floor loft after that first night of fucking?

And last but not least? You're the queen of the city.

Just as violent as Plug!Toji, you always get your way and opposition was always dealt with quickly and efficiently. If one didn't like you, you just prayed for their sake you never met them. Probability very high that the day you two crossed paths would be their last.

Plug!Toji has you as his iced out baby girl who he spoils. He always gets you what you want whenever you ask and men who stared at you a second too long always got punched out by him. Everyone wanted to know who was this one that was always next to Fushiguro. They knew you were someone special to him because Toji never showed up with the same woman more than once, never had a protective hand on their backs at times...

but it was the gold herringbone chain with a "T" brandished clear as day that marked you. Everyone knew it Fushiguro's way of marking you as his.

And you can't help but relish in this new found life of yours. The luxury, opulence, comfort, and excitement it offered to you was unimaginable. Soon after that first night with Plug!Toji, he took care of you instantly. He settled your loans and paid your roommate off to let you break the lease to move into his apartment a month later.

"I need you close to me this shit dangerous. Here, buy you that Saint Laurent bag you been eyein' or somethin just stop that fuckin poutin'.'" Plug!Toji argued, tossing his credit card in your lap on the drive back to his apartment with all your essential stuff in the rear area.

And you did in fact stop pouting and purchased the Saint Laurent purse you had been fawning over. This wasn't the first time Toji asked you to do something and rewarded you when you gave in. As mentioned earlier, you quit your job a couple weeks after meeting him because one time he wanted to see you but you had a shift . . .

"Mane, fucking quit that place, y/n. I take care of you now." You could hear the annoyance in Plug!Toji’s voice as you spoke over the phone, but you were feeling reluctant to agree. Relying completely on him after what you had in your account was gone? You felt uneasy and Toji could sense it. You heard him shuffling on the other end.

"Y/N." He said your name that day and he sounded like he was in a building.

"Yeah, I don't know To-" You started to tell him your thoughts until you heard knocking at your door. You went to answer it, seeing on the other side is none other than Toji. You can't help but roll your eyes as you two hang up. You take in his sexy all black appearance with that signature thick gold herringbone.

Plug!Toji showed up with a present. You two went to your room, you huffed and puffed about how he was going to make you late for work but he ignored you. Toji occupied himself with the jiggle of your ass as you lightly stomped into your room. You had went to the side of the bed, placing the bag there before opening the gift. Toji stood behind you and watched you remove the tissue. You saw the black box, raising your eyebrow as you feel his mischievous hands on your waist and slowly slide up your body. He hands were at your neck when you finally began opening the box.

Plug!Toji sported that signature devilish smirk, moving your hair from your neck as you revealed the gift. You gasped so loud that day.

The gift: a thick gold herringbone necklace similar to Toji's, however yours brandished a "T" in the center. You gasped at how pretty it was but also the slight meaning behind it.

"Toji.." You were still in awe as he began kissing on your neck, moving his hands back down to your waist. He naughtily licks a stripe along your pulse, causing your knees to buckle. He held you up before bringing his lips to your ear.

"Quit that fucking place, y/n."

You didn't even hesitate and immediately agreed that you would.

And moments later, you were riding him with nothing on but that pretty gold herringbone chain.

bonus scene:

present time: you lay pretty in a bathtub, rose and cinnamon filling the air. The ambience relaxing and romantic with your plenty bubbles and aromatic candles lit. Your muscles were slowly releasing the tension from a long day of shopping. A way to decompress after a stressful week of being the fiancé of the notorious Plug!Toji.

Plug!Toji who finds you sitting beautiful. Your eyes are opening, sensing he arrived and your lips shift into a sensual smirk. All day you missed your man and seeing him waltz through the door all tall and delicious you were ready to pounce. Your eyes sank seductively and Toji watches that look pass over you. He sits on the side of the tub as you speak.

"I missed you today, daddy." You speak.

"Missed you too baby," his eyes look you over before speaking, "come out that tub we both know you aint tryna bathe right now." A cocky smirk on his lips and you can only chuckle. However, you get up, standing up from the water and letting the suds and bubbles run with the water down your enticing frame. Toji licks his lips, watching the bubbles fall from your tits, stomach, hips, and between your thighs. He watches intensely as you step out, water lands on the floor but the two of you didn't care as you stand before him. You grab the towel from the sink and hand it to Toji. He leans down and grabs your wet calf, bringing your foot onto his knee as he begins drying your leg off.

You look at his lap, seeing his dick laying against his leg through the tight slacks he was wearing. You bring your foot up, sliding it until your toes were pressing into the print.

"You hard already, Toji" You tease him, he only looks at you sinisterly, knowing he was about to have fun with you tonight.

"Don't play these games y/n you know I aint the mufucka for that." He warns.

"What games, daddy?" You press your toes harder and before you can register the mean look he gave you he swiftly pulls you into his lap. The towel is gone and you're squealing, giggling even because you know you're about to get put in your place.

"Oh we actin' brand new? That's cool." He strikes your ass, earning a lament of shock.

"Get your fucking ass on the bed so i can break this fucking pussy so you don't fucking forget shit again."

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

[chuuyrr]

ᯓ YOU KNOW HOW TO BALL, I KNOW ARISTOTLE — NAKAHARA CHUUYA ⊹ ࣪ ˖

ᡣ𐭩 CW(s): f! reader, pre-med student reader x student athlete chuuya, 5.2k words, heavily inspired from a t.s. song

ᡣ𐭩 SYNOPSIS: in which an academic achiever finds an unexpected chemistry with an athlete at college

ᡣ𐭩 NOW PLAYING: so high school & the alchemy

ᡣ𐭩 A.N.: reblogs are appreciated ! hope u enjoy reading this <3

you clutch the strap of your backpack as your friends excitedly drags you along with them across the main campus building of where you attended your classes. you had just finished your chemistry lecture, when your friends brought up the ongoing goodwill games that were taking place in the gymnasium.

you never really had any fondness for sports. in fact, all of the sports courses you had taken up before, which weren't any majors, were not given any effort by you. just as those courses were labeled as such, they weren't majors, so they weren't your priorities.

you were all about the majors. the bigger, badder subjects. the chemistries. the laboratory classes. those were your a-games. 

but you smile along with your friends, it couldn't hurt to watch some sports taking place.

“gosh, be more a little excited, (nickname)!” one of your friends giggles and playfully nudges your elbow.

“i know right? the business administration third years are playing against our third years, and you know what that means!” your other friend chimes, all giddy. 

“of course i do. handsome guys..” you sigh, not really showing any interest as your two friends squealed at your answer regardless.

your two friends drag you inside the gymnasium. the sliding and thumping of rubber shoes against the court along with the words of a commentator resonated inside. you look around and there were already students by the bleachers ranging from lower to higher years, as well as high school students who were simply enjoying the match. 

as you join your friends in the bleachers, you catch sight of a certain redhead. he was from the opposing team, adorning a red and black jersey with the number twenty-nine and the name nakahara on his back. 

“hmm, nakahara..” you mutter softly to yourself.

your friends heard and giggled, playfully nudging your arm and side with a giddy smile. 

“fancying someone i see?” one of them asks.

“no! i'm just reading names.” you immediately say, your cheeks growing warm from embarrassment. 

“we heard you loud and clear, (nickname). you've been eyeing player twenty-nine.” your other friend points out.

“oh shut up.. err—maybe i was.” you shrug in a sheepish smile as the three of you watch the basketball match. 

“well, if you're interested. his name is nakahara chuuya. third year, so just a college year ahead of us.” your friend explains, a smirk following after, “confirmed to be single.”

“and how is the last part relevant?” you raise a brow, causing your friends to giggle. 

“just in case.” your friend shrugs with an innocent tone.

you playfully roll your eyes before you continue watching the game with an intent gaze, following the ball as it arcs in the air, passed skillfully by players. your focus sharpens when it finally lands in the hands of the player you've been eyeing before.

number twenty-nine. nakahara.

despite the intense attempts of the defenders from your side to intercept, chuuya skillfully catches the ball from his teammate on the opposite side of the court. your cheeks grew warm again, perhaps even warmer, when he moves with such fluid grace, dribbling the ball past his opponents, his eyes locked on the hoop. 

“damn, he's good..” you mutter to yourself as your friends, along with the crowd, start cheering the rising climax. 

you furrow your brow and your heart races as you watch chuuya on the court. the world appears to blend around you, and all you see is him. his determination is evident, and his eyes have a fierce glint as he prepares himself for the shot. he moves with natural ease, the ball an extension of his body.

he jumps in the air as time slows down. you watch breathlessly as the muscles in his arms flex, the light catching the sweat on his brow, and you feel a warm sensation run through your chest. the ball leaves his hands in a flawless arc in the air and the next thing you know—you've fallen for him.

the roar of the crowd diminishes, leaving only the hammering of your own heartbeat. the ball swishes through the net of the hoop, and his triumphant smile seals your fate.

fuck, you're in love.

his gaze darts through the crowd, waving his hands alongside his fellow athletes and scanning the faces, before landing on the bleachers where you sit. your breath caught when you felt his gaze on you. you are confident in your eye contact, and the warmth on your face increases. your cheeks burn, and you instinctively touch your face, feeling the heat radiating from your skin.

chuuya's gaze lingers on yours for a little longer, and a small, knowing smile tugs on the corner of his lips. the realization that he genuinely sees you sends shivers down your spine. the commotion of the crowd returns, but all you can think about is that shared look.

you lower your hand from your face, attempting to calm your pounding heart, knowing that something big has occurred between you.

“you good?” your friend raises a brow at you.

“oh damn, she's gushing!” your other friend gasps out dramatically. 

“oh my god, shut up! he's watching!” you cover your face now, your cheeks burning at this point as you tell your friends to zip it.

“oh.. oh.” they both mutter in unison.

the game progresses further and you were drawn to every move, pass, and shot, but none were more than those of number twenty-nine, and when the final whistles blow as the timer runs out, the game ends with chuuya's team emerging victorious.

the gymnasium roars with cheers and applause, and you watch your friends already clambering down the bleachers to get closer to the players, pulling you down the floor with them. you were hesitant and awkward about it, considering how they were cheering more towards the opposing team, chuuya's team, instead your own program's team.

you were insistent about it as they dragged you through the crowd of students, and as you weave through, you get separated from your friends so you decide to step aside, leaning against a wall to catch your breath and hopefully spot your friends somewhere in this sea of excited and hyped up students.

instead of your friends, you notice him again, and this time much closer and gazing around as if searching for someone.

your eyes widen, and you realize with surprise that he seems to be.. looking for you?

suddenly, he walks over to you, his steps determined but unhurried. your heart pounds in your chest as he approaches, his piercing blue eyes set on yours, and when he reaches you, he pauses with a smile.

“hey, you okay?” he asks first, noticing how you were all alone by a wall amongs the throng of students exiting the gymnasium after the match, “where are your friends?”

“huh? oh, uh, yeah. there's so many people that i lost sight of my friends, and i just needed to step aside a bit,” you stammer out, feeling quite overwhelmed.

“oh, i'm sorry to hear that. here, let's head over there.” he says, his hand holding your arm as he guides you somewhere where it was less crowded.

“you good now?” chuuya asks you with a friendly smile, “i saw you in the stands, and i know you're rooting for the pharmacy's team, but did you enjoy the game?”

“yeah,” you manage out, “my friends were even talking about you.”

“good things, i hope,” he says with a playful glint in his eye that made your heart leap.

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing, “yeah, good things.”

he now leans against the wall beside you as he asks, "do you come to these games often, or was today a special occasion?"

you shake your head in response, chuckling a bit, “i'm not really a fan of sports to be honest. my friends just dragged me here."

"well, i'm glad they did," he says, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

you find yourself captivated to chuuya's easy charm and genuine warmth as the discussion flows between you two. as you two converse, you notice the crowd of students thinning out and your friends who were looking for you, waving at you from the entrance, and maybe even gushing over you being with the athlete. (and you make a mental note to smack the hell outta your friends for sure.)

chuuya lifts his gaze and spots your friends, “oh hey, those are your friends right?”

“mhm, i gotta go,” you say immediately as you flash him a friendly yet albeit shy smile, “thanks for keeping me company.”

“no problem,” he nods with a smile. chuuya looked as if he still had something to say, but you already sprinted off to your friends at the entrance of the gymnasium.

chuuya stands there, unable to contain a laugh as he smiles at you, watching you crash in your friends, smacking one of them as they laugh and reunited with you.

he finds it nice to meet someone who's here for more than just the game. he could tell.

days have passed with your thoughts constantly returning to the gymnasium, to the moment the athlete's gaze met yours, the moment he talked to you and accompanied you.

your friends did in fact notice you daydreaming but thankfully don't press you about it but goodness, did it feel like you were back in high school, as if you weren't even at college, with him on your mind.

it is currently afternoon, and you find yourself walking towards the campus library to study some lessons by yourself as your friends have already left and went their own ways after class.

you grabbed your ID for scanning as you approached the entrance of the library, when you saw a familiar figure standing by the steps, seemingly engrossed in another conversation with another student.

however, your feet stop on their own, your heart skipping a beat the same way it did days ago as you recognize the redhead from the basketball match you watched with your friends—nakahara chuuya.

he was dressed casually today, and boy was it a stark contrast to the intense athlete you saw on the court.

you gulp to yourself, and considered turning back now, but your curiosity and determination kept you rooted in place. and so, you walk past him, at least attempt to as you clutched your tablet and bag with you, trying to come off as nonchalant and casual.

but you couldn't help but take just a single glance, and that was all it took for your knees to grow weak as chuuya's gaze averted and met yours. for a split second, neither of you move, and you swear he took your breath again as he flashes you a warm, and friendly smile.

your cheeks flush almost instantly with warmth. this is the first time you saw him this upclose and so you immediately duck into the library, mentally cursing yourself for acting like a flustered higher schooler who just saw her crush. you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and look for a table around the library, choosing a somewhat secluded area so you could begin studying.

you put down your tablet on the table and sit down, opening important files and notes but damnit was it hard to focus. the words on the screen blur together as you mind couldn't help but replay the brief encounter you just had just now.

minutes later into your studying, the chair beside yours shifted. you glance up and saw chuuya again, just right beside you as he placed down his own bag on the table you were occupying.

“hey,” he says softly, “mind if i join you?”

your heart pounds like crazy as your eyes widen. you nod, but immediately shake your head no as you realized, “no! not at all.”

he chuckles softly at your response as he takes a seat beside you, “i saw you at the game the other day.”

you nod softly, trying to find your voice as you fidgeted the pen of your tablet, “err, yeah. you were amazing on the court, by the way.”

“thank you, it's nice to always have support from the crowd. even if they aren't the same program as me,” chuuya says with another chuckle as scratched the nape of his neck.

god, was his presence calming and electrifying at the same time, and it was almost hard to believe he was right here, breathing in the same air as you.

“so, what are you studying?” he asks, glancing at your tablet's screen.

“oh, uh. chemistry.” you reply, trying to steady your voice as you look at him, “it's one of my major subs.”

chuuya raises a brow at you, and looks impressed, “that's an intense subject. i don't think i can handle that. i'm more of a mathematics kind of a guy to be honest, more on physics though.”

you giggle softly, feeling more at ease as you two continue talking, “that's okay. everyone has their own strengths, yeah?”

“yeah,” he agrees as he leans back into his chair and grin, “you know, i've never really been into academics, but clearly you are. that's why i play basketball.”

“but it works out for you, right?” you say softly as you recall the memory of him dominating the court once more, “you still need to keep up with your studies though.”

“mhm,” chuuya nods at your words, “yeah, but balancing both is a challenge to be honest. we have a GPA to maintain to stay on the team. so you could say it keeps me motivated to study.”

you're about to respond but chuuya's phone suddenly buzzes from the table. he glances at you with a cute sheepish yet frown on his face, “sorry, i need to take this. it's probably my coach.”

chuuya leaves you for a moment, leaving you to your thoughts but when he returns a few minutes later, he appears a little disoriented about something, but still attentive to you. “sorry about that, but my coach called to say we have practice again.”

your face falters into a look of disappointment, “oh, it's okay.”

“i'm really sorry,” chuuya says, feeling guilty to leave you so soon, but you couldn't help but feel your heart skip about this fact.

“thanks for sitting with me though. it was nice.. while it lasted,” you say, stifling a quiet giggle to lighten up the mood.

he smiles warmly now upon hearing your giggle, and gosh it sounded like chimes of bells in chuuya's ears, “yeah, it was. maybe we can do this again sometime?”

your eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment you were speechless. nakahara chuuya, number twenty-nine, one of the school athletes, is asking you to meet with him again?

you immediately nod, a bit too eager, but not that he minds at all, “i'd love to.”

“great!” chuuya chimes, laughing as he slings his backpack over his shoulder in a hurry, “well, i gotta run now before the coach makes me do 50 push-ups or something.”

“okay, okay. see you around?” you giggle at his antics, smiling widely now.

“yeah, see you aroun—” chuuya was about to run off when he immediately returned back to you, making your eyes widen again in surprise and confusion.

“your name,” chuuya says a bit too quickly. it was almost like he was rapping, “i forgot to ask your name.”

“(surname) (name), from pharmacy.”

“got it, you probably already know me, but chuuya. nakahara chuuya, from business ad.” he says with a wink before leaving a second time, and this time for good.

you watch him leave the library in a hurry, something that makes your heart flutter as you shake your head to yourself. you return your attention back to your tablet, and gosh, it becomes even more difficult to concentrate. you find yourself thinking about the brief encounter you've had with him again, every word exchanged, and the way his smile made your heart skip.

you really were feeling so high school again, and that's for sure.

the next few days were a flurry of lessons and brief visits to the gym, hoping to catch another glimpse of chuuya training. each time, your heart skips a beat, but you remind yourself to remain focused.

you do not want to appear too eager or desperate, but it was a fine line between expressing interest and coming over too strongly.

as you're packing your belongings at the library to head home after studying as per usual, a notification appears on your phone. it was a text from an unknown number.

you blink for a moment before you read the text in your mind, and your eyes slowly widen, “hi! it's chuuya, remember? from the court and library? i got your phone number from a friend. hope that's okay?”

you feel your heart race once more. (it was becoming a habit for your poor heart to be honest.) all you could think about was how chuuya got your number? and from whom? but a part of you already had an idea.

either way, you shake those questions away from your head as you text him back.

“hi, chuuya! it's ok with me. how are you? :)”

your phone buzzes as your text receives a reply.

“am good! just finished practice. wanted to see if you're free to grab a coffee with me?”

coffee. with chuuya. the mere thought sends a chill through you, but it was a good kind of thrill—one that made your tummy do flips and your face flush with warmth.

“sure, i'd love to! when and where if ever?”

chuuya's response was so immediate, “how about tomorrow afternoon? i don't have any classes tomorrow and there's a cafe near campus that you might like.”

“sounds good! my classes end at 1pm tomorrow.”

from then, the anticipation grows as you count down the hours until your coffee meeting with chuuya. you even spend a little extra time getting ready for tomorrow, ensuring that you look your best without going overboard.

and when you finally arrive at the café he texted you yesterday, you see him right away. chuuya was waiting at the entryway, casually clothed yet still looking effortlessly suave. he flashes you a smile and waves as you approach him, and you get that familiar flutter in your chest.

“you came! here, lemme get the door for ya’,” chuuya says with a smile, holding the door open for you.

the aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries is soothing, as you and chuuya pick a comfortable corner table to relax inside. you order your drinks and discuss everything from favorite books to future goals, and the conversation between you flows naturally.

everything feels natural, every smile, every laugh, and ever gaze, it was as if you've known one another for much longer than a few encounters, and you can't help but think about the slow burn of your feelings for chuuya, which was undeniable, and you wonder whether he feels the same way.

but for the time being, you're satisfied to enjoy his company, savoring each moment as you learn more about the athlete who has piqued your interest.

and it becomes even more evident when this simple coffee date becomes a constant between you two—he comes to wherever you are, whether you're in the library or at a cafe.

it was strange, but it was also comforting.

“mind if i join you, (nickname)?” he even calls you by your nickname now at this point as he stands by your table.

“sure,” you smile at him, trying to sound as casual as possible as you gesture at the empty seat across you.

chuuya sits down, and you notice he is clutching a physics book. he sees you staring at him and his book, and chuckles, "i have an exam coming up, so i thought i'd get some studying done.”

you nod, feeling a little more relaxed, “i feel you, but mine's chemistry.”

for the next hour, the two of you will sit together, exchanging a few words and smiles. there's a comfortable silence between you, broken only by the sounds of books turning and coffee cups clinking in the cafe.

you steal glances at him every now and then, seeing how focused he appears, and you can't help but appreciate his commitment to study regardless of being an athlete. it shows that he really values balancing both.

eventually, chuuya stretches his arms and leans back in his chair in a sigh, “damn, i think i’ve had enough of physics for today. how about you?”

“yeah, my brain feels like mush now to be honest,” you reply which makes him snicker.

“say, wanna leave the cafe and take a walk around campus? i could use some fresh air.” chuuya suggests, shoveling his textbook back in his backpack.

you both agree, and you leave the café together, going across the campus grounds and you find yourself laughing more than usual, and you notice how at ease you are around him.

as you two reach a quiet spot near the gates, chuuya pauses and looks at you, “you know, i’m really glad we met. it’s nice to talk to someone who’s not just about sports or partying.”

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, “i feel the same way, chuuya.”

the days are another a blur of exams and studying, but your mind keeps returning to chuuya, and chuuya alone.

the warmth of your conversations and the fun every time you two studied and grabbed coffees remained in your memory, making it difficult to focus, making your heart constantly in a flutter that you now find yourself seeking for him around campus, hoping to meet him again, hoping to see him before you day starts and before it ends. it was an overwhelming feeling you couldn't help but long for.

as you’re leaving the classroom with your tote bag and tablet in hand you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“(name)!” you quickly turn around, already knowing and seeing chuuya jogging towards you, his face lighting up with that ever familiar, heart skipping genuine smile.

you smile back as you tilt your head to the side, “hey, chuuya! what’s up?”

he catches up to you, slightly out of breath as he breathes, “i.. i was hoping i’d run into you. thank god i did. do you have a minute?”

“sure. i have a few more minutes before my next class,” you say, curiosity piqued.

“great. perfect.” he pants out, catching his breath now this time.

you turn around for a second to see your friends silently gushing over you and chuuya which you shot them a glare for, making them quietly giggle and leave you two be as they headed to the next class.

with a quiet giggle, you return your attention back to chuuya and he seems a bit nervous now, which is unusual for him. after a brief moment of collecting his thoughts (and breath), he looks at you with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“okay, so we have another game coming up this weekend,” he begins, his eyes locking onto yours, “and it’s a pretty big one, as you know. we’re playing against one of the top teams in the league outside campus, against another university this time.”

“that sounds exciting,” you reply, genuinely interested, “i’m sure you’ll do great as always!”

chuuya chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze, “i hope so. but, uh, i was wondering if you’d come watch the game.”

“of course i'll watch! i only have classes in the morning.” you respond without hesitation, smiling widely, “i’d love to.”

however, chuuya stares down at his hands for a while, as if to gather his courage, before returning his gaze to you, his tone becoming sheepish, “but, i, um.. would prefer if you could come alone to watch this time without your friends.”

you blink in surprise taken aback by the request. just you? without your friends?

“huh? but, why?”

chuuya rubs the back of his neck awkwardly now, a sheepish grin appearing on his face, “i guess i just want to know you’re there, watching. look, i know it is kind of stupid, but i feel like having you there might give me that extra bit of confidence. and… i’d like to hang out with you after the game, just the two of us.”

your cheeks warm at his words, and a soft smile spreads across your face, “i see. well, i'd be more than happy to come, chuuya.”

chuuya's expression lights up, and you notice a mix of relief and something deeper in his eyes, “great! okay, so the game is this saturday at 3PM. i’ll save you a seat, and no need to pay anything. okay? i got it covered.”

“i’ll be there,” you promise, reaching for his arm as a form of reassurance, and he smiles before you scurry back to your friends who you whacked in the head for eavesdropping.

“stop eavesdropping at us!”

“you're watching a game without us?!”

eventually, the day of the game arrives, and you find yourself in the gymnasium without your friends, which makes you somewhat anxious since you're not used to watching a game, let alone without being your friends as you do.

as you head over to your seat which chuuya reserved for you, you scan the court and notice chuuya warming up, and gosh did your mouth become dry at the attractive sight of him stretching his muscular arms.

your cheeks grow warm and he catches your eye from across the gym and waves, his smile widening as he sees you. you wave back, nervous and excited, but also flustered as you wondered if he knew you were staring at him while he was warming up because that was one of the most attractive things you've ever seen in your life.

the game finally begins, and you watch nervously, holding your breath as chuuya moves across the court with the basketball. every dribble, pass, and shot appears to have a unique significance, as if he is motivated by the fact that you are watching him.

chuuya's presence on the court is already commanding from the moment the first whistle reverberates across the pavilion. the opposition team immediately realizes that stopping him will not be a simple feat. as the basketball game progresses, you marvel once again at how chuuya weaves among defenders with such ease.

chuuya’s first play is a tremendous display of such skill and he dominates the court as if he knows it like the back of his hand. he receives a pass from his teammate, fakes left, and then spins to the right, leaving his defender momentarily disoriented. and then, with a swift, fluid motion, he dribbles past two more opponents and makes a flawless layup.

the crowd goes wild in cheers, and you can’t help but cheer and clap along with the audience at the sheer precision of his moves, and chuuya's play just becomes more heated from there, because he can hear you loud and clear, he knows you're there for him.

it becomes even more swift and methodical, with each pass and dribble meticulously planned. he silently communicated with his teammates as if he had telepathy, meticulously scanning the court for openings and potential steals from the opposing team.

it was clear all of his moves were with deftness that only comes from hours of practice and a natural understanding of the game as chuuya steals the ball from an opponent with a well-timed swipe before fluidly transitioning into offense, leading a fast break that finishes in another successful basket.

the game eventually approaches its climax, and the tension across the court is now almost unbearable. chuuya’s team is up by a narrow margin, and every move now feels more critical than ever as you can hear the beat of the drums from the sides, which builds up in intensity.

with only a few mere seconds left on the clock, chuuya dribbles to the top of the key, sizing up his defender. the opposing team’s defense tightens around him, but chuuya remains calm, his focus unshakable. he makes a decisive move, spinning around his defender and launching a shot from beyond the arc.

you feel a rush of nostalgia through your veins as you recall the first time you ever saw him, back in the campus, as time seems to slow down—remembering everything like a flashback as the ball arcs through the air in a familiar way to you, and you hold your breath as it swishes through the basket, securing the victory for his team.

your heart leaps from your chest as the last whistle blows, echoing across the atmosphere and the gymnasium erupts with cheers and applause. chuuya's teammates all rush to congratulate him, carrying him onto their shoulders as the crowd roars in appreciation and you watch with a sense of pride and excitement.

as his team celebrates with their trophy and flashes of cameras, you initially expect chuuya to be absorbed in the aftermath of the game.

but then, you see him breaking away from the crowd, leaving his teammates behind, his eyes scanning the sea of faces in the audience and when he finally sees you, a look of determination crosses his face, and he starts making his way towards you, weaving through players across the court.

you heart races with familiarity as you realize he’s coming straight for you instead of the trophy that you involuntarily stand up from the seat chuuya reserved for you.

the noise of the crowd fades into the background as chuuya closes the distance between you, and when chuuya finally reaches you, he’s out of breath but smiling with an intensity as he exclaims excitedly, “there you are!”

before you can react, chuuya suddenly moves closer to you and, in an exciting and unexpected moment, leans in and slams his lips against yours.

the kiss is both gentle and passionate, taking you off guard but feeling perfectly natural, but it's as if all of your silent emotions were released in one beautiful moment, an exchange of silent 'i love you's' as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace.

chuuya pulls back with both of you breathless and a bit dazed from the sudden kiss, his eyes are filled with a mixture of relief and affection while yours was of surprise and excitement, and he looks at you with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“i’m really, really glad you’re here,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaching for the strand of hair on your face to tuck it behind your ear.

you nod, your cheeks flushed and a smile across your face, as you whisper back, “me too.”

despite the noise reverberating across the pavilion from the aftermath of the match, you and chuuya stand close together, breathless, having such an intimate and exhilarating moment like this, and you find it as the perfect finale to your growing slow-burn relationship, and looking into his eyes fills you with anticipation for what comes next.

“let's get outta here,” he whispers to your ear, his breath sending you tingles.

you ask as his hand drifts from your arm to your waist instead, a smile growing on your face, “but what about your team? or the trophy?”

“fuck the trophy, i've already got mine,” chuuya chuckles as he squeezes your waist as if to emphasize his words before he captures your lips in another kiss.

[ficarcheologist]

୧ ⊹₊ ⋆ cherish 💭 feyd rautha

WARNINGS ⁞ smut, 18+, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, face sitting, lactation kink, creampie, p in v sex

OPs NOTES ⁞ combined a request for pregnant!reader with feyd not wanting reader to leave the bed + feyd fluff 🩷

MY NOTES ⁞ This is not my work. If you are the owner of this work and would like it taken down, please provide proof of ownership and I will take it down/redirect where necessary! Link to the fic reblogged on one of my other side blogs.

Mornings with Feyd are a struggle for one reason and one reason alone. Your husband despises it when you leave your shared bed. And it’s gotten even worse since Dr. Suk confirmed your delicate condition. Your and Feyd’s tireless efforts at conceiving a child have finally borne fruit. You’re pregnant, only two months from delivery now, in fact. You feel his arm wrapped around you, his hand caressing your growing belly. You smile at how protective he is of you and the little one, even in his sleep. And when you try to move out from under his arm, he lets out a low, annoyed hiss, almost like a cat that’s had its ball of yarn taken away from it.

“Stay.”

His words are a low rasp, one that has you smiling to yourself as you struggle to sit up, “It’s time for breakfast, my love.”

You bite back the moan building in your throat as he moves his hand lower, to the apex between your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “But I have such a sweet little treat right here…”

You turn to face him, giving him a light swat against his bare chest. Not for the first time, you’re blown away by just how handsome your husband is, your heartbeat quickening at the sight of his angular face, those intense eyes peering at you, half-lidded with sleep. You lean in to press a kiss against his temple, moving your lips to brush against his jaw next.

“Good morning, my husband,” you breathe against his lips, feeling him smile against you.

You watch as Feyd sits up, his hand moving to your stomach, caressing it as he smiles gently, an expression that he reserves only for you, “How do you feel this morning?”

“Sleepy,” you admit, “My back was sore last night. It took me a while to fall asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Feyd frowns, his hand moving to rest against your lower back, the gesture making your heart warm, “I could’ve stayed awake with you.”

“You were sleeping so peacefully…”

Feyd presses a finger to your lips, silencing you with a stern look, “Next time you experience even the slightest discomfort, I want you to wake me, little one.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand in your own and pressing a kiss to his fingertip, smiling mischievously, “As you wish, my Lord Feyd.”

The serious expression on his face melts into something far more tender, a soft smile gracing his features as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. Feyd lifts the fabric of your nightgown, pressing a kiss to your stomach next, whispering to the life growing inside of you.

“Good morning, little Leto.”

You beam at Feyd, pleased that he’s agreed to name your son after your beloved father. He chuckles as you pull him into another kiss, your lips moving desperately against his as he pulls you into his lap. It hasn’t escaped Feyd’s notice how much you seem to long for him in this vulnerable state, whether it be his protection, his affection, or the pleasure he’s content to give to you any morning, noon, or night. At this moment, it seems you’re interested in the latter, judging by how eagerly you’re palming at him over the fabric of his sleeping pants. Feyd shakes his head, grinning at you.

“Eager, wanton little baroness.”

“Cruel, selfish baron,” you pout, “Your wife requires your touch. Your care. She carries your son inside her womb and even now you seek to deny her?”

Feyd shakes his head, laying back and gazing up at you as you straddle his waist. You pull your nightgown over your head, baring your body to him. Your breasts are fuller than they were a few months ago, the sight of which has Feyd’s mouth watering. The sight of your swollen belly and the realization that it’s his child that grows inside of you has his cock growing painfully hard as you rub yourself against him. He moves his hands to caress your hips, moving down to your ass, giving you a playful slap as you ease yourself onto his cock. He lets out a low groan, rolling his hips against yours as you bounce up and down on him.

“You look so beautiful,” Feyd mumbles, his voice hazy with lust as he stares up at you, “Like a goddess. You ought to let me have a shrine built to you.”

“Only if you have one built for yourself beside me,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his with a smile, your hands resting on his chest, feeling each breath, the way each muscle moves, “My sweet, handsome husband. My lord.”

Feyd sits up on his elbows, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling eagerly, letting your milk flow onto his tongue, the sweet taste making him eager for more. His lips are greedy, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh as you continue bouncing up and down on his cock, feeling him hit the spot inside you that your fingers can never quite reach. When the flow from your right breast stops, he moves to your left, his palm moving up to squeeze and soothe you.

You reach your peak as he mouths at your breast, his hand holding your hips in place as he continues to take his fill, rutting up against you over and over and over until he spills himself inside you, watching his spend leak from your swollen cunt. But, he doesn’t seem to want this lazy morning together to be over.

“Sit on my face, little one,” Feyd rasps, pulling you in gently by the hips, “Let me taste you.”

You move up to do as he asks, rubbing your pearl against his nose as he laps at you eagerly, hands grasping at your thighs as you ride his face, the mixture of your arousal and his tasting tart yet not unpleasant on his tongue. Feyd thinks he could die a happy man like this, feasting on your sweet cunt, but he knows you would slap his chest and scold him if he ever said such a thing. That you’d threaten him if he ever even thought of dying before you. Perhaps the two of you will die together, he muses as you squeal his name, your thighs tremble as your fingers move against your swollen bud. Your bodies buried together on Giedi Prime, laid to rest in each other’s arms for all eternity. It’s macabre, but Feyd can’t think of anything more romantic.

After you reach your peak, Feyd is surprised when you move off of him, cuddling up against his side, pressing featherlight kisses along his jaw. You trace the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, down his chin to his neck, just smiling at him serenely. His breath catches in his throat at the tenderness in your touch, the genuine love in your eyes as you continue pressing kisses to his neck. His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it gently, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

You beam at him, radiant as ever, glowing as a woman in love does, “Oh, Feyd… It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. Let’s stay in bed a little longer, like you wanted.”

His heart soars as he wraps you in his arms, cherishing this moment where it’s only the two of you.

[pandas-pandemonium]

The Aftermath

A continuation from The Opportunist. Requested by a lovely anon!

Summary: The Blue Lock boys don't take the news of you officially dating Nagi very well. Featuring Isagi, Bachira, Kunigami and Reo

"[Name]'s dating Nagi?" Isagi nearly dropped his bottle in shock when Bachira relayed the news to him. Since when did that lazy ass sink his teeth into you? 'Was he too careless?' Isagi wondered. He thought this whole time Nagi wouldn't be as big of a threat as the more aggressive students in this academy. Plus, he was so certain he was making good progress in worming his way into your life! Hell, your mother adored him!

"I saw them with my own two eyes. They were all lovey dovey and Nagi refused to let go of them. They even gave him a kiss before class... willingly. Such a joke, huh?" Bachira chuckled, twirling a pen in his hand. Isagi instinctively recognised it as the one you had lost the other week.

"You're not mad?" Isagi asked. Bachira hummed as his eyes remained focussed on the pen, flipping it up and as he catches it in his palm, it snaps.

"Of course I am."

*****

Kunigami's world felt like it was crashing down. He hadn't felt such despair since he enrolled in Ego Jinpachi's Special Program. You. You. You were his light while he was stuck in that hell and when he came out, hoping to see you again, he was smacked in the face with the sight of Nagi's lips on yours.

He couldn't help but stare at the scene unfolding in front of him. He had heard the rumours that were floating around, but to have it confirmed? Kunigami felt sick. Eventually, he managed to pick himself up, but not before looking once more, only to meet Nagi's piercing gaze.

When Kunigami left the area, that despair he felt in him boiled and fizzled, until it transformed into a burning rage.

How dare he? How dare that shithead claim your body for himself, when it should have been him?!

Perhaps those special lessons were worth the pain after all. With his new physique and new abilities, Kunigami was going to get you back. He'll make sure of that.

*****

It had been a week since Nagi and you became an official couple. Initially you wanted to hide that fact in fear of what the others would say, or do. But Nagi seemed to have no regard for their opinions whatsoever; forcing kisses down your throat any time he saw someone you recognised pass by. You could still feel the dread in your stomach when you saw Kunigami's familiar orange locks disappear in a flash.

Now however, you had another problem. It was about time though, for Reo to confront Nagi. And as you watched the scene unfold in front of you, you could only pray that no one got seriously hurt.

"Nagi. The hell is this?" Reo asked, his purple eyes boring straight into Nagi's skull.

Nagi stared blankly at Reo, one arm draped around your body, something that you had to grow accustomed to over the last couple of days since Nagi forced you to be his romantic partner. "You've got to be more specific on what 'this' is, Reo," he answered, his tone still the same bored one he always spoke with. You could see Reo's eye twitch.

"Why the hell is [Name] dating you?" Reo was barely keeping it together. When you glanced down, you could see how tightly he was clenching his fists. You wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark.

"'cause I asked them out, duh?" Nagi responded. In contrast to Reo's frazzled and antsy disposition, Nagi was exceedingly calm. If anything, he just seemed bothered, like Reo was asking a dumb question.

"That's not what I mean! I mean- how the hell did you get them to even like you enough to date you?" Reo sounded like he could barely even squeeze those words out without screaming.

Nagi glanced over to you and then back to Reo, then up at the ceiling as he tapped his free hand against his chin. "Good timing?"

Suddenly, you were released from Nagi's grip and all you heard was a thud and Nagi on the ground; Reo's arm was out, his hand in a fist and raw from the punch he just landed.

"Don't give me that shit, Nagi. We had a deal!" Reo's eyes were wide, his pupils dilated as he seethed with anger.

Nagi didn't even seem bothered as he picked himself up and dusted himself off. "And now we don't. I rather like having [Name] to myself, personally."

Nagi soon found himself yanked by his collar by Reo. "We. All. Do. Bastard." Reo snarled in Nagi's face. "I made that deal in the first place because I thought we were friends. Partners even!" Reo was yelling at this point. "If you're not going to keep the end of our agreement, I'm stealing [Name] from you."

For the first time since their argument started, you saw Nagi's expression change. With one hand, he yanked Reo back by his collar as well, his eyes wide and blank. "Then try it, I dare you, Mr. Standard." Once he said those words, he released Reo's collar and shoved him back, sending him stumbling for a moment.

Without even sparing a second glance, Nagi grabbed your wrist and began to walk off. "Let's go, [Nickname]. My mood's been ruined..."

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Satin and Denim

Dean Winchester x female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, oral FMR, pnv, praise, pet names: baby, sweetheart etc.

Summary: you spend some much needed "quality time" with Dean when he come back after being gone on a hunt

A/N: not proofread, all mistakes are my own

You had decided to stay behind for this hunt. Unfortunately you had gotten sick, so the boys had left you at the bunker to rest, while they took care of a pair of vetalas a few states over. In the week and a half that they were gone, you had slept off your cold and were back to feeling 100%.

It was nighttime when the boys finally got back. You were finishing up taking one of those self-care, pampering, clean-everything baths, when you heard the familiar rumble of the impala pulling into the garage.

You got done with your bath, dried your hair and pulled on your satin robe to go out and greet them. The kitchen was empty so you turned the corner into the War Room. You found Dean sitting at the map table reading something on his phone, cup of coffee in hand. You had gotten Dean to start trying to drink coffee instead of beer to unwind, still not the best, but it was a small victory.

Standing in the doorway, you admired him for a moment. His face was softly illuminated by the glowing table and he looked relaxed.

"Hey baby," you said softly to not startle him or disrupt the quiet of the room.

"Hey sweetheart." A small smile graced his lips at the sight of you. He set his mug down and opened his arms, motioning for you to come to him.

Straddling his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Where's Sammy?" you asked.

"Asleep, hunt went well but he's still beat. How are you feeling?". He brushed your hair back from your face, looking you over, almost as if he was searching for any signs of your ailment.

"Back to 100."

"Good; missed having you with us."

"I missed having you with me."

Leaning in, you gently pressed your lips to his. It was very rare that you and Dean were apart and it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. You had missed him terribly in the time he was gone, especially after your cold had worn off, you were just left bored.

He met you with equal passion, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

You rolled your hips forward on his lap, feeling all your pent up desire rising to the surface.

"You wearing anything under this?" he asked, breaking the kiss and running his fingers down the silky collar of your robe.

"Why don't you find out?"

He kissed you again and you felt his hands untie the sash, allowing the robe to fall open. He raked his eyes over your body, confirming that you were, in fact, not wearing anything underneath.

A low rumble of appreciation from him had heat pooling in your core. He pushed the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and wrapped an arm around you to lean you back so he could place kisses along your collarbone and down the line between your breasts.

"Damn you smell good." he purred.

You let out a breathy laugh. "It's that fancy body wash I have."

"Ah is that what you were doing when I got home? Was my girl taking care of herself?"

You knew what he meant, but it sounded dirty the way he said it. "Mhm," you sighed at the feeling of his lips on your throat and your fingers came up to run through his hair. "I had nothing else to do with you gone, had to keep myself entertained somehow," you said with feigned innocence.

He smirked and tilted his head to wrap his lips around one of your hardened nipples, lavishing it with his warm tongue. Soft moans fell from you, filling the air of the quiet room. His free hand that wasn't supporting your body, trailed down your side to the crease at the top of your thigh, moving ever closer to where you wanted him the most.

He ran his finger through your soaking heat. "You're dripping for me already, sweetheart."

You leaned forward to capture his lips and rolled your hips over his erection that was confined in his jeans. His head fell back, your movements eliciting a soft strangled moan from him. Pressing a little harder your hips rolled again, allowing the rough fabric to graze your swollen clit.

"Bedroom...please," you whined. You thought it was pretty hot that you were totally bare before him while he was still completely clothed, but you wanted to feel his body without any barrier between you.

He stood up from the chair taking you with him. You locked your legs around his waist as he carried you through the halls of the empty bunker, still lavishing you with kisses.

Walking into your shared bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and tossed you on the bed. You bounced a couple times, causing you to laugh. Dean smiled down at you before kneeling between your legs.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, looking over your naked body. No matter how many times he'd seen you he never failed to look at you like he was discovering the female anatomy for the first time. He kissed your stomach before settling down on the bed to wrap his arms around your thighs. "Missed how you taste," he said and licked a line through your cunt.

Your back arched off the bed as he closed his warm mouth over you clit, sucking lightly and rolling his tongue repeatedly. Your hand went to comb through his hair, not guiding his movements, he knew plenty well what he was doing, but you needed to hold on to something.

He continued his ministrations on your clit, slowly sinking two fingers into you causing your eyes to roll in your head. His scruff rubbed against your thighs, heightening the sensation. You softly cried his name, almost begging, as he found the spot deep inside you that sent you spiraling, stroking your inner walls with the pads of his fingers. You didn't know what you were begging for, if you wanted him to continue, or fuck you.

As you got closer to falling apart, he made up your mind for you and withdrew his fingers from your throbbing cunt. He was teasing the hell out of you tonight. Whenever Dean got back from being away from you, he often took extra time in pleasuring you, almost as if he was attempting to relearn your body. He could play you like an instrument, keep you right on the edge of release and right now, this edging was making you desperate for him. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and drug him up your body, kissing him harshly.

"Too many clothes," you said, tugging at his flannel.

"Ok ok," he laughed, sliding off the bed to undress.

You shimmied back on the mattress to settle against the pillows and watch him. You always enjoyed admiring him as he dressed or undressed, how his muscles moved under his freckled skin. Often, you could tell he would grow a little shy under your gaze, but would respond with a quick comment like, "enjoying the show?" or "like what you see?". You would nod and remind him how amazing he is, you never wanted him to be shy of his body.

He returned to hover over you, bracing his weight on his forearms, his hips coming down to meet yours. You could feel his erection, hot and heavy agaisnt your inner thigh. Your hips rolled, trying to convey your desire.

"Needy girl," he chided, pulling back to press a kiss to your jaw, then the side of your mouth, your cheek, down your throat.

"Dean please." You tilted your head, giving him more access. Silently asking for more.

"What do you need, baby?" he whispered in your ear.

"I just need you," you answered.

"I'm here."

You felt him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance and began to sink into your heat. He went slowly to make sure that you both felt every inch, knowing that the initial sweet stretch of him never failed to make you writh. Your back arched and your gasp mingled with his breathy moan as he buried himself fully inside you.

"God baby, you're-". The words died on his tongue, replaced with a rumbling moan.

His hand moved to cradle the back or your head as he began to move, thrusting slow and deep, desperate to have every bit of you wrapped around him. He kept his eyes on you, wanting to watch you come undone. The feel of him, around you, inside you, consuming all your senses, was almost overwhelming. And yet you couldn't get enough, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, further into you.

The rhythm of his thrusts increased and you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his neck. With each heavy breath, the scent of his cologne filled your lungs. Every stroke had you trembling, your hands roaming his body, fingers digging into his shoulders, searching for purchase to ground you to earth.

"Look at me sweetheart." His hand curled in your hair and pulled your face out of the crook of his shoulder. "I want to see you cum for me."

A broken moan left your lips and his voice made you tighten around him. You forced your eyes to open and meet his heated gaze.

"That's my girl," he praised, voice warm and heavy with lust.

He hiked your legs further up his waist, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you and moved his hand between your bodies to stroke your clit with the pad of his thumb. An electric current shot through your body as you fell apart, pulsing around him and crying his name like a prayer.

The feeling of your muscles tightening on his cock triggered his own release. Burying his face in your shoulder he spilled himself inside of you illiciting a deep groan from him.

You lied in each others arms, panting and unmoving, your bodies humming from your orgasms. Not wanting to move you decided that the mess you both made would be delt with in the morning and for now you would sleep, enjoying the afterglow.